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cherry-pop-elf · 3 months

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Breakfast

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: It was finally the weekend, which meant rest for you. Not so much for George, but that wasn’t an issue. He loved his job. Regardless, early mornings can be lonely. Luckily, he always does open the store later in the day. So today, you THREE get to spend time together. You, Georgie, and little Freddy

((Btw yes I’m using ASL instead of BSL. It’s easier to get accurate with research, and it can help teach more people to!))

“WHOOPSIE-!” Certainly a concerning word, in any house hold. Was what made you wake up. You didn’t want to, but oh well. The sacrifices every parent makes. George wasn’t in bed with you anyway. No fun being in bed, with out someone to cuddle.

You would pull yourself out of bed, while steal your husbands sleep robe, and proceed to try and figure out why your son was going Whoopsies. Because if he’s saying that, something’s probably on fire. Or exploded. Or currently trying to climb itself out of a trunk.

“Hey, accidents happen. Don’t worry. Here, I’ll clean it up-“ That sweet voice would comfort, as you entered the kitchen. The smell of breakfast heavy in the air, and the windows open to the early morning noise.

What a sight it was. Seeing your handsome husband. That ginger hair all a mess in the early morning. Plaided pants, with hand me down shirt that was somehow surviving from either spite or love. (You bet it’s a mixture of both, with those Weasleys)

Little Freddy himself was in a bright purple pajama set. With the cutest little designs all over it. Just like his uncle, he just adored purple like no other. Like hell you wouldn’t let him enjoy such a color.

Your husband would wave his wand, and repare the broken plate on the ground. Nothing magic couldn’t fix. Seems like the two of them were making breakfast together. George teaching little junior how to cook, and clean. Made your smile, as you leaned on the door frame.

“See? No harm no fowl. You did the right thing, though. The plate was hot, and you let go before it could hurt you.” He would encourage, as to make sure little Freddy knew that everything was alright. Gentle, calm, and soothing. No need for yelling, after all.

“Can you sign Hot-?” He would ask Freddy, as he quickly nodded. His tiny hand would make a claw shape towards him mouth, before turning it away. As if eating an apple, and placing it down.

“That’s right-! Good job-!” George would cheer, as he yanked his son into his arms. Got him to giggle, as he was attacked in kisses. Such a proud father. You swore you might cry. George just adored his son to no end. It reminded you of the many, many, reasons you fell for him.

“Well now, look who’s awake-!” George would smile at you, before your son made grabby hands at you. That was your que, and you happily took it.

You would steal your bouncing baby boy, and pepper him in kisses all the same. A good distraction for George to make the plates for breakfast. Just laughter, and the sizzle of food.

“What has my little trouble maker been doing this morning?” You asked your son, as he gave a big smile. One that echoed the likes of his father. Helped that the ginger curls were over those chubby freckled cheeks.

“Daddy and I made breakfasts together! And he’s teaching me how to sign stuff that means breakfast!” Freddy would giggle, as you gave a wide eyed expression of curiosity. A means to encourage such behavior.

“He’s gotten so good at it. He’s gonna be better the me even. And I’m the deaf guy-!” George would snort, as you rolled your eyes at him.

Did have a point though. Being raised to learn sign language is alot different than having to learn it later in life. Luckily, though, George is far smarter than people give him credit for. Just look at the empire he made. Even with Fred’s help, it’s no easy task.

“We made waffles, and pancakes, and and-“ Freddy would babble on, and you listened to each little word. Cherishing it all, as you helped him sit at the table. Making sure he was secure in his seat, before sitting next to him. With George on the other side of him. Your shared bundle of joy, between his parents.

“You did a good job. It all looks so yummy.” You praised, as you gave his chubby cheek a kiss. Had him giggle, before he grabbed his sippy cup. Happy to enjoy some morning juice, as you reached behind your little boy.

“Just perfect.” You almost whispered, as you held George’s hand. The grip was returned, as he stole your fingers to his lips. Kissing them over, and making you blush all over. As if just an early year again, and admiring his skills on the quidditch team.

“Terrible.” You tease, as he gave an eyebrow wiggle at your manners. Had you snort, before he was quick to lean himself over. Had to make sure his partner got a kiss too. A kiss you oh so happily returned. All to the ‘gross’ babble of your son.

That soon had you both pamper his face in kisses, as he squealed at such an attack. Flailing little fingers, as you made sure he was adored in all the love you two could muster. That was quite alot, mind you.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” You asked, as George gave a groan. Had you giggle that he never truly gave up all his childish habits. As if you would want that. You needed to smile, after all.

“Work, work, and more work. Love the job, I do. Wouldn’t trade it for anything, but I wish I could just close the doors for one day…..I mean, I can do exactly that. I’m the boss here. Hm…..Maybe I should do that. ‘Closed for a family picnic’ and all that. Yeah, yeah I should do that-“ He spoke out loud, as he enjoyed his waffle.

“We can see uncle Fred!” Freddy would shout, as you would wipe the syrup off his face. Messy eater he was, but you savored it. Just was nostalgic, after all. A messy eater like when his father was young.

“The cemetery normally has, like, no people this day in the week. That could work, honestly. Just a private little family get together like that.” George nodded, as he showed he liked the idea. Made junior grin, with such pride.

“Sounds like a plan then. A nice picnic to see uncle Fred, and just a day to spend with us three. I love it. Good job.” You would add to George, as Junior was just all smiles. So much like said uncle, but certainly George all the same.

With the plans all set, the three of you enjoyed the breakfast between you all. With plenty of George teasing his boy. With silly faces, and stories of his youth. Was just divine to watch. To see him so happy again.

“All done-!” Freddy would suddenly shout. Was followed by placing both his hands to his chest, before bringing them back to the table. Multiple times, as to practice what the sign meant. Warmed your heart. Smart like his daddy.

“Good job, Freddy. Now, what do we say next?” George would ask, as Freddy had to think. With his little brows furrowed, as he huffed. Trying his best to remember what to sign next.

“We clean….” He muttered, as he gave sign language babble to himself. Trying hard to figure it out, as you both waited. With no rush. No yelling. No pressure. Just waiting, and letting him breathe.

“Clean….” He muttered, as would place his right hand on his left hand. Then he made a swiping motion, as if trying to wipe something off his hands. It wasn’t quite as smooth as it should be, but he still remembered it regardless.

“Got that right. We clean up. Well, try to.” George would give that awkward smile, as you gave him a knowing look. No yelling, like Molly would. George had a bad habit with his messes, but no one is perfect. He had quirks to make up for it. Much like yourself held your own bad, and good, habits the same. The goal was to try and prevent such to junior. The best you could, anyway.

“Yeah-! Clean up!” Freddy nodded, as he would stumble out of his chair. Adorable little waddle was made to the sink, only to realize he was to short. Made him frustrated, as he gave an angry little stomp. As if that would somehow make him grow.

“I’ll never get tired of that.” You sighed, as George nodded. The both of you enjoying the sight of little Freddy trying to figure out how to reach the sink. Just enjoying the moment, while you could.

“I’ll help him. You go out the sign up.” You said, as you stood up. He was quick to do that same, before stealing you into his arms. Just to hold you a moment, and savor it. Savor the bliss of the morning. With his head resting against yours. No words were needed, as you cupped his face. Tracing the scars, and admiring him in his entirely.

“Love you to, you big trouble maker.”

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jedimasterbailey · 5 months

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Tales of the Empire Thoughts (Mostly About Barriss)

I know I’m a little late to the party in terms of laying out my thoughts on Tales of the Empire but honestly I needed a few days to process and digest what happened (not to mention being on vacation delayed that process as well). Obviously as a Barriss stan/fanfic writer/blogger y’all know that those episodes were the upmost priority for me and I will be rewatching those episodes on repeat like no other since it’s been far too long since Barriss has had her time to shine.

The majority of this post will be centered around those specific episodes because I’m just gonna just go ahead and say that the Morgan Elsbeth episodes were boring and didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know about the character. Also the bullshit reasoning as to why Morgan doesn’t obviously look Dathomiran is so dumb in that my brain will malfunction if I think about it too much. If the “magic going away” thing was true then how do you explain Merrin and Ventress who still have power and retain their clear Dathomiran appearance? Either way, there is no way Darth Felonious could explain his “logic” to me there because it is all too clear that Morgan was never meant to be Dathomiran in the first place. She was just a bad lady with a spear and that’s that. Love the actress, but the character is just lame. Furthermore, it is so clear that the hat man knows absolutely nothing about Thrawn and I’m not even a Thrawn stan but why even if the guy involved if he just says a few words and leaves? Now before y’all come for me, yes I’m aware these episodes are shorts and the time is precious but to me they could have dedicated more time into explaining to me why Morgan is so loyal to Thrawn. Her reasoning for wanting to join the Empire is empty too in that the Separatists that annihilated her race is now the Empire so…to me that’s not enough reasoning for Morgan to be so dedicated. The only parts that had me engaged were the Grevious bits which were both beautiful and frightening at the same time.

Now onto the meat which is the Barriss arc which has me both elated and frustrated at the same time. Let’s begin with the stuff I absolutely love.

1.) Barriss proving herself to not be committed to the Dark Side/Empire is a huge win for me and other Barriss super fans who have been preaching this for over a decade. We knew from the moment the trailer came out that Barriss was just going to do what it took to survive and even though she was forced into doing things she really did not want to do, she stayed true to herself and escaped before it was too late. The light in her never left nor did it ever leave her and I just know that Luminara would have been so proud of her. Barriss constantly questioning the Grand Inquisitor and the Fourth Sister had me smiling because that is just Barriss. She will always question things that seem off and will defend her beliefs and values no matter what the danger to herself may be. The line of reclaiming her position of a Jedi is my absolute favorite line and gave me all the feels I get whenever Luke tells Palpatine that he is a Jedi like his father. On a final note, I loved that she showed genuine concern/fear for what was happening to the Jedi when Order 66 was happening and demanded an answer.

2.) Barriss being a healer and a protector. It is so satisfying to see it canon on screen that Barriss remains to be a healer after years of being obsessed with the Legends Medstar lore. I absolutely loved that Barriss took off her mask to the terrified boy in the village and protected him against the Fourth Sister’s unnecessary wrath only to save the non-binary (yay representation!) Jedi from death later that day. It all just makes me so happy to get that validation that Barriss has always had a big heart which makes her stand out from other Jedi in my opinion.

3.) Barriss sporting that lesbian pixie cut with the adorable laugh/smile lines and being a healer in the mountains helping Force sensitive and the sick/injured just makes my day. It warms my heart to see Barriss be at peace and doing so much good after so much pain and trauma from her past. Though I do miss her hood and would like to see a head covering on her again. Also doing the math, Barriss should be in her thirties during the third episodes so why did they age her up so much? I’ve heard the theory of the Force healing taking her life force but damn Luminara was in her late thirties during the Clone Wars and she had like nothing 😅 One other note that makes me smile is that Barriss is referred to as a “wise mother” and that’s just everything. Also she looks and acts like just like Luminara they truly could be mother and daughter it’s so sweet 💚💙

4.) Barriss defeating an Inquisitor without a weapon of her own and catching a blade with the Force is so fucking badass, I could re-watch that sequence on repeat forever.

5.)The vague Ahsoka mention had my Barrissoka heart exploding. I demand an animated Barrissoka show immediately.

Now here are the bits that have me frustrated and I demand that Darth Felonious fixes them later.

1.) The lack of closure between Barriss and Ahsoka/Luminara. Barriss hurt a lot of people from her actions but at the very least it would be nice to see her repair the damage she inflicted on the people closest to her. We never saw anything in regards to Luminara’s reaction to the bombing and knowing what gruesome fate awaits her in Rebels, I was so hoping the two would meet again, make amends before Luminara inevitably sacrificed herself as a final act of love and forgiveness for her Padawan. As for Ahsoka…if the two are able to work together in the future, could we at least see how exactly that came to be? I’m personally growing tired of major developments happening off-screen and we as an audience are just expected to roll with it. Again I’m aware these are shorts, but why do they have to be shorts? Why can’t we just delete the boring Morgan episodes and get like a movie or limited series on this exact journey?

2.) The return of yet another ambiguous ending for Barriss. I am a firm believer that Barriss is alive granted that people seem to get stabbed all the time in Star Wars and they get to live so why not Barriss? I understand what they’re doing with Barriss getting through to the Fourth Sister to show us that Barriss has come full circle in her journey from dark to light, however since I’m forced to believe that Barriss had some sort of relationship with this random Inquisitor pre-Empire instead of someone who did have a significant relationship to her, it falls flat for me and it enrages me that if Barriss were to die from this….well I just don’t have words for that. So now I’m wondering if I’m going to have to wait another 10 years to get answers. Thank the Force for fanfic and fanart to get me through.

3.) Does Barriss even know what the Empire did her Master? Because… I feel that’s another huge story thats being missed here. Ahsoka was able to get some closure with Anakin, why can’t Barriss have the same with Luminara?

4.) Never getting anything in terms of what pushed Barriss to bomb the Jedi temple in the first place. That’s my biggest beef with the original Clone Wars series since we see no development as to how Barriss goes from a kind gifted Padawan healer to mastermind of a terror plot. That could a book or show on its own.

5.) Star Wars continuing to miss what a satisfying redemption arc is. Not only do we need to understand what got a character to do the crime(s) but we need to see the growth that comes from it. That’s what makes the Obi-Wan Kenobi show so good to me is that I now know how Obi-Wan grew from RotS to where we meet him in ANH. I would love to see the same for Barriss, because you just know she’s been on very spiritual/emotional journey to get to where she was at the end of the show.

6.) Why was Vader even in this? Given the history Barriss and Anakin share, it is incredible that nothing happened between them post ROTS. And this is like fresh Vader still full of grief and anger by what’s happened so I doubt seeing Barriss even as an Inquisitor initiate would be anymore soothing. I just don’t understand…what a waste. Something more epic and cathartic could have come out of that interaction.

Well I’m done ranting for now, I’m curious to know what your guy’s thoughts are. Otherwise my brain is buzzing with fanfic story ideas and I’ll be getting back on the writing horse as I re-Watch the Barriss episodes into oblivion.

#star wars meta #tales of the empire meta #tales of the empire #tales of the empire spoilers #barriss offee #luminara unduli #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #the clone wars #star wars

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fallen6253 · 5 months

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Hello hello!

I was rereading Choi Han’s indignity test for the thousandth time (I need more little rok soo pls I'm desperate) and the thing that catches my attention now is the clues.

It says food, warm home, clean clothes, and abundance of food for dinner.

Not thinking about any other clues the author did not show us (there was definitely so much more; we were robbed–) because that would drive me insane from what we know so far (there’s so much yet so little I wanna cry).

Anyway, some found it confusing how there were two notifications about ‘food’ and ‘abundance of food for dinner’ so now I want to word vomit about it.

There is a difference between having food to eat at all and being in front of so much food there’s no way you could eat it all.

Food in general was scarce for Kim Rok Soo at that age (well, at most of his ages but anyway) so imagine being Rok Soo and letting a stranger take you to their house because you want to avoid your own and instead of the things you probably had been expecting, this total stranger just. Started putting food in front of you and tells you to eat. To eat all you wanted. And he leaves for a bit and Rok Soo enjoys the cartoons you rarely get to watch because the TV makes too much noise and you don't want to be locked away in your cold and dark room again. But then the guy comes back with even more food and when you tell him you’re full he looks. Devastated. And the man hides the food he thought you didn’t see, which is so ridiculous you almost crack a smile, until he brings out an apple pie, and now you’re baffled.

And what really gets me is that Choi Han calls him a good boy. And little Rok Soo looks baffled. And there is no notification about comfort or praise covering up his indignity.

Which implies he is already at that stage where he does not know how to take compliments seriously and just assumes the person is either lying or stupid (which may track in his logic for this stranger that brought some random kid home and just started feeding him).

Or it implies that compliments and praise were never something Kim Rok Soo thought of wanting.

You can’t focus on wanting to be loved if your priority has to be finding a way to survive.

Which tears my heart into pieces because. This little baby, o my lord, I wish you could feel safe enough to want someone to say something nice about you, that you lived well enough to be concerned about people liking you. I wish he knew that there would be people who loved him, waiting for him in the future, and that he would not only feel lost forever. I wish he was living well enough to want to delve into his favorite books with open fervor, talking with others who were reading the same thing and discovering a new way to see a story. I wish he could feel safe enough to express himself in any other way that did not say ‘it does not matter much what happens anymore’ and ‘I don’t have the strength to go against all of this despair’. Because this little kid grows up to be so strong, in ways he can’t even see in himself because he’s too busy lifting other people up from groundless depths.

And he grows up to be something so big, and so warm that it’s such a happy miracle he survived the environments he lived through. And even after suffering so much loss and failure, he still can’t help caring for people. And he does it in a way he is conscious of, but he explains it away as a strategy to survive, and it’s his selfish way of finding solace in bright young futures he never had. Because he needs to justify it. Because simple kindness can be thrown away and mistrusted so easily, and it can vanish in an instant.

So he explains it away as a selfish action when he wishes to find solace in saving others.

In becoming the comfort to others he did not get.

In becoming the person he wanted to save him.

#the big sad here oml #little kim rok soo #child kim rok soo #cale henituse #tcf cale #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #indignity test #can we just talk about this amazing little man #another TED talk about cale's shitty childhood

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pomegranate-pen · 1 year

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rocky headcanons. love the little homeless less than sane kitty.

A/n: ask and you shall receive! since last night, I've gotten a tsunami of lackadaisy requests- thank you all so much!! as of now requests are still open for lackadaisy, since I've been waiting for some time to make some x reader for it lol. since many people wanting some general dating headcanons for Rocky, here's a gender neutral one for all of you!:D also, to the dear anon that asked for Freckle headcanons as well in the images, I'll do that request as well!! I'm glad that Rocky is getting so much love, he's such a silly guy whose trying his best in everything.

Rocky Rickaby x gn! reader general dating headcanons!

How you possibly met Rocky would differ into two scenarios and have different results. If met him in the little daisy café, the first thing you’ll see is the small bit of elegance he shows to others and his clumsiness and silliness as he rhymes poems while putting syrup in his tea. However, if met during his actual job, which is a bootlegger for the lackadaisy speakeasy, you’d be met with someone who shows an abundant amount of elegance the first moment you see him, yet gradually as time passes he shows more of his thrill for chaos and determination to cause the most insane things to happen. A normal fight with guns becomes one involving chainsaws and trucks all of a sudden, and you’d be left with multiple questions and concerns about how exactly did you all survive such a thing.

If asked Rocky, he’d only shrug and speak about it being a daily thing, mostly happening every three nights, and you’re left with just more concern for his safety throughout it. Though, Rocky reassures that he’s got it handled.

“Rocky, you were stabbed.”

“I know right?! Who brings a knife to a gunfight?!”

“didn’t you bring a chainsaw?-“

In Rocky’s case, the one who first realizes they’re in love depends on you, this time. Because Rocky realizing it would take a few weeks, but it won’t take too long for him to notice his emotions for you aren't much platonic anymore. So if after his realization, you do like him back and try to flirt with him, he will comply and verse poems of love. If not, and you’re still unsure of your feelings for him, he’d lightheartedly flirt with you, but tries to not come off too hard that it’d overwhelm you.

First one to confess though? Most certainly Rocky. Although he can hide his negative feelings such as the thoughts about his past and some outcomes of his actions quite easily, he cannot for the life of him hide positive ones. So if he likes you, it's abundantly clear. The way he’d confess, would probably try to be with a romantic dinner date and poem, but if unlucky enough, you’d find him confessing to you while you’re both being chased down by some people who are very well-armed with guns.

If said yes, he’d be beaming. A surge of motivation causes him to grin maniacally and grab a spare gun in the back of the car, full-on throwing bottles lit up and filled with gasoline with no real aim on who whatsoever as you try to drive away. His signature laugh is booming through the streets, and he is singing some verses about finding love and whatnot.

Being in love with the cat of chaos himself, Rocky Rickaby has its perks and downsides for sure. One perk, would be how caring he is towards his partner. Having someone who is even remotely interested in him is rare, and whenever he meets someone who cares even that much, he tends to stick to them since he knows they’re the only one. So having someone interested in him in a romantic light is like he’s won the lottery, and he’s gotten the prize that he can’t afford to lose. It's nice, how caring he can be and how he’s always there when you need him, but the downside of said perk is how determined he can get at times. He will not stop until a need of yours is met or a task you mentioned not wanting to do is perfectly finished, which..with his sort of rollercoaster of luck, it leads to unwanted results and a heavy amount of mess to clean up.

He’s a romantic at heart, but his clumsy nature at times leaves him to do romantic things very poorly. For example, a love letter he makes is filled with different doodles and messy handwriting, a few hearts made from cardboard of a cookie box messily glued to the paper, and the paper itself, is quite wrinkled when given. Yet, if you thank him and tell him how much you loved the letter, he’d be smiling more than before the entire day.

Yet, there are times when the romantic action is done brilliantly well, whether it's because of his luck or just sheer focus on the subject in the situation, you do find yourself extremely flustered and touched by the things he does, and he cherishes those moment lots.

PDA is his thing and no you cannot escape it. if shown a very strong disinterest in it, sure, he’ll back off for a bit, but if not, then expect many many affectionate touches, such as hand-holding, kissing your cheek or forehead, and cuddling. He does all of those but kissing you on the lips. since he sees those moments as of much importance and believes that they should be done at only the best of times to make them even more special.

This is most likely common knowledge, but Rocky would most definitely and absolutely write poems about you. usually even, the love letters are littered in poems. whether they’re good or not depends on your taste, which he will try to accommodate to by hearing who your favorite writer or poet is.

He also definitely plays violin for you when you’re occupied with a task. He’ll say he’s your personal musician, and will do anything to satisfy the customer with his tunes, even if trying to cover a favorite song of yours perfectly in one go leads to a few strings getting loose.

If it's not obvious enough, his love language is physical affection, and gift-giving. The love language he likes to receive most, however, is words of affirmation and also physical affection. Praises and compliments mean the world to him, he plays every praise you say in his head like a mantra, and it gives him determination for the day to finish up all his tasks and see you again.

No one believes Rocky when he mentions that he has a lover, and so, when they do meet you, best to say drinks were spilled and gasps were exchanged. Some tell you to blink twice for help, while others wonder if you were as mad as he was, since you’re dating him of all people. Though, in the end, they take a liking to you, since they believe that you keep Rocky in check when it’s needed, and decrease the number of problems that he causes.

Indulge in his hobbies for even one second and expect an over-eager to share Rocky info-dumping everything he knows. If you indulge enough, you’ll even get some bits and parts about his childhood, which speaking of, he never says a word of. Usually when asked, he’ll brush it off and summarize it as him taking odd jobs since he was a child, but delving deeper into such territories will only happen if you were in a relationship with him for much more than a year, and even till that time, it will take a lot of hesitancy and excuses for him to start explaining.

He’s smitten with you, there’s no doubt about it and if you ever get into any trouble, whether you’re independent or not, he'll think that you're in desperate need of help, and will do anything he can to assist you with it. whether you actually want it or not.

In summary, a love life with him consists of many adventures and chaos, but the amount of attention and love he gives to it makes it all worth it at times. He feels lucky that someone considers him fit to be their boyfriend, and will do anything he can to keep you.

#lackadaisy #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #rocky x reader #rocky rickaby x reader #rocky rickaby #lackadaisy x reader #headcanons

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obislittleone · 8 months

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The Winner Takes It All

Episode 2

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, but the good kind. The Hunger Games are a bitch. Finnick should be a warning tbh... mild bullying but nothing wild.

Chapter Summary: After saying goodbye to your family, you and your tribute counterpart will board the train, meeting two mentors who may help you survive the bloodbath of the arena. Of course, one of them is Finnick Odair, so maybe the bloodbath will start before you even reach the capitol.

Word Count: 3.5k

It's only gonna get worse from here, guys... (and by that I mean it gets so much better as far as drama goes)

Lukas looked to you with concern, but couldn’t see your reaction as your features were hidden from him by your downward stare. Your hands were trembling, that was enough of an indication. “Wait a minute,” Finnick furrowed his brows and leaned forward, examining the face of the boy, which he could see quite clearly. Worry resided there, but not for himself. You felt his eyes shift to you as soon as it happened, and they practically burned holes into the top of your head until you straightened your neck and met his eyeline. “You can’t be serious…”

He was the last winner from district four. A fourteen year old boy reaped during a year without career volunteers. A determined young man, hardened by the sting of the Capitol’s arena. Whispers through four were that it would be the same this year. No career tributes, only what has been reaped.

Finnick does not think badly of this, quite the opposite, actually. Careers, though mostly prepared for what the games will hold, are almost always the most arrogant tributes. They think the training they have received is enough to prepare them for what it's like to be hunted, and to hunt down and kill others just like them. No amount of sparring rounds, or hours of weapons training can prepare you for that. Not mentally, at least.

He’s made up his mind about this year. He’s tired of watching kids go into that arena and not come out of it. He’s tired of seeing new faces every year, trying to help them only to realize they were never going to win in the first place. He knows it sounds twisted, and he knows what it will cost, but he’s promised himself a victor this year. Whoever is pulled from those bowls today, he knows that he won’t rest until one of them has a house across from his and Mags. He knows that no matter the age, gender, or lack of skills, one of them is going to win.

He is so determined not to lose two more tributes. He’s so focused on making it his reality, he doesn’t even think about what he might have to do. He just knows that he’s willing to do it, when the time comes.

Standing in the victor’s circle at the reaping is far better than standing amongst the gender separated crowds, but it still isn’t comforting. His hands are sweaty as he fiddles with them behind his back, waiting on the Capitol escort, Arbin, to finish his practiced lines.

The first boy is a volunteer. Non career, but built just the same as one. Already, Finnick breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes the initial first pick would not have to go. This boy looked eighteen, seventeen at least, and was strong and handsome. A perfect tribute in all aspects.

As Arbin made another unhumorous joke, teetering on his toes towards the girl’s bowl, Finnick somehow felt guilty. He’d already assumed the boy would be his victor, and he hadn’t even given the unpicked girl a chance. He hoped, now, that perhaps it was someone less than capable. The thought in and of itself was awful, but he didn’t want to be the one feeling guilty when one tribute left the arena and the other stayed as a permanent addition.

“Mercedes Blythe.”

An unknown name, like most of the others. The face that matched it was sullen… but damn, she was as good a tribute in any comparison to her counterpart. Eighteen, tall, strong looking, and beautiful. The sadness in her eyes reflected that of those she knew, but he couldn’t think about that. All he could think about was that his promise to himself would come at a great cost, whichever way it went.

Arbin was kind, as you’d learned immediately after leaving the stage. He seemed to understand the weight of this event, despite seeming so joyful about it only minutes ago. He’d explained that you were on your way to the district’s processing center, where you would meet with your families one more time before getting on a train to the Capitol. You hadn’t spoken since the reaping. You knew that anything that came out of your mouth would only be unpleasant to hear anyway, and so far, Lukas had done a good enough job of asking all the questions you had on your mind.

The room you met your family in was small, but it felt too large as soon as you stepped into it. The high ceiling must have played tricks on you.

Your mother was hysterical, as you felt she must have been since the calling of your name.

“M-mama, I’m sor-ry,” you sputtered out, reaching for her as she did. Once she had you in her arms she clung as tightly as she possibly could.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. It’s not your fault,” she shook her head, backing away only to look at your face. She had hoped this day would never come, but here you stood, tears on your cheeks and only a minute between now and a long train ride. She didn’t want to even think about what would happen to you once you left her sight. She just wanted to hold you for as long as she could.

You saw your father standing behind her, holding the baby tightly as if trying to console himself apart from being able to hug you as well. He wouldn’t dare tell his wife to let go, not when he knows she may never see you again, but he wants to give you one last thing that he’s sorry he didn’t give you sooner.

His gratitude.

For putting your name in the bowl to eat, instead of taking the rations he needed in order to heal when he’d been so sick. That was the reason you were in this mess. He got sick, and his bones became so frail he broke his arm in a rigging accident… and you paid the price of his healing. If anyone should apologize it's him, but he knows you’ll just struggle to tell him not to. Still, as you leave the arms of your mother and look to him, he has to try.

“I’m so sorry, little bear,” he tried not to show how much the emotion built up within him, but it boiled over without him even realizing it had. You leaned into him, an arm around your baby brother who may never remember you even existed. In three weeks there would be a victor, and you were almost certain it would not be you.

“I-it’s alright, papa. Y-you take c-care of mama for m-me, okay?” you asked, the nod of his head the best response he could muster and he leaned into you the best he could while holding the baby. He kissed the top of your head, inhaling the scent and trying to commit it to memory, that his daughter’s hair had smelled like fresh spring water from the center of the district.

“I know I haven’t said it much, but you gotta know we’ve always been so proud of you. And it doesn’t matter what you do in that arena, if you have to do some bad things in order to come home, we will still be proud of you.”

You couldn’t have cried any harder after that, and feeling the arms of your mother once again coming around you, locking you together with your father and brother, you felt the last bit of peace you thought you would ever know.

The peacekeepers were the ones to break apart the family moment, ushering you away to meet Lukas in the hall.

Arbin pushed you both onto the train hurriedly, knowing that ‘wanting to see the shoreline from here, one last time,’ was only a way that Lukas could stall leaving the district. No one ever leaves their districts, so being made to not only leave, but basically being forced to go and die, made you both nervous to step aboard the transport that would take you there.

“Allow me to introduce your mentors,” Arbin stood by them, kind smiles on both their faces when they first saw you up close. “Mags Flanagan, 11th victor… and Finnick Odair, 65th victor.”

Mags didn’t say anything, but gave a warm handshake to you both, her opposite hand coming overtop of yours when she did each time. Finnick nodded to you both, a bit colder of a greeting, but probably to keep a necessary distance. His games were six years ago, they’re probably still fresh, and he doesn’t like getting close to the tributes. You can understand that.

“I’m Lukas, this is Merce-”

“We know. We were at the reaping,” Finnick stopped him short of his sentence, and you couldn’t help but be a bit annoyed at it. Surely, he was not so cold that he would forgo a simple introduction?

“Alright.” Lukas dropped his smile, which he’d forced onto his face originally, and replaced it with a look of irritation. He had his opinion on all of this, obviously, and wanted to know more than just these mentor’s names. “So, what now?”

Arbin seemed shocked at the seemingly polite boy’s lack of decorum for proper conversation.

“Do we just sit here and wait until they shove us in that arena? Or are you meant to help us?”

He wasn’t playing around, and his tone along with his words made Finnick smile.

“Excellent question. See, I’m not much one for pleasantries, but this I can work with,” he turned around when he finished talking, waving his hand for you both to follow him.

The car on the train you’d been led to was glorious. All the food you could possibly eat, the softest seats you’d ever imagined could be on a transport, and oh, the view was something to take in. The crested and sun topped mountains were unlike anything you’d ever seen before. You weren’t even out of district four, technically, but you’d never been away from the water a day in your life… ironic as it sounds.

“First things first. Tell me something about yourselves that you think is captivating.”

Captivating? What did that have anything to do with fighting to the death in the hunger games? You hadn’t barely watched them before, too afraid of what it might have meant if you were reaped, but you were certain it wasn’t that kind of show.

“I can swim a mile in twenty minutes,” Lukas answered first, something easy off the top of his head.

“That’s not gonna work. You’re from four, half the boys your age or under can do the same. It has to be something personal, intimate. Something that gives insight to you as a tribute.”

“I c-collect rare cockle sh-shells,” you piped up. Finnick turned to you with raised brows, unexpecting the answer you gave, but not because of the words.

He had to blink a few times, and shake his head to get out of his thoughts in order to respond.

“Yeah, that’s uh-” he cleared his throat, finally able to get it out. “That’s good.”

There’s the catch. Two perfect tributes, except one has a severe stutter.

The conversation continued, but after his reaction, you spoke only when you thought it was absolutely necessary.

It was sad, the way he looked at you, nearly shocked at first before his eyes fell with a feeling unknown, something akin to pity, but worse. Something that not only felt sorry for you, but wanted to not have to deal with it. Pity, mixed with a kind of annoyance, that was not only evident but outstanding.

Later in the evening, you were both shown to your rooms, exact copies of one another, separated by a train car in between, where the victor's rooms were.

The victors, Mags and Finnick, but only one of them seemed really keen on giving his input. The other was just too kind and too gentle, willing herself more to give over her sympathies and compassion. You understood her. She wasn’t violent by nature, and you felt that even though his exterior was cocky and arrogant, Finnick had more beneath his rough and tumble outer layers as well.

Mags spoke through sign language, and though you weren’t fluent, you could well figure out what she was saying to you. You were not quick to reply each time, but you much preferred the slow movements of your hands to a stuttering word.

She’d been the one to lead you into the car one over, opening your door for you and allowing you to settle in. It had been a hard day, and she knew that there was nothing worse than having to be thrust into these circumstances. Even in her old age, she remembers it well, remembers her arena and the people who died beside her. She remembers their faces, frozen faces stuck with horror that would forever remain in their lifeless eyes. She remembers her victory tour, and how big of a deal it was. She was the first to experience a new era of the hunger games, something more vile and twisted than before. It was not just a symbol anymore, it was a show, complete pageantry being put on before the eyes of the Capitol, where the children taken must pretend like they are happy about their fate. Where they must smile and wave and endorse the ways of the Capitol before being pushed into an arena to die.

She sees herself in you. Strong, brave hearted, but still afraid to die. She’s seen herself in many female tributes over the years, having not raised a victor in any thus far. It saddens her to think you will be just another one of the many, with an end just the same. Cold and dead eyes looking to the sky of the arena, stuck to the ground by another tribute you’ll encounter. She hates to think of it, but having lost every one of them, it plagues her.

You thanked her for helping you, not just for leading you to your room, but for looking out for you. You knew there was only so much she would be able to do, but you appreciated the way she willingly did it, even when Finnick insisted on taking the lead with the preparations this year.

She nodded with a smile before leaving you to rest. The day ahead would be much more intimidating, and she knew how vital it was to be prepared for the culture shock of entering the Capitol.

Abrin droned on, listing the great commodities that you were going to have accessible. Coming from a wealthier district, it wasn’t terribly different, but being in the lower class of four, you would take the time to appreciate some things. The promise of constantly hot running water sounds phenomenal.

All the while he’d been speaking, you opted to simply listen and not join in under any circumstances. It was now your greatest mission to avoid speaking in front of Finnick Odair at any cost. It just so happened that sitting in the main car of the train, there was a dessert cart set up before you, so you didn’t really need to bite your tongue all that much.

“Will we have access to training facilities that mimic the arena?” Lukas’ voice broke the long ramble of the excited Capitol member, and leaned forward in wait for the answer. He felt that it was far more important to have something practical in his favor. What good were any of the other commodities if you didn’t live long enough to use them?

“Not quite anything that mimics the arena. The games are all about the entertainment factor, that’s why everything is kept a secret until they call showtime,” Finnick interjected, a less than favorable look on his face when he mentions a few specific words. “Training facilities are provided but won’t give you any hints, trust me. They will open it to the tributes a day before evaluation, so you’ll have to be wise with the time spent.”

“If we’re unsure of what the arena contains, how will we know what to focus on?”

You were so grateful for Lukas at this moment. He voiced all of the things you knew you would have a hard time trying to say, and did it in half the time. A swift and simple conversation, and by observing it, you would learn everything you needed to know,

“Most of the careers will stick with what they’re best at. They test their limits and see how far their strengths can go… it always impresses the game-makers, and often is the deciding factor in what weapons will be available in the cornucopia.”

There was something strange about the way he phrased it. He said it was what most careers did, but you weren’t technically a career, and neither was Lukas, though he volunteered like one.

“W-what do you s-suggest?” You felt embarrassed at the way he looked at you when you asked the question. He was so full of pity. Though you often felt bad for yourself and the way you sounded to others, you didn’t like being looked at like an injured animal. You were just trying to ask a question.

Still he looked intrigued. You didn’t seem very keen on surviving, and yet here you were, inquiring about his personal advice.

“I suggest working on your weaknesses. The arena is completely unpredictable, but it becomes easier when you’ve covered your bases,” he paused, tilting his head around. “Still spend time on testing your strengths. Like I said, this is a show, and people aren’t watching to see you learn a new skill.”

You looked to Lukas, and he almost read your mind. You didn’t want to ask about it, but knew he could bring it up easier, without the hassle of forming the wrong words and them sounded uncertain altogether.

“There’s always sources of water in the arena... Are there any pools to practice in?”

Finnick laughed and nodded, looking at Lukas with a face of confusion.

“There are some… but I hardly think either of you would need to spend time there.”

You lowered your head, continuing to pick at the small foods on the little rolling cart before you. You had been pretty silent this whole time, surely he wouldn’t read it as strange right now.

Lukas looked to you with concern, but couldn’t see your reaction as your features were hidden from him by your downward stare. Your hands were trembling, that was enough of an indication.

“Wait a minute,” Finnick furrowed his brows and leaned forward, examining the face of the boy, which he could see quite clearly. Worry resided there, but not for himself. You felt his eyes shift to you as soon as it happened, and they practically burned holes into the top of your head until you straightened your neck and met his eyeline. “You can’t be serious…”

He shook his head laughing, hoping - no, praying - that this was a joke. That you both were messing with him to see how he would react. Perhaps it was even a strange attempt at trying to bond with a mentor through humor, but the longer he stared at you, eyes flicking from yours to Lukas every few seconds, it made clear the dilemma he had in front of him.

“I can’t believe it…” he scoffed, his earlier laughter now turning into irritation and disgust. He’d promised himself a victor this year, but here stood an incapable pair.

He sat back into his seat and raked a hand over his face, the heat of the moment making him feel completely and utterly helpless. What could he even do about it?

“I’m a strong swimmer, I can help her if it comes down to it-”

“And what if you’re dead? The second that countdown reaches zero, and you start running, there’s a good chance someone’s gonna beat you to the weapon of their choice. If you die, and she’s depending on you, what then?”

“I c-can learn,” you tried to interject, but it only made his anger worse.

“No, sweetheart, you can’t. The only hope you’ll have is in convincing the other tributes you’re as good in the water as anyone else in four.”

His sarcasm wasn’t helping anything, but this was purely unheard of.

“She’s stronger than she looks, I can teach her the basics,” Lukas again intervenes, trying his best to defend your honor, which if you’re being honest, there isn’t much to defend anymore. You’re a fraud. They called the women of four mermaids, and you couldn’t even step past the shoreline’s sand.

“I don’t need you telling me what can and can’t be done. She’s a tribute from four who can’t swim… it’s bad enough I have to sell a stutter to the Capitol without adding to my plate,” he spoke too hastily and irrationally, his stress overtaking what he would normally even think to say.

Lukas looked to him in shock, then immediately to you. There were tears welling in your eyes. How could someone who has gone through the games sit here and say things like that? He knows firsthand that nobody even wants to be here, but to make matters worse, he’s pulling the cards from everyone who has ever made you feel inferior from the time you could talk.

You stood up in a rush, thighs accidentally hitting the edge of the food cart, before walking away quickly towards the room quarters of the train.

Tags (open)

#finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair #the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games #sam claflin x reader #sam claflin

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hbyrde36 · 1 month

Text

Chapter Two

Ch 1 <-

WC: 4574 | R: Explicit | TW: Suicidal ideation, depression | Ch 2/10 | AO3

~Eddie~

One week to the day after Eddie Munson narrowly escaped an almost certain death, he woke up from a coma brought on by major blood loss.

Not that he knew that at the time, but later on he’d overhear a few chatty nurses talking about him when they thought he was asleep, and eventually he’d be talked at by a doctor who looked like he’d rather be treating anyone else.

Eddie came to gradually at first, and then all at once, as if the hand on the dial of reality had slipped, going from one, to two, to one hundred without warning, leaving him squinting up into a painfully bright light. His thoughts were syrupy slow, and it felt a little like his limbs weren’t quite attached to his body… or maybe his body wasn’t quite attached to his brain.

Blurry fractured images flashed through his mind. Rows of small sharp teeth, the spokes on a bicycle wheel, blood—so much blood.

Nothing that made any sense.

For a hysterical moment, when his eyes finally managed to adjust, he thought he was in school. The drop ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights reminded him of the classrooms he’d been rotting away in for the last too-fucking-many years. But just when he was starting to wonder how the hell he’d managed to fall asleep on the floor in English class, and why anyone hadn’t woken him up, he finally registered the steady beeping of a heart monitor.

Oh.

Hospital. He was in a hospital.

One realization led to another, and more sounds quickly began to fill his ears. The whoosh and whir of other unseen equipment around him, the heart monitors incessant beeping becoming faster and faster as he took it all in, broadcasting the rate of his heart as it raced inside his chest—a chest housing a dull ache that was becoming sharper and more insistent by the second.

A broken rib. He'd put money on it. It wouldn’t be the first time, but how had he gotten a broken rib?

Eddie swallowed hard, or tried to, anyway, but only managed to choke on the tube he’d only now realized was jammed down his throat. In a panic he went to reach for his face, fully intent on ripping the thing out himself, but he couldn’t move more than a few inches before his wrists caught, the bite of metal into his skin and the clang of handcuffs rattling against the rails of the bed telling him everything he needed to know about his current situation.

Namely, that he was fucked.

It all came back to him in a rush. Chrissy, Vecna, Dustin, the bats.

A face swam into view as he continued to struggle against his bonds, a familiar man looking down at him with concern coloring his features.

“Relax, Munson. You’re gonna hurt yourself. I know it feels like you can’t breathe, but you can. You're okay. Someone will be here any second to get it out, I promise.”

Eddie might not have known it from the face alone, and the guy looked completely different than the last time he’d been busted for speeding, but Eddie’d been chased out of enough house parties to know that voice anywhere.

Former Police Chief Jim Hopper.

Former, because he was dead.

And Eddie, well—the last thing he remembered, he’d been dead too, or in the process of getting there at least. Is that why he was seeing the late chief now?

No, that didn’t make any sense. If he was dead why would he be in the hospital—or handcuffed to the bed for that matter?

So what the hell had happened?

This was literally a nightmare come to life. Worst case scenario shit. To somehow have survived being torn apart by a swarm of demobats, only to end up shackled to his own hospital bed, in a town that hates him and thinks he’s some kind of devil worshiping serial killer.

A nurse in blue scrubs arrived seconds later, just as Hopper had promised, gently removing the tube and shutting off the ventilator while Eddie was still busy trying to wrap his brain around it all. The woman, apparently unfazed by the resurrection of a well-known dead man, attempted to stare the chief down over Eddie’s bed in some kind of silent standoff, but eventually conceded. She gave Hopper a shallow nod before taking one last glance at the various monitors, exiting the room with a quiet, “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

Eddie tried to speak but the only noise his wrecked vocal cords could produce was a harsh croak. Hopper was right there yet again, bringing the tip of a bendy straw up to Eddie’s mouth without a word. Eddie glared over the cup as he took a sip. The cool water was like heaven and it was only out of sheer spite that he managed not to moan at the feel of it soothing his painfully raw throat.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Eddie finally choked out.

The ghost of a smile crossed Hopper's lips. “Do I look dead to you?"

“No, but you do look like shit.”

“Could say the same thing about you, kid.”

Eddie had so many questions, beginning with how was Hopper even there right now? And why?

Was he there to interrogate him about Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick? If so, then why was he being so... nice? Hopper had always been kind-of a dick to him if he was honest, but that was to be expected when you were a small town drug dealer. And Eddie had definitely heard the saying ‘death changes a man’ before, but he didn’t think this was what they meant.

Hopper sighed heavily and dropped down into a chair next to the bed. "How about I talk and you just listen for now?”

Eddie scowled reflexively, but his sore throat was grateful.

"First, if it isn’t obvious, I’m not here in any official capacity. Powell let me in to see you as a personal favor. I don’t think he would have agreed to it under normal circumstances, but coming back from the dead has its perks. Look, we don’t have a lot of time, but I know you didn’t kill that girl, or any of the others. I know all about Henry Creel and the half-baked plan you knuckleheads came up with to go into the Upside Down and kill the bastard.”

Eddie's eyes went wide, it was so far beyond anything he’d been expecting to hear that his brain just short circuited for a second.

"Don’t look so shocked. I know all about the otherworldly dimensional shit, my kid’s the one with the superpowers, though I guess you probably haven't met her yet. So, did I miss anything?"

Something finally clicked, and Eddie felt a little slow for not having figured it out sooner.

He vividly remembered the news reports, and the chief’s picture in the paper. He’d died a hero, rescuing others in the fire at Starcourt. But Eddie knew now that the incident at the mall had been no simple fire. He didn’t really know the details, only that it had to do with all the rest of the weirdness, and he’d definitely overheard Robin make some vague references to Russians.

“Did they?” Eddie asked.

Hopper tilted his head, brow furrowed. “Did they, what?”

“Kill him.”

“Yeah. Yeah, they got him.”

Eddie let out a long breath, nodding mostly to himself.

Good. That was good at least.

"A-and how am I—” he stuttered out, gesturing to the all of himself, wrapped up in bandages, and hooked up to monitors and an IV drip. “How did I get here?"

"You almost didn’t. Steve… he found Dustin sitting with you and they thought—” Hopper trailed off, clearing his throat. “But, he started CPR and somehow they got you out of that place and into the back of an ambulance. Honestly, the whole thing sounds impossible. It’s a miracle you survived."

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat, and the sound of the heart monitor, which had begun to even out as they talked, picked up speed again as the implications sank in.

So he had died, or close enough. It’d been over, curtains, time to pay the riverman and all that, and Steve fucking Harrington had taken it upon himself to reach through the veil and drag him back?

Eddie’s vision swam, the room around him spinning, and suddenly far too bright. He felt like he was going to pass out.

This was not supposed to happen, it was supposed to be over.

Eddie was so lost in his anger at the fucking audacity that he didn’t notice the nurses barging in until they were practically hovering over him.

“What’s going on in here?” One of the new arrivals asked, shooting an accusing glare at Hopper.

“Nothing, we were just talking.”

“Well I’ve got alarms going off in the nurses station that tell me maybe that’s enough talking for today.”

Hopper grit his teeth but didn’t argue, meeting Eddie’s eyes over the nurses heads as they poked and prodded him. "I’m sorry you had to hear it from me, and I'm sorry about the cuffs, but I swear we’ll figure this out and get your name cleared. Just hang in there."

Another week passed, the time going painfully slow now that he was conscious and had absolutely nothing to do, and no way to distract himself from his thoughts.

Apart from a few kind souls, most of the nurses gave him a wide berth, popping in and out, completing their tasks with cold clinical efficiency. The doctors weren’t much better, telling him he was healing well without going into any specifics. They didn’t volunteer any information, and Eddie didn’t ask, only speaking when he absolutely had to.

None of it mattered.

His body may have been healing, but inside Eddie had never been more shattered.

He was increasingly surprised with each day that passed, that no one had shown up to interrogate him yet. He supposed he probably had Hopper to thank for that one, and not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but he was grateful. He wouldn’t have had the first idea what to say anyway, even if it would break up the monotony. No one would believe the truth, and he had no way of knowing what cover story the others might have come up with.

On the seventh day post coma Eddie received his first and second visitors.

First, in a surprising turn of events, was officer Callahan. Who, after a stilted and insincere apology removed Eddie’s handcuffs, informed him that he was no longer a suspect in any of the murders, and rushed right back out the door without waiting for a reply.

Which was fine. Eddie had nothing to say to a man that had allowed him to be hunted down like a fucking animal anyway.

His second visitor, and the one person on the planet that could make Eddie crack a smile despite it all, was his Uncle Wayne.

“My boy,” Wayne spoke softly, leaning over Eddie to draw him into a gentle hug. “For a while there I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I'm sorry,” Eddie said, as Wayne settled himself into the visitor’s chair that had sat empty since the day Hopper left.

He meant it too, even if the apology was woefully inadequate for the amount of worry he’d caused the older man. He might have wished things had turned out differently, but he still didn't like the idea that he’d hurt his uncle. It wasn’t Wayne’s fault that he was so fucked up.

“Wayne, I swear, I didn’t…”

“I know you didn’t, son. I didn't believe it for one second no matter what those two yahoos with badges said.” Wayne scoffed, shaking his head. “Good thing about Hopper though, hmm? I still can’t believe he was working undercover. Imagine faking your own death like that. He really went to bat for you, y’know. Not sure why it was even necessary, mind, what with the injuries you came in here with. It's not hard to believe you were hurt by the same monster who killed those poor kids.”

Eddie’s heart jumped up into his throat. “Monster?”

“They can call him a serial killer all they want, but people can be monsters too. Word’s not only for those things in your dice game.”

Eddie sagged back against his pillows in relief. For a second there he thought someone had told Wayne the truth. Not that the old man couldn’t keep a secret, but he didn't need to be burdened with the brutal reality of what Eddie and the others had faced down. Not now that it was over.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know it’s called Dungeons and Dragons, old man.”

“I admit nothin’,” Wayne chuckled, shaking his head as he pushed himself to his feet.

Eddie threw him a questioning look. Were visiting hours over so soon? Did his uncle have to go back to work already?

"It’s good to have you back, and much as I’d like to keep you all to myself, there’s a lot of other people wanting to see you too if you’re up for it,” Wayne offered in answer.

Eddie blinked up at him. "Huh?"

“What’d you think, Ed, that they’d all just left you here to rot? You’ve got a waiting room full of folks down there who seem to care about you a whole lot. Between 'em all checking in on you and that red-headed girl, those poor nurses at reception haven’t had a moment’s peace.”

Actually he kind of had thought that, to be honest. It was hard not to when he'd been stuck in isolation like this. The red-headed girl could only be Max, and Eddie felt like such an ass. He’d been so busy feeling sorry for himself that he hadn’t considered if anyone else had been hurt.

Something must have shown on his face, because Wayne reached out and took his hand, squeezing. “She’s okay, went home a few days ago. It’s been a little quieter around here since then, until today at least, but I swear that little fella Dustin sleeps here some nights, and Steve hardly ever leaves.”

Dustin he almost understood. They were close. He loved that little shit, and death-bed request or not, he could think of no one better to watch over his sheepies when he was gone, sorry Gare.

But Steve.

Eddie’s jaw tightened just thinking about it.

What was Steve playing at? What right did he have to sit here day after day. Hadn’t he played the white knight enough to boost his own ego, or asswage whatever misplaced guilt or whatever the fuck had made him think Eddie needed, or deserved, or even wanted saving?

He’d spent the entirety of the last week sinking further and further into himself, drowning in despair, self-pity, hopelessness. Finding out he was no longer a suspected murderer had done very little to make him feel better. He was still stuck here in this shithole of a town, in his shithole life, with even less prospects for the future than before.

He’d be a high school dropout now, because let’s face it, even if Higgins would be willing to let him repeat his senior year for a fourth time, Eddie was done. Surely all these days he was missing would push him over the edge. Those hard fought D’s becoming F’s in the blink of an eye. There was no point in trying anyway. Diploma or not, no one would hire him now. Hopper might have gotten him off the official hook, but Eddie knew how the world worked. Memory for hate was long and though he was innocent, though he would never spend a day in jail, the god-fearing people of Hawkins would always treat him like a murderer.

That was the life Steve had condemned him to by interfering, by taking away his only way out, and Eddie was so fucking angry. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive the other boy for what he’d done.

He wouldn’t have minded seeing Dustin. He probably owed the kid an apology for bleeding out in his arms and maybe causing him a lifetime's worth of trauma, but didn’t know how he’d manage that without the others tagging along.

“I don’t know, Wayne. I’m pretty tired,” Eddie said eventually, and didn’t even have to fake a yawn. This was the most excitement he’d had since he woke up, and he was still on a lot of drugs that made his bones feel heavy and his eyelids droop.

His uncle gave a sympathetic nod, releasing his hold on Eddie’s hand. “That’s okay, I’ll just go tell them you’re not up to it right now. They’re used to waiting around anyway, maybe later we can—”

“Can’t you just tell them all to go home?!” Eddie snapped, cutting him off. Instantly feeling terrible for raising his voice at the last person in the world who deserved it.

Wayne’s eyebrows flew up. “But… Ed, they’re your friends, aren’t they? They’ve been worried about you. I’m sure they’d like to see with their own eyes that you’re—”

Eddie looked away, dropping his gaze to stare down at the place where his IV disappeared into his skin as if he was suddenly fascinated with it.

“Listen, I don’t know the half of what you’ve been through, but I’m not stupid,” Wayne went on with a sigh. He rounded the bed, perching himself near the end of it where the rail was down. “I know it’s not as simple as that story Hopper’s pushing out. And those kids down there? They’ve seen some things, and I got a hunch that you have too. Don’t push 'em away now. You’re gonna need each other to get through this.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie said softly, still not looking up, eyes burning with unshed tears desperately trying to escape.

“Ed.”

“I’m sorry. I just—I can’t see them, okay?” The first tear rolled down Eddie’s cheek, hanging on to the end of his chin for a moment before splashing down on his chest, absorbed instantly into the thin material of his hospital gown. He didn’t even know why he was crying.

“Maybe after I get out of here, but for now, I—” Eddie cleared his throat roughly, but still couldn't force the rest of the words out.

“Alright, son. It’s alright.“ Wayne patted his leg and stood, making his way over to the door. “I doubt they’ll listen, but I’ll try and convince them to go on home.”

Wayne visited every day until Eddie was discharged about another week later. If anyone else continued to hang around the waiting room day-in and day-out, his uncle didn’t mention it, and Eddie didn’t ask.

The broken rib would still hurt like a bitch for at least a few more weeks, but his stitches had all been removed, and his wounds were healing nicely, or so he was told.

The wounds that could be seen anyway.

He’d have one hell of a scar on his stomach, among others, and one side of his mouth would always pull a little funny when he smiled, but he would make a full recovery. The doctors sent him home with nothing more than instructions on keeping the various areas clean and a mild prescription.

Read: non-narcotic.

He supposed he’d have to find some other way to try and numb himself then.

The trailer was new, a bit bigger, and boasted two whole bedrooms so at least neither of them would have to sleep in the living room anymore. Their old home had been taken into custody by some “shady government types”, according to Wayne, but he’d salvaged as much of their belongings as he could before they’d hauled it away.

Eddie's new room looked almost identical to his old, if a little cleaner and sadly lacking his sweetheart hanging in her place of honor on the wall, lost to the Upside Down.

It must have taken hours, days even, for the old man to get it set up like this and Eddie knew he should have been grateful—should be thanking his uncle profusely for this and everything else he’d done for him since the moment Eddie had been dropped on his doorstep.

But he didn’t feel grateful.

He didn’t feel much of anything, and prayed it would stay that way.

“How’s he doing?”

Eddie woke to the sound of voices speaking quietly nearby. He must have fallen asleep in front of the TV again. He remembered finishing the last drops of cheap vodka from the bottle, stashing it under the couch cushions before blacking out at some point during a rerun of The Twilight Zone.

He remained still. Too tired to move anyway and not wanting whoever was there talking to his uncle to know he was awake.

“I don’t know, Chief, “ Wayne whispered, the obvious worry in his voice making Eddie’s stomach roll, or maybe that was the hangover. “He won’t talk to me, hardly leaves that couch. I got these kids calling day and night and he won’t talk to them either, flat out refuses to come to the phone. He’s drinking—a lot I think. I don't even know where it’s coming from. He must be running out when I’m asleep, or maybe he’s getting it from someone here in the park. I’m sure he thinks I don’t know, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, Wayne. What he’s been through, it’s…” Hopper trailed off, blowing out a soft breath. “Maybe he just needs some time.”

“Yea, maybe,” Wayne agreed, but not like he believed it.

“I did want to check on you both,” Hopper went on. “But that isn’t the only reason I stopped by.”

“I had a feeling.”

“I’m trying my best to get the story out there, to let the community know Eddie is innocent, and now that I've been reinstated I can promise he won’t get any trouble from my guys—” Hopper hesitated. His voice sounded muffled, and it wasn’t hard for Eddie to imagine him rubbing at his face with tired hands.

“But?” Wayne prompted.

“But, public opinion is hard to sway. There’s been a lot of… pushback. It’ll die down eventually, and I’ll see if there’s anything more I can do, but it might be best for him to keep laying low for a while.”

“I hear ya.”

“You call me if you run into any problems around here or in town. Either of you.” Hopper said.

There was the sound of a chair being pushed back, and footsteps coming closer, as if the two men were walking towards the front door. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe even as he continued to pretend to be asleep.

“Thanks, Jim, and thanks for helping my boy.”

The door creaked as it opened, and a bit of sobering fresh air blew gently over Eddie’s sweaty face.

“If even half of what I hear is true, he’s a good kid. I’m sorry if I gave him a hard time before.”

Wayne chuckled softly. “Not like he didn’t deserve it.”

There was silence in the air for a beat, and Eddie thought maybe Wayne had gone outside with the chief, until Hopper spoke again, his tone solemn. “He doesn’t deserve this though.”

“No,” Wayne breathed, “no he doesn't.”

A few days after Hopper’s surprise visit, Eddie finally took one of Dustin’s calls.

He wasn’t exactly feeling any better about things, but he was tired of the looks Wayne was giving him whenever he refused to come to the phone. He didn’t know what the look was exactly. There was definitely disapproval in the set of the old man’s jaw, but his face also carried worry, sadness—even pity.

It wasn’t a great combination.

Eddie had also smoked the last joint from his own stash, drank himself out of booze, and ran out of cash to buy more. He couldn’t afford so much as a six pack.

He was growing restless, bored, and with no way to medicate himself he was no longer immune to the crushing guilt that had been steadily building since he’d refused visitors at the hospital.

“Eddie?”

“Hey, Henderson.”

Eddie braced himself, expecting to get shit for almost dying and then falling off the face of the earth, but Dustin was—careful.

“H-how are you?” The kid asked.

Eddie pulled the receiver away from his face and let his head thunk against the wall, thinking he’d have preferred getting yelled at.

“Oh, y’know… getting there. Healing, day by day, all that jazz. I’m—I’m alright.”

God, he sounded like an idiot.

Dustin let out a whoosh of air on the other end of the phone. “Good, that’s–that’s good. It’s really great to hear your voice.”

“Yeah, you too, man.” Eddie smiled to himself, and even though this entire thing was making his skin crawl a little bit, he found that he really meant it. “Listen, Dustin, I'm sorry about everything, and going MIA like that. It wasn’t fair to you.”

There was a beat of silence in Eddie’s ear, a muffled sniffle.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Dustin said finally, his voice a little thick and nasally.

“Yeah, me too.”

Which couldn’t have been further from the truth, but the kid didn’t need to know that.

There was a rustling noise in Eddie’s ear, and something like a horn, but was probably the kid blowing his nose. And Dustin sounded a little more like his usual self when he spoke again. “So, I know how tired you’ve been, but—”

“What?” Eddie asked, dumbly.

“You’re usually sleeping when I call, so I just thought—”

“Yeah—yes, right.”

Not the most graceful save, but spending days on end drinking, only to be suddenly involuntarily sober had left Eddie’s brain feeling like cotton candy.

“Well, now that you’re feeling better, I thought we could finally have our, we saved the world, party.”

“You say that like it’s a thing. Is that a normal thing you-all do?”

“Of course! You gotta celebrate your victories.”

“I don’t know.”

“Please? Will’s back in town too. We have so much to fill you in on! I was thinking maybe we could even play a quick one-shot now that we’re all back together. Steve wouldn’t mind if we took over his dining room table. He might even watch!”

Well, that answered the question of where this godforsaken event might be occurring.

Eddie remembered Dustin, Mike, and Lucas all raving about Will the Wise, and in another life he’d have been thrilled to finally meet the kid and play, but for one thing, he was in no condition to run a campaign yet—or maybe ever again.

And for two…

Steve.

“Absolutely not.”

“Eddieeeee,” Dustin drew his name out, long and whiny.

“No.”

There was no way Eddie was voluntarily getting within a five mile radius of Harrington or his stupidly big house.

“Come on, forget the game then. Just say you’ll come to Steve’s on Friday.”

“I’m sorry, but the answer is—”

“Please?” Dustin begged, his voice taking on a watery quality again. “I really need to see you.”

And fuck, how was Eddie supposed to say no to that? He should have never picked up the phone.

“Alright, fine. Tell me what time this shindig is and I’ll be there.”

Chapter 3

Thanks and love to @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for all your help and encouragement with this.

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

#Sad/Angst with a HAPPY ending #steddie fanfic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic #tw depression #tw sui ideation #cw depression #cw sui ideation

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arc852 · 3 months

Text

3. Plush

Definition: something soft or luxurious

Summary: It's been weeks since Jimmy has gotten any sleep and it's really starting to affect him. Grian and Joel notice and try to help.

Warnings: Sleep Deprivation

G/t: Grian and Joel are humans, Jimmy is a borrower

Word Count: 2670

AO3 Link

This is another fic within the Bad Boys Borrower College AU! Or BBBCAU for short, I guess lol.

Also, I realized some of you guys might not know what borrowers are. So here is a quick explanation.

A borrower is a tiny person who is only a few inches tall. They are human in appearance other than their size and their whole thing is living in walls and 'borrowing' things from humans to help them survive, all without being caught. They were created by Mary Norton back in 1952 in the form of a book series! Since then there have been several movie adaptations, including a Studio Ghibli film called The Secret World of Arrietty!

Hopefully that helped! And I hope you enjoy!

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Jimmy had not been getting a lot of sleep lately.

It used to come to him so easily too, he used to be able to just lay down, close his eyes, and the next thing he knew, it would be morning. He didn’t know how much of a good thing he had until it was gone because nowadays it felt like he wasn’t getting any sleep at all.

Jimmy glanced over at the time, from an old watch he managed to borrow, and groaned as he realized what time it was. So much for his nap. With a heavy sigh, he got out of bed, something small he had put together with some borrowed tissues and a (clean) sock. He stretched and rubbed at his eyes to try and stop the stinging.

He was on autopilot as he grabbed his bag and hook and got all of his other things together. He was barely aware as he left his little nook and walked along the inner walls. Time seemed to jump forward as Jimmy blinked back into consciousness, looking around and realizing he had somehow made it all the way to Grian and Joel’s room already.

Well that wasn’t the least bit concerning.

Shaking his head, Jimmy scouted out his surroundings. Grian and Joel still weren’t back yet, so the coast was clear. He came out from underneath the desk and headed over toward Joel’s nightstand. With how the room was set up, Joel’s nightstand was more in the center of the room, with Joel’s bed facing vertically from where the door was. Grian’s was on the opposite wall but facing horizontally from the door, so his nightstand was more off to the side.

All this to say, Jimmy had made it a habit to go to Joel’s nightstand whenever he visited. It was just the easier one to get to and see the whole room from. Once he made it to the nightstand, he unfurled his hook, doing his best to concentrate on not getting it tangled. He hard blinked a few times to keep himself focused and then pulled back and swung the hook upwards.

The hook missed by a short distance and fell back to the floor in front of Jimmy. He winced and gathered it up to try again. He narrowed his eyes and let it go once more. This time, the hook caught the side of the nightstand. Jimmy tested the rope strength briefly before climbing up.

He pulled himself up and onto the table and then turned back around to wind his hook and rope back up. Once that was done, he shoved it back into his bag and sat down to wait for Grian and Joel to get back.

He sat back against the lamp because he wasn’t sure if he would be able to keep himself upright otherwise. He was so tired and yet sleep still eluded him. How was that fair? Maybe if he continued to not sleep he would simply pass out eventually. He’d be lying if he said that didn’t sound appealing. Even just a little bit.

His eyes drifted close…but then he opened them a moment later when the door to the room opened up. His eyes were a bit blurry but he could see who was clearly Grian and Joel enter the room and close the door behind them.

“--And then he just up and left.” Joel said as he came in, Jimmy missing whatever it was he had said to start with. They seemed to be in the middle of talking and Jimmy didn’t want to interrupt them, so he stayed quiet and waited for a chance to chime in. For now, he watched as Joel swung his backpack off his shoulder and haphazardly tossed it onto the floor by the foot of his bed.

“Well that doesn’t sound like him at all.” Grian said back with a hum. He went over to his desk and placed his bag on top of it, opening it up and shifting through it, taking out some books and papers and putting them on the desk as well. “Did Tango say anything else?”

Joel shrugged, leaning against his desk to look at Grian. “Just that he came back a few hours later and pretended nothing had happened.”

“Weird.” Grian simply replied with.

Honestly, Jimmy had barely been listening to their actual words. He had already forgotten what the conversation had entailed, at least what little of it he had heard. Hearing them speak was familiar and nice and it just made his eyes feel even more heavy.

Jimmy was startled out of his sleepiness as Joel’s voice cut through. “Jimmy? When did you get here?” Joel said with a hint of surprise in his voice. Jimmy blinked and looked up to see Joel had come closer to where Jimmy was sitting, looming over him and looking down with raised eyebrows.

It took Jimmy a moment to answer. “Oh, um…not too long I don’t think.” Jimmy answered, realizing he was unsure. It didn’t feel like too long but time was acting really funny right now.

“Well next time say something.” Joel said with a slight frown.

“Yeah, we would prefer to know where you are at all times.” Grian had chimed in, coming over to get a better look at where Jimmy was. “For obvious reasons.”

Jimmy winced, realizing staying quiet had been a bad idea. He just hadn’t wanted to interrupt them, that’s all. And he was too tired to make an effort to get them to see him. It was fine, he had made sure he was in a good and safe spot before they had gotten there.

Despite these thoughts though, he simply nodded. Though as he nodded he let his head hang low for longer than he should have. He blinked his eyes open, not realizing he had closed them and righted his head to look back up at the two humans. They suddenly looked concerned.

“Is something wrong Tim?” Grian asked, eyes scanning over his body.

“No, no, I’m fine.” Jimmy said, trying his best to not sound as tired as he felt. He didn’t want them to worry. This was his problem to deal with. The humans had their own problems and they didn’t need to be worrying about Jimmy on top of them.

Unfortunately, his words were met with skepticism. Joel, being closer, squatted down in order to get a good look at Jimmy. Jimmy tried to turn his head away, to hide how he must look with no sleep, but a finger suddenly filled his vision and gently guided his head back forward. The finger stayed there as Joel looked at him and so Jimmy saw when his face fell.

“Jimmy, what happened?” Joel asked, and as he did so a thumb entered his vision and ran under his eyes. Once again, the touch was featherlight and gentle but Jimmy still flinched back a little from the touch. Joel noticed and took his thumb back but the finger touching the right side of his face remained. “You’ve got dark circles under your eyes, your hair is a mess, and…well, honestly you just look plain awful.”

Jimmy glared at him though he knew it wasn’t intended to be an insult. The amount of worry in Joel’s voice at least told him that much. He hadn’t seen himself in a mirror in a while, but he was sure Joel was telling the truth about how he must look.

He wasn’t going to be able to hide it from them now. So he might as well tell them. Jimmy sighed. “I…I just haven’t been getting enough sleep. That’s all.”

Grian and Joel exchanged looks. “How long has it been?” Grian asked after a moment.

Jimmy thought back but honestly couldn’t remember when this had started. He shrugged. “It’s…been a while now, I think.” He forced his brain to work. “Maybe…um…” Jimmy trailed off. The answer had come to him but he was thinking maybe he shouldn’t say anything. But the constant worried looks from his two friends made him realize he needed to. “Maybe shortly after meeting you guys? So…two or three weeks? Something like that.”

Joel blinked in shock. “Are you saying you haven’t really been sleeping for three weeks.” Joel looked at Jimmy with wide eyes and then moved to look at Grian. Grian’s eyes were narrowed in thought and worry.

“Is it…our fault?” Grian asked a bit hesitantly. Joel froze and then finally took his hand back from where he had been touching Jimmy.

Jimmy missed the contact as soon as it left but turned to Grian to focus on what he had said. His eyes widened when it finally registered. “What? No! It’s-it’s not your guys fault!” Jimmy said, standing up a little too fast and feeling a little dizzy. He recovered quickly though. “Do you really think I would keep coming back here if I was so distraught about being found by you guys that I couldn’t sleep properly?” Jimmy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Grian and Joel looked at each other, each with a slight wince and Jimmy frowned. “The answer is no, by the way.” Jimmy said, not letting them answer after seeing that.

Joel looked like he wanted to say something, but he bit his lip and Grian shook his head with a small sigh to himself. “Okay, then if that’s not it, what else could it be?” Grian said, and Jimmy was thankful for Grian moving right along. Though Jimmy made a mental note to talk to them about that reaction later on. Once he had enough brain to actually figure out what it meant.

“I really don’t know…” Jimmy answered with a sigh. “My bed back at home just hasn’t been feeling as comfortable as before, I guess. And, I don’t know, it’s almost…too dark? In the walls now. Which has never been a problem before but…” The more he spoke, the more he was realizing, but he was still confused on why he was feeling differently about these things.

“That’s weird.” Joel said, also trying to think why that would be.

Grian, on the other hand, connected the dots and already had a pretty good idea why Jimmy wasn’t able to sleep. Instead of saying anything, however, he decided to try something first. “How about we help you try and get some sleep? We humans have some remedies that might just work for you.”

Jimmy blinked, not having heard of this before. “Remedies?”

Grian nodded. “Yep. I mean, it doesn’t hurt to try. Right?”

Jimmy supposed that was true. The worst that would probably happen is that it just didn’t work. And the best is that he could finally get some sleep. “Okay. I’m willing to try.”

Grian smirked, his plan now in action. “Great! Then the first one we can try is drinking warm milk.” He turned to Joel. “You mind going to get us some?”

Joel blinked. “Wait, why do I have to do it?”

Grian shrugged, trying his best to appear nonchalant. “Cause I have some other stuff I can help Jimmy try while you go grab it.”

Joel glared at him but sighed. “Fine. I’ll be back, I guess.” Joel grabbed his keys from the desk and then left the room, heading for the dorm’s kitchen area. Grian then turned back to Jimmy, ready for the last part of his plan now that Joel was gone.

“Okay, while he’s doing that, let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.” Grian came closer and scooped Jimmy up, careful of how he was doing so. Jimmy let out a little noise of surprise but otherwise barely reacted. Already Grian could see Jimmy snuggling into the warmth of his hand, which was already proving the theory he had worked out.

Grian sat on Joel’s bed and set Jimmy down in the middle, up enough so he could still use some of the pillow. He then pulled up the blanket and laid it across the borrower, careful to not cover his head.

Jimmy snuggled into the plush mattress. He had been in these beds only a handful of times so far but everytime it was like heaven. Jimmy imagined this was what a cloud must feel like but with the addition of being oh so warm. The feeling was already making Jimmy’s eyes droop.

Grian smirked. “Comfy?”

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah…” he trailed off into a sigh, snuggling his head further into the pillow.

Grian hummed as he watched Jimmy’s eyes fully close and his chest became a steady up and down. Grian grinned, patting himself on the back for figuring it out and getting Jimmy to finally fall asleep.

It was at that moment that Joel came back, a glass of warm milk in his hand. “Alright, I got it.”

“Shh!” Grian shushed him and Joel froze. Grian gently pushed himself off the bed, careful to not disturb Jimmy and walked over to Joel. “Jimmy’s asleep.” He whispered. And Joel frowned.

“What was the point in me going to get the milk then?” Joel asked in a whisper, a bit annoyed at the unnecessary journey. Grian smirked, pointing over to Joel’s bed. Joel blinked and put the glass of milk down before walking over. Sure enough, Jimmy was there in the center, sound asleep.

“Seriously? You made me leave so you could put Jimmy in my bed?” Joel asked, still keeping his voice low. Grian nodded and Joel huffed. “You could have at least left me some room here.” Joel motioned to the bed and the fact that Jimmy was right in the middle.

Grian shrugged. “You could move him but then you’d risk waking him up.”

Joel rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Yeah, no. I’m not going to do that to him. He clearly needs the sleep.” Joel looked at Jimmy for a long moment, mesmerized by how peaceful the borrower looked. “How did you get him to fall asleep anyway?” Joel hadn’t even been gone that long.

“I figured out what was keeping him from sleeping in the first place.” Grian said, looking over at Jimmy. “I think…it is sort of our fault he hasn’t been able to sleep lately.”

Joel blinked. “But, he said--”

Grian cut him off. “I know but not in that way. I think we’ve been…well, spoiling him.”

“Spoiling him.” Joel repeated, confused. “How so?”

“Think about what he said before. His bed is no longer comfortable, he thinks his home is too dark, etcetera, etcetera.” Grian said, waving his hand along. “That’s technically our fault. He’s been out here, he’s been in our beds before, he’s used to how light our room is…” Grian explained, trailing off as Joel started to get what Grian was saying. “He couldn’t sleep because we gave him the chance to actually feel comfortable and now his old set up isn’t the same anymore.”

“Oh.” Joel said, taking it all in. “Wow, that’s…” He looked over to Jimmy, still sleeping peacefully.

“I know.” Grian said, despite Joel not finishing his sentence. “We should talk to him about it once he wakes up. Maybe…instead of going back to the walls he can stay with us.”

Joel nodded. “Yeah, no, that sounds good to me.” Joel paused for a moment. “You think he’ll say yes?

Grian nodded. “I think so. If we explain to him what happened and why he hasn’t been sleeping. I think he’ll be willing.” Grian shrugged and sat on his bed. “Besides, it’s a win win. Jimmy gets more sleep and you and I get to see him more.”

Joel nodded, he did want to see Jimmy more especially if it meant it was also benefiting Jimmy as well. “Alright then, we’ll talk to him when he wakes up.” Now that that was settled, he went back to glaring at Grian. “Now onto the topic of where I’m going to sleep tonight.”

Grian smirked.

Joel ended up sleeping on the floor that night.

#g/t #giant/tiny #borrowers #mcyt g/t #hermitcraft #au #hermitcraft g/t #hermitfic #borrower!jimmy #bad boys borrower college au #day 3 #gtjuly2024 #sleep deprivation

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lurafita · 10 days

Text

WWE AU

Okay, so there was a time when I was a little obsessed with WWE. And for whatever reason, I just remembered that.

So, can you picture the guys in a setting like this? Doesn't even have to necessarily be wrestling, maybe more mixed martial arts. But there are cameras backstage and fights and lots of "entertainment".

That training fight scene with Alec and Magnus is living rent free in my head and I would just like more of that, you know?

As it always does, my brain went right to "backstory" Mode.

So, Alec was classicly trained, in a studio, with professional trainers and wrestling and other fighting styles have been practiced in his family for generations and are highly regarded. There is a philosophy to it, a feeling of honor.

Alec's parents actually weren’t happy when their son went to the WWE with his talents, but Alec argued that this might be able to help get the younger generation to look at the sport as something more than bashing each other for the entertainment value of the audience. (And, well, also money. Because while there is a familial wealth to the Lightwood name, Alec would like to be a bit more independent from them. And if he gets famous enough, gets his name out there, maybe he could open up an mma studio where he can then teach kids and adults alike the *real* sport.)

Magnus comes from a poor background and an even poorer neighborhood.

If you didn’t know how to defend yourself, you were prey.

When he was old enough to not be turned away by the guards immediately, he started fighting in underground rings for money.

Fighting was never anything more for him than a means to make enough money to eat and stuff.

One night, a wrestling manager looking for new talent happens to be at one of those underground rings and sees Magnus. He gets signed almost right away.

And just months later, Magnus has money and a measure of security and is rising in fame. Without the worries of his past nibbling at his heels, he lives it up.

Make it grand, make it a show, have some fun!

Fighting was never fun before. It was survival.

But now, Magnus *lives*.

And Alec thinks that Magnus is only in it for the show and the fame and the glory. That he has no respect for the art as it is.

And in a way, he is right.

Magnus doesn't respect the Art of fighting the way others in their line of work do. He didn’t learn it because he wanted to, but because he needed to. He will never feel the things that Alec does where fighting is concerned. But that doesn’t mean he doesn't have his own version of respect for it.

Once Alec understands that, he is even more in awe of Magnus than he was.

They both grow to learn and understand each other, without having to conform to the other's view.

Magnus will never be able to see fighting as something inherently good, but he respects that Alec does.

Alec will never see fighting as a mere tool, be he respects that Magnus does.

#magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters tv #malec #malec prompt #wwe inspired malec au #fighter magnus #fighter alec #mundane alec #mundane magnus

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thegreatstoryteller · 2 years

Text

The Great Shift: Friendsgiving

“So we’ve got the turkey in the oven, the mashed potatoes being mashed, yams ready for serving, and gravy on the stove top! Am I missing anything?” Reggie asked looking eagerly at his boyfriend Roth.

“Nope! You’ve got everything honey. It’s gonna be fine. I already have dessert in the fridge and drink ready to pour. Tonight is gonna be great, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Roth consoled, looking up at his concerned man while rubbing the his lower back. His eager hands couldn’t resist pulling at the shorts Reggie liked to wear around the house when he went shirtless.

“I know.. I know.... it’s just been such a long time since we all got together. I’d been keeping up with Chan a bit... but the others only briefly... What.... has it been 3 years since the Great Shift?” Reggie said sullenly as if recounting the time.

“It sure has been. 3 years since the world went full on swap crazy... and 3 years since I got lucky enough to be swapped so close to you.” Roth smirked hugging his boyfriend lovingly.

Reggie smiled as he turned to gaze down into his boyfriend’s beautiful brown eyes, covered by glasses he didn’t originally need till it all happened. He couldn’t believe his luck. Nearly 3 Thanksgivings ago his friends Roth, Chan, Phil, Monty, and Joseph were all eager to be in town for their family’s celebrations. They were close all throughout high school and college and wanted were finally all in the same place. But then the shift happened. Reggie was in the kitchen helping his mom out with a meal when suddenly he was somewhere else entirely.... in someone else! He was having the most intimate moment he’d ever experienced with one of the most handsome men he’d ever seen! For the nerdy one of his group Reggie had never gotten remotely intimate with anyone, but now it was as if his body was moving on auto pilot. Thrusting, moaning, and kissing like a top notch adult film actor!

It was only after the most satisfying hour off passionate love making that he managed to come down from that high. The next few minutes were furious explanations and apologies, that were immediately shushed by who Reggie later learned was Roth! The former nerd couldn’t believe his straight best friend who played football and was a notorious ladies man was this incredibly cute African American twink who he’d just been inside of! Not to mention the glasses and Pokémon necklace completing the whole new nerdy look!

And when Reggie finally got a good look at himself there was no trace of the former nerd. Hard muscles and broad shoulders were the only thing anyone would see when they stared at him now. That and a handsome face, framed perfectly with his new Asian features. People would say he could be a model with that physique and bone structure, but his shy nature wouldn’t call for anything more than attention from his soon to be boyfriend.

Needless to say the rest was history. The two survived the strange transition from great shift craziness back to normal lives and had been living together and getting closer the entire time. Reggie as the newly Asian 6′2 fitness model. Roth as the nerdy 5′4 twink who had a knack for admiring his boyfriend’s body.

Soon the doorbell broke Reggie’s train of thought. “Oh that must be them! Mind taking the turkey out babe? I’m gonna get the door!” Reggie directed as he strode towards the doorway. When Reggie opened up he was greeted by the open smoldering smile of Chan.

“S’up guys. Great to see you. Looking good there Reggie. Guess I’m not the only one who’s been hitting the gym since the change! Now that I’m back in town maybe we can start working out again.” Chan smirked, his once thicker accent gone with time and apparently a new body.

Reggie simply hugged his friend still inwardly surprised. He’d kept up with Chan, but he hadn’t seen any pictures that would suggest he was now a white guy. Chan had been the second nerdiest of the group and a Chinese immigrant, originally meeting his friends when his parents moved for work. He stayed in college under a student visa and after they graduated was worried he’d be unable to continue living nearby when he couldn’t find work right away. Well then the shift happened landing him in the most American body he could think of with a thick East Coast accent!

“It was actually funny. When it happened I thought I was in some kind of dream, but it happened to be true. Once identities were being re-established I had to explain who I was and they had a hard time wanting to deport a guy who could barely speak Mandarin or Kantonese! Still sucks how I’m one of those guys who had that dang language aphasia post swap the prevents me from knowing words that my current body didn’t know. But hey, I may not be a language major anymore, but I at least got some solid work! Have to hold back saying things like ‘forget about it’ these days. It’s like a weird verbal compulsion, y’know?” Chan explained as he got inside to greet Roth.

Then the doorbell chimed once more and two larger men were there.

“Hey Reggie!... that is you right?” the first larger man said. The signature casual grin on that face was unmistakably Phil! There seemed to be no sign of his tall skinny friend who loved to smoke pot in the basement. “Y-yeah. This is me. Wow Phil! It’s great to see you again. Come on in.” The larger man laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ve seen that face all around town when I re introduce myself to people! I know I’ve put on some weight since you last saw me. I’ve been embracing my new dad bod these days, especially my new appetite! When I first got into this guy I was surprised to say the least. Not every day you gain over 100lbs and are sitting in front of some corporate desk job. And I lost my long silky hair! But hey, I’ve got this kickass beard now and a beefier bod! Not bad being 6′4 with these huge thick feet. They’re size 15 if you can believe! And of course I’m at least not alone. Monty is in the same big guy boat as me.”

Phil stepped aside as if to hide the pretty obvious big guy behind him.

“Yeah. Hi. Good to see you again Reggie. I take it Roth and Chan are already inside?” Monty asked. This larger guy looked less comfortable in his skin. Clothes clearly tight over his larger body.

“Yeah of course. They’re just in the kitchen. Dinner is about to be served soon.” Reggie explained as the two large bellies before him rumbled in excitement. “Gosh this embarrassing.” Monty winced. “I used to be the lean put together one of our group and now I can barely contain myself whenever someone mentions food.... a lot of things taste real good now... but I just can’t keep the weight off. I keep trying to do exercises and diets, but my self control isn’t what it used to be... but it’s at least good to see friends and... well Chan is always looking good these days.” Monty blushes. He was once a lean 5′10 with a runner’s build, and while he’d maintained his height it was now enlarged with a hefty coating of hair and fat.

Reggie wasn’t sure what to make of this but lead the two larger men to the table as Chan joined them. As the three friends caught up Reggie went back to the kitchen to see his smaller boyfriend struggling with taking the big turkey out of the oven.

“Here let me lend you a hand.” Reggie offered as he effortlessly grabbed some oven mitts and lifted the meal with ease.

“Thanks babe,” Roth smiled. “I forget I’m not as strong as I used to be. Chan offered to do some workouts later this week. Maybe I’ll join him! Get some of my old physique back.” Roth patted his lean arms of non existent muscle.

“I’d love that Roth. You’re the one who showed me how to maintain this body while the world was still going mad. I couldn’t have got through all that without you.” Reggie admitted with a blush.

“Hey, we got each other through all that.” Roth pulled his boyfriend in for another one of their legendary kisses, both men feeling the other stir with pleasure. When they release Roth smirked. “Now how about we get out there and serve them a delicious meal.” Reggie nodded excitedly and the two came out with the food.

It was clear for anyone at the table to see that Chan and Monty were making eyes at each other, but even that was broken when the food was placed and the feast began.

“Had anyone heard from Joey? I was hoping he’d come by too.” Roth asked as he passed the mashed potatoes.

“Oh you hadn’t heard?” Chan said. “Joey is going by Joseph now. He’s been all over social media ever since he turned into that hot straight guy. Look here’s his latest post.” Chan produced his phone and showed them a classic social media post with a cringe caption.

“Thankful for my busty babe Jessica for snapping me before my morning workout in Milan. #blessed #truefriends”

“Woah is that really Joey?” Reggie stared wide eyed. The Joey he knew was an outspoken gay man who was advocating for rights, while attending Pride! He was a shorter guy who had no problem grabbing people’s attention too. Granted he knew he was a bit of a horny twink at times, but still. The guy he was seeing seemed to post countless shirtless pics with beautiful women left and right. His latest post suggested he was traveling abroad with a collection of different hot women offering him places to stay throughout his trip.

“It really is. I tried to get him to come but he just said he had more babes to meet up and knew we’d understand.” Chan scoffed with disappointment.

Roth just shook his head. “What a jerk. Guess some people really let the shift change em for the worse.”

“Aw come on. Let’s not let o’l joey get us down.” Phil said patting the smaller guy on the back, nearly knocking him off the chair. “We got a whole table to be thankful for this year! And i’m not talking just about the food!”

They all laughed, comforted by Phil’s familiar light heartedness. “I’m just saying. We survived a weird time in human history and are still friends. I’m real lucky to have you guys here and wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“Now that sounded like a cheers. How about we raise a glass?” Monty suggested.

“I like the sound of that.” Chan nodded as he held Monty’s thick hand under the table, causing both men to blush.

“To the people in our lives! And the one’s we’re lucky enough to call friends!” Phil cheered.

“Cheers!” “Salud!” “Here here!”

The group of friends continued to eat happy for the things they could be thankful for and were hoping for even more moments like this to share.

#thegreatstoryteller #body swap #age progression #gay to straight #Sexuality change #straight to gay #race change #racial change #The Great Shift

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slutouttanowhere · 2 months

Text

Main character: Sabrina Richards ™️ (my original oc)

Warnings: manipulation tactics, toxic behavior, lying, and gaslighting.

Summary: sometimes you have to play into the Devils ego to get what you want, and Sabrina planned on doing just that. Biding her time, making Punk think all between them had been forgiven, but revenge is best served when least expected.

‘I’m still a fan though I was salty’ Punk was nearly half way up the ladder, after a grueling 40 min of fighting off five other men he was that much closer to his goal. He was so close to that briefcase, the opportunity to prove his last run in this company wouldn’t die in vain. “How do you wanna celebrate tonight B?” Punk arrogantly leaned against the door counter top as pre planned a victory night with Sabrina in his bus. ‘I might kill my ex, not the best idea, his new girlfriend’s next, how’d I get here?’

She grinned wolfishly, “I actually have something planned for you tonight…but it’s a surprise.” Sabrina stood up from her seat on the couch, and met him halfway. The kiss she planted on his lips earlier that day was the only thing Punk could really think about all night, it’s what carried him throughout the match. Surviving, trying to tightrope around Drew who seemed dead ass set on murdering him, again. Punk did find it odd that the large Scotsman barely tried to climb up himself, but rather keep punk off the latter. ‘Damn it, he did know this was a Money In the Bank right?’ He thought to himself, he tried to look in Drew’s eyes, but he had zero idea what he was thinking. Sure he looked angry, and a bit disgruntled but that’s how Drew always looked at Punk nowadays. ‘I still love him though, I’d rather be in jail than alone.’

Punk shoved Drew as hard as he could, it didn’t really move him off his feet, “what the hell are you doing!” He shouted, every time he got a bit of momentum, Drew was right there to chop him down. He was stalking him the whole time, so instead of trying to avoid him, Punk decided to address it. Seth had been casted aside with ease as Randy roughly slinged him out of the ring as if he weighed nothing. Randy however, was taken care of by Carmelo who had beaten The Viper to the ground with a ladder, and Carmelo was quickly dealt with by Punk himself as the veteran took advantage of Carmelo’s back being turned.

Meanwhile in the back Sabrina lingered around the gorilla, her newly won women’s championship glistening under the back stage lighting. Her eyes glued to a nearby monitor as she watched Drew and Punk stare each other down, she chewed on her bottom lip in anticipation. Bodies were everywhere, ladders were broken into halves and twisted into unusual shapes from being used as weapons. The two men jumped on each other, punching, kicking and clawing like wild cats. Drew pushed Punk off him, meaning to catch him, and throw Pepsi Man into a German superlex. Punk maneuvered quicker than expected, drove Drew into the corner, and hastily delivered a high knee to his face. Punk knew that wasn’t enough to put someone like Drew McIntyre away, but he knew if he wasted more time trying to fight him off another guy would snatch that briefcase away from him.

“Shit.” Sabrina cursed, without hesitation she sprinted through the curtain and down the ramp. The crowd erupted in a frenzy of mixed reactions, it was enough to distract Punk, he was half way up to victory when he glanced up to see Sabrina rushing down.

‘I did it all for love, I did it all on no drugs, I did all of this sober. I did it all for us.’

“What the hell are you doing?” Punk shouted, the briefcase forgotten all about at this point, he was genuinely concerned by the look on her face. Her bottom lip poked out, and her eyebrows pinched like someone had upset her. An expression he was weak for, he hated seeing her upset, even if it was him that may have caused it. Little did he know. Punk’s eyes darted down to Drew, who still was crouched in the corner. A shit eating grin spread across his lips, Punks stomach twisted and turned. Something about this scenario felt like a bad dream coming true, Sabrina, and Punk’s gazes locked in. It was like he was hypnotized, like he had to come to her aid regardless of the fact she seemed fine, at least physically.

Suddenly she perked up, “I told you I had a surprise for you.” She chirped, before he had time to process what was happening, Sabrina grasped Punks chin making sure he was looking her in the eyes. Her leg reared back, and as hard as she could, she kicked the fuck out of Punk.

“Agh!” He groaned, his hands immediately holding onto his crotch as if that would make the pain go away. He dropped to his knees, his eyes watched Drew slide past Sabrina, and up to the ladder. He took his time, or at least that’s what it felt like to him as he looked up at his foe from where he cowered below. Just like that his dreams were snatched away as Drew unhooked the briefcase, this is not how any of this went in his head. They should be playing his music, the crowd should be crying joy for him. As if that wasn’t enough salt in his wound, after Drew came down, he walked up to Sabrina. A look of sincerity in his eyes, her own gaze softening as she looked up at him, and not a single person could believe what they were witnessing. Sabrina’s hand slid up Drew’s broad chest, his unoccupied arm wrapped around her curvy waist. Her hands cupped Drew’s face, and brought him in for a deep, sensual kiss. A real kiss, it warmed her body in ways Punk hasn't since she decided to give him a second chance, or at least had pretended to. It didn’t matter to her anyway, it was all for the sake of the plot.

Drew’s tongue was warm, soft, and wet. When he finally pulled away from Sabrina, he looked down at Punk, and held the green briefcase up to him showing it off. He tapped it with his index, and middle finger, “looks like I out pettied you after all, stole your moment, and I stole your girl.” He laughed obnoxiously, head thrown back, and mouth agape. Drew held the ropes open for Sabrina, who turned back at the last minute, and blew a kiss to Punk. He was still hunched in the middle of the ring on his knees, his brain finding it extremely hard to assess what the fuck just happened. ‘I just killed my ex, I still love him though, rather be in hell than alone.’

*a/n: if you made it to the bottom of this post, I love you lol. But also I want to give music/lyric credit to SZA, the lyrics in this fic are from her song Kill Bill. Also credit to @anitalenia for the divider. Im it gonna lie to y’all, I created this shit in my room cutting an imaginary promo w/Drew to Punk. *yes I actually was in my fucking room acting out all the parts* anywho, I feel like @slutfortheeclaymore would particularly enjoy this one shot. Hope you enjoyed, reblog, leave a comment and follow for me unhinged shit.

#cm punk fanfiction #drew mcintyre fanfiction #black!oc

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 2 years

Text

Taking cues

A/N: I should have been doing some work, instead I got distracted by a video and I ended up doing some work that wasn't the work I should have been doing. Bartender!Mikey today❤️ Sort of beta'd, surviving mistakes get to stay.

Pairing: Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Summary: Your favourite bartender offers to teach you to play pool.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), p-in-v sex, unsafe casual sex (that's a really bad idea, folks, don't do it), creampie, abuse of a pool table...

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Mike was by far your favourite bartender. Tall, handsome and quick with a joke. In fact, after your friend had quit a few months ago, he was your only reason for still coming to this bar – and occasionally closing it down even though that wasn’t particularly exciting. Tonight was one of those nights, and today was so slow that Mike had left his station behind the bar and was playing pool with some guys he seemed to know. It wasn’t a bad thing – except maybe you could have done with another drink about ten minutes ago, but neither you, nor Steph, nor Daisy had had the heart to disturb him while he was clearly very concentrated on the game – and bent over the table with his ass facing your way, but that obviously had nothing to do with it.

“I see a perfectly fine opportunity,” Steph said as she swirled her empty glass around in her hands, “he’s been looking at you all night.”

You snorted. “Get real.” Daisy and Steph, however, both swore that the guy had been flirting with you all night.

“There’s three guys at that table,” Daisy chimed in, “at least go over.”

Normally you’d just call him to the bar, but today, with the confidence only the combination of your favourite outfit and a drink too many could give you, you walked over to him. Putting your arm around his waist was a move on the bolder side, but you decided: fuck it, you were committing to this.

“Any chance we can get another drink, Mikey?” A simple smile would have to do for now, you were nowhere near drunk enough to hit him with anything more than that.

“Sure, Sweetcheeks,” he snuck in a quick wink, “three of the same?” As he walked back to the bar, you followed him – someone was going to have to pay for these. You saw a text from Daisy when you got your card out of your phone case.

DD: Open a tab. DD: Trust me.

You looked over to the pool table to see your friends all over the other two guys. Trusting Daisy when men were concerned was generally a good idea, so you took her advice.

“There you go, ladies,” Mike said as he handed Steph and Daisy their drinks.

“We’ve just convinced these two to join our game,” one of the guys said.

“But only if you’re in,” Daisy said, maybe a little too coyly. This time it was Mikey’s turn to put a hand on your waist.

“What do you say, Sweetcheeks?” He smiled at you. “Wanna play?” Ok, you knew how to play this…

“I can’t…” You let your voice trail off as you chuckled shyly.

“I’ll teach you,” both of his hands were on your hips now, and his smile widened when you faux-reluctantly agreed to his little proposal. You knew how to play pool, and you thought it was going to be hard to pretend you didn’t know the game, but Mikey distracted you plenty, and it had you fumbling like you’d never touched a cue in your life. He started out serious, careful even, as if he was trying to see how far he could go, but after a while – and another round – he started to get handsy. Every time you were up, you felt his hands near or on yours, and his body bent over you with his hips pressing into your ass. He didn’t let go of you when you got up, either – only occasionally, when he had to step away to do, you know, his actual job. It didn’t take long for him to develop the annoying little habit of squeezing your ass through your skirt, which put you on edge more than you were willing to admit. With every touch of his hand, jolts of electricity shot down your spine and soon you were not just distracted by his touch, but just by the fire coursing through your veins and the throbbing between your legs. The good news was; he wasn’t exactly unaffected by all of this, either – a fact you exploited to the fullest by brushing whatever discreetly available body part past his erection, any chance you got.

The guys at the other table called him away for another round right when your turn rolled around. You made a face at Daisy and went for it. It was by far the best shot yet, because when you didn’t have any hot bartenders around to distract you, you were actually quite good. The guys shook their head, grinning widely, and Steph couldn’t stifle a laugh.

“Good one.” Mike’s hands appeared on your hips and his lips next to your ear. You turned around in his arms and looked at him with the biggest and most innocent eyes you could manage.

“Got lucky, I guess,” you said playfully. For a moment you were scared that you’d ruined your chances by taking away the excuse of him teaching you, because he stood next to you on the next shot, using the new freedom of not having his hands full to squeeze your ass.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you completely butchered whatever the fuck you were trying to do. At least it got him back behind you on the next one. The bar got even quieter as time passed. The other pool table was now empty, and the only other people left before last call, leaving just the six of you when closing time came.

The guys turned to Steph and Daisy. “So, we were about to…”

“Leave? Great idea.” Steph wasn’t made for subtlety. Not that this particular situation called for any discretion. Besides, both of your friends looked more than happy to leave with their assigned subjects. The only spanner in the works was that Mike had to close up shop…

“Can you settle the tab, girl?” Daisy looked over her shoulder and winked at you as she and Steph dragged the other guys out of the bar. Trusting her had been the right call – yet again.

As soon as the door closed, Mike pulled you back against his body by your hips, and his lips found your neck. You moaned as he placed a few soft kisses on the sensitive skin before turning you around. His mouth was rough on yours, demanding. You kissed him back with every ounce of enthusiasm he was giving you, wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling your fingers into his hair. Fuck, this guy could kiss! It was rough and sloppy, and you loved every second of it. Fingers dug into your hips as he pushed you back into the table, grinding against you. He was hard – he had been for hours, you’d made sure of that – and he was impatient. The good news? So were you.

He moaned into your mouth when you suddenly turned the both of you around. You had his belt unbuckled and his jeans halfway down in no time. Mike chuckled softly when you eagerly palmed him through his boxers, and wasted no time getting his underwear out of the way, too. This guy was messing with your head, you were never in this big a hurry… You took advantage of the gasp he let out as you wrapped your fingers around his cock, and sucked his bottom lip into your mouth. Biting down softly earned you a moan, sucking on it had him whine in the cutest way. It made you wonder what else you could suck to make him sound that way…

You gave him a soft kiss before breaking away, biting your lip while looking into his eyes as you dropped to your knees. Mike hissed when your tongue darted out to lightly tease the tip of his cock, licking up a salty bead of precum that had formed. The taste made your pussy clench around nothing, begging to be filled, and you knew that he wouldn’t complain if you changed your mind now… No. You were going to have some fun with him, first. Wrapping your lips around him was rewarded with a growl that sent shivers down your spine. From there, it was impossible for him to keep quiet. God, this guy was loud, it was fantastic. You chuckled at the moans he let out when you swirled your tongue around his head. His knuckles were pale from gripping the edge of the pool table. As you slowly started to move your head back and forth, you noticed there was quite a lot of ground to cover between your mouth and your hand at the base of his cock. Mike put a hand on your head and looked at you, still spilling moans and growls freely as he watched you suck him off. You quickly figured out he liked his blowjobs the way he liked his kisses; sloppy, and you were more than happy to oblige. The view was fantastic; he was breathing heavily, trying his best to keep his eyes open so he could look at you, moaning constantly – swearing occasionally, and very gently rocking his hips into your movements.

“Fuck! Please keep going, I-“ It was too easy to do what he asked; he was just too fucking cute to deny. Movements steady and eyes locked on his, you continued until Mike took charge of the rhythm. Thick ropes of cum filled your mouth, and you swallowed gladly, your eyes never leaving his as you did.

Mike helped you get back on your feet and pulled you in for another kiss. This time, he was quick to move his mouth to your ear.

“That was fucking amazing, baby,” he whispered before nipping at your earlobe. He turned his attention to your neck, licking and biting almost recklessly while his hands explored your body. You’re not exactly sure how it was possible, but one minute you were fully clothed, the next you were on your back on the pool table, no longer wearing your sweater or bra. Mike had you pinned in place, one hand on your wrists to keep them above your head, his mouth roughly working your nipples, and the other hand sliding underneath your skirt. Long fingers pushed your thong to the side and immediately found the wetness underneath. Mike whistled through his teeth and swore as he slipped two fingers into your drenched pussy. Your walls clenched around him when he curled his fingers up just the right way and found the right spot inside you almost instantly. Either this guy knew what he was doing, or it was dumb luck, but honestly; you didn’t really give a fuck. You shrieked when he pressed his thumb against your clit. The pressure on your wrists disappeared as Mike’s hand retreated. You were very unpleasantly surprised when his other hand also disappeared. As it turns out, he needed both hands to drag your underwear down and you to the edge of the table. You’d been impressed with Mikey’s enthusiasm while kissing you, but he put twice that effort into giving you head. No teasing, no slow – frustrating – build-up, none of that. He just dove in, eating your pussy like he was starving. You were a squirming mess on his tongue within seconds, and when he pushed his fingers back into you, it was over for you. Mike had you climbing fast and crashing hard, barely waiting for the end of your orgasm to move back up and crashing his mouth against yours. You answered eagerly, relishing the taste of your pussy on his tongue. Thanks to him, you were even wetter than before, and when you felt his hard cock twitch between your legs, your entire body screamed for him.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, and he happily obliged. He slid all the way inside with ease, a feral grunt escaping his throat as he felt the wet heat of your core for the first time. You gasped at the way your walls stretched tight around him, and the feeling of being entirely full of his cock turned you on so much you could barely believe it. If Mike had taken a few more seconds to start moving, you would have begged him – and you were secretly disappointed he hadn’t made you… His first thrusts were slow, but he was easily convinced you could take him – and he was right. Before long, he was fucking you hard, every move building the pressure within you to new heights, never managing to pull you over the finish line. So you had to take care of that yourself. Mikey didn’t protest when you reached down to rub your clit as you stuttered a serenade of breaths and moans, begging him to keep going, until you finally screamed with pleasure when came for the second time. Mike fucked you through your orgasm at an absolutely relentless pace, only to slow down when he felt you relax.

You whimpered when he pulled out, and the look on your face must have said it all, because he was grinning at you.

“Don’t worry, I’m not done yet,” he said as he dragged your hips off the pool table and turned you around. In no time, you felt the head of his cock tease at your entrance before slipping in as easily as he had before. The new view was a nice reminder that you were actually getting railed into next year on top of a goddamn pool table. It was a weird thing to take note of at a time like this, but still. You couldn’t help but swear when Mike got rougher with you as his breathing sped up – and with it his pace. You could tell he was close, and before you even realized you had opened your mouth, you heard yourself begging him to cum inside you – an idea he didn’t resist nearly half as much as he probably should have. Mike pressed soft kisses all over your back before finally pulling out. You gasped when he playfully spanked your ass.

“That was… fuck.” He said as he helped you get back up, holding you for a second and softly kissing your forehead before letting go again. Mike was done getting dressed quickly, and immediately gathered your clothes and handed them to you. In all honesty, you were a bit offended; it was almost as if he was trying to get rid of you as soon as possible. The soft kiss he pressed to your lips suggested otherwise, as did the thing he said to you next: “Let me lock up and I’ll walk you home, okay?”

Needless to say, he didn’t leave until the next morning…

#hellraiser mike #mike hellraiser fic #mike hellraiser #mike (hellraiser)#mike hellraiser smut #mike (hellraiser) x reader

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claireelizabeth85 · 6 months

Text

Come Home to Me - Chapter 4

John Egan x OC Female!Reader

Summary: When the idea of a past life isn't just an idea or something that is only for dreams.

Warnings: grief, death, suicide (if you squint), lots of emotions.

AN: This chapter has been one of the hardest to write. It's taken me three days to get it all down on paper. With rewrites and deletions and asking friends to read bits hoping they don't think it's toddler garbage. Anyway, I hope you like it. If you have any thoughts/idea or generally want to ask me what the hell I'm thinking - my inbox is always open.

This is a work of fiction and is based on the tv characters of the Apple TV series. No disrespect is intended towards real men of 100th Bomb Group

Part 1 can be found here Part 2 can be found here Part 3 can be found here

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The letter from her trunk left Lizzy utterly devastated. Tears streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably as she struggled to grasp the weight of its contents. Brushing off Sarah's concern with a dismissive wave, Lizzy returned to the now closed pub, her mind consumed by anguish. Without a second thought, she walked behind the bar, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass, leaving an IOU in its place.

Feeling as though she was coming apart at the seams, Lizzy sank into a chair, overwhelmed by grief. The person she had been just that morning felt like a distant memory compared to the shattered soul she was now. Sitting outside, she poured herself a more than generous measure of whiskey, her hands trembling. Desperately, she tried to summon memories that didn’t contribute to her overwhelming sorrow. Images of her time in the cockpit flashed through her mind—the camaraderie with friends, the echoes of laughter shared during pre-flight checks. But even those memories offered little solace in the face of her profound loss.

"I left you the left-hand seat, didn't I?" She recalled teasing her friend and colleague about his “preference” regarding which seat he sat in.

He chuckled in response, "Good, cos I doubt very much our Air Exec would appreciate another guy sitting in your lap." She tried to turn away as she blushed. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Major," Lizzy smiled, trying to concentrate on the pre-flight checks.

“Uh huh. I’m sure you don't, Lieutenant.” Her friend gave her a knowing look. “He tells me, to tell you not to do any stupid shit and to come home.”

She fixed her gaze on the starry sky, whiskey in hand, swaying gently as she sang to herself. The creak of the backdoor interrupted her solitude, and Sarah emerged observing her friend's drunken, sorrowful dance with a mixture of concern and sadness.

Watching Lizzy stumble and fall, her glass shattering on impact, Sarah rushed to her friend “Liz? You okay sweetie.” Sarah crouched down in front of her friend.

"I can't do this again, Sarah," she confessed, her voice trembling. "I can't go through this again. I did it once, I put on a brave face, I put one foot in front of the other because..." Her words trailed off, interrupted by a drunken hiccup.

Sarah gently urged Lizzy to get indoors. When Lizzy stayed where she was, tears streaming down her face, Sarah wrapped her best friend in a hug. In less than 12 hours, what had been Lizzy's wild and vivid dreams had turned into a waking, confusing, heartbreaking reality, leaving her with a newfound sense of vulnerability.

"My soul hurts so much," Lizzy confessed. "I remember everything, Sarah. The good times and the bad. The parties to remember the dead and those organised because the day ended in ‘y’, and the fact that I will never see any of them again…and to learn that he survived..." Sarah was confused. “Who Liz? Who survived?” Liz screwed her eyes closed at the thought of saying his name “John.” She sobbed “He survived, Sarah”. Her voice faltered, choked with emotion. "I can't…Tink. I can’t go through this again.”

Sarah held her friend close, offering the only things she could, love and comfort.. "But you survived sweetie. If these dreams aren’t dreams and they’re memories, then you survived. You cared enough to survive." Lizzy shook her head. "You don’t get it. I had to care. I was responsible for bringing nine other guys home. But trust me when I tell you, I felt nothing.”

Lizzy stared at her hands, not able to look her friend in the eye while she confessed something that she knew she had never said out loud the first time, “But as the weeks turned into months, the deaths, the waiting became harder, the silence in the bar, the not knowing- I had to fill it somehow so I took on every mission going hoping they’d blow me out of the fucking sky" Lizzy's grief was laced with anger. “Oh Lizzy” Sarah held her closer, rocking her gently to try and soothe the waves of emotion that were crashing over Lizzy. Her confession hung in the air like a lingering cloud.

Sarah's heart ached. Despite their decades-long friendship, she felt powerless to ease the torment consuming Lizzy. Gently coaxing her inside and into bed, Sarah tucked a strand of loose hair out of her face as Lizzy gave in and went to sleep. “I promise I’m going to find out what the hell is going on Lizzy. I promise!”

--------

Sarah retreated downstairs to the deserted guest lounge. She switched on just one light and it lit up the beams of exposed wood and brick. It was old, as James had said oldest pub in the village but it had been nicely renovated to keep its cozy and homely feel. Sarah couldn’t believe how much Lizzy had settled into this place when they had arrived earlier that evening. Running her fingers over the bar, asking where ornaments were and expressing sadness at their loss. She walked behind the bar with such familiarity fixing herself a drink it would have be been assumed that Lizzy was the owner.

Sarah was determined to uncover the truth behind Lizzy's inexplicable connection to the past. Typing "Elizbeth Waterfield'' into her laptop, Sarah braced herself for the usual search results showing other women of the same name in their corporate headshots. What she wasn’t expecting to find was a link to a WW2 history page. "Lieutenant Elizabeth Waterfield," the search results revealed, "the only British female pilot to fly with the US Army Air Force during World War 2." Sarah just sat there and stared, her brain trying to absorb what she was seeing and reading. “What the…”

Clicking the link, a professional black and white photograph of Lizzy in her uniform filled the screen. “Lieutenant Elizabeth Waterfield,” the blurb read, “was one of only a handful of British female pilots who were attached to combat units. Lt Waterfield successfully completed 15 bombing missions with the USAF’s 100th Bombardment Group based at Thorpe Abbotts. She took part in strategic bombing missions over France, Germany and Norway, knocking out submarine pens, factories and other machine centres of the Third Reich. Lieutenant Waterfield was listed as missing in action during a bombing raid in February 1945.”

Sarah choked back a sob. Lizzy had gone missing. How? Why? Was that why she was so distraught about the letter? Sarah had placed it safely back in its envelope on Lizzy’s bedside table. She would not pry to satisfy her curiosity but instead would wait and see if Lizzy offered it to her. Writing down everything she could, Sarah fell asleep curled in the corner of the guest lounge, the heroic exploits of her best friend laid out in front of her. Her own dreams were of Lizzy falling and she not being able to save her, constantly falling, small planes whizzing around them like flies.

Sarah was gently shaken awake by Fred, the pub landlord and James’ son. “You sleep down here all night?” Sarah stifled a yawn and stretched the kinks out in her back. “Lizzy was a little worse for wear last night, after she was given the trunk. She found a letter inside that I don’t think she was expecting to see.” Fred moved around the lounge, switching on the coffee machines and the hot water urns for tea. “You’re still not sure about all this, are you?” Sarah shrugged. “You have to admit, it is a little…far-fetched. A young 25 years old woman has memories of a time that she couldn't possibly have lived through and yet she was outside last night chucking down whiskey like it was water, crying, grieving for men that have been done for almost 80 years.” Sarah shook her head. Fred hummed in contemplation of what to say next.

“You know, I grew up on stories of Lizzy and the rest of the lads.” Sarah was shocked and curious all at the same time. “What? You knew about her?”

Fred nodded. “Yeah, I mean Dad was only a kid back then, so I’m guessing he doesn’t remember all that much to be fair, but his aunt, my great aunt, was a Red Cross girl. She was a good few years younger than my grandmother and she had no kids or a husband. There was a mix of American and English RC girls on the base.

I remember being at her house a few years before she passed in the 90s and she brought out all the photographs, the notebooks and her diaries. She’d fill a glass of whiskey and then proceed to tell me all about them. The games they would get up to, the parties they would hold, how bad the weather was then, the mud! She would tell me how she was there to serve coffee and donuts and be a pretty face. She’d sometimes help out the orderlies if they needed a hand with the walking wounded. There were a few photographs that she showed of Lizzy. One was of her all done up in her flying suit, with a British RAF officers cap on. No one knew how she got there or even why she was there. She turned up one day apparently with orders. She was taken to see the CO and the next thing everyone knows, she’s attending briefings like the rest of the men. From what Auntie Jean said, she blended in so well nobody batted an eyelid and yet when you study the war and the RAF, one thing that they want everyone to know is that the girls didn’t fly combat missions.”

Sarah shook her head, finding the whole situation absurd. "You realise how crazy this sounds, right? My best friend, the girl who is currently passed out upstairs with an impending hangover, born in the 80s, can't possibly be the same person you're talking about. This is like something out of science fiction, like time travel. It's utterly ridiculous. We don't have a police box to shove her into or a circle of stones for her to hug it out!" Fred calmly placed a cup of coffee in front of Sarah, unfazed by her frustrated outburst.

"Well, how else would you explain it?" Fred challenged, setting down plates and crockery on Sarah's table. "I've seen pictures of her, more than once. I've known about her since I was a child, and I was born in the 60s." Sarah was at a loss for words. "Listen, I think Dad donated Auntie Jean's collection to the museum. Everything she had ended up there. I don't know if it's been sorted through or catalogued, but if you want to try and figure out what's going on, feel free to dig through it all." Sarah took a sip of the coffee Fred had brought her.

Collecting her things and draining her coffee, Sarah swiped the croissant from the basket waiting on the bar. She thanked Fred and took up his offer of the trip over to the museum. She felt like she was becoming desperate, the more she pulled on this thread, the more she wanted to know, the more she needed to know.

The image of Lizzy in her uniform was seared in Sarah’s mind along with the information of her being listed as missing in action, her laughing and smiling in the photographs that she found in the Control Tower, she looked happy and content. But where had she been when she went missing? How did this link to her dreams if they did at all.

“Hey Fred, quick question for you. Who's John? Lizzy brought up the name a few times last night, but I haven’t heard her mention him before." Sarah was about leave to head up stairs as she asked the question over her shoulder. Fred glanced up from behind the bar as he stocked the shelves. "Ah John? There's only one person she would be talking about - Major John Egan. He and Lizzy, they were the darlings of the airfield." Sarah paused, intrigued. "Auntie Jean used to call them the Mr. and Mrs. Hollywood of Thorpe Abbotts. John was the hot shot 'over-sexed, overpaid, and over here' American pilot, and Lizzy? Well, she was the gutsy British sweetheart taking on the Nazis from the cockpit of a B-17.”

Sarah’s brain has so many questions fighting to be asked. “They were seeing each other?” Fred chuckled softly. “Yeah, you could put it that way. Jean always said they were made for each other. Lizzy was a little loud which was unlike most women back then and liked to let her hair down literally and figuratively. She said most people knew about them but no one ever said a thing because they always tried, as Jean said, to keep things professional when at work and weren’t being stared at by the senior command. That’s not to say she didn’t catch them in a hug or sharing a quick kiss before one of them went on a mission. John was never more than an arms’ distance away from her, and Lizzy would be waiting for him inside the interrogation hut…” Sarah cut him off “Interrogation?” Fred explained the protocol for pilots and crew to be interrogated after a mission to get a record of what happened.

“Lizzy would always be there, with the Red Cross girls, whiskey in one hand and a donut in the other.” Sarah couldn’t stop the next question. “What happened? What did he do that caused my best friend to sink nearly half a bottle of whiskey last night?” Fred stopped what he was doing. He sighed and his shoulders sagged slightly, his face covered with a mask of sadness. “What did he do?” Fred repeated the question and Sarah nodded. The tone of her question was defensive, protective even. It was one of a best friend looking to settled a score for someone too heartbroken to do it themselves. “I’m guessing she didn’t tell you” Sarah shook her head. “Jean knew more about what happened to Lizzy, but from what I remember being told, John was shot down over Germany and was listed as Missing in Action towards the tail end of 1943. Lizzy never saw him again.”

Sarah's heart sank as Fred's words hit home. She felt a lump form in her throat, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Oh god," she whispered, her hand covering her mouth in shock, her voice trembling with emotion. "Oh god, I had no idea..."

Fred placed a comforting hand on Sarah's shoulder, offering her a sympathetic smile. "It's a lot to take in and if the letter was from John then I can't imagine what she's feeling."

As Sarah took a seat as she grappled with the revelation. The pieces of the puzzle began to click into place. The conversation she had with Lizzy outside the night before echoed in her mind, Lizzy's raw emotion as she spoke of wanting the Germans to end it all. It wasn't just a drunken ramble—it was a cry of anguish, a manifestation of the grief and mourning that had driven Lizzy to volunteer for every mission available.

A shiver ran down Sarah's spine as she momentarily entertained the notion of time travel, a concept so fantastical it seemed absurd. Yet, faced with Lizzy's inexplicable connection to the past, her grief for John and for the rest of the men, Sarah couldn't help but consider it as a possibility.

Still, Sarah was still a skeptic at heart and was determined to seek a logical explanation, unwilling to fully embrace any alternative until it was the only answer left.

#masters of the air #john egan #john egan x lizzy waterfielf #mota fanfiction #mota fanfic #gale cleven

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anxiousnerdwritings · 1 year

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obscurial!Reader gives himbo vibes and no one can tell me otherwise

like, yeah, maybe he’s incredibly book smart but people skills? right out the window. poor man has no survival instincts. he’s been beaten and broken so many times that the need to be good outweighs anything else even if it puts him in dangerous situations. and people think the kindness comes so easy to him when his laugh lights up a room but Merlin none of them know the truth.

I absolutely love this and I’m so totally down for Himbo!Obscurial!Reader!! Like, this poor guy has been through it, just so much; physically, emotionally, and mentally, that he just wanted one good thing in his life but never had it so he instead became that good thing himself. For the most part he hides what he went through and the severity at which he suffered extremely well, whether he does so consciously or not, and to those around him except a select few wouldn’t be any the wiser to any of it. But Albus and Minerva especially have picked up on or have knowledge of what Himbo!Reader has gone through, there’s little things that give it away. Maybe it’s the semi-obvious way he flinches when someone moves too fast or when there are loud noises, maybe it’s in how he must needs to constantly be reminded to take care of himself otherwise he won’t (strictly because he forgets to, not seeing himself and or his wellbeing as a priority by any means). Or how he goes into habits of shutting himself away from others only to act like nothing of it when he comes back, waving off anyone’s concern or questions about it. Himbo!Obscurial!Reader isn’t used to anyone worrying about him or checking up on him so it’s all new for him once he starts working at Hogwarts and has the students and other staff members sticking close to him and keeping an eye on him. Minerva especially is keeping a very close eye on the Reader and has a very deep fondness for him.

I imagine Himbo!Obscurial!Reader being muggle book smart but of course being completely clueless about the magical world and everything pertaining to it due to his growing up but I absolutely think that in his childhood he found solace in reading. Books were the only thing that allowed him to experience a vast variety of whatever he wanted to be a part of and that’s what helped him along the way, it was his way of escaping and it still is. I feel like Hermione and Percy would definitely stock the Reader up on books, both magical and muggle ones. I think the two of them would feel more connected to Himbo!Reader that way. And if the Reader were to recommend any or give either of them books from his own collection they would absolutely adore it. You can bet the books they get from the Reader will be so taken care of and loved. Also, I imagine that the books the Reader reads/has are strictly story books, nothing really educational unless it’s about baking/cooking or animals and or botany, just hobby/interest related stuff. I also like to think that Himbo!Obscurial!Reader formed his own personality and way of seeing the world through the books he read (and of course from the terrible treatment he suffered) and that’s why he is more generally naive about things and just blindly getting himself into situations. It also doesn’t help that now he’s being brought into the magical world after all this time and is still trying to figure things out but he’s got a good attitude about it and his happy to go on this adventure. Not to mention he has all these new people by his side which he’s even more happy about.

Speaking of which, I imagine that Obscurial!Reader didn’t have many friends, if any, growing up so whenever he meets someone new he automatically claims them as his friend, no matter who it is. Which down the line is definitely going to cause issues but what’s comin will come and he’ll meet it when it does (spoiler: it’s more yanderes!).

Imagine everyone else’s reactions when they find out what Himbo!Obscurial!Reader had endured for most of his life?👀 All hell would break loose and the people who hurt him will surely pay for all of it, slowly and painfully.

#anxious answers #yandere harry potter concept #yandere concept

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piareia · 4 months

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The Fire Tides Chapter 6 - Maelstrom Metamorphosis

Since I've been away for so long, it's only fair I get more chapters done hehe! Here's chapter 6, where Hiccup and Toothless get separated from everyone and the plot begins for The Fire Tides. This was quite a challenge to write, especially since it's filled with a lot of visuals of the maelstrom so I tried to give it my best shot! Hope you guys enjoy it!

“Are you cold?” Hiccup whispered to Astrid, shuffling closer to her.

“The winds are quite strong for some reason,” Astrid wrapped her arms around him, “It’s quite strange.”

“Astrid’s right,” Valka approached the two huddled up, “There’s something a bit peculiar about the wind levels right now.”

“Perhaps it’s the night’s calling? They do tend to get very strong in the evening hours,” said Hiccup.

“Maybe. Although, it would be best if we fly south-east for now. Just to steer clear of the gusts,” Valka walked to the Foreverwing’s head.

“Yeah, we can change our direction once the wind levels have calmed down a bit.”

Astrid glanced at the others all snoring, lying in a little coup. They really were worn out from all the mead; it was insane how easily they fell to their knees. She turned her head upwards; the stars seemed to not be as visible even though it was practically nightfall. With the shadows consuming them all, she felt the wind against her face, harshly and strongly, almost in a mocking manner. Astrid stiffened. Something just didn’t feel right. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but there was definitely something up.

“For Thor’s sake,” Hiccup wrapped his arms tightly around her as the gusts grew stronger, “The gods seriously are rethinking whether to keep you with me!”

Astrid looked down in unease, holding onto him tightly.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel too good.”

“Oh,” Hiccup looked at her in concern, “Are you feeling really cold?”

He began rubbing her arms to try and warm her up; the last thing he wanted was for Astrid to end up with a fever once they arrived at Berk.

“No, I just feel like something’s not-”

A thunderous quaking arose. The lightning struck the waters with a sharp current, stealing any surviving glimmers of the stars and shaping it into a singular electrifying flash. Right beneath them, the tides began to spiral, sharply and intensely, coiling into a foaming and tumultuous pit of anguish - a crater in the seas mined by Njord himself. The quaking grew louder. And gradually, the strong winds that struck the riders from above began to, instead, intensify from below, with the prodigious hole releasing its fumes in a strong desire to absorb any forms of life like a blaring suction machine. “A maelstrom!” Valka instantly leapt onto Cloudjumper, “Everyone get up!” Hiccup stood up in an instant, jumping onto Toothless, “For Thor’s sake! Not now!” “Guys, wake up! On your dragons!” Astrid yelled, finally realising what her gut meant. The Foreverwing cried, feeling itself being pulled in by the gyrating waters. Harshly, the lawnlike dragon jostled itself with all its might in an attempt to avert the whirlpool. In doing so, it ended up jostling its passengers awake as well. Snotlout screamed as he went flying across the Foreverwing’s back, slamming into one of his high trees.

“Aarghh!” He yelled in pain, “Why is it that whenever I try to get some beauty sleep, I always end up opening my eyes up to a precarious situation?!“

“Hey! Snotlout, watch out!” yelped Fishlegs, as Meatlug nearly collided into him.

Hookfang caught his rider in an instant, speeding past the timber and bushes in irritation. The monstrous nightmare huffed loudly, heating up and covering himself in boisterous flames. Barf and Belch also managed to make a quick rescue of their riders too, sighing in defeat as they began to hear the exasperated mutters of the now awoken twins.

“Sister, are you seeing this or am I simply dreaming?”

“No Brother, this is reality.”

Ruffnut and Tuffnut widened their eyes in shock as their smiles grew. “A maelstrom!” They both cheered in ecstasy.

“This is of such a beauty that our eyes are not worthy to behold, do you see the speed at which those waves spin?! The foam that so effortlessly builds up right in the centre?!”

“You are not mistaken Brother! And that quaking noise! It sounds way better than the lava pit that Throk showed us back at Mala’s!”

“Oh Thor, please let it be! Let us be swooped in by those strong currents, let us feel the gusts slap our face and the tides mess up our hair!” cried Tuffnut in pure unaltered worship.

“No, let us not have to deal with any of that Thor!” called Hiccup, as he adjusted Toothless’ tail fin to give them more altitude.

“It’s too strong Hiccup!” Eret nudged Skullcrusher to push even harder against the current.

“We have to stay in the air! C’mon guys, push through!” The riders all thrusted against the engulfing winds, forcing past the suction of the pulsating seas. Their efforts were, however, dying in vain. Much more vigorously, the waves convulsed and pounded against its own body of water, swinging and thrashing like a bloody diseased merchant gasping for air. Astrid felt her grip on the saddle loosen by the sheer velocity of the wind. The tight coldness slammed against her wrists and she felt her body being shoved off by the sudden squall of wind shooting right at her waist.

“Aah!”

Hiccup noticed the agitated squawking of Stormfly. His eyes widened as he saw Astrid plummeting from her dragon, nearing closer to the maelstrom.

“Astrid!” He cried, pushing Toothless towards the whirlpool, “I know bud. But we can’t let her get dragged in!”

“Hiccup! Don’t-” Astrid struggled to get her words out with how powerful the winds were.

The Night Fury and the Deadly Nadder were both at a very perilous spot. The eye of the maelstrom glared at the two in envy, wishing to split them up like the flying debris that it was currently slicing in half. Desperately, Hiccup and Toothless dove towards Astrid.

“Hiccup!” Valka cried, seeing how close he was to the spiralling hole.

Hiccup gasped as the wind tugged at his lungs and twisted his stomach. Shakily extending his arm out, he stretched his hand down towards her, challenging the gravitational gale that was pushing Astrid to her descent. With tear-induced eyes, she slowly held her hand up in response, thrusting her arm against the burning current that was ramming her down to the depths of hell.

They both held each other’s gaze, tightening their eyes in solemnity. He couldn’t see the glow of the stars in her pupils any longer. Toothless’ tail was sliding off. The thunder became deafening. And by nature’s will, the spiritual strings connecting their fingertips within that monumental gap was sliced by a final gush of wind, incontestably severing the remaining fusion between the two. Like a drill in the ocean splicing the central unit, the whirlwind spun its threads to close off any remaining gaps and released a powerful striking blow that propelled each of the riders to their own solitary ends. Their screams were overpowered by the thunderous roars and, slowly yet softly, clusters of raindrops began to fall - a dire attempt to calm the fiery tides.

So, things have turned completely upside down now! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, this is where things start to go haywire and we'll see a lot of Hiccup development, as well as the development of the other characters in the upcoming chapters. I'm really hooked in writing this and I thank you guys for being patient and appreciating my work, it really means a lot as someone who's planning to release her own novel in the future! I'll continue to make this project the best that I can and continue to improve my writing! :)

@babynachoearthquake @tabbyakadragon @allthefandomsyoucanaskfor @sorushing @oncethereweredragons-httyd @drippingindazzle @limesandcoconuts @rosiethedragongeek

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