#i blacked out for an hour or so and had to to remove some emotions from my brain because of megumi.... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kirawaswrong · 2 years

Text

somewhere in the haze

summary: You made a mistake that nearly cost you your life. Now your boyfriend is pissed at you, and you're not completely sure why. Is there hope for reconciliation?

pairing: chuuya nakahara x female! reader

genre: slight angst, smut

word count: 4k+

warnings: MDNI!! starts angsty but then...., fingering, oral (fem receiving), soft dom chuu [kinda], bratty reader [a bit], aka I finally am dipping my toes into smut, also depictions of stabbing

note: I wrote smut, ya’ll!!! But being me, there is a story too. Dealing with big emotions and all that jazz. I hope you enjoy!

Getting ready for work wasn’t usually an arduous affair. You had it down to a routine, and even made an event of it. While cooking breakfast, you were a celebrity chef. When taking a shower, you’d give the concert of a lifetime. But today, nothing was making it easier. It was your first day back in over a month. It should have been a cause for celebration. But you were in a fight with your boyfriend.

The previous night's events played on repeat in your head while you put your clothes on. You brushed your teeth, and all you could think of was Chuuya's furrowed brow. The fight made you see the past month in a new light. You felt stupid for not realizing his feelings sooner.

You were working on a solo assignment. It was pretty standard, and in fact, one you’d done several times before. It was security for a jewelry store. The store turned a blind eye to the Port Mafia's illegal jewelry ring. In return, sometimes they'd request a member come by and watch over the place.

It was late at night. It seemed like a rare uneventful day was about to pass by. But then a tall, slender man tried to enter the store after hours. You knew you could take him, so you chased him to the roof. Before he could turn, you socked him in the back of the head. He fell immediately, out cold.

You were sure you’d incapacitated him enough to call for someone to assist you in disposing of him. As soon as your back was to him, an arm wrapped around your throat. Pain shocked your lower abdomen; he'd stabbed you. He called you a dumb bitch before removing the knife and throwing you to the ground.

With a shaky hand, you reached for your phone. The warm ooze of your blood made it too difficult to maneuver it to call for help. Your wound went from feverish to frigid, and the edges of the world got a lot fuzzier. As you faded, you thought of the hardships you’d faced and how you finally felt like you belonged somewhere. And now you were gonna die on top of a shitty building.

Your last thoughts were of Chuuya, and how you hoped he wouldn’t have to see your corpse. Then, everything went black.

---

But the Port Mafia had your back. You awoke with a sharp ache in your stomach and a heaviness in your head. Before even blinking your eyes open, you knew you were in the organization’s medical wing.

“You’re awake.”

The voice that spoke was one you knew well but never failed to slice a shiver down your spine.

You forced your eyes open. Mori Ougai stood like a shadow by your bed. His hands clasped behind his back. He held an almost bored expression as if your stabbing was a mild inconvenience to him.

“Hi boss,” you said. You tried to sit up to formally address him but hissed in pain.

“Refrain from unnecessary movements for the time being,” He said. “The blade nicked your appendix, so I took the liberty of removing it for you.”

Wow, a surprise appendectomy. How thoughtful.

“We’d received no communication from you in some time,” Mori said. “So it was clear you were in danger. If you’d lost one more liter of blood, you would be dead. That’s why I started a transfusion.”

You looked down to see an IV in your inner right arm. Blood came from a bag, and you knew better than to question its origins.

This wasn’t the first time you’d woken up in the medical wing, nor would it be the last. But usually, someone else was at your bedside.

“So,” you said, “Where is-?”

“Chuuya will be here shortly,” Mori interrupted. “He wasn’t notified until it was certain whether you would live or die.”

You weren’t surprised. If Chuuya knew the extent of your injuries, he’d tear the world apart to be there. From Mori’s perspective, wherever Chuuya was had more importance than being with you.

“For now, continue to rest,” Mori smiled in a way that was supposed to offer comfort. “If there are no complications, you can go home tomorrow.”

“What about work?” You blurted out.

“We’ll discuss the matter later.”

Mori administered more pain medication and left the room. Before you could think about much else, the drugs knocked you into a hazy sleep. At some point, you swore you heard muffled voices outside the room. Your eyes were too heavy to open, but you felt a warm gloved hand holding your own. You slept deeper after that.

---

The next day, you went home. Naturally, Chuuya took you to his place. Resting was imperative to your recovery, and you had trouble with that sometimes.

Once at the penthouse, Chuuya set you up in the guestroom. When you weren’t recovering from a knife wound and impromptu surgery, you were used to sleeping with him in his bed. You thought that he was afraid of impeding the healing process.

Once you were comfortable in the bed, he told you to stay put.

“If you don’t,” he said, “I’ll use my ability on you.”

His crooked smile and delivery of the threat told you it was a joke. But there wasn’t much joy behind his eyes. You made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough.

That set the tone for your stay. You weren’t completely oblivious. Something was wrong with Chuuya. He went through the motions of aiding in your recovery. He helped you bathe, changed your dressings, and made sure you took your medicine. But the other times Chuuya rehabilitated you, he’d be smirking and telling jokes. When you worried, he'd give you soft kisses. This time, he was more…sterile.

You told yourself that it was because of how close to death you were this time. And in a way, you were right.

A week later, you had a partial return to work. Though your wound had superficially healed, internal damage was still possible. So you were stuck doing nothing but paperwork. You fucking hated it. Everyone at the Port Mafia had to deal with papers, but not hour after hour, day after day. You felt like a glorified secretary. You were eager to go on missions again.

When you shared those thoughts with Chuuya, you received a slight nod and silence. It was odd, as your perseverance and enthusiasm were what had attracted him to you in the first place.

A few weeks later, Mori told you that you would be able to return to full-time duties the following day. Though it was exciting, you felt deflated. Chuuya had been so distant, you didn’t want to tell him. He was an executive, so the odds were he already knew.

That night after dinner, he confirmed your suspicions. At the table, you nonchalantly said you were nervous and excited to leave paperwork duty. Chuuya’s expression darkened, and he sighed. You decided it was time to rip off the bandaid.

“That was a pretty heavy sigh.”

He said nothing.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t think you should go back yet,” he said.

It was your turn to sigh. “Look, babe. I know it was a pretty serious injury, but I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not about that. I think we should go over training again.”

“Chuuya, I’ve been in the mafia for almost a year now,” you said. “Training ended a long time ago.”

“Well, maybe you need a refresher course,” he said in a venom-soaked tone.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Everyone knew Chuuya was an explosively angry man. His yelling was nothing to scoff at, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary. What most people didn’t know was how terrifying it was when he was quiet.

“I never thought you would be so reckless. Turning your back on an opponent while on a solo mission. Didn’t even call for backup or anything.”

You felt like a stone sank into your stomach. The other shoe dropped. He was…angry at you.

“I tried,” you sputtered. “But the blood was coming out, and I-”

“You should have called for someone as soon as you saw the guy.”

“He was a beanpole,” you said. “I thought I could take him!”

“He might not have been alone. What would you have done then?”

You were at a loss for words. “I just…I-”

“You got cocky,” Chuuya finished. “Which is exactly what I’ve warned you against since day one, haven’t I? Don’t get a big head, and never turn your back on anyone. Especially if you’re alone!”

“So, what, am I the only person who’s ever made a mistake?” You spat back.

“You can’t afford to make mistakes like that,” his voice rose. “You make those mistakes, you die!”

“You think I don’t know that?” You exclaimed. “That’s all I could think about on the roof!”

“Good,” Chuuya said. “Hold onto that feeling. Next time you’re on a mission, you can think of it. Then you'll remember to cover your ass and you won't pull something like that again.”

A tense silence hung over the room. You were both heated and so angry. You knew better than to say anything. Having the last word would be a petty thing to worry about.

But anger made you a petty person.

“Fine,” you said. “I will remember that feeling. When I go out on the field tomorrow.”

Chuuya scoffed. “I don’t want you to go back out yet!”

“So sorry, Mr. Nakahara,” your voice dripped with sardonic respect. “I know I made you and the rest of the higher-ups look bad, but I have to get back to doing my job.”

You got up from the table and began to storm from the kitchen. Two steps later, Chuuya’s hand wrapped around your forearm.

“We’re not done talking.”

“I am,” you said.

He turned you around to face him. Anger still filled his eyes, but his jaw wasn’t quite as clenched.

“You can’t just run away from this,” he said. His voice softened to the slightest degree. “I’m not saying this as your superior. As someone who cares about you, I don’t know if you’re ready to go back out there yet. Is that so hard to understand?”

You wanted to agree with him. Fall into his arms, and put the whole mess of a fight behind you. But pride was something you shared with Chuuya.

“I’m going in tomorrow,” you said. “And you won’t stop me.”

After a moment, he let your arm go.

You packed your things and came into the living room with a suitcase. Without a word, Chuuya helped you put everything in his car. Neither of you spoke on the drive. The silence was relentless in the parking lot. When you left the car, he finally spoke.

“Be careful.”

You gave a nod and headed into your building.

---

Which led to your first day back. A day that should have been celebratory, but was now marred with grey.

Besides a few passing remarks from colleagues, no one made a big deal about your recovery or return. It was the mafia. People pulled through from worse injuries all the time.

You had no solo assignments that day, which you were thankful for. Not because of fear, but because it was easier to shut your mind off and focus. You did keep your word and were very careful.

During downtime, the argument swirled around in your head. Chuuya trusted you. He knew that you were well-trained. Why would he say you weren’t ready to go out on your own anymore?

The end of the day came. When you got to your car, he leaned against it with his arms crossed.

You weren’t sure if you felt relieved or annoyed.

“Can we talk?”

You sighed. “Yeah.”

He slid into the passenger’s seat with you in the driver’s.

For a moment, he said nothing. Both of you stared forward. You were starting to wonder why the two of you had so many tense silences in cars.

“So,” you said. “You wanted to talk.”

“You didn’t get hurt today,” he said.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Good.”

Another silence.

“Look, Chuuya-”

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

You turned to him. “Okay?”

“You’re good at your job,” he said, turning to you. “I’d be an idiot not to know that.”

“Then why did you make me feel like I don’t know what I’m doing?” You asked.

He sighed, leaning his head back on the seat. “Babe…You almost died.”

“Yeah, I know that, but–”

“No, you almost died. It scared the hell out of me.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“I know anyone could fuck up and wind up dead,” he continued. “But you’re not just anyone.”

His eyes were on you. He reached over the console to hold one of your hands in both of his.

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

Your resolve melted like a puddle. “Why didn’t you just say this like a month ago?”

He chuckled without humor. “I was afraid I’d blow up at ya.”

“Thank god that didn’t happen,” you deadpanned.

“I am sorry,” he said. “Look, either of us could die any day.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“It’s the truth,” he said, squeezing your hand. “But I need you to do everything you can to keep yourself alive.”

His eyes shone with sincerity, and your lingering anger evaporated.

“Only if you promise to do the same,” you said. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

He pulled you across the console and held you against his chest. You embraced each other for what seemed like an eternity before he broke the silence.

“Wanna come to my place tonight?”

---

With the fight resolved and put behind you, it was easy to return to the domesticity you’d both grown accustomed to. Chuuya ordered takeout from one of your favorite restaurants. Throughout the meal, his eyes couldn't stay off of you.

After dinner, you sat on the couch together, barely watching an old sitcom rerun. Your back was against his torso, and his arms wrapped around your waist. You chattered on about your first day back.

“...And then Higuchi kept trying to get Akutagawa’s attention even though I’ve told her a thousand times that he–Chuuya!”

He’d leaned forward to kiss the side of your neck.

“Go ahead,” He murmured against your delicate skin. “I’m listening.”

You made an earnest attempt of continuing your story. Chuuya thwarted it by nibbling and sucking below your ear.

“Y-you’re distracting me,” you fought the urge to moan.

“Am I?” He chuckled.

You gasped as his hands crept down to your thighs, gently pulling them further apart. His dick began to harden against your back.

“I’ve just been thinking, baby,” he murmured. “Between your injury and our fight, there’s a lot of things we haven’t been able to do in a while. Wanna start doing them again tonight?”

You answered with a breathless whimper and he kneaded his fingers on your thighs. His touches crept closer to the heat pooling between your legs.

But then, he stopped his movements and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Only if you want to,” he said. “No pressure, okay?”

You turned your head to smooch his cheek.

“I do want to,” you breathed. “I really want to.”

---

In previous instances of lovemaking, Chuuya could be a bit rough. This benefitted both of you. It helped him work out some of his aggression. And for you? Well, you found it hot.

But tonight, he placed you gently in the middle of the bed. His eyes remained locked with yours as he removed his waistcoat and pants. He joined you on the soft sheets, framing one of your thighs with both of his. He tangled a gloved hand in your hair and then leaned down to kiss you. His lips pressed onto your lips, your heart thunked against your ribs. Warmth bloomed from your chest and spread throughout your entire body. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. Chuuya rubbed his knee against the heat between your legs, causing you to moan into his mouth.

He broke the kiss, a smirk across his lips.

“You okay?” He asked, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah,” you gasped. His knee still rested squarely against your crotch. “I’m very much okay.”

He chuckled. “Tell me if that changes, got it?”

You nodded. Before you could verbally respond, he moved his thumb from your cheek to your lips.

“Would you take this off for me, sweetheart?”

You opened your mouth and gingerly bit the tip of the glove. He pulled his hand back, releasing it from the leather.

He took the glove from you, planting a quick kiss on your lips.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” you responded, trying to pretend your face wasn’t burning hot.

His next target was your collarbone. You’d have hickeys by morning with the way he sucked and scraped his teeth against the soft expanse of skin. He untucked your shirt, slipping his hand underneath and up your torso. Your nipples responded to his touch from beneath the fabric of your bra.

“We gotta level the playing field, babe,” he playfully admonished against your neck.

“Hmm?”

“I’m practically naked,” he said. “And here you are, still fully clothed. Doesn’t seem fair.”

You snorted. Chuuya wore so many layers of clothing that being in a dress shirt and boxers really was close to nudity for him.

“I see your point,” you said.

You pushed him off, sitting up and pulling your shirt over your head. A smug grin played on your lips when you saw the way he looked at you. Even in your everyday bra, he still made it seem like you wore the most mouthwatering lingerie he’d seen in his life.

“Better?” You asked.

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close and kissing you again.

“Almost,” he murmured against your lips.

And with one hand, he unclasped your bra.

“Chuuya!” You laughed out a reprimand. The impressiveness of the act outweighed any embarrassment. Still, you held the garment against your chest.

“What?”

“I’d hardly call this an even playing field,” you said.

“Semantics,” he scoffed, waving a hand. “Now, get your fuckin’ arms outta the way, would ya?”

You playfully rolled your eyes but did as he said, and removed the bra completely.

He laid you back on the bed, hovering over you. Mindfully keeping his weight off of you, he grasped your breasts. His mouth found your right nipple, sucking on it hard while his gloved hand played with the left.

With a moan, your head rolled back onto the pillow. When he switched to the left nipple, you raised up to look at him. He'd closed his eyes, and he seemed to be at peace with everything in the world.

“Enjoying yourself, Chuu?” You teased.

His eyes shot open, and his face rivaled his hair in redness.

“Yeah,” he said after dislodging from your breast. “And I bet I’m not the only one.”

His bare hand traced down your torso and into your pants. He traced a finger against your panties, feeling the soaked-through fabric.

“You’re pretty wet,” he said. “Want me to do something about it?”

“Uh-huh,” you gasped.

“Aw, where’d that smart mouth of yours go, babe?”

You narrowed your eyes, saying nothing.

He chuckled but relented by pushing your panties aside. He slid his finger down your slit before plunging two fingers inside. The fingers crooked inside you in the most delicious way.

“Now, tell me,” he said, continuing to work you from the inside. “Is there anything else you want me to do to you?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered.

“And, uh,” he stroked your shoulder with a gloved finger. “What exactly would that be?”

You fought to form a sentence. “I think you already know.”

He smirked, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “Yeah, I have a pretty good idea. But I wanna hear you say it.”

“Chuuya,” you whined. “Please.”

“C’mon, pretty girl. Use your words. I’ll take good care of ya if you do.”

The way he was using his damn words–and his fingers–was driving you crazy.

You drew in a shaky breath and looked straight into his eyes.

“I want you to make me cum on your tongue.”

His smirk intensified and placed a kiss on your cheek.

“Good girl. Now, was that so hard?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said. “Quit teasing and put your mouth to better use.”

“Hey now,” his tone playfully darkened. He withdrew his fingers from your core and lewdly sucked them dry. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sorry, Chu.”

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “brat” and sat back on his heels. He removed his other glove, tossing it aside. He peeled off your pants and discarded your underwear.

Your eyes lingered on the ceiling while his gaze raked over your nude body. The intensity of his eyes tracing over every inch of you was something you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to. His thumb smoothed over the raised skin of the new scar that brandished the skin above your right hip.

“Look at me,” he said.

He rewarded you with a lovestruck smile when you did what he said.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful, y’know?”

“Yeah, my boyfriend’s mentioned it from time to time,” you giggled.

“I’ll tell ya every day if I have to.”

He put a pillow beneath your hips to elevate you and then began to settle himself between your legs. He tossed his hair over his shoulder to get it out of his way. His arms wrapped around your legs, and his hands pressed into the soft flesh. He pressed kisses to your inner thigh, inching closer to where you desperately wanted him.

His face was mere centimeters from your center. His blue eyes locked onto your face. He ran his tongue over his top lip.

And then he kissed the other thigh.

“Chuu, come on!” You whined. “You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

He tsked under his breath. “Be patient.”

“I have been,” you argued.

“You’re gonna get what you want,” he reasoned. “I promised you that, didn’t I?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the pillow.

“Yeah, you did,” You grumbled. “But I thought, you know, it’d be some time tonight and wouldn’t take forever-oh!”

In your exasperation, you failed to notice the devilish look on Chuuya’s face as he dove in to lick your slit firmly. He ended it with a flick to your clit with the tip of his tongue.

When you returned your gaze to him, the sight was almost too much to bare. His eyes danced with gloating. Your thighs framed his handsome face.

The admiration turned into more ecstasy as he continued.

He gave you another unyielding lick and then began to suck on your clit. You moaned shamelessly, burying your hands in his hair. When you tugged at his roots, his groan reverberated into you in the most wonderful way. Spurred on, he shoved two fingers back inside of you.

It was clear you wouldn’t last long. His tongue curled around your clit now, with the tips of his fingers crooking against you from the inside. Your eyes slammed shut and your mouth gaped open. Sparks flew in the darkness of your vision. And before long, you came while crying his name.

His mouth continued to work you through it. On the onset of overstimulation, you whined and pulled his hair harder.

Chuuya pulled away with a lopsided grin. “Tapping out already?”

Too dazed to shoot a quip at him, you nodded with a grin of your own.

He released your legs, paused to gently kiss your scar, and made his way up your body. His lips met yours again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, resting his forehead against yours. “Missed this too.”

“Same here,” you murmured.

Though the moment was tender, your heart was still racing. Reuniting with Chuuya made you feel so relieved. And he made you feel safe, loved, and taken care of.

But you couldn’t help but notice how hard his dick was against your thigh.

Your hand reached down and palmed the outside of his boxers, earning a stuttering gasp from him.

“Now we gotta take care of you.”

#chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #chuuya smut #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #mine #chuuya bsd #bsd chuuya #not sfw

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thefaefiction · 2 years

Text

Distraction. [Connor x Reader] [DBH]

PAIRING: Connor x Reader GENRE: Smut WARNINGS: This is an 18+ piece of writing with mature and sexual themes. Read at your own discretion. Includes: Penetrative sex, praise, work relationship, power dynamics SUMMARY: After meeting the respectable Connor you've known at the station for months after hours, his advances on you shock you enough to want to find out more.

A/N: connor is a deviant who still works for the dpd! ** finally finished this btw it's no longer a wip <33

You and Connor had just gotten back from an unusual case involving an Android robbery at an auction house in downtown Detroit. You had successfully prevented the android from executing the order's of one man's dirty work; and to top it all off, you looked great doing it. You'd been dressed in a loose black dress that glimmered under the dim light of the auctioning room, a pair of sheer tights that hugged your legs beneath the short and strappy heels which pained your feet more than any other shoe you'd ever worn, and a sheer shawl that sat over your shoulders, providing absolutely zero warmth in the cold weather that bit outside.

As you closed the door to the rental car, you let out a sigh of relief and a light laugh. "I didn't expect to have to solve crime in heels today," You jest, quickly removing the heels that had, quite frankly, become more of a problem than the enemy at large.

Connor grins. "You and I made quite the team back there, lieutenant," He pauses and adjusts his tie. "Even if your shoes put a damper on our probability of success."

You laugh. "It's so frustrating that they gave you a suit, something you can be fully mobile in, and I get..." You sigh, your hands gesturing frustratingly to your outfit, "This."

"Well," Connor begins, "I must say it succeeded in distracting the thief. He looked rather... preoccupied when it came to your questioning." He turns, looking at your outfit. "I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a bit difficult to stay on task myself."

His words came as a shock to you, heat rising to your cheeks and your head feeling slightly dizzy. All night, while your mind should have been running with how to handle your case, you'd been preoccupied with how damn dazzling Connor looked in a black suit. Everything about him made you crazy, and it was frustrating, especially when his assertive questioning voice is causing some unwanted feelings in some inconvenient areas of your body.

"Lieutenant?" His voice interrupts your thoughts, shaking your head and stopping your staring. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," You laugh. "Just thinking. Sorry."

Connor nods, furrowing his eyebrows. "About what?"

You could feel your face begin paling at the thought of telling him, truthfully, what was on your mind. You didn't dare. "Just the case," You said, far too quickly. "Just, like, the numbers. And stuff." That made no sense. You were completely blowing it, and not in the way you'd like. "Ready to get going?"

"Lieutenant, I can't help but notice your body temperature becoming abnormally high." His voice was silky, coated in an emotion that you hadn't yet seen him express. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Your head begins pounding, butterflies clouding your chest and your skin tingling. "No," You spit out. "No, I'm alright. Thank you though." You cough, looking away from him.

"Lieutenant... I'm afraid you've forgotten that I can read you like an open book," He turns his body towards you in his seat, leaning slightly over the center console. You feel him staring. "Are you certain that there's not a way I'm able to assist you?"

You turn and face him, his face much closer than you anticipated it being. His LED lit yellow, trying to decipher your next move, but it had completely taken him aback when your mouth collided with his hungrily. He pulled away and whispered, staring longingly at your lips, “Perhaps we should take this to the back?”

Without a word you crawled to the back seats, Connor sitting with his legs spread and his tie loose around his neck. He gripped your hips, pulling you on top of him, and you started tearing away at your dress. You lifted it over your head and threw it into the passenger seat, Connor smirking as he rapidly removed his blazer from his body.

You pried your tights off of your legs, ripping them in the process but not paying enough attention to care, and Connor unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it along with his tie to the front. He was gorgeous, of course. Why wouldn't he be? He was sculpted by people to be the perfect man in every way, it makes perfect sense that he would be sculpted and defined in a way that made Zeus envy him.

"You're so gorgeous," Connor mumbled, eyeing your bra and scanning your body. "That poor thief. If I saw a woman like you I'd have trouble with my words too." He put his hands on your hips, molding the fat to his hands. "This is the most human desire I've ever felt."

"Fuck, Connor," You groaned. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting this." Your hips had instinctively began grinding down on him, like they had a mind and a plan of their own. It shocked you when Connor let out a gasp, rolling his head back. You grinned.

Connor shifted to his belt, rapidly sliding it out of his pants and unbuttoning them. You could feel him twitch beneath you, desire growing stronger and stronger with every little movement each of you made. With eagerness and ferocity, he brought his hands to your back and unclasped your bra, tearing it off of your body and tossing it to the side. The cool air hit your breasts and you shivered, determined to get more intimate and feel his body heat against you.

And then, without breaking eye contact, he pulled out his cock and prepared with a few long strokes.

He was big. Much bigger than you've ever taken before.

Of course he was.

You pulled yourself forward and pushed your underwear aside. Connor grabbed your hips and slowly eased you down on to him; he groaned loudly, letting his head roll back and hit the seat. "Fuck," He cursed. "Taking me so well," He praised.

Shivers ran down your spine with his words, whimpering as you let him bottom out and take his length fully. The pressure of his cock inside you was unlike anything you'd ever felt before -- and god did it feel amazing. "Connor," You moaned, falling forward into him and resting your forehead against his. "Oh my god Connor," Your breath mixed with his and your body tingled. In your peripheral, you could see the windows of the car begin to fog up.

Connor's hands gripped your hips, hard, and began helping you move back and forth on him. Your hips rolled on his lap, pleasure heavy in the air, harsh breaths being released with every roll.

"Feel so good, Y/n," Connor commented, his hips beginning to buck up every time you moved forward. He moved forward and kissed your neck, sucking and biting and definitely leaving a bruise. He kissed all the way down until he reached your breasts, you felt him smile on your skin.

"Please Connor," You begged. The entire scene was the hottest image you'd ever seen -- something that made porn feel miniscule. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing his head forward while you continued to push and pull with your hips -- He began licking and sucking on your nipples, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. "Gonna come Con," You mumbled, "Need to come,"

He pulled away and stared into your eyes with intent. "Go ahead, doll," He moaned. "Doing so well for me, gonna come right inside of you,"

That was one of the benefits of fucking an android. No real sperm.

"Shit!" You yelled, lolling your head back and speeding up your pace. "Holy fuck!" And there it was -- Connor bucked his hips up and you came together, much harder than you'd ever come before.

You stayed on him, rolling your hips out of your orgasm, and Connor looked at your face, the sweat beads falling from your forehead and your trembling legs. He brought his hand to your face, wiping it clean and pushing the fallen hair from your face. "You did so well Y/n," He praised. You smiled.

"Jesus Connor," You said, breathless, laughing at the scene. "You're about to be the death of me."

Connor hummed. "I won't let that happen, Lieutenant." He brought your lips together, kissing you with passion, "And I don't fail my missions."

#🍇 -- thefaefiction!#detroit become human #dbh #connor x reader #smut #dbh connor x reader #connor x reader smut #detroit become human x reader #dbh oneshot #connor x reader oneshot

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belokhvostikova · 1 year

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Tuesday was the development between you and Eddie Munson. Wednesday, peace finally seems plausible for the two hurt kids, and understanding becomes a valued aspect.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, implications to verbal abuse, self deprecating thought, mentions of anxiety, bulling, parent abandonment, domestic abuse, and childhood abuse and neglect.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I've gone back to all my posts and tagged everyone for the tag list. Literally. If you commented, I tagged you. If you reblogged and remotely mentioned you wanted more, I tagged you. If you were not looking to be tagged, please let me know so I can remove you. Also, I sincerely apologize to anyone who I've accidently been excluding from the tag list, that was my mistake.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐕. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐲

There was no investment in moral quandary for him. Logicality. Everything had to be logical under the guise that all faults of the world had been facilitated by the emission of emotions that tainted the globe.

Feelings were wrong. Sentiment was wrong. Empathy was wrong.

He believed it was such vulnerability that led to the downfall of his life- not that he’d ever verbally admit his life had crumbled right in front of him, but a pit within the deepest tunnel of his consciousness recognized it. Drilled it. Cemented it. He had chosen to blame the emotions of amenability for the reason why his wife came home at four in the morning with the familiar scent of the neighbor’s cologne. From there, he knew to get rid of it. Emotions. So when you sobbed, asking why mommy hadn’t been home for a couple of days, he said it was not worth crying over. When you had to stand in court upon a scary looking man in a robe and hear mommy agree to only seeing you every other weekend, he said to not worry and suck it up. And when mommy stopped picking up calls and seemingly “forgot” it was her day to see you, he said to get over it. But maybe it wasn’t too bad, right? He always said to be grateful that, at least, he stuck around. At the minimum, he always provided good take-out often, though you were quick to realize it was because he had no desire to cook for you. But, hey, he had always let you watch TV during dinner. Granted, it was because he never sat with you, and chose the comfort of the living room couch, where you could always see the history channel playing from the archway of the dining room where you sat lonely. It was then, you got a deep understanding of the Civil War. And at least his stoicism permitted a great hatred for the presuppositionalism that had infiltrated Hawkins, Indiana. That was good, right? Though, you were never one to define metaethics through divine revelation, so it kinda didn’t matter. But it could be worse. He always said he could be worse. That his choice to deprive you from any physical harm was somehow enough to garner him some merit as a parent.

And maybe that was one of the underlying reasons as to why Eddie Munson scared you so much. He was like your father. And your father scared you.

Mid week. The morning of spring Wednesday had been a groggily dawn of humidity and fog. Though no weather circumstance could derail the perfected routine of your father’s morning. Wake up, shower, brush teeth, make coffee. Black, no sugar. The bitterer, the better. Because that was by true definition strong.

It was like clockwork. Every morning. Because routine leads to success, he's ingrained. It was the only reason why every summer break since you were a child he had you waking up before sunrise with intentions of appearing downstairs for two hours of study time with a tutor he spent hours meticulously searching for that fit his standards. One with saggy cheeks, thin eyebrows, a thick accent, and a bad habit of reprimanding you with a smack of a ruler whenever you humanly made a mistake. The worst thing that could happen in his eyes was watching his daughter slack because of relaxation over summer. Especially after he programmed you into perfection.

But the unthinkable had occurred, and his routine was interrupted.

Between 6:30 a.m and 6:45 a.m, your father was set—like everyday—to retrieve the morning paper, sit down, set the timer, and complete the crossword puzzle. Ten minutes. Nothing more.

But by 6:33 a.m, Eddie Munson was nearly murdered by your father.

Oh, his girl. Of course, there was his sweetheart, Eddie was damn near devoted to that warlock, but then there was his girl. Definitely not the everloving relationship he had with his sweetheart, I mean, he touched her, and the harmonious sounds from her strings could elevate the pain of his mind, but there was still no doubt that a sentimental part of his heart was dedicated to his girl. Rusted and cranking, the old van had been gifted to the young man after countless hours committed to Harry’s Auto Shop over the summer. And though her imperfections nearly had him pulling the roots of his hair out of his head weekly, she still managed to get him from point A to point B—not to mention, she looked totally sick and provided the best comfort place to spark up a joint or spend time with a pretty boy or girl whenever the opportunity came (it never did).

But besides that, the moral of the story is his van, his girl, was deeply cared for.

Except for the occasions of last night.

Because right now, your father was wrinkling the informative pages of the daily news with a tight grip of pure seethe, because some dirty, gross van had parked over the curb of his property and ruined the pristine, clean-cut, green lawn with muddy tire tracks.

You had heard it all.

The blaring alarm at 5:45 a.m, the running shower from your father’s bathroom, and the heavy steps of his feet descend into the kitchen.

Exhaustion couldn’t fathom the ache of your body, as the fluffy duvet beneath you held no substance to the stiffening floor underneath. Not to mention, the heavy sorrow of the events that had only occurred a couple hours prior were relying heavy in your mind, prompting the loss of true sleep, made only worse when Eddie’s drunken snores were echoing as a constant reminder that he was right there.

Eddie Munson was in your bed- Eddie Munson was in your bed!

The ever so slight glimmer of the awakening sun was bleeding upon his sleeping figure, almost dead with no movement. He hadn’t shifted an arm or a leg, mouth still agape from his roaring slumber with a puddle of drool staining your satin pillow. You’d timidly approached the edge of your bed, knees scraping along the rough floor to reach his peaceful face. The disheveled bangs of his forehead had crumpled against themselves, shielding him from the oozing light through your window.

This was the calmest Eddie Munson had been in weeks.

No lumps in the mattress, an actual comforter, the pungent stank of his cigarettes now replaced with the captivating vanilla scent of your perfume, which eased him into a comfortable sleep and an all too real dream where you were in his arms. It felt scaringly natural.

There was a part of you that didn’t want to wake him. Whether it was because you could take an hour studying his pretty face, which led you to wondering how anyone could even fathom being so nasty to something so beautiful, or whether it was because that childhood anger and nestling vexation against a world that hated him was still deeply residing within Eddie, and you could easily fall victim to such hatred. It happened before, it could happen again.

You rested your head against your bed, a slight alleviation to the malaise of the floor, and let his warm breathing fan across your face. The tips of your fingers benevolently stroked the unruly strands of his bangs away, to reveal the fluttering eyes of his face. You wondered what he could be dreaming of.

You.

You were all he could think of. Awake and asleep.

“Eddie.” You softly whispered. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best choice given his hangover coma, but Eddie needed gentleness. “Hey, wake up.” You shook his shoulder. A pained groan prolonged far longer than you expected, as his face scrunched in a wince of a pounding headache. “Are you okay?”

That was too real for any dream. Eddie’s dry eyes snapped at the sound of your saccharine voice, suddenly realizing the devastating events that occurred last night. “Sh-shit!” He attempted to sit up, but your hand held his arm back.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You cooed, as he peered around frantically confused. He cracked his neck with a sharp turn, and his big eyes landed on you; once again, comforting him, as though he hadn’t put you through hell in the mere days he’s communicated with you.

His head fervently began shaking, as if to reject all that he’d done, as if everything he ever did you to was just a nightmare of his own fears, that he didn’t do what he did. But he did. And his eyes started welling up. “I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He choked. “For everything, I didn’t- I’m so fucking sorry-”

“Shh, Eddie-”

“I don’t want to scare you, and I’m s-sorry for doing it in the first place, I’m so so fucking so-”

“Eddie, just lay down, it’s okay.” You attempted to ease into him, as you lowered him down, his begrudgement leaving him hesitating until his back was flat against your bed.

Once relaxed, it seemed his body and mind gave up on the restraints of his emotions, and his stream of tears came pouring with all dejection and regret of how everything had played out between you two. Eddie Munson hated himself. Hated who he was. Someone set up for the failures of life, he rejected anything that could steer him from a path of love and acceptance. And he hated that. He hated the life he had. At any given opportunity to go back in time, he would scream at his father, hit his father, just get him and his mother away from his father so that he could just grow up to be a normal person. A normal person, who could process their emotions and not deduce themselves into a nihilistic asshole. A normal person, who wouldn’t degrade the only person who’s held him without hurting him. A normal person, who would love you and cherish you as you deserved. Yet Eddie Munson hated his life and hated any momentous occasion that could possibly diminish the pain of life… like you. Because good things don’t happen to Eddie Munson, and you held so much power to hurt him.

Seeing his palms stab into his eyes, you gently held his trembling wrist to relieve him from the pain he believed he deserved. “Come on, Eddie, please stop.” You softly spoke trying to ease his hands away from his face. “Everything is okay, I promise.”

“N-no, it’s not!”

“Shh!” You rushed out. “My dad’s awake downstairs.” You whispered.

“S-sorry.” He spoke so meekly, as his hands cleaned the staggering wetness of his eyes and cheeks.

The atmosphere between you both fell stagnantly silent, as he tried to control his breathing through the tiny sniffles of his nose. He felt you staring, eyes boring into the side of his head, as he peered up at the dark ceiling. He couldn’t stand to look at you right now. He had just drunkenly sobbed and was now blubbering like a child, because of all the bullshit he just put you through. He was a-fucking-shamed. Ashamed of all he’s done. Ashamed of who he was. And you were seeing the worst of it.

“Eddie.” He closed his eyes and shook his head no. “Please.”

He slowly turned his head and met your tired yet so fucking beautiful face. God, he could stare at you forever. How could he do this to you? Put you through off of that, just because he was scared. He fucking hated himself, and you could so clearly see the despise against himself in his saddened eyes. I’m sorry I am the way that I am, I’m sorry you have to put up with me, I’m sorry I’m here ruining your life. He didn’t have to say it, it was engraved on his face.

His heart almost lunged out of his chest when you crept closer, noses nearly touching, as your eyes engulfed him with a meaningful stare. “I’m really glad you came.”

“What?” You truly couldn’t have been, but your head nodded with the soothing confirmation he needed.

“Yeah, I am.” You whispered.

“You shouldn’t be.” He whispered. “What I did was awful.”

“I know.” You sighed. “I know, and please don’t ever do that again. But I’m still glad you came. Glad that we talked. Glad that I got to understand.”

“I wish I told you sooner… and better.” He pinched his eyes closed at the haunting memory. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to scare you, I’m so fucking sorry I did.”

“I know you are.” There was no “it’s fine” or forgiveness to offer, because he truly did cross a line that terrified you. But you could accept his understanding of the wrongdoing he did. Because acknowledgement was a valuable step in moving forward.

“I just- Y/N, I just really want to be with you.” There it was. He was putting himself out there once and for all, risking it, because you deserved to know. The torment of his emotional unavailability was ending, because he was ready to face the adversity of his trauma to make you happy. But that was exactly the issue. You could see he was ready to do it for you. Not himself. And whatever was brewing between you and Eddie Munson would not magically dissolve the underlying issue within both of you under the guise that you both got together and skipped away into the sunset happily ever after. Reality was a harsh slap in the face, and you knew he’d hate it, but it was what was needed.

“I just want you to be okay, Eddie.” You confided with a heavy bite of your lip. “I… want to be okay, Eddie.”

His eyes were glossing with threatening tears again. He knew what was coming. “You don’t wanna be with me.” He murmured. It was no question, but a simple truth he had to face.

“No.” You spoke with deep conviction. “I don’t want to be with the person you are right now. I can’t be. Not now. It wouldn’t be right, and I just want us to be okay.” You brushed his bangs away. His lips began trembling, but he accepted your boundaries with a vehement nod to his head to let you know he understood. “Eddie,” you punctuated so it became cemented, “I don’t want you to do this again-”

“I won’t, I swear, I won’t drink-”

“No, Eddie… I don’t want you coming here. To my house. To see me.” You sighed, as his eyes desperately scanned your face for the off chance you’d say you were kidding and you wanted him over all the time. But your words continued.

“I’m really fucking sorr-”

“I know you are, Eddie. I know.” A heavy breath from your chest escaped. “But I need time, and it may not seem like it now, but you need time, too. So I don’t want you calling. I don’t want you asking anyone where I am or how to talk to me. Not Chrissy, not anyone. Promise me.”

He agreed.

But Eddie Munson would break this promise. Not for some drunken, overbearing, emotional reason, though. But for good reason. All because your bedroom door slammed open.

Synchronized through driven fear, yours and Eddie’s head snapped at the sudden bust of your bedroom door, where your father stood effervesce with indignation of pure enragement at the sight of Eddie in your bed.

“Get out of my house!”

“Dad, wait!”

Your words were not of care to your dad, as he shoved you onto the ground with a shriek of horror escaping your lungs, as he charged himself onto your bed. The shot of adrenaline had coursed out any inebriations from the night before, as Eddie went against the swelling pounding of his head to jump from the comfort of your sheets and tumble onto the floor.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Imprinted with the mud of his shoes, the pool of his drool, and now crumbled under the heavy weight of your father’s fall, the sanctity of your bed—the only thing that had caressed you through the hardships of your life, where you found solace in the safety of its soft cotton and silk, where your mother once cuddled you to sleep as she spoke of the future, I’m gonna lay your pretty prom dress right on the bed and watch you become so beautiful for your special night, where you cried yourself to sleep for countless night because she left you and she didn’t actually want to see you become so beautiful for your special night—had demised under the ruins of men who made you bawl your eyes out and made you feel so little about yourself. And maybe your bed being derelict was a cursory occasion to cry over, maybe it wasn’t; nonetheless, your eyes began to brim with the flooding tears of the overstimulated stress of an exhausted mind, dry eyes, and a splitting heart.

“Please stop.” Too quiet and airy for any big, angry, men to hear.

Because big, angry, men don’t care for the aching pain of the people they hurt.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…” Eddie stumbled onto wobbly feet, planting the palms of his hands to stand himself away from your reaching father. “M’so fuckin’ sorry!” At that point, the directions of his words were either targeted to you or your father, you couldn’t decipher, and truthfully, you didn’t care to decipher.

Your father managed to unravel himself from the hold of your blankets, stepping off with heavy stomps to follow Eddie around your room. “You better get out of my fucking house, I’m fucking calling the cops! How dare you fucking touch my daughter?!”

“Dad, please.” Weak, broken, unheard.

“I fuckin’ didn’t!” Eddie was fortunate enough to spot his beloved jacket, snatching it from the confines of your desk chair, where he was able to roll it out as an obstruction to your father’s determined path of strangling Eddie Munson.

Because in the mind of a relentless resolute driven by all the wrong ideas because of the pain he so adamantly refused the face, Eddie Munson was the cause of your ultimate failure. Eddie Munson manipulated his daughter. Eddie Munson got his daughter suspended. Eddie Munson would be the reason your failure tainted the family name.

Eddie pummeled through your door, coming face-to-face with the extravagant expanse of your home. Cold. Everything was freezing cold, from the temperature to the decoration. Deprived from any signs of life. As if it was a museum. His bulging eyes found the large staircase, and it truly amazed him how his feet found every step without thought, simply autopilot. There was a yanking urge that was demanding him to go back. Go back for you. Make sure you were okay. Make sure to clean your tears up. Once again, he was making you cry. Maybe not entirely his fault, but his being was partaking in your agony and he fucking hated himself for it. But the weighing steps of her father marching right on his ass prompted him to move forward. Your front door was swung carelessly, welcoming the hot air of the burning morning, where once again, the clean cut grass of the manicured lawn was falling victim to Eddie’s destruction of mucky shoes. Maybe drinking hadn’t been too bad of an idea—it absolutely was—as Eddie’s drunken state, at nine at night, had left his keys impaled into the ignition ready to go.

The haggard van erupted to life, Eddie had never been so grateful to hear the god awful clunk that definitely needed to be checked out. Peer out once more, your wrathful father ran with a tirade of curses that condemned Eddie Munson back to hell, but the screech of his reversing tires interrupted his polemic. “Don’t you ever come back! You’ll be dead before your kind can even step foot into my fucking neighborhood!”

Eddie Munson would return back in eighteen hours.

“There’s an old man sitting next to me…” Wayne softly chuckled, as the lyrics had been repeating out of his mouth for the entirety of his shift, after Rodney Nickelvich decided to play the voice of Billy Joel during break.

It’d been a particularly difficult shift. His back wasn’t getting any younger, and the evident ache that decided to settle in the lower region was making it known. But the stiffness of his folding bed would alleviate enough, at least until his next shift. But that never came for Wayne Munson. Because the second—the literal second—his head managed to even briefly skim his flat pillow, the presence of his caterwauling nephew combusted through their front door with no regards for the tired old man in the living room. Eddie hadn’t even looked his way. A straight B-line to the phone.

“And where the hell have you been?” Wayne groaned with prostration. “Comin’ in here like you own the place, have you lost your mind, boy?”

But there was no answer.

Where Eddie would have normally spoken back with a clear answer of respect, there was nothing. No acknowledgement.

“Ed.”

Already engraved into his mind like the chords to his guitar, Eddie punched the buttons to your number on the yellow phone. But then he stopped. “I need the time… I don’t want you calling.” But this was bigger than that, right? He needed to know you were okay. “Please don’t hate me.” He scrunched his brows in the burning pain of betraying your boundaries. Once again. His finger dialed the rest of the numbers.

But it was dead. Not a ring. Not a buzz. Not a single indication that your phone was even ringing. Just a deadline. And Eddie’s heart sank to the deepest pit in his stomach. “Fuck!”

“Eddie.” Wayne’s face etched with concern. “What the hell is goin’ on?”

Eddie’s chest began hyperventilating with worry for you. “I-I… shit, I-uh… I really gotta get to school.”

Wayne sat up, now. Never in the decade he’s been in the care of Eddie Munson had that boy ever rushed out to get to school. Something was deeply wrong. But he couldn’t even hurtle a question of scrutiny, as Eddie had already slammed the door shut with his being gone, so deeply perturbed.

Eddie was truly pissed off at this point.

The entire proposition of arriving early to school was to find Chrissy Cunningham, but just as it occurred yesterday afternoon, the cheerleader was nowhere to be seen in the breadth of Hawkins High. He knew he was going against your wishes, quite specifically, but his heart and mind couldn’t fathom the possible danger you could be subjected to. He had too. Right? Would you just hate him more for interfering? God, he was shooting himself over the complication he construed the entire situation to become. Asking his friends had quickly been classified as the most imbecilic measure he’d ever succumb to, as those guys had never found the courage to conjure up an idea to jump start an actual conversation with an actual girl. Knowing where the head cheerleader was was beyond their source of knowledge. Yesterday’s clothes, dry mouth, red eyes, the residing ache of his hangover still tormenting his sore limbs, and now having no comprehension of whether or not you were safe at the aggressive hands of your father, Eddie was about to traject the heaviest waterfall of beer and bile onto the grimy floors of Mr. Hall’s carpentry class. But the shrieking bell unexpectedly pacified the turbulence brewing in his belly, and he was shoving passed visibly annoyed bodies to reach the cafeteria. His only chance.

His overloaded mind didn’t even process the trouble he was walking into, but unwavering was Eddie Munson as he marched into the bustling cafeteria of crackling students and cardboard food, legs pushing him to the table. “Chrissy!” Heads snapped like automated robots. Yeah, he probably should have thought this out. Glares couldn’t even amount to the looks he was receiving from the highest of Hawkins High. This was no laughing matter, but the urge to not laugh at Jason Carver’s battered face left all self control out of Eddie, as the perfect comb-over paired with the purple swollen skin personified the magnificence of juxtapositions.

“You want something, freak?” Jason stood with a puffed chest.

“Look a little different, Carver, that new?” Eddie gestured to the contuse skin, smirking oleaginously. As if it was previously discussed, Andy McAvoy and Chance Williams stood to defend the precious honor of their friend. In Eddie’s mind, it pleased him to know a conversation of protection was ordered by Jason to his goons to preserve any remaining prettiness of his face. Prom was coming up. “Relax, I didn’t say your names, did I?”

Eddie and Jason’s gaze looked down upon Chrissy, who’s brows were cinched with confusion and worry as to what was going to occur. Jason could only snicker incredulously. “She’s not speaking to you! You really think I’m gonna leave her with some devil worshiper like you? Why don’t you do this whole town a favor and fuck off with the circus, fucking basketcase.”

But Eddie was indefatigable to the insults of the perfectly pristine. They’d been propelled since childhood, the last thing to strike his ego would be the dense words of Jason fucking Carver. Eddie had bigger issues at hand.

“That’s really cute, Carver, but she can make her own decisions, and right now,” Eddie locked eyes with a frantic Chrissy Cunningham, “we have something important to talk about.” It was imperative for Chrissy to understand, and the moment her eyes softened, a breath of relief escaped Eddie at her understanding. Your name was oozing importance.

“Are you that fucking insane-”

“Jason,” Chrissy held his hand, “h-he’s right.”

“What?!”

A disgustingly pompous smile eased onto Eddie’s face.

“It’s, uh, it’s for, um, Mrs. Durberry.” Chrissy nodded. “I-I have to, uh, tutor Eddie. We, um, we discussed it yesterday during, uh, lunch. Yeah, during lunch!”

“During lunch.” Eddie smirked with a condescending nod.

Jason huffed through flared nostrils, bending down to look Chrissy right in the eye. Though whispered in secrecy, Eddie rolled his eyes with agitation. “Are you sure about this? Is he just making you do this?”

“No, I promise.” Chrissy assured. “You know I aced chemistry, Mrs. Durberry is just trying to give me an opportunity to get community service hours, and tutoring was the perfect chance. You know it’ll look good for college applications.”

The lie was good enough to believe- not good enough to like, but good enough to believe, and that’s all Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham needed. Jason sat down in defeat, the other players following in unison, as Chrissy gathered her items. “You try anything, Munson, and you're dead.” Jason pointed with a stern finger.

Chrissy had quickly walked by, hoping Eddie would just follow, but of course, he couldn’t leave without the last word. “Right, right,” he slyly smiled, “might wanna put some ice on that, s’looking a little nasty. Who did that to you again?”

“Eddie.” Chrissy chastised.

Now, it was most abundantly clear that Chrissy Cunningham was not an indictment of the American education system, her grades almost as perfect as yours—though no one could come close to your precociousness—yet Eddie had to reevaluate his beliefs when Chrissy was marching vastly farther than anticipated.

“Jesus Christ, Chris, y’know we don’t actually have to intrude Durberry’s class? She fucking hates me.” Eddie giggled. “‘Specially after I used the bunsen burner to light a joint. Kept asking “what’s that smell” for a week.”

Chrissy finally came to a halt after turning into another empty hall. “Sorry.” She sighed. “Just can’t have Jason following us.”

“Y’know, you could probably do better than some control freak who follows you around.” Eddie shrugged.

Chrissy blinked at her shoes in contemplation. Eddie hadn’t expected the words to hit so deeply, a mere critique to the numerous problems he found in Jason Carver, but nonetheless, the cheerleader got extremely quiet, before shaking her head to get back to the point.

“A-anyways, um, what is it that you, uh, wanted?” She rushed out.

“Oh! Right, um, I need you to go to Y/N’s house.” His eyes widened, as his lips tightened between his mouth. He knew it was outrageous to ask.

“W-what?”

“Look, I know that’s a big ask-”

“I already gave you her number and address, why don’t you g-”

“I did!” He heaved. “I fucking did, and I messed up!”

Chrissy slumped,“Again?!”

Eddie winced. Again, again, again, again, again.

“Look, I “made” it to her house, and we got to talk. But her fucking dad caught me in her room, and just went haywire on me. Practically chased me out.” Eddie stressed. “And I-I tried to call her to make sure she was okay, I mean, it’d been a long night and she was crying when I left, and, fuck, Chris, I don’t know what her dad is capable of.” Is he like my dad? “Her line was dead when I tried, like off the hook, and I can’t go over to make sure she’s safe, Chrissy. I have to make sure she’s okay. Can you please just, I don’t know, do this for me, I’m fucking helpless here, I’m…” Helpless to my mother.

Chrissy was taken aback by the pure fear in his eyes as he rambled into oblivion. She knew you. She knew your father. She could only imagine how ballistic he’s gone in the past couple of days knowing what’s happened. “Okay, okay, okay, yeah, um, yeah,” Chrissy took a deep breath with a soft nod to her head, “Yeah, I’ll try to come over- but her dad’s really strict, Eddie. Like extremely, he’s the only reason why she’s so, you know, hard about her grades and stuff, I don’t know if he’d actually let me see her-”

“Please, please, just try.” Chrissy took notice of just how tightly his hands were balling into themselves, knuckles turning a blistering white from the lack of ease he was inflicting upon himself. “She’s your friend, and she doesn’t want to see me, so please, I’m begging you, Chris-”

“I will, Eddie, I will.” She reassured, as she adjusted her knit sweater that suddenly became itchy on her sensitive skin. “I just, um, I’ll probably have to come up with an excuse, a-and skip practice.”

“Look, m’sorry I’m dragging you into this, but I just need to make sure she’s okay, and maybe you can finally have a chance to talk to her about…y’know.” Chrissy shook her head quickly, acknowledging but not trying to think about her implicit endorsement to the status quo at Hawkins High, and how much it had hurt you. And she let it hurt you. “Just- you can’t tell her it was me who sent you, okay? Sh-she wants nothing to do with me, and I’m trying to respect that, I just need to know she’s safe, but she can’t know I sent you. I don’t- I don’t want to make her more upset, Chris. I can’t, I just-”

“Eddie,” Realizing the words were once again coming out a mile a minute, he bit his tongue, letting a bubble of air constrict his lungs with a fervent grip. He wasn’t about to cry. He couldn’t. Not here. Not at school. Not in front of Chrissy fucking Cunningham. Not that she’d judge much, she could already see the sheen of his eyes. “I’ll do it, I’ll check on her. A-and I won’t say it was you.”

His body was finally able to ease at her response, finally letting his airway release all tensions from the stirring anxiety that was still nesting in the crevices of his stomach. “Thank you, thank you so much.” His hands reached for her shoulders with a firm shake of acknowledgement, though his strength had her stumbling on her feet a bit. Not that he noticed. He was still worrying about you. “Just, uh, call me or something, the second she, uh- the second you know she’s okay.” Eddie didn’t want to think of the other possibility. The possibility where your father had laid a hand on you. Or worse. He wouldn’t know what to do. In his experience, silently crying and letting daddy take his frustrations out was the safest option. It was what mommy said to do, so dad wouldn’t do worse. At least ice cream was always promised at the end to make it all go away.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll do that.” She nodded in agreement.

With the confirmation stated, Eddie had already begun walking away with a determined plan in mind to sit in front of the yellow telephone until the shrilling call came through. His mind dead set on you.

“Wait!” Chrissy had to snap him back to reality. “Eddie, I don’t have your phone number.” She lightheartedly scoffed.

Chrissy Cunningham began to worry. Yes, about you. She was ready to march her way past your father in order to make sure you were okay, and to pour her heart out on a well needed apology just so you could understand how sorry she was. Even if you didn’t accept it. But she was also worried about herself. Never in a million years did she expect Eddie Munson, of all people, to show her what true feelings were. He hadn’t even talked to you for more than a week, and he was bending over backwards to ensure all his wrongs were corrected for your safety and comfort. Jason Carvered loved her, she knew it, but the subtle things were becoming pronounced. Do you really think you should be wearing that? My parents will be there. Just come to the party, I’ll look bad if my girlfriend’s not there. When she comes back, I don’t want you hanging around Y/N anymore. She’s bad news and betrayed your friendship by fucking around with that trailer trash. Don’t make yourself look bad by being friends with her.

“Shit, yeah, sorry, my, uh, my brains all over the place.” He crazily signaled with a swing of his hand. Unlike yesterday, Chrissy’s pink pen was tainting a small torn sheet of notebook paper rather than skin, as risking the chance of Jason Carver seeing Eddie Munson’s phone number written on her hand would prompt another outburst of fury between the boys. So as Eddie reiterated the numbers to his home, Chrissy copied with intent.

Intent to see you. Intent to apologize. Intent to inform Eddie.

“Okay, I’ll call you as soon as I leave her place.” Chrissy assured, as the queasiness in Eddie had simmered but surely hadn’t left. He knew as soon as he got home, the consternation would eat him unalive.

Eddie nodded his head. “Yeah, thanks again, seriously, I’ll owe you whatever.” He sighed, before his brows perked. “Oh! I can give a twenty percent discount!” He didn’t even have to specify.

Chrissy Cunningham didn’t smoke. But at least he was trying.

“Uh, s-sure, Eddie.” She simply agreed, and it was able to give him a satisfied smile. “Anyways, yeah, I’ll talk to you later. Just try not to worry too much, I’m sure she’s okay.” She inspirited.

“Okay, yeah, as soon as you can.” Eddie sighed. “I’ll leave you to it, I’m gonna go throw up or something.”

Luckily, Eddie Munson didn’t vomit in the filthy stall that is the boys’ bathroom at Hawkins High, though Chrissy Cunningham sure felt like she was about to hurl today’s lunch and breakfast standing at the doorstep of your home. Her toes tensed in the comfort of her sneakers, hearing the incoming steps of your father approaching the door. Hands gripping the straps of her backpack, she was ready- well, as ready as one can be about to face their best friend’s—did she even have a right to call you that—daunting father.

The door swung. “Hi, Mr. Y/L/N!” Smile, a bright smile and wave from Chrissy Cunningham was sure enough to get anyone to be polite. But his face plastered the same dead expression he’s had for the last four years Chrissy had known him. No smile. No squint of the eyes. Unemotional stoicism.

“Hi, Chrissy.” Robots had more pep in their voices. “Sorry, but Y/N is grounded, for quite an extensive period actually, so she’s not allowed visitors. Go home.” He began to close the door, but Chrissy’s manicured hand abruptly stopped the closure.

“Wait!” She immediately reeled back, seeing the disrespecting look take over his face. “Sorry, sir, I-I’m not here to hang out, it’s just, uh, I brought all the school work Y/N’s missed. You know, from her suspension?” She spoke sheepishly. “A-and well, we don’t want her falling behind, sir.” A nervous chuckle accompanied her faux parent voice. “In fact, Mrs. Durberry and I actually discussed tutoring, so, you know, Y/N is back on track by the time of her return.”

It was in regards to your grades, your father’s favorite. Chrissy Cunningham was a genius.

“Really?” He questioned quizzically.

“Yeah!” Chrissy bounced on the balls of her feet with a firm pat to her backpack. “I’ve got all her work right here. She’s free to turn it in when she gets back, and you know, she’s firmly secured that valedictorian spot, so there’s no need to worry.” She smiled, and of course, of course, that’s all he cared about in the wake of your suspension.

So easily had Chrissy been let into your home. She wondered what she would say to you, as she followed behind your father to your room. It was strange. Your home had always been a cold one, but your laughter and the endless sleepless sleepovers had the ability to bring warmth to such a colorless environment. But all that suffocated her was hostility. Long gone were the memories of an innocent friendship between the two girls. Another factor to consider was the mere fact that your father was guiding Chrissy. She’d been over to your house for years, the layout didn’t suddenly change over a couple days, and a nervous thump began upsetting Chrissy’s heart. And she found out why.

“Had to lock her up.” He uttered with no shame, as he pulled out a glowing key from his pocket. Haphazardly bolted on your door was a new lock, evidently cheaply and hastily done, as the lock resembled the numerous ones used for the lockers at Hawkins High, and the chipped paint and exposed wood could only insinuate the fury in which this job was done in. Your door lock, one onced used when you and Chrissy discussed the boys you thought were cutest at school in your pink pajamas, was now accompanied by a prison lock keeping you captive in your bedroom. “Should've seen the trash she was bringing in.” He muttered mostly to himself. Chrissy didn’t speak. She couldn’t speak. Too disturbed for her own wellbeing. “Do me a favor, kid,” he unlocked the door, “knock some sense into that disgrace.”

He walked away without a care.

The door creaked open, and Chrissy had taken a deep breath. Stepping inside, with a soft click of the door behind her, her eyes landed on the still figure on your bed. Turned away and engaging at the neverending nothingness of everything, you cocooned yourself in your blanket, like a hurt child. Because you merely were one. Chrissy looked away, inching tiny steps closer. Disheveled would be an understatement to the usual cleanliness of your room. Knick-knacks and personal items were thrown about, cracked, and broken, and damaged beyond the actions of someone who was depressed. No, this was the destruction of deep rooted anger.

No expecting the company, you simply screwed your eyes closed with the awaiting words of hatred you thought would be coming from your father at any second. But it didn’t. Only the familiar softness of Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend. “Y/N…?”

You immediately jumped at the sound, meeting your reddening, wet eyes with Chrissy’s round, worried blue ones. “Chrissy…”

The occupying distrust you had for her was incomparable to the pain of what had occurred today. Yes, she hurt you. Yes, you lost your one true friend. But you needed her. And your arms opened like the broken child reaching out for help, and she immediately embraced you on your bed. Your bed, where you spent countless times giving each other at-home mani and pedis, even though your allowances provided enough for professional services, but this was more fun. Your bed, where Chrissy once vented about the first fight she ever had with Jason Carver, because he disregarded her at a party to do a keg stand—yes, it was trivial, but they were sixteen at the time. And your bed, where you both shared the vulnerability of losing a mother, either physically or emotionally, through sobbing tears and tight hugs, but none of that mattered because you were best friends and had each other. Forever.

“Are you okay?” Her vision appeared blurry under the disorientating state of water welling in her eyes. “I’m so sorry for everything.” Chrissy stroked your hair. You couldn’t muster a word to respond with, merely silently crying into the junction of her neck, where she smelled of spring flowers. You’d picked out that perfume for her. Her seventeenth birthday. “I should’ve stuck up for you, I-I should’ve told everyone to stop, I’m so sorry I didn’t.”

Her apology suddenly revealed why you lost trust in her in the first place. Urgently pulling back from the hug far quicker than Chrissy would have liked, you brought your knees to your chest, letting your face find solace on the tiny space rather than her embrace.

“What are you doing here, Chris?” You mumbled so quiet, she was barely able to register it from the chirping birds outside.

“I came to apologize to you.” At least she wasn’t drunk. “I- Y/N everything I did to you was awful.” Her plucked brows furrowed with shame and remorse. You carefully picked up your head, as she gently held knee. “When everyone started saying stuff about you, I was so confused, and before I could even question it, Jason had me promise to not be around you, and I’m so sorry. I’m not trying to excuse what I did, I just should have known better, and I needed to apologize to you.”

Your eyes had closed in relief. You were beyond the trenches of exhaustion, everything was so sore from the exertion of crying, that the simple apology brought the grand relief you’d been yearning for. “I-I think I need space away from Jason.” That had your eyes snapping open. Jason and Chrissy, in love since the tenth grade, becoming the embodiment of young love in Hawkins. Their parents had practically set up a future in which both attended the same university as young adults, and married each other with the expectation of kids by the age of twenty-five.

“I don’t like who he is as a person.” She confessed with a wobbly lip. “ I know he loves me, but I love you, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

You took her back into a loving hug, where she fell limp in your arms, as her tears stained your clothes. Though muffled you spoke with a small whine, “You sound like Eddie.” Which had her giggling through tears.

She had slowly pulled away, smiling at the small curve of your lips that was brightening your face. She wiped your tears, and caressed the hairs out of your face. “Yeah, he’s kinda my new friend now.” She shrugged. “Even offered me a discount to his… business.”

You laughed with a roll to your eyes. “Quite the entrepreneur he is.” She snickered in agreement. “But yeah, I could tell when he came to my house yesterday.”

“Oh, god.” Chrissy plopped back on your bed. “How did you even figure out it was me, you’re so smart?”

You giggled, joining her, as you stared up at the ceiling. “Seeing someone like Eddie Munson show up with pretty pink writing on him doesn’t seem like something that occurs innately in nature. Figured you had something to do with it.”

“I’m sorry for that, too.” She turned to look at you. “I shouldn’t have given him that information without asking you. He just really wanted to apologize to you, too, and it seemed like the right thing to do. What even happened?” She sat up to get serious.

You couldn’t fathom retelling the occurrence of what happened, so you merely opted for the safest choice, and nodded your head in silence. “He did apologize, just wish he would have done it differently.” You sighed. “And, uh, my dad-” Your throat had automatically constricted at the simple mention of him, eyes tightening with the hopes of suppressing the whirlwind of tears that were about to flood your face. “Chrissy, he wouldn’t stop yelling.” You began bawling, as she pulled you up to wrap her arms around your shrinking body. “H-he kept screaming a-and shouting, then he just- he just started throwing things-” Chrissy could only rock you body, gently and softly, letting your tears hit her shoulder with all might. “I was so scared.”

The dreaded question. “Did- did he hit you?” Chrissy spoke into your hair, terrified of how you might answer. But luckily, the tiniest bit of luck, you had shook your head no, and she let out a deep breath. But the harsh slap of reality was that your father had still severely crossed a line that put you in an unsafe environment. And you were petrified.

“He’s not letting me leave my room.” You whispered through sniffles.

“Did he take your phone, Edd-” Chrissy contemplated for a second, before she spoke extremely softly. “Eddie said you didn’t pick up when he tried to call you after what happened.”

“He tried to call me?”

“Just to make sure you were okay.” She emphasized. “He said he’s trying to respect your wishes of wanting space, but after what happened, he just needed to know you were safe… that’s why- that’s why I’m here.” Your brows furrowed and you immediately sat up. “I’d been wanting to apologize to you, and Eddie had been dying to make sure you were okay, so he asked me to come check on you, and so I could finally say sorry to you. He- Y/N, he really cares about you. We both do.”

This was the bit of progress you were wanting to see. To know that the Eddie Munson you met Friday afternoon, the one who coward away at the mere idea of feelings and compassion, the one who uttered the vile words that stabbed right through you, the one who shouted in defense because he was hurt, that that wasn’t him. It wasn’t who he wanted to be. It wasn’t who he truly was. But a recovery from trauma was not a linear progression, and last night you were able to understand the fluctuations of Eddie Munson, the reason why he berated and hurt, the reason why he comforted and protected, the reason why he wailed and sobbed.

“Chrissy, when’s the next time you’re gonna see him?” You cleared your face from staining tears.

“I’ll see him at school tomorrow, but he asked me to call him to make sure you were safe first.”

You nodded. “I, uh- can you actually ask him something for me?”

That one clunking noise Eddie had once been so happy to hear? Yeah, he’s returned back to detesting it, as he felt it drew so much attention to the all too quiet streets of Pinecrest Acres. He made the conscience—and sober—decision to park behind the gray De Tomaso Pantera—fighting the urge to just pop the hood and look at the beauty inside—that resided two houses down from yours. It gave him enough coverage away from any view of your father. Eddie was terrified. Much to his dismay, Chrissy had been fairly vague over the phone when she rang him at 5:59 p.m exactly. Luckily by then, a buddy of Wayne’s had taken him out to an early dinner before their shift at the plant, so his uncle missed out on the Olympic-worthy run Eddie had made to the phone the second it began ringing. And Chrissy had spoken. A lot. But so little at the same time. He was happy to hear you guys made up. Truly he was. But Chrissy had carried on for a five minute tangent about how gladly you accepted her back into your life again. Eddie Munson was honestly jealous. Though she had mentioned how you specified wanting time away from her, too, maybe meeting up to speak that coming Monday at school when your suspension would be over. Eddie had wondered if you would speak to him then, too. But he didn’t have to wonder much longer. After he so kindly told the cheerleader to get to the point, the real point he wanted to hear, she had assured him that you were okay. Physically, at least. Eddie had dropped to his kitchen chair with a breath of relief that no one had touched you. But then Chrissy kept speaking. She wants to see you. Tonight. That had Eddie trajecting back up from his seat. But his questions had disappointingly gone unanswered. No details. No explanation. No reasoning. Just show up, Eddie. At midnight. At her window. And not drunk. Chrissy had never gotten the full story as to what went down between you and Eddie, so that part desperately confused and intrigued the girl, but she didn’t push any further. Eddie, though, had cringed in disgust at himself because he knew.

An owl had hooted in the distance as he followed the tracks his beloved, dying van had made on your green lawn. Once again, Eddie had found himself in the same position as last night, cracking his neck and rolling his limbs for the climb of a lifetime. If it was somehow possible, he felt he was quivering more than when he was three beers down and no dinner. Yes, he was sober, but his heart could stop beating at the neverending questions his mind was bombarding against himself. Were you mad because he sent Chrissy over? Surely you couldn’t be, she would have said so. But you could also be really fucking pissed. The same type of anger that caught him off guard when his father swung on his little face when Eddie thought they were having a good time.

But he couldn’t rely on heavy thoughts as such. He just needed to get to you. Passed the trellis, over the trimming, onto the roof. Quiet as Eddie Munson could be. He couldn’t really be quiet, but he tried for you. Crouching his way to your window, he sucked in a deep breath before he ever so gently tapped on your window. He was eyeing his reflection, wondering who the hell he had become. The one definitive figure he didn’t want to become: his father. A relentless pessimist, hatred against the world, bruteness to show off, and the inability to take accountability for the hurt they cause, because they were hurt first, right?

But then your curtains opened, and there you were. You.

You, who’d included his friends when no one wanted them. You, who made him smile despite his hesitations of getting hurt. You, who took the fall for everything. You, who gave Eddie Munson a chance.

You lifted your window open. “Hi.”

Eddie could cry right then and there. His shaky trembling hands slowly offered themselves to you, and you peered down, gently laying yours in his, where your warmth dissipated his coldness. He sighed with a loving grasp. “Y-you’re okay? He didn’t- did he touch you?”

Eddie had heard it from Chrissy, but hearing your small “no” was more comforting than a third-party person.

“Why, um, why did you need to see me?” He softly cleared his throat.

“I want to talk, b-but not here.” Eddie nodded ardently at your request. “Just somewhere far.”

Somewhere far, he could give that to you.

Helping you out of your window, you followed Eddie’s led to the edge of your roof, where you traced the dying height from your second story room to the hard, hard, ground. “Don’t be scared.” He soothingly smiled. “Remember, I made the climb drunk.”

You shook your head in disappointment, but he saw that small, beautiful smile peak through your lips. “Just, um, please don’t let me fall.” Your stomach sunk at the eerie possibility.

But Eddie was there, and he let you know with a secure squeeze to your joint hands. “Never.”

You watched him descend. Off of the roof. Over the trimming. Down the trellis. He made it look so easy, as if he actively partook in the illegal activity of breaking and entering. Eddie would never admit it, not now at least, but for good reason he had done it once. Once. Mr. Godly had a cat that fifteen-year-old Eddie once saw the old man kick. Safe to say, Cronkers now resides in the makeshift cat house of cardboard, wood, and a childhood blanket behind the Munson’s residence. Her favorite is Wayne’s Monday meatloaf.

He encouraged you down delicately. Instructing you to take small movements, find your steps, and he’ll be right there. He’d always be there. When your Converse hit the holes of the trellis, his hands faintly found your waist, where you trusted him to carry you down the last couple abrasive steps onto your crushed garden. Feet safely on the ground, you gazed up at his staggering height and met his concerned eyes. You merely nodded before he could get the words out, are you okay?

“Your car?” You interrupted his staring. But in his defense, your face was illuminated mesmerizingly in the moonlight of the dark sky.

“Right, right.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry.” He muttered in embarrassment, as he quickly walked away before you could see his flushing cheeks. As if you hadn’t already witnessed him ugly cry drunk in your bedroom.

You walked the quiet trip to his van, where he graciously opened the door for you. You didn’t know at the time, but the couple yards it took to get to his car, he’d been battling himself whether or not that’d be the right move to try. He’d never opened the door for anyone. But your small “thank you” that flashed his way had him praising to the gods he didn’t even believe in that he was a genius.

His car smelled strongly like cigarettes and weed. It honestly hurt your head, but you hadn’t expected anything less from Eddie. It made you giggle to yourself. The usual was everywhere; littered receipts and wrappers crumbled into the door compartments, numerous scented trees hanging from the rear view mirror, which you could only assume had been Eddie’s attempt to mask the nicotine and marajuana, and of course, an array of tapes thrown upon the floor at your feet, you could vividly imagine Eddie getting tired of a tape and carelessly getting rid of it. But then there was something else.

Eddie appeared in the front seat. “You ready?” He heaved.

“Yeah, but, um, why do you have these?”

“Ice cream?” He questioned more than answered. Yes, ice cream sitting in the tight space of his cupholders, two cartons with a spoon for each. “Um, well, I figured it’d be nice to, uh, have. I always, uh, liked having it, I guess. Always made me feel slightly better as a kid. It’s vanilla and chocolate. You can take whichever.” You eyed him incredulously, he eyed you worriedly. “Do you not like either of those flavors? I know I went basic, but I thought they were safe choices. I can get you whatever. Strawberry, cookies n’ cream, mint?” He grimaced, as though it was a deal breaker but he’d look right past it.

You giggled at him. “No, Eddie, it’s okay. I just didn’t expect it.” You shyly smiled.

“Okay, good.” He smiled, with a whistle of relievement. “So, it’ll make you feel better?”

Lovers Lake had been the destination of choice for Eddie. It was quiet and calming. The car ride had been, too. Eddie had suggested some music, but was adamant about his disdain for the radio, though you weren’t necessarily in the mood to have the voices of Megadeth screaming at you this late at night. Eddie had begrudgingly agreed. So it was quiet. He was itching to ask you why you wanted to talk, though that only seemed appropriate whenever you would arrive. You had reached over and played with the mini bobble head figure of Garfield that was nestled against his van’s windshield. You said it was cute. He blushed. Then proceeded to nervously ramble about how Uncle Wayne had one of Odie in his work truck. You didn’t know Uncle Wayne, but he spoke about him like you knew every detail about Wayne already. The lake had been abandoned and lonely upon arrival. The lights to Rick Lipton’s lake house had been shut off for nearly a year now after his arrest. Eddie had only agreed and smiled when you mentioned how an old, lovely couple probably lived there and sat out by the lake to watch the sunset. Sure, something like that. He’d let you have your fantasy. The way the idea lit up your face and eased your tension, he wasn’t about to ruin that.

“We can, um, head to the back.” He offered, to which you agreed.

In truth, the bundle of blankets and pillows in the back of his van didn’t paint him out to be the greatest of all people, but he quickly assured that he frequently takes nap in the comfort of his van when he doesn’t have the energy for Mrs. O’Donnell’s voice. Specifically adding a yapping gesture with his hand to emphasize. So there you were. Sitting in the back, doors open to let in the midnight breeze, as you looked out to the glistening waters. You’d settled on vanilla after you noticed the tighter grip Eddie’s hand had clutched around the chocolate flavor, and surely, a blooming smile erupted on his face when he got to secure his preferred flavor of dessert.

“So, um-”

“I just wanted to speak to you.” You confided. “You know, when we’re not yelling, crying, or drunk,” you giggled at his wincing face, “as we have been doing for the past couple of days.”

“M’a fucking mess, I’m sorry.”

“So am I, Eddie-”

“No, you’re not.” He firmly attested. “You were absolutely perfect before I came into your life and fucked everything up.”

You teased, “You're saying I’m not perfect now?” Your mouth dropped in a dramatic gasp that had him smiling.

“No! No! I’m not saying that at all, you are perfect now, you’ll be perfect for the rest of your life and you won’t even have to try.” He sheepishly grinned, filling his mouth with a big spoonful to bite back the smile.

“Hate to break it to you, Eddie, but I’ve been far from perfect even before I met you. I wish you would see that. It’s doing more harm than good.” You spoke sincerely. “I don’t like you placing me into a bubble, Eddie, especially when you’ve hated the people who’ve done it to you. But I never have.”

His head dropped with a nod. “You’re right.” He accounted. “I’ve had the bullshit done to me for years, I thought it’d finally make me feel good to do it to someone like you. And it was fucking gross of me, because you’re right, you’ve never done anything to me. Actually, that night you took our photo, that was quite literally the nicest anyone has ever treated me- us. And, fuck me, did I like the shit out of you.”

You laughed at his shy revelation. “You have such a romantic way with your words, Eddie Munson.” You joked.

“Sorry.” He covered his mouth so kidlike. “But, uh, yeah I obviously liked you, and well, something in me was just fighting me to stay away. Or get away, more than anything. Because, um, it’d… it’d really fucking hurt if you didn’t like me back.” He couldn’t meet your eyes, speaking with pure shame as to who he was as a person. “And, well, mission fucking accomplished, I, sorta, kinda went above and beyond with that logic.”

“You think?” You smiled.

“It was so stupid of me.” He regrettably sighed. “Because-because I thought- you were just so nice to me. Ready to be my friend and everything, that I knew, I fucking knew my feelings would get too much for me and the realizations that I couldn’t be with you fucking scared me.” His voice had significantly softened to ease the burning ache in his throat. “A-and I’m such a shit excuse of a person that I fucking hurt you when you didn’t deserve it.”

“You are not that, Eddie, don’t say that-”

“But I am, Y/N, I’m so fucking terrible. I-I’m, fuck- I really fucking hate my dad.” Your brows creased at the sudden change of topics. “He was an awful person, he- he would-” The crying began. “Fuck,” he wiped his tears completely embarrassed, “He would just do terrible things to me and my mom, and I fucking said- I fucking said I wouldn’t be like him, be like her- she just fucking took that shit, Y/N, she said it was for the best.” You held his hand, his ice cream long forgotten and pushed to the side. “I just don’t want to be like him- them. M’tryin’ so fucking hard that it fucking backfired. M’such a terrible person, and I’m so sorry.”

You wished this conversation wasn’t full of tears, but you realized how inevitable that idea was. You and Eddie Munson were hurting and releasing. Crying was necessary.

“You are not a terrible person, Eddie.” He had to hear, loud and clear. You rested your head on his shoulder, where his head dropped upon yours. “Terrible people don’t sit and wonder if they’re terrible. And the fact that you care about how you are as a person shows it.” You caressed the back of his hand. “You are a worthwhile person, Eddie. I can so clearly see it.”

“I’m really fucking sorry for everything I’ve done to you, Y/N.” He wiped the incoming snot from his nose with his denim sleeve. “I-I need you to know that everything I did was out of fucking stupidity.” He huffed. “What I called you, those names, that was fucking disgusting, and I don’t believe that about you at all. I never have.”

“I’m sorry for what I said about you, too-”

“Don’t you fucking dare say you’re sorry for telling the truth.” He deeply laughed through his sniffles, voice deeper from the being nasally stuffed.

You smiled back guilty. “No, I am! What I said was really mean, too.”

“Absolutely not, sweetheart.” He chuckled. “What was it, ‘a sulking asshole too pathetic to deal with their problems?’ You hit it right on the nail, princess.”

“Well,” you giggled, “even if you won't let me apologize, I need you to know that I still feel bad. Slightly.”

“Fair enough.” He grinned. “But I do need to apologize, and I need you to know that I’m truly sorry, Y/N. For everything. For what I said. For what I did. For making you feel horrible and scared. And for just putting you through all that. You didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“I know.” You whispered. “And if it’s any consolation to you, Eddie, I also hate my dad.”

“Oh, my god.” Eddie clutched his heart. “He really put a fucking number on me, fuck me.” He groaned, turning to face you. “Please, please, please tell me if he does something. I won’t be able to fucking live my life not knowing.”

Your lips tucked tightly within themselves, and with a soft nod you assured him you would.

You spoke. You both spoke for a while. The hours had passed unknowingly until both tubs of ice cream were empty by 3:33 a.m. Tears and laughter had flooded the back of the van, and you felt like you’d been his friends with him since childhood. He couldn’t fathom the way he treated you, when speaking to you floated him into another dimension of peace and acceptance. Something he hadn’t felt in the entirety of his life. But when you caught a glimpse of the repeating digits on his watch, your heart panicked and you urged him to take you home, which he suddenly complied. This time, though, Megadeth was gladly played, and to say you were shocked would be quite an understatement. Eddie had belted a laugh at your abrupt introduction to metal, finding your this-is-weird-but-I-don’t-want-you-to-think-I’m-judging-you face as the cutest thing ever. And sooner than he liked, he pulled up behind the De Tomaso Pantera. Your attempt to say goodbye fell short, though, when he shot down your idea to walk home alone.

“Really, Eddie, go home, it’s late.” You huffed, when you reached your house.

“I will, I will,” He snickered with defensive hands. “Just, uh, th-thank you so much for, um- well, being so understanding even after all that I did. I just- you really are the best, Y/N.” He ranked his hands over his face in hopes of concealing the ever growing smile on his face.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You giggled at his flustered state. “You’re quite incredible yourself.”

“Do, um, where does this… leave us?”

“I still want space, Eddie.” You spoke honestly, to which he concurred. “Until we’re okay.”

“Until we’re okay.” He sighed.

Eddie had managed to take advantage of the four hours of sleep left until school began. There was no sleeping past his alarm clock, no rush to get dressed, no giving up when lateness was inevitable. He’d shown up, showered and full with a bowl of cereal that went a long way, as he approached Ms. Kelly’s office. It was nerve wracking. He’d never considered this to be a good idea, in fact, following his father’s word, therapy was a pussy excuse for the delusional to waste money on. But those were the words that held him captive from the potential he so well deserved to reach. Turning from her filing cabinet, Ms. Kelly had caught sight of his timid figure standing at the door.

“Eddie.” She hadn’t been unfamiliar with his being, she’d actually been the one to break it to him the last two times that he was in for another year at prison Hawkins High. “How can I help you?”

He sauntered his way into her office, taking a seat with a gruff. It was evident his persona to seem calm, cool, and collected was falling through the cracks, as his finger spun the numerous rings on his fingers. “I, uh, I was wondering if it’d be cool to, um, just talk?”

“Absolutely.” Ms. Kelly dreamed of the day Eddie Munson would enter her office with good intentions. “Anything in particular?”

He shook his head. “No.” He sighed. “Just got a lot pent up inside, I guess.”

“Well, the floor is yours, Eddie.” She smiled. “Talk as much as you need.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | Unfortunately, my tag list for this series has gotten too long, so I will not be adhering to any further requests to be included. I'm so terribly sorry, but the amount of tags has beyond reached its limit, and I think it's best to stop. I hope it's understandable. Nonetheless, thank you all for your kind support, I hope you guys continue to enjoy the series, and if you ever have any ideas as to what you'd like to see, I'd love to know!

@sierrahhh @harrysgothicbitch @niallerlover8022 @aunicornmademedoit @spring-picnics @sleepy-bunnie @eggo-segual @bambi-horror @aheadfullofsteverogers @sademoloser @freakymunson @princess-eddie @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @negativity4you @nope-thanks @allsortsedits @callingmrsbarnes @f0rgggg @hurricane-abigail @sweet-sunflower64

@redlovett @goldstars-to-all @eddiesguitarskills @goslytherin @sashaphantomhive @maxinehufflepuffprincess @emeritusemeritus @angel-upon @middle-of-the-earth @scarletwitchwhore @my-tearsricochet @ericasdumbworld @animechick555 @gewrgia-black @hookandchain @roseanddaggerlarry @prestinalove @sebismyhubby @maddsunn

@zoeymunson @corrcdedcoffin @sweetmariihs2 @thefemininemystiquee @monserat @findmeincorneliastreet @sheneedsrocknroll92 @silent-stories @batkin028 @btbabyy

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #the yearbook: club pictures

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nightlyrequiem · 1 month

Text

Latrodectus

I. To Be Human

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

AO3

Latrodectus Mactans, otherwise known as the Black Widow, are known for their uncouth treatment of their partners. The 'widow' part of their name stemming from the common occurrence of the female devouring her partner after mating.

Tags/Warnings: Abduction, Violence, Emotional Manipulation, harassment, A Dabble of Psychological Torture, Drugging, Breaking And Entering, Fem!reader

================================================

There is something wrong with Valeria Garza. Something deep inside of her that went unchecked during adolescence and festered into something rotten. While the other children played manhunt in the woods behind the school, Valeria was pulling apart the carcasses of stray animals. Feeding that part of her that desired to know what went on in the inside of a body. A vulture in her own right. She was born without something her peers had, and that set up the perfect breeding ground for resentment. She didn't quite yet understand what it was that made her so different. Or why it, in the eyes of the other children, meant she was undeserving of companionship.

Rarely did Valeria crave the attention or approval of another. Even with her missing pieces Valeria knew she was simply better than the others. It aggravated her to no end that nobody else seemed to understand that. There are, however, four people that Valeria... fixated on. Marie Sanchez lived only five houses down from her. Little Valeria would follow her around the playground. Making vain attempt after vain attempt to gain her affection and friendship. That flame slowly fizzled out once they reached high school and Valeria's idolization of Marie turned into contempt.

Her puppy love for Marie grew into a rabid, out of control dog that needed to be put down. And put it down she did. If Marie wouldn't be happy with Valeria, then she didn't deserve to be happy at all. Valeria would take any chance she could get to terrorize Marie. Cruel words and rumours whispered from pink painted lips spread around the small school. Valeria's torment didn't end with verbal abuse. She was having a particularly foul week and Marie's existence only agitated her more. Valeria dragged her into the girl's bathroom and whaled on her. Shattering her cheekbone and breaking her nose. She only spent four months in juvie before being released on good behavior.

There are no certain qualities that draw her to a person. She's not sure what it was about you that reeled her in. Perhaps it was the fact that the first time she ever saw you, you were sobbing. The sound being the most beautiful melody to have graced her ears. Her curiosity was sparked, and she kept tabs on you from then on. Checking up on you for her own entertainment. Her passive interest swiftly evolved into an obsessive need. The thought of you affected her so badly that it made her unwell. She got her hands on every bit of information that she could. Past and present social media accounts. Who your friends were, and who you dated. She saved pictures of you and took some of her own. She absorbed whatever she could into her very bloodstream to be a part of your life.

Pictures and information were never enough. She needed to cut you open and carve room for herself behind your ribs. Remove your lungs so she could take every breath for you. Valeria is a busy woman, unfortunately. Leading a drug empire takes up most of her time and as much as she'd like to, she couldn't spend every hour watching you. There are always workarounds to every problem though, and she's nothing if not a problem solver. When she wasn't able to, she'd send someone in her inner circle to tail you. Take note of everything you do. Where you shopped, where you went. What you ate. Who you spoke to.

In her clean, tidy kitchen she carefully slices through a bright red tomato. Off to the side waiting on a plastic plate is a piece of whole grain bread. Fresh lettuce and bits of turkey arranged carefully on top. She grabs the tomato slices and adds them to the mix then places another piece of bread to complete the sandwich. She cleans up. Putting away the rest of the ingredients for later, washing the cutting board, and wiping down the marble counters. She grabs the plate and makes her way through her home. The floor to ceiling windows shows off the scenic view of the mountains in the distance. The sun is setting behind them, giving the tops a halo-like glow and casting golden beams into her home.

The dark wood floors are polished and clean. Swept and vacuumed every day. She continues down the hall towards the stairs leading to the basement. Admiring the few paintings decorating the ivory coloured walls. Some portraying lush, almost fantastical fields of grass and heather and others with more religious tones. She stops at the basement door and fishes through her pocket for the new key. She had recently installed locks on the door. She unlocks it and switches on the light before descending down. She had the space renovated and took some inspiration from Diego's dwelling. Jutting stones make up the walls with sconces to provide a warm yellow glow. Open doorways branch off into other rooms not yet furnished.

She calmly walks down to the end of the hall and stops in front of a different door. She reaches up to feel along the top of the doorframe. Her fingers lightly brush against a small silver key and she grabs it, pulling it down. She unlocks the door and opens it, just barely catching sight of you crouching in the corner like a scared animal, your chain lightly rustling from the sudden movement. The room is mostly bare. A mattress and a toilet are all she has allowed. For her, and of course your safety as well. The chain connecting to a metal collar around your throat is long enough for you to be able to come close to the door and light switch but not further. She made sure the other end was securely bolted to the wall.

She steps inside and gives you a soft smile, even if your continued fearful behavior is starting to grate against her nerves. You don't return her smile, but Valeria knows you will someday. You'll understand that she's doing this because she loves you. She walks up to your bed - a thick double mattress - and sets the plate down. She turns her head to look at you once more. Just the sight of you is enough to make her feel agitated. Like she has to hurt someone to compensate for the feelings that are too big for her body. Your brows are furrowed, and your lips are downturned into a distressed little frown. Despite the fact that she's the reason for your unhappy expression she finds the sight cute.

When Valeria was thirteen, she spent some time around a man who ran an unlicensed animal shelter. He'd collect stray dogs and cats, and sometimes take pets from yards and demand a fee for their return. If their owners couldn't or wouldn't cough up the money, he'd simply... put them down. He taught her a few useful things regarding animals. They'll be scared of you at first. You just have to be patient with dealing with them. Feed them often, meet their basic needs, and they'll begin to warm up to you. Valeria believes this method can be used on people. You don't even look that different to the starving cats that used to hiss at her from the man's metal cages.

She settles down on the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight.

"Today was a long day," She begins. She feels a rush of satisfaction at being able to talk to you. "There was some trouble by the border, I won't bore you with the details, but a little gang was making itself a thorn in my side." She runs a hand through her hair. The bodies of the leader and his enforcers are lying at the bottom of a lake by now. Providing nutrients for an aquatic ecosystem. "I took care of it, of course." She says proudly. She wishes you'd share her pride. That even if you don't understand the intricacies of running a cartel, you'd sidle up to her with stars in your eyes and awe on your face. You should be telling her what a good job she's doing. Instead, you crouch there silently, uninterested and unimpressed.

She wants to stay. To talk to you more but she knows she should probably leave before she gets too overwhelmed. She just adores you so much. So much so that you have infected her. Not even in her dreams can she escape you. A part of her hates you for it. Her mood is more volatile than usual since she met you, and she loses her appetite if she thinks about you too for too long. The only solution is to obtain and keep you.

"Valeria." You say softly. Almost so softly that your voice is lost the stone walls of your enclosure. Valeria hears you though. Valeria will always hear you. Her heart leaps when you say her name.

"Mhm?" She replies. Looking at you intensely. Pupils blown wide.

"Can... can you please take the collar off?" You ask tentatively. Your voice lowered to an unoffensive volume. Valeria narrows her eyes at you. She's obsessive and certainly 'not all there' by a doctor's standards, but she isn't stupid.

"No." She answers bluntly. You're speaking to her instead of screaming at her which is progress as far as she's concerned.

However, she knows you are nowhere near ready to be freed from the cellar, let alone your collar. Even when you are ready, she'll be sorry to see it go. She takes a perverse reassurance at the sight of you in it. It reminds her that she has you. You seem to mull over your words before speaking.

"It's just the collar... is rubbing against my skin and it's starting to chafe," You murmur. Valeria leans closer to hear you better. Her answer will remain the same, but she will let you finish speaking. "Taking it off for a little bit wouldn't be so bad." Your eyes are wide and glossy.

"I'm not taking the collar off." Valeria says firmly. You look like you're about to continue to try and convince her but something on Valeria's face must dissuade you.

Just like that, your wounded-puppy expression vanishes. Replaced with the dark, brooding look she's more familiar with. Valeria pushes up off the bed and stares down you with half-lidded eyes. She loves you so much.

"Make sure to eat that." She tells you. Gesturing at the sandwich. "If you throw it at the wall again you won't eat for the next week." She turns and leaves the room. Locking the door behind her. You are her most valuable possession and she's keeping you safe, sound, and accessible.

#cod mw2 #valeria garza x reader #valeria garza

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indyanapolis898 · 9 months

Text

A Tale of Two Tombstones

bruce wayne x f!reader

Synopsis: Batman needs a break after endless nights of work. He decides to visit his parent's grave as Bruce Wayne, where he's able to open up to his parents and someone else.

The roaring of his motorcycle halted as it pulled into its intended parking spot. The rider slid off the bike, falling heavily onto the dusty ground of the cave in which his headquarters resided.

A few grunts escaped his lips as he lay idly in the dim lighting of the cavern. Batman moved his gloved hands to his face to remove his dirty cowl, bloodying his gloves in the process. His messy, damp hair covered his forehead; the sweat combined with the blood on his face and head.

He took a few unsteady breaths, trying to gain his composure. He'd finished another late night of work at the cost of his physical health. His body armor would need serious work and repatching. He blinked a few times, shutting his eyes to sleep for a few minutes.

***

Bruce Wayne opened his eyes, shifting his body, which resulted in a painful shout.

"Hey, easy there," said a concerned Alfred, rushing to the operating table in the surgery room- located in the south wing of Wayne Manor.

"Where- what-," Bruce breathily mumbled.

"I found you in the cave after the computer alerted me of your presence. You took a heavy beating. I stitched up most of your wounds, but you've earned some rest, Master Bruce."

"No. I-" Bruce cut himself off with ragged coughs. Alfred sat the bed up and raised an eyebrow with an I told you so, look.

"Fine," Bruce finally accepted his fate and lay back on the pillow to rest more.

***

Bruce garnered a total of eighteen hours in and out of sleep, healing very slowly from the brutal fight he'd gotten into in a gang-filled subway station. They had tech and brute weapons that Batman hadn't seen before. They were strong enough to plaster him and his suit. The gang was still on the loose. It was plaguing Bruce's weary mind, but he knew he was in no state to get back into crimefighting.

Sometimes, while laying in bed with his eyes open because his mind wouldn't stop running, Bruce wondered if his thoughts would ever quiet down. The only thing that could help was getting things off his chest. It was a temporary high; however, his ego and insecurity kept him from sharing with Alfred. That's why, with Alfred's permission, Bruce found himself limping to the mansion's garage in a simple gray sweater, black trench coat, and jeans. His hair was messy and unkempt, only kept out of his face with the pair of sunglasses that rested on his forehead.

Bruce entered one of his vehicles, a black SUV with tinted windows, and let his driver take him to the Gotham Graveyard.

***

After a morning of light showers, the sky had cleared up into a baby blue. Bruce struggled out of the car, leaving the driver to wait on the curb outside the cemetery. It was an empty scene. Rows and rows of headstones sat under a canopy of trees with no people to visit. The graveyard resided in a more rural area of the city, so the memorial area was quiet besides the occasional squawking of birds and the wind rustling the autumn-kissed leaves.

Bruce stepped onto the damp, all-too-familiar grassy path leading to the headstones of his late parents.

Their monuments were big and overly fancy. The cleaner Alfred hired twenty-six years ago still came every month to polish and clean the headstones. In honor of the Wayne's, a bench sat on the side of the stones, so Bruce sat there, idly taking in the silence.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Speaking in a tranquil but emotional voice, Bruce began to talk to the air, confessing how he missed them, his beloved mother and father.

"...and that's why I came. I just needed to talk. I needed to be in your presence again. I believe Alfred still cries over you, Father. He acts strong, as you taught, but deep down, he's like me: broken."

"I wish I could be fully capable of feeling, but all I think about is the injustice and monstrous side of the city. The city that took you two away."

Bruce stared at the ground, trying to focus on the words he was saying when a leaf crunching from behind alerted him to whip around.

A woman, maybe five foot, stood behind him, wide-eyed and embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you..." she caught her breath, most likely at the realization of who she was talking to, but regained her train of thought. "My mother... her grave is just behind them," she explained, gesturing to a headstone behind the Wayne's.

Heather Lycona.

Bruce resorted to nodding in reply. The woman approached closer to the headstone but stopped, clearly wanting to say something the way her mouth opened and closed. Bruce cocked a brow. He decided to attempt to be conversive. "How?" he nodded his head at her mother's gravestone.

"What?"

"How did she pass?" he tilted his head. She clutched the ends of the scarf she was wearing, a shade of black to contrast the white dress under her jet puffer coat.

"Oh, um, gang violence. Three months ago, Mom was out at night just trying to get groceries, and, she um..."

Bruce nodded in indication he understood. "Mine as well."

"I know- I mean, I know the story, of course," she awkwardly laughed as a buffer. She looked around and then back at Bruce sitting on the bench. "I'm sorry for intruding on your moment. I-I can come back later."

Bruce shook his head wordlessly. "No, that won't be necessary. I did what I came here to do," he answered raspily.

"May I sit?"

Bruce didn't expect the woman to want to be in his presence any longer, yet he wasn't against her sitting with him. Her eyes could tell a story, one that he wanted to hear. His eyes traveled to the open space beside him, barely nodding at it.

She sat down on the wooden bench, breathing in the mossy air. "There's something about the cemetery that's so peaceful. Everyone says it's scary because it's the resting place for hundreds of people, but I believe it's just a reminder of all the lives that came before us. Everyone is just asleep here, and we sit with them."

Usually, Bruce wouldn't be a fan of the conversation, yet he decided that she was intriguing, a type of thoughtfulness he appreciated.

He hummed at her words. "Bruce Wayne," he introduced even though she knew very well who he was, leaning back into the bench.

"Y/N Lycona."

"Why did you visit today?"

"Sometimes I just enjoy being around her. It's peaceful here."

"I understand."

"What about you? Why did you visit, Mr. Wayne?"

He glanced at her before looking back to the swaying tree branches. "Same as you," he breathed out. He wasn't sure why she was asking him. Not that Bruce believed he was too good to answer questions, but because he'd assume she wouldn't be interested in him. Usually, people were interested in his position.

"Do you ever feel they were the only people who understood you? I feel like that with Mom."

Bruce nodded, barely moved his gaze to her, then studied her with his signature deadpan expression. Bruce picked up once again on what he'd thought earlier. Y/N seemed warm, like in the right situation, she'd open up. She probably thought a lot. The woman stared off at the trees like he'd been earlier, looking deep in thought.

"Your mind... is it always running?"

She quietly sniffled in the chilled air. "Yes. I got approved for the investigative division of the GCPD. I want to help find and eliminate the gangs of Gotham. I don't know what my mother would've wanted me to do for her case, but I know she wanted me to help bring justice to the city. She got me through school for criminal justice. It's what I wanted to do from the start, but it was for the sake of others. Now, it's all for her- for her justice."

"You seem very driven, detective. I hope you do what you set out to do," Bruce stated.

"If I can contribute to bringing criminals and killers to prison, I'll do what I must. I can't just watch someone turn into the next Heather. Gotham needs change."

For the first time in a while, Bruce's lips slightly twisted up. "Then we are very alike."

The two sat in comfortable silence for ten minutes, occasionally making small comments.

Bruce decided he'd stayed his welcome, opting to stand up suddenly. He nodded down at Y/N. "I give you my best wishes on your assignment. I'll be using my resources to continue assisting the work," he said, his tone void of emotion, but they could both tell he meant it.

"Good to talk to you, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce is fine," he mumbled audibly, turning to leave.

"Thank you for understanding. You don't say much," Y/N chuckled, "but I could tell you understood me."

Bruce gave a close-mouthed smirk, walked out the gates, and got in his car.

"Thank you for your patience, Gerald."

The driver nodded and drove the pair back to the manor.

Bruce came out of his visit knowing two things:

First, he'd have to visit the cemetery more often.

And second, as soon as he could get back his vigilante work, he would thwart every gang he could get his hands on. If it would help fulfill Y/N's goal, he'd devote all his energy to it.

#battinson x reader #the batman 2022 #batman #batman x reader #batman x fem!reader #robert pattinson #battinson #robert pattison #fanfic #dcu #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

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gh0st-t0wn3 · 1 year

Text

Some Lmk ss edits + Headcanons (Traffic light trio)

- He/They

- Gay

- Only wears knock off brands (doesn't know they aren't real)

- Autumn is his favorite season, purely because he likes to stomp the crunchy leaves

- Adhd

- Has dimples

- Pigsy once got him rainbow shoes for pride month before he was even out but MK didn't realize they were pride shoes because the rainbow was on the sole

- Tried to cook breakfast for Pigsy and Tang on Father's day once, somehow lit the curtains on fire

- Wants Tattoos but keeps backing down because he doesn't like needles (will probably get one in the future though)

- Has a sketchbook fully dedicated to Redson, would literally die if someone ever found it

- Smells like oranges

- Only a few inches taller than Redson, always teases him for it

- Almost killed Sun Wukong once because he was disguised as a spider

- The Monkey's on flower fruit mountain always climb on him when he's around, he doesn't try to stop them

- Had to remove the snooze option on his alarm clock because he wouldn't stop hitting it

- Chicken scratch handwriting, no one else can read it for the life of them

- Learned Spanish in high school, don't ask why it just feels right

- Covered in scars, but 83% of them are from being a dumb kid instead of battles

- Once described Redson's voice as "really warm, like a hug!" And almost got burnt for it

- Love language is physical touch

- Has those really pretty brown eyes, like the ones that look like honey when the light hits them at that one perfect angle

- Has no fashion sense whatsoever, Mei chose out most of the clothes he owns

- Phone is shattered beyond repair but he refuses to acknowledge that he needs to get a new one

- Obsessively takes personality/buzzfeed tests in the dead of night, once pulled an all nighter just taking "which drink are you?", "what kind of seafood are you?" "What type of candy are you?" Type of buzz feed quizzes, and physically couldn't do deliveries because he was so exhausted the next morning

- Has a bunch of plants but is terrible at taking care of them

- Has a chipped tooth (actually Canon, it's on his lego figurine, I'm still sad they didn't add it to the show :( )

- Once walked in on Tang and Pigsy kissing as a kid and was promptly traumatized

- Has no skin or hair care routine, uses a 3 in 1 Shampoo/conditioner/bodywash

- Has really nice curly/wavy hair but straightens it and uses an unholy amount of hair gel

- Has a wattpad account

- Sleeps in literally the most horrific positions you have ever seen, yet somehow never get cramps or neck/back pains

- Once drank dishwasher soap as a kid because he thought it was juice

- Gets sunburnt incredibly easy (if you've seen the s4 special ykwim)

- Mk once accidently threw a plastic bottle in the trash instead of the recycling bin and got lectured for an hour by Pigsy (Pigsy is a huge environmentalist)

- His bedroom is messy as all hell but he somehow knows where everything is (Pigsy and Tang have tried cleaning it themselves but it was back to being a mess just a few short hours later so they gave up)

- He/Him (FtM)

- Gay

- Shortest one in the trio (just barely though). I like to think that the removal of the samadhi fire stunted his growth and demonic development, which is also why he takes so little after his father in appearance/height. He always wears platforms though, so he looks taller than he is

- He was so quiet and sneaky as a child that his mom had to put a bell on him

- Used to wear large combat boots until someone made a "step on me" joke. He doesn't wear them in public anymore

- Smells like smoke and cinnamon, Mei once described it as a 'campfire' smell

- Has really heavy blackout curtains in his bedroom

- Hair turns black when wet or when he's burnt out

- Always has a soft glow to his body because of his fire, mouth glows faintly, hair glows faintly, the more emotional he is the stronger the glow (MK and Mei are incredibly jealous)

- Tension headaches because we all know that mf has his hair tied up in the tightest goddamn ponytail ever

- Has the samadhi fire back (I'm delusional just let me have this)

- Has a habit of stealing his friends and families clothes to wear, first started when he was really little and would constantly steal whatever clothes of DBK's he could find around the house to help him feel like his dad was still there, and the habit just stuck with him

- Doctor handwriting

- Autistic

- Identifies as male but still likes to wear skirts and dresses sometimes (he just like me fr). Likes floor length skirts the best

- Actually really good at art, mostly draws blueprints for his inventions, but can draw people and landscapes pretty decently too

- Has a childhood Bull plushie that he still sleeps with, hides it under the bed or in the closet whenever MK and Mei come over

- has a scar on his back resembling the rings of samadhi from the removal ritual, Mei once confused it for a tattoo

- Mei once called him "Zesty" and he still doesn't know what it means, she refuses to tell him

- Was homeschooled by PIF

- Has a beauty mark like his mom's

- Has the most angelic, majestic, heartlifting laugh ever, but never actually laughs (unless it's his "evil" laugh, trust me guys)

- Goes to bed at 3am, wakes up at 11am type of person

- Needs glasses because the Samadhi fire fucked up his eyes (in Journey to the West, the samadhi fire is described as a flame that, when activated, "shoots out of every hole in his face" including, of course, his eyes)

- Remember when I said he was a quiet child? Yeah, he can't do that anymore, he literally has no idea how to be quiet now that he's older, the best he can do is whisper shout

- Hopeless romantic, but convinced that any and all feelings are unrequited

- Mei and Mk found his baby pictures once, he will never recover

- Long ass skin and hair care routine, will spend at least two or more hours on it every morning, but it's worth it, his hair and skin are always so soft

- Touch starved as fuck

- Love language is gift giving and positive affirmation (WILL cry if someone compliments him, doesn't matter who it is or what the context is, he once almost burst into tears when Sandy called him a good kid and gave him a pat on the back)

- Once he's focused on something he will stay focused for at least the next ten hours

- Loves strawberry flavored things but hates actual strawberries

- Listens to really underground music and has the biggest superiority complex because of it

- Has the biggest fucking bedroom you have ever seen, with one of those really large and extravagant, super comfortable canopy beds, wakes up like a Disney princess

- Usually self-preserving but will experiment on himself without hesitation if he thinks it'll help him with a breakthrough (has almost died on several occasions)

- She/Her

- Lesbian

- Has tons of piercings: nose, ears, bellybutton, etc (her parents don't know about the bellybutton piercing and she doesn't plan on letting them know anytime soon)

- "Hey, Red boy, cool tattoo!" "... thats a scar." (She still hasn't lived it down)

- Smells like freshly cut grass

- Tallest one in the group, idc what anyone says, I just have a feeling okay?

- Adores glitter makeup but can't stand the feeling of it on her skin

- Love language is quality time

- Has a love/hate relationship with her dragon features, she thinks they look cool and she's proud of her heritage, but if her scales get too dry, which happens very easily, they get really uncomfortable and itchy as all hell

- Had a phase in high school where she'd dye her hair everything except green

- Probably also has Adhd

- Avid tennis player

- Hates the feeling of jeans, but loves denim jackets (has a whole collection, plus one that she and MK have been patching together for years)

- Always smudges her mascara somehow, MK once thought she was crying

- Super rough and rowdy as a kid, like I'm talking pushing kids off swings and down the slide rowdy, tackling people in the sandbox or on the school field, girl was a menace to society

- Snorts when she laughs

- MK tried to scare her once as a joke and her first instinct was to deck him (apologized profusely... before laughing at him)

- Most reckless driver on the planet, it's a wonder how she hasn't gotten her license taken away yet

- Doesn't really consider herself close with her family, she loves them but MK, Tang, Pigsy, and Sandy are her FAMILY, y'know? Like Rosa in b99

- Was the first person to know MK has a crush on Redson, she found out when she walked in on him drawing them together, and she will never let him forget it

- Has a normal skin and hair care routine, and constantly tells Redson that he's insane for needing 2+ hours to complete his

- Is the only one with readable handwriting

- Once stayed up for an entire week to play a new video game that came out

- Will smack her head with a brush if her hair doesn't cooperate

- Bites people (gently, its how she shows affection. Unless she doesn't like you then she'll just naw on your arm until she draws blood)

- Lives on energy drinks, her favorite is Monster Pipeline punch

- Has really soft and really thick hair

- Used to chew on her hair in middle school

- Biggest sweet tooth ever, Redson is disgusted by her eating habits

- Goes on early morning jogs every day except weekends

- Swiftie

- Refuses to watch any movies or shows based on video games she likes because they'll "never have the same charm or energy as the game", but will buy the video games that a show/movie is based on if she watches them before playing

- Will eat random plants all the time. Walking through the park? She'll lean down and pick a flower to chomp on

- The type of girl to carry around a goddamn gallon water bottle everywhere

- Has a thousand fairy lights in her room, it's a fire hazard

#lego monkie kid #fanart #lego monkie kid red son #lego monkey kid fanart #monkie kid red son #red son #lego monkie kid mk #lmk mk #lmk spicynoodles #lmk mei #lego monkie kid mei #traffic light trio #lmk fanart #headcanon #lgbtq

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martianbugsbunny · 5 months

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Hour One (A Kalluzeb Fic)

*falling down the stairs* I did it! I finished my post-Zero Hour fic, it's so tasty to me <3 I'm not even gonna ramble about it I'm just gonna get right to the fic bc I love it!!! read on and enjoy!!!

When the ship was safely in hyperspace, Kanan quietly let Kallus into a room on the Ghost that was currently deserted. Judging by the half-made bunk beds against the wall, Kallus assumed it was living quarters, but he was too distracted by the growing pain in his shoulders and ribs to try and piece together whose room it was.

“I’ll give you a minute,” Kanan said. And then Kallus was alone again, with the forgiving, kind voice of the Jedi echoing in his brain. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be spoken to softly. He was lucky these people whom he’d hunted across the galaxy for years had even bothered to pick up his escape pod, rather than speeding away from the Imperial fleet and applying the rule of “serves him right.”

Something in him cracked. He began to sob, silently, terrified of what he had done in betraying the Empire, overwhelmed by a thousand different strident feelings he couldn’t even name. The heavy breaths hurt (every movement seemed to hurt, now that his adrenaline rush was wearing thin) and his head was pounding. Was the world really spinning, or was that just him?

At the first hiss of the door sliding open, Kallus dragged his sleeve hastily across his face to remove any tears or snot that might give away that he’d been crying—a bad decision, really, given his black eye, which stung at the rough contact.

It wasn’t Kanan who stepped into the room, slightly awkwardly and with bright green eyes that reflected back at Kallus those unnamable emotions.

It was Zeb.

Kallus took a step back, hands clenched at his sides. He knew his eyes were red and he could feel spots on his face where he had missed tears, and he hoped Zeb wouldn’t notice. He had no right to cry in front of this man, of all people.

Zeb stared at him for a moment, and Kallus could feel him mentally checking off all the things that were currently wrong on Kallus’s person. Hunched posture from his injured ribs; blotchy face; bloodstains on his uniform and dried blood on his lip.

“I brought you some clothes,” Zeb said. In the other hand he held a medkit, and Kallus realized with a sinking feeling that those supplies were for him. What a waste of resources that seemed. “They’re probably not your size, but they’re better than the Imperial things you’re wearing.”

Kallus took a breath before answering, surprised at how steady he was able to force his voice to be. “Thank you,” he said.

Then there was a horrible pause as Kallus realized he wouldn’t be able to remove his chest armor, much less his shirt, without help, and he could see the exact same knowledge dawning on Zeb’s face. “Karabast,” he said. “You’re going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you.”

Kallus shook his head after only a brief moment of thought. He didn’t have the strength to punish himself any further. Whether or not he was worthy of Zeb’s help would have to wait until he was healed. “If you don’t mind,” he said, taking another shaky breath as he once again met Zeb’s gaze.

He didn’t look angry. He almost seemed…proud? That wasn’t right. Kallus was seeing things; his brain had been shaken up by his escape and he was imagining things that weren’t there. “I don’t,” Zeb said. He crossed the room and set the clothes down on the lower bunk. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the empty space next to them.

Kallus did as he was told, relieved to be off his feet. The leg he’d injured on Bahryn had been hurting horribly since his fight with Thrawn, particularly his knee. He might need to consider getting a brace, he realized, if he wanted to keep fighting—which he did.

Zeb unclasped the sides of Kallus’s ISB-issued armor, dumping it on the floor. “Sabine’ll get a kick out of painting that,” Zeb said. “You can wear our colors instead of Imperial ones.” “Give it to somebody else,” Kallus said. “I don’t want it.” Zeb gave him another strange look that he couldn’t parse. “Whatever you say.” He began to work at the clasps of Kallus’s uniform shirt. They definitely wasn't built for his large, clawed fingers. “So…you’re a Rebel now,” he said. “Still think you made the right decision?”

There weren’t words to describe how firmly Kallus was convinced of it. He was terrified, staring into the face of the unknown, but he knew he’d done the right thing—he just wasn’t sure how to live with the consequences. How to build a new life for himself out of the ruins of his old one…which had been built on the ruins of so many other people’s lives.

So Kallus simply nodded, trying to keep himself from spilling any more tears. The thing that made that impossible was the gentle way Zeb worked the unclasped shirt from his torso, pulling off one sleeve and then the other, grumbling angrily in that deep, rumbling voice when he saw the bruises on Kallus’s side.

“I apologize,” Kallus said immediately, his voice stiff and cracked like old, uncared-for leather. “This isn’t fair.” Zeb helped him get his arms into the new shirt he’d brought, leaving the clasps undone; the medics would only have to undo them again later to treat his injuries properly. Then he draped a quilted jacket across Kallus’s shoulders.

“You just uprooted your entire life, Kallus,” Zeb said, sighing and adjusting a non-existent crease in the jacket. “I would think it was weird if you didn’t cry.”

“Not in front of you. You shouldn’t comfort me.” Kallus moved backwards, further into the bunk, away from Zeb’s touch. He didn’t deserve empathy and he didn’t want pity. “This shouldn’t be your problem.”

Zeb got up from the floor where he’d been kneeling and sat on the edge of the bunk, staring at the opposite wall instead of at Kallus. “Maybe not,” he agreed. “Maybe I should say it’s none of my business. Maybe I should leave you to deal with it alone. But when you worked with me on that ice moon, and saved my friends from the Empire, and fed us all that intel as Fulcrum, I think you kind of made yourself my business.” He turned back towards Kallus, his face serious, his eyes soft. “Now let me check your other injuries.”

Kallus complied, shifting closer to Zeb. Even if it didn’t sit right with him, he didn’t think he could refuse Zeb anything. He would do whatever he was asked, whatever he was told—even allow Zeb to take on some of his burden—if it would make a fraction of a difference. If it would help him so much as an inch towards making amends.

With his broad hands carefully gentle, Zeb put a few stitches in Kallus’s broken lower lip. Kallus wondered where Zeb had learned those skills; if it was gained during his time in the Honor Guard of Lasan or in the Rebellion. For a moment, he was lost in wondering, searching Zeb’s face while he was intent on his task as though he could find an answer there. He only realized Zeb had paused and asked him a question when Zeb tilted his head to the side, staring at Kallus for an answer of his own.

“Could you repeat that?”

Zeb rolled his eyes. “I said, can you see alright? That black eye doesn’t look too good.”

His eyes were dry now, but there was still a blur in the left side of his vision. “Actually, I can’t,” he said, swallowing hard. “Everything to the left is hazy.”

“It'll probably need a while to heal,” Zeb said. “If it doesn’t, we’ll get you fitted with some visual aids.” He dabbed something cold and clear on the bruised skin. “There’s nothing more I can do until we land, but you should be fine.”

The pain in his side begged to argue, and he was pretty sure that something in there was broken, but Kallus nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For everything."

How could he put that everything into words? Thank you for not killing me on Bahryn, thank you for telling me to look for the answers, thank you for believing me when I was Fulcrum, thank you for picking me up just now, thank you for tending my wounds.

He didn’t need to. The way Zeb was looking at him, he already knew.

“We have enough people on board to handle things,” Zeb said, his voice equally low. “I can stick around here for a while if you want the company.”

Kallus felt a smile tugging at the stitches on his lip. More everything to be grateful for. “Alright.”

They sat there together on the bunk for a while in silence. It was a comfortable silence, somehow, and Kallus finally began to relax, not breathing easily past the injuries to his ribs but certainly breathing more easily than before.

“You were limping,” Zeb said, breaking the quiet. “When you came on board you were limping.”

“Once you’re wounded, that body part becomes a target. It’s not so bad, now that my weight’s been off it.” Zeb leaned back against the wall. “That’s good.” He extended one arm to Kallus. “Come on, Kal. We’ve got time before we land anywhere, you can rest.”

There was a moment of hesitation, of doubt, and then Kallus allowed himself to settle next to Zeb, with a strong purple arm around his shoulders. As he started drifting off, safe for the first time in months and knowing his injuries would be cared for, Kallus thought he felt Zeb’s fingers gently rubbing across his arm, and there was a little pit of warmth in his chest that kept the cold of pain and guilt out.

#come get ur juice kalluzebbies #alexsandr kallus #garazeb orrelios #kalluzeb #star wars #Star Wars rebels #rebels #post zero hour #post zero hour fic #hurt/comfort #fic #I've been talking about this thing for at least a month now I think #it's finally done so nobody needs to set my house on fire lol #martianbugsbunny writes fic

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aemondsquill · 2 years

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Love in The Dark

Evil!King! Aemond Targaryen × Fem!Reader

Synopsis: what if aemond becomes king? And what if he's completely evil?

Warnings: Aemond is straight up a villain, murder + mass murder, imprisonment, heavy angst, major character deaths, lmk if I missed any

Things were quiet in the Red Keep after Aemond was crowned King. Servants and guards kept their eyes to the ground whenever they were graced with the King's unfortunate presence, terrified they too would be burned for glancing at him wrong.

One year into his rule, Aemond proved to be a fearsome King, not only to his enemies but to the very citizens of his kingdom. Mass graves were dug and subsequently filled with anyone deemed traitors to the Crown. Men, women, children. King Aemond's lust for blood was insatiable. It is often whispered that he murdered his own nieces and nephews after his brother, Aegon, disappeared from the Realm. Rumors say he fled across the Narrow Sea to escape his responsibilities. Perhaps he was the only Targaryen with sense.

The anxiety and paranoia are no strangers to the royalty of the Keep either. If one was to watch Aemond's Queen closely they could see her fingers tremble in fear constantly. His beautiful bride is often confined to her chambers with illness thought to be brought on by the stress of having a tyrant for a husband.

The Queen had become a former shell of herself. While she still dressed in finery and had not a hair out of place, her eyes were dull and lifeless. They were constantly rimmed red from the weeping. Behind her back, the nobility dubbed her "The Weeping Lady", as she was frequently seen wandering the vast, cold halls with cheeks wet with tears. The chill in the halls was a more welcome and tender presence compared to Aemond's.

Another day in Court meant another day witnessing Aemond's depravity. It was difficult to admit just how dashing he looked upon the throne. The Conqueror's Crown sat upon his long white tresses. His eye held no emotion except a dash of madness deep within the violet iris. His body was adorned in a rich velvet tunic of black and green. The Weeping Lady stood a few steps below him, spirit broken and heart aching at the injustice.

"Take his hands." The King ordered his guards coldly. The nobility watched on as this poor commoner begged and pleaded against the arms of the guards. His wails echoed in the throne room.

Bones crunched painfully under the dull blade of the axe. His skin split more and more under each wack. Blood poured out onto the red-stained floor of the throne room. It took the axeman four sloppy strikes to remove the peasant's hands from his body. It is rumored that the axeman is nearly always inebriated. Doling out vile punishments cost him his sanity so he fell victim to the drink. The deafening sobs and screams pierced the stifling atmosphere. Lords and Ladies averted their gaze to the ground, some attempting to cover their ears and hide their tears.

The man is dragged out and his cries follow him.

Several hours of Aemond's depravity occurred before court was adjourned. The Queen fled to her chambers immediately, trembling and nauseated. She knew she had to pull herself together before secretly visiting her mother, rotting in a cell deep below the Red Keep.

----

Two heavy coin purses weighed down her pockets as she descended down into the Black Cells. The coin purses would grant her entrance passed two guards who kept a watch out for nefarious activities. With the coin, they looked the other way once per week and allowed the Queen to visit her mother.

----

"Hello, sweetling. It's been too long since you have graced me with your presence" muttered Rhaenyra. She stood up from the darkest corner of her cell and made her way to the little opening in the door.

"I apologize, mother. It's been difficult to leave without my husband noticing as of late" the Queen replied. Her gaze was sorrowful as she took in the dilapidated appearance of her mother; once dressed in the finest satins and silks money could buy, now reduced to rags. Once pristine white Targaryen locks were now grayed and filthy from the grime of the cell. Her eyes of lavender were lackluster and tired, tired of being reduced to a common criminal rotting in a cell while a usurper warms her throne. Her cheeks were gaunt and it was evident that malnourishment was ravaging her body. No amount of sweets snuck in by her daughter would aid her ailing physique.

"Are you tending to the sores, mother? I will have to bring you more medicine during my next visit" pondered the Queen. Her mother shook her head, "tis nearly impossible to do so in this fucking cell" she growled.

"I know. I'm sorry. You know that this was not my decision. He will not hear my pleas, not even for his own mother" I whispered.

"Your cunt of a husband is blinded by his rage and greed. He has already caused the downfall of our great House. The guards speak of his depravity. Has he been cruel to you as well, my love?"

"He has not been cruel to me. More indifferent most of the time. Rarely he is as he was when we were first betrothed; sweet and attentive. I cannot bear his touches, not after witnessing such monstrosities" the Queen whimpered. Tears leaked down her cheeks and her chin quivered. Memories from their time as new lovers flooded her mind. He was so sweet. Bringing her flowers and sweets, hiring harpists to serenade her while he was away. His tender touches and warm eyes full of adoration slowly burned away with the weight of the Conqueror's Crown.

"Not even the Mother will have mercy upon his soul. His crimes are heinous. Sweet girl, it pains me to even ask this of you, but it is for the good of the Realm and for you. His actions reflect on you, should there be an uprising by the smallfolk, you'll burn with him" the Queen shook her head, knowing what her mother was about to ask of her. "Mother, I cannot. Please do not ask this of me. I do not have the strength! I still see flickers of his old self in his eyes! He has time to change!" The Queen begged, now sobbing.

"Flickers will not save him or you! Do not let the love you used to feel for him blind you so! He is cruel! He murdered his own nieces and nephews! And Luke..." Rhaenyra choked back a sob of her own at the mention of her sweet son.

"Aemond will be your reckoning. Do not be so stupid to stand by this man. He is no longer the Aemond you love, you lost him a long time ago. Do the Realm and your family justice! The gods will forgive you" Rhaenyra spoke. The Queen wept, frustrated. How could he put her in this position? He promised to be the Protector of the Realm and instead he is destroying it.

"I know you will do what is right. It is your duty as queen, my love."

------

The conversation played in the girl's mind over and over. Devastation and exhaustion plagued her. The fireplace in her chambers did nothing to warm her bones as she stood gazing into the flames. Maybe her husband held enough tenderness in his heart to leave with her. Escape this hell like Aegon had.

Tired, she sat upon the settee and poured a chalice full of dornish wine, as was her nightly custom. The wine dulled her senses and often lulled her into a deep, dreamless sleep. This was the only time she could escape the horrors of her reality. Just for a moment, she could be free of the grief.

Aemond's heavy footfalls startled her out of her trance. She immediately sat upright, tensing in his presence.

"Drinking again, wife?" He regarded her coldly. Her insides felt like they had chilled at his words.

She sighed dejectedly, "yes, it appears so. It seems to be my only comfort as of late." This was the most she had spoken to him in weeks. He approached her and took the chalice from her fingers and knelt in front of her.

"You worry me sometimes, my dear wife. I fear you're falling victim to the drink, as my drunken brother had." Weeks of little words spoken between the two and he chooses the lecture her on her drinking? She felt her insides boil at the thought. Rage was cracking the surface of her grief, rearing it's ugly head for him to finally see.

"I hate you." She muttered. Aemond lightly flinched back, surprised.

"You do not mean that, wife."

"I. Hate. You." She spoke louder. The anger quivered her voice before she continued, "you are not the man I married! You are not the good, benevolent king you promised you would be!" The couple stood together abruptly. He took a few steps back at her outburst and she followed, shoving him as hard as she could. He grabbed her wrists and held them to his chest to quiet her assault.

"You are cruel! You have murdered innocents, your own family! You have betrayed me in the cruelest way and I cannot stand by and watch you destroy us!" Her chest heaved with the weight of her words. "I can no longer bare to even look at you! I'm repulsed by the man you've become! I drink myself into a stupor every night just to cope with your actions! What you have done is unforgivable. The gods will see that you burn in the deepest pits of the seven hells." The words tasted like venom on her tongue. They had festered inside of her for too long.

Aemond's eye widened in horror and shame. What had he done? How could he have lost himself to madness like this?

In his eye, a flicker of the man she adored came to the surface. Large tears threatened to spill out of him.

"I do not know what has happened to me, my love" he muttered with disdain. "The crown has poisoned my mind beyond repair, I fear. I cannot quench my blood lust." A sliver of hope shot through her chest. Was she finally able to get through to him? Perhaps she could convince him to run away with her...but she knew running away with him would be impossible after his atrocities.

Any hope was quickly dashed and his face hardened. Any semblance of her Aemond was gone forever.

"You have the soft heart of a woman. You do not understand the responsibilities that come with the crown. This fire within you was sparked by your mother, no doubt. I know of your little visits and I turned a blind eye to them, a mistake clearly. I will have you bound to this chamber." King Aemond spoke with finality.

"No! No, please, husband! Do not do this to me!" She begged as panic bloomed heavily in her chest, "I do not wish to be a prisoner to my own husband!"

She grasped her hands in his own. "Please, I will do anything. Do not take my freedom. I'm sorry for the words I have said. Please."

"I will have your mother executed in a fortnight. I cannot have her poisoning your mind against me." The Queen fell to the floor and shrieked. Aemond walked out of the room, leaving her to her grief. The sound of her sorrow threatened to shake the very foundation of the Keep.

----

A week had past since her outburst and Aemond was true to his word. She had not left the confines of their apartments, surely her mother thought her dead.

Aemond would still enter the chambers every night, the couple moved mechanically around each other in complete silence. They did not look at each other and even when they slept they huddled to the farthest edge of the bed away from the other.

It had been another day when the chamber maid whispered to the Queen, "The princess Heleana has perished in her cell, my Lady."

The Queen collapsed without a sound. The anguish rendered her mute. The tremors in her hands increased tenfold.

-----

The Weeping Lady held a correspondence with this chamber maid, Lyra. Each day Lyra would bring her meals, run her baths, and scheme with the Lady.

"King Aemond counts the silverware, my Lady. He fears that you will attempt to harm yourself." The Queen sighed in disbelief. How ironic it is of him to worry about her safety whilst he wreaks havoc on King's Landing.

A thought beamed into her head.

"Lyra, strap a kitchen knife to your thigh. He will never look there!"

And so Lyra, the ever-faithful chambermaid, found herself waddling through the kitchens holding the Queen's dinner on a silver tray. King Aemond's eye surveyed the platter before deeming it acceptable. Lyra let out a small sigh of relief once out of his sight.

-----

"You have done good work, Lyra. This is for the good of the Realm, I promise you." The Queen handed Lyra a large sack of gold. "Take this and leave tonight. The Keep will descend into madness on the morrow."

"What will happen to you, my Lady?"

"Do not worry about me, my dear. I will be fine."

Lyra felt the weight of the bag in her hands. Decorum forgotten, she sprung forward and embraced the Queen tightly. Both women sighed at the warm contact. "Thank you, my Queen. I pray the gods will watch over you during your quest."

The Queen lead Lyra through a small portrait that held a passage behind it. Through which, Lyra would taste her freedom.

---

It was late by the time Aemond entered his wife's makeshift prison cell. She was soundly asleep huddled on her edge of the bed. He stripped himself of his tunic and leather pants and slipped into his sleeping clothes.

The Queen awakened at the intrusion, but stayed silent. Nerves rattled in her chest as she knew what was coming. Still, she waited for what felt like hours until he had fallen asleep.

Guilt wracked her mind at the thought of her husband. Her good, kind husband who loved her dearly at one point now replaced with an unfeeling specter.

Her thoughts raced with images of their wedding ceremony. In true Valyrian tradition, they bound themselves to each other forever with their blood. After tonight, a piece of her would be gone forever. Her strength diminished with each passing memory.

She thought of their shared kisses, so sweet and tender. His plush lips were so warm upon hers and his tongue would move so delicately around her own.

Tears welled in her eyes and the knot in her throat threatened to choke the life out of her. She was grieving for a husband she lost long ago.

Her fingers shivered as they caressed the handle of the blade secured under her pillow.

With the handle firmly in her grasp she sat up and looked over at her husband, resting so peacefully. His brows were unfurrowed, erasing the scowl that seemed to be permanently fixed to his face. He looked so innocent, so much like the man he used to be.

-----

The first thing Aemond noticed upon his awakening was the shivering figure straddling his hips. It took him a second to realize it was his beautiful wife.

The second thing he noticed was the anguish on her face. Eyebrows contorted to show the pain she was in as tears fell from her eyes. She attempted to stifle her sobs under his gaze.

Aemond eyed the blade pointed between his fourth and fifth rib. His wife's hand was tembling.

"I know what you must do, little wife."

The pet name twisted her stomach painfully. Her Aemond had surfaced for the final time.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, my Aemond." She whimpered, "I do not wish to hurt you."

"You could never hurt me, sweet girl."

His wife leaned down and pressed her lips against his, earnestly. His lips were soft and warm against hers.

Aemond held her hand that grasped the blade and pushed it into his heart.

"I love you, I'm so sorry."

"I love you."

--------

King's Landing erupted in celebration when word traveled that the King had been murdered in his own bed. Soldiers could not contain the sheer excitement the smallfolk displayed at the news. Riots broke out, fires burned within the Keep. Calls for the Queen's head were heard. None would find her.

-----

Across the Narrow Sea, weeks later, a small ship would arrive at the port. A young pregnant woman would step off with the aid of her mother and their auburn-haired companion.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x fem!reader #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd imagine

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her-power · 3 months

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Fixation on the Darkness (Part Five: Dark Romance! e.m. x fem! reader)

‼️🚨 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🚨‼️

Trigger/Content Warning: Dark Eddie! Strong sexual content, blood play, unprotected p+v, fingering/oral (f receiving). Violence. Language. Angst.

Summary: Full summary on Part One.

Word Count: 5.3k

You watch silently as Eddie inhales deeply on a cigarette. His hands were trembling and his eyes stared off into the darkness. It had been three hours, there was no change, he was still Eddie. You had sent Dustin home, telling him you promised to call him in the morning; that you were safe.

Eddie said nothing.

He was silent for those three hours. You were confused, naturally, you’d thought he’d be happy to be free from the grasp of the upside down. But then you realized that even though he was back, this was the first time he was in his own body. All of him. You knew things were torturous for him there, but you wouldn’t pry. Not yet.

“Can I get you anything? Water?” You ask him quietly.

He jumps as if you startled him. He meets your eyes, wide and glassy. Scared. He continues to stare at you for a moment and he clears his throat, snugging out the cigarette on the ashtray

“I could…I could use a shower.”

You nod. “There’s clothes you left in the drawer in my room…the—”

“Bottom right, I remember.” He says quietly. He gets up from his seat across from you, but you don’t look up. He hovers there for a moment and you feel his hand squeeze your shoulder tenderly. Your breath hitches, and he lingers there. His touch wasn’t as cold.

He walks away after a moment and when you hear the shower turn on upstairs, you slump down in your chair; exhaustion settling in. He had hugged you so tightly when he saw you, he was almost whimpering. Dustin couldn’t control his emotions and sobbed in his chest; Eddie did his best to hold himself together, it was like reuniting with a brother.

Then within a moment, it was almost like he was in a trance, and he became withdrawn. Certain sounds would startle him, he had locked every door and window. Even the ones in the basement. He wouldn’t go near you after that and part of you wondered if you made a mistake. You essentially brought the dead back to life, in some form. He still didn’t have a heartbeat, he still had his fangs, and claws.

His skin was the only thing that felt different.

You remove yourself from the chair and head to the living room. You had cleaned while he sat there unmoving; the black vomit was the hardest to clean. You curl into yourself on the couch, closing your eyes. All you could do was sleep.

Gasping, you sit up straight, your body covered in a cold sweat. Your entire house was dark and cold. You hear footsteps outside, close. Your blood runs cold.

Where was Eddie?

You hear the doorknob from your back door turn left, right, left, right and you nearly fall backwards off the couch. His arms catch you around your waist and you almost scream but his hand covers your mouth. Eddie meets your eyes; the moon reflects off his brown irises and you relax in his hold. He puts his finger to his lips, and you nod. Your heart pounds as he takes his hand way, and he quietly moves you behind him. He walks towards the back door, a low growl rumbles in his chest as he peaks through the curtains.

“Stay behind me.” His voice is more menacing than it was before, and for once you felt scared in his presence.

Another growl erupts from his chest louder, and he swings the door open, the cold air stings your cheeks and he leapt out the door. You suck in a breath and sprint out to the back porch; the air biting your skin.

“Eddie?”

You can’t see him or hear him, and you begin to panic.

“Eddie?!” You whisper loudly. Wind brushes against your hair and you’re back inside your kitchen. Eddie is closing and locking the door. “What happened?”

“It was the thing that attacked me, I caught it’s scent.”

“What?” You gasp. “Are you a basset hound now? When could you pick up scents? Where is it? Where did it go?” Your mind was racing, and you could feel yourself panicking.

“I lost the trail, but it’s human.” He glances out the window, his fangs still exposed. “I think it’s what has been committing the murders. There was a blood trail.”

You stand still.

“Why were they near my house?”

“I don’t know.” He meets your eyes.

“Eddie—”

“I don’t know!” He snaps, causing you to jump back, your hand automatically flies to your chest. He looks at you with sad eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He reaches for you but stops. “I’m sorry.” He places his head in his hands. You stare at him, your eyes slowly filling with tears, and you move closer, taking his hands away from his face.

“Hey. Look at me.” You hold his cheeks, and he shudders against your touch. He finally meets your eyes.

“I can still feel him.” He whispers, his voice trembles. “And he wants to hurt you.”

“Then don’t let him.”

His hands squeeze your waist, and he presses his forehead against yours. “I’m scared he’s gonna come back and I’ll be gone forever. I know this is my body and where I’m supposed to be, but everything hurts.” He continues, “Old wounds, I still know what it felt like to die, when I came back and all the lights were out and I cared about nothing…I feel like I’m learning to walk again.”

“I’m with you through this, I promise you.” You curl his fingers through his hair.

“I can’t lose you.” His hand touches your cheek. “You need to protect yourself if I’m not here.”

“What about you? Who’s gonna protect you?”

He smiles at you; that perfect dimpled smile you missed so much. “I think I can handle myself.”

You roll your eyes and smile up at him, gently petting his cheek.

“I missed you.” You whisper.

“I missed you, too.” He leans his face towards yours, his lips gently graze yours before he presses them fully. You tremble under his kiss, so many memories of his mouth on yours. Gentle. Soft. His fingers tangle in your hair and his other hand grips your waist as the kiss deepens. He sighs against your mouth as you nibble his lower lip, he lifts you by your bum and you securely wrap your legs around his waist as he glides you upstairs. You both giggle when he almost trips on the doorframe and you both fall to the bed. He leans up on his elbow to look at you, his finger gently traces your lips, your nose, your jaw.

“I feel like I waited a lifetime just to touch you again.”

“How does it feel?” You ask gently, cupping his cheek.

“Like home.” He smiles, his brown eyes glistening.

You lift your chin to catch his lips, and he moans softly. His hand travels up your shirt, over your skin, and he gently cups your breast. Your back arches under his touch, and he smiles against your lips. His mouth meets your neck, and a loud groan escapes you; mixed with fear and pleasure. Eddie quickly leans back to look at you, worry in his gaze.

“I’m okay, I promise…just remembering.” He keeps looking at you, looking pained and sad. And he knew what you were thinking, mere days ago you were almost dead because he took too much blood from you. Even though that wound was gone, you still remember the fear in his eyes.

You hold his face firmly. “Kiss me, Eddie.”

He does as he is told, and a wave of passion hits you in your lower belly as his tongue slides into your mouth and his finger moves gently across your nipple. You grip onto his shoulders as he grinds against you, cupping your face. He pulls back from your mouth, leaving soft kisses around your neck, lifting your shirt over your head to kiss in between your breasts and run his tongue along your hardened nipple. You close your eyes, a soft gasp escapes your lips as he leaves a kissing trail lower and lower until he meets your hips. He looks up at you with those beautiful eyes and pulls your pants down in one motion. His eyes scan over your naked body and he smiles at you. You spread your legs open wider and a low growl rumbles in his chest as he buries his face in between your legs and wraps his lips around your clit. Your back arches and you moan loudly as his tongue moves around that sensitive bundle. Your fingers pull at his hair, and he moans against your cunt, continuing to devour you, savor you.

“Ughhh, I missed this.” He whispers against your thighs, his fingers kneading at your flesh. “Let me taste all of you.”

You whimper, pulling at his hair and his mouth goes back down to your clit, his tongue flicking faster and faster. You feel your stomach muscles tighten as your orgasm builds and you completely lose all control when his tongue laps up your hole and you’re coming hard. He’s still tasting you as you come, his moans vibrate against you and you feel another wave of the orgasm scream out of you.

He makes his way up your form and you’re still craving him. You pull him towards your mouth, kissing him deeply and hurrying to pull off his shirt and undo his jeans. You let out a broken moan and his mouth falls open as he pushes himself inside you.

“Fuck, baby.” He whimpers, pulling out slowly and pushing himself back into you. You grip his ass, pushing him deeper into you, a groan escaping him. He fucks you harder, his hands gripping your hips and your nails are digging into his back. You look him in the eyes, holding the back of his head.

“Bite me.” You whisper.

His eyes dilate a little and they focus on your neck. His breathing picks up, and you pull his forehead against yours. “Please.”

A low growl rumbles in his chest, and he thrusts into you, making you cry out. “Only a little.” He whispers and you nod.

He moves your hair away from your neck, kissing the skin gently. He picks up his pace as he rocks you, the pleasure you’re feeling building and building. His tongue runs along the vein at your throat and down to the sensitive spot at the dip in your shoulder. You hear him groan and then you feel the slight sting as his fangs bite into your flesh. He moans against your throat, your blood tasting so good to him and you can’t help but beg for more.

“Ohhh…Eddie.” You moan loudly and he pulls back from your neck, his lips coated in your blood and you kiss him. This sends him on a whirlwind because he rolls his hips faster and you can feel another orgasm approaching. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“Unnnngh, fuck baby…fuck…”

“Harder.”

He moves his hips faster and harder, you arch your hips and scream out his name. A sob escape you as your cunt tightens around his cock and he’s coming soon after you. A sexy, low, animalistic groan escapes him and you feel the warmth from his come all over your walls. Your both catching your breath, his face is buried in your chest, blood still paints his lips and you swallow hard. He puts his wrist to his mouth, gently nicks his flesh and puts it to your lips. You suck gently and could feel the stinging from your neck disappear almost instantly. He wraps his arms around your middle and you both lay there, slowly you drift off to sleep.

You wake up cold, Eddie wasn’t in bed with you, but you had his t shirt on and a fresh pair of underwear. You wondered if you had gotten dressed while half asleep or if he did it for you. You sit up, looking around the room until you hear the sound of the water running in the bath tub. You get up from your bed, walking towards the bathroom when you step in a cold puddle; you gasp, using the wall behind you as support when you see that the water is coming from under the door in the bathroom. You quickly rush to the bathroom and open the door. You see Eddie naked, kneeling over the tub, water overflowing from the lip of the porcelain.

“Jesus, Eddie.” You say, turning off the faucet and unplugging the drain. You kneel next to him, he’s staring at his reflection in the water, his hair partially in the water and you shake his shoulder. “Eddie…Eddie look at me.”

“I can…see him.” His voice sounds far away, childlike almost as he continues to stare into the water. “He’s there.”

“Eddie, no one is there, I need you to look at me.” You shake his shoulder once more and he inhales a sharp breath, finally meeting your eyes, a soft cry escapes his lips.

“When I look…at my reflection…I see his face. His eyes…mine but discolored…he’s so angry…”

“Eddie, you’re safe now.” You tell him gently.

“No…” he shakes his head; tears spill from eyes. “What if…what if one day I…I hurt you because he told me to. And I couldn’t…I couldn’t live with myself if I ever…he was laughing. He was laughing because he wants me to hurt you, and I can’t…I won’t. He’s so angry…and Vecna knows too…he knows that I escaped him.” A broken sob breaks free from him. “I can’t get rid of him, he’s a part of me. He is me. I can feel his rage, and when I look at you, I feel my love for you but the rage…it overpowers it almost.”

Your eyes sting with tears, seeing him this way, feeling how scared he was, how vulnerable. You take his hand, placing it over your heart. “You feel that?” You ask him and he nods. “That beats because of you. Not because of him. When you were lost, someone I knew you’d come back to me, so I kept this beating for you. You won’t hurt me. You’re not him, you were never him.”

Another cry escapes him, and he grips your hand. “But what if I can’t stop him…what if he comes back when I don’t expect it…”

“He won’t. Because you’re gonna fight it. Daily, you’re gonna have to fight it but I know you can do it. It’s going to be an uphill battle, but you can win this.” You hold his face and he looks into your eyes.

“I’m scared.” He whispers, his fingers squeezing the fabric of your shirt.

“Then be scared.” You tell him gently. “I’m with you, okay?”

He nods, sniffling back tears.

“Come on, let’s go back to bed.”

It had taken him a minute to rise to his feet, but he did and followed you back to your bedroom. He pulls on a pair of pajama bottoms and you open the covers for him. He curls into you, kissing your forehead gently and you scoot down so he can rest his head on your chest. You inhale deeply and let out a sigh and he hugs you tightly.

“I can hear your heart beating.” He whispers.

“Must be a lovely sound.”

He sighs. “It is.”

The next few days went by slow, you had to go to work and when you did you kept thinking about Eddie. He wanted to see Uncle Wayne, but he was scared on how he would take it, and maybe it was better he still believed he was dead for his own safety. You were sorting through the jazz records when you hear the bell of the door open, you glance over your shoulder and see a police officer standing there, talking to the owner. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but your boss looked stressed and you wondered if…

He calls out to you and you put the records down, walking over to the two men. “Sorry sweetheart, but we gotta close up shop. There’s been another murder.”

Your face falls, bile rises in your throat. “Where?”

The police officer sighs. “A few blocks away from your residence, in a wooded area. Two more victims. How did you get here this morning?”

“I walked.” You say quietly. It was a lot warmer than it had been and your car had been making weird sounds lately. “I’m not far and it’s nice outside today.”

“I’d feel better if I drove you home, hon.” He says gently. “Curfew is starting earlier, and I want to make sure you’re safely in your residence.”

“Okay…let me just get my stuff.”

You walk away for a moment and return with your things, following the officer jerk his vehicle. He opens the front door for you and you slide in, putting your seatbelt on and wringing your hands together, it was starting to get cold again…or this was fear. His vehicle smelt like stale cigarettes and cologne; he reminded you of Officer Hopper. He gets in the drivers side and pulls away from the sidewalk. The two of you sit in silence on the drive, you watch outside as the other shops start closing their doors, locking their windows.

“You dated the Munson boy, right?”

His words pull you away from your thoughts and you glance over at him. “Yeah. For five years.”

“I’m sorry.” He says gently.

“You’re the only one who feels bad for me.” You let out a humorless chuckle. “No one would look my direction after everything happened, they thought I worshipped satan or was a witch.”

“I don’t think he did it.”

You’re silent for a moment. “Because he didn’t do it.”

“I’ve been living in this town for a few years…and this is the only place I’ve felt a sense of dread. All of the cover ups…the mall explosion…it doesn’t sit right with me.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs and lights up a cigarette. “I don’t know, I believe there’s more to this place then it lets on.”

He pulls up your long driveway and in front of your house. He puts the car in park and you look up at your windows, your bedroom light was on, you knew Eddie was still there.

“Please lock all of your doors and windows when you are inside. And if anything seems off…please call the station. Ask for Ben.”

You nod. “Okay. Thanks for the ride.”

He smiles at you and you get out of his car to walk up your porch, unlock your door and head inside. You sigh when you push the door closed and glance up your stairs when you see Eddie standing there. A smile reaches your lips and you lean your back against the door.

“Are you alright?” He walks down the steps, gently rubbing his hand on your cheek.

“There’s been two more victims.” You say tiredly and a low growl rumbles in his chest.

“Where?”

“A few blocks from here.” You meet his eyes and you could feel the tremble beneath his touch, the rage in him building. “In a wooded area, I’m assuming near Lover’s lake, that’s where a lot of them have been found.”

He looks out the window and then meets your eyes. “Okay. Listen to me, you’re gonna lock every door and window. You’re gonna grab any weapon you can find and keep it on you at all times. I’m gonna go to the lake.”

“No.” You snap. “No, you’re not going anywhere.”

“I need to make sure you’re safe.” He says sternly.

“And I need to make sure you’re safe.” The words are out of you in a panic, and he sighs. You stare at each other with narrowed eyes, you were breathing heavily, your fists clenched at your sides. “Whatever this is. We will figure it out together. The last time you disappeared on me you died. Don’t put me through that again.”

He whispers your name and shakes his head, his eyes full of guilt and sadness. He walks towards you. “Okay. I’m sorry. Together.” He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. “Always.”

You press your forehead against his chin, he wraps his arms around your shoulders, and you mold into him. “I wish we could leave.”

“Why don’t we?” He whispers, a smile in his tone.

“Because where would we go?”

“Anywhere.”

“That sounds nice.” You whisper and you lift your face to look in his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” He leans down to kiss your lips gently. You grip his waist, deepening the kiss. He cups your cheeks, pushing himself against you so your back is against the wall. You giggle as he pulls away, biting your lip gently. You sigh, gently fingering his curls and he smiles sweetly at you. You rest your palm against his heart, closing your eyes, willing the slight tap of his heartbeat. When nothing came, you smile sadly but place both of your palms on his chest.

“I don’t know if it will be possible, but…this will beat again. I know it will.” You tell him softly and he grins at you.

“I believe you.”

You kiss him again, running your palms over his belly, under his shirt and he shudders under your touch. You pull away to kiss his neck and he sighs softly. “I could use a bath.”

He growls softly under his breath, hoisting you up by your thighs, rushing you up the stairs and into the bathroom. You giggle as he uses his toe to push open the bathroom door and scoops you into his arms bridal style.

“This is romantic.” You laugh, hugging his shoulders.

He smiles. “Someday I’ll make you my bride, but I’ll settle for this.” He kisses you gently, using his free hand to turn on the bathtub. He stands you upright and stands behind you, he kisses your neck gently, his hands moving across your belly, to the buttons on your shirt. Your eyes flutter closed as his fingers one by one pops open the buttons. His hands glide up your bare skin, popping the last button, and your shirt falls to the floor. He massages your belly, still kissing your neck and gently takes both of your breasts in his hands. You moan softly and he groans against your neck. You turn to him, staring into his eyes and you delicately step out of your pants. His eyes glide over your body and you step into the tub, sitting down and wincing softly as the hot water soothes your muscles. You smile at him, gazing up at him through your eye lashes and he smiles lovingly at you. He undresses, and the water splashes around you as he sits in front of you, pulling you towards him by your waist, crashing his lips against yours. You could feel his erection at your opening and you glide him into you. He groans against your mouth, and you whimper softly, holding onto his shoulders as he goes deeper, stretching you out. He hugs your waist tightly as he moves you faster, a growl rumbling in his throat. He sounds so sexy to you, your head falls back in pleasure and when you look back at him, his fangs are exposed. He licks your neck; you shudder feeling the point of his fangs glide against your skin. He holds your face to get you to look at him, you moan loudly, nodding an answer to his silent question. He bites your neck, and you groan, feeling the warmth of your blood as it drips down your breasts. He pulls away from your neck, rubs his tongue along the blood trail across your chest, taking your nipple in his mouth, sucking gently. The bath water was turning a lighter shade of pink, you remembered the last time you had seen the water like that. Barely conscious, but still alive. His hands cup your jaw, his breathing shaky as you’re both close to release. You watch in awe as one of his fingernails grows and he makes a small cut on his neck, you watch his blood drip down like a tear. You lean forward, pressing your lips against his neck and he moans, rocking your faster and faster. His blood tastes so sweet against your lips, intoxicating. It was different from his wrists. It was like he released a pheromone, just for you. Your head falls back as your orgasm rocks through you, clenching around his cock and he groans loudly. A sensation you weren’t familiar with coursed through your veins, you felt a sense of power, you felt stronger - maybe it was his blood, or maybe it was just your happiness. The happiness that had been snuffed out for over a year…until it wasn’t.

Home. You thought. He was finally home.

A freezing cold wind pinches your cheeks, and you gasp awake. Something cold and hard is underneath you, wet. It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust but once they do, a panic electrifies your entire body. You weren’t in your home, you were a good distance away from it, you were near the lake. Outside. In the darkness. You slowly move to your feet; you begin to tremble. The only clothing you had on was wool socks, leggings and a long-sleeved t shirt…not warm enough for a winter’s night. You gaze at your hands, whatever wetness was on the ground stained your palms, and a sudden feeling of dread washes over you as when you make your way into the moonlight.

Am I dreaming? You wonder as the soft light hits your palms. You become ice. Dark red blood stains your hands, and when you look down at the ground, you see the trail.

I have to be dreaming. Don’t keep walking. Turn back. Turn back now. Eddie doesn’t know you’re gone.

Eddie.

You gasp, looking behind you towards the direction of your house, about to sprint when a sickening sound of a bone snapping reaches your ears. You follow the sound, walking towards a clearing that overlooks lover’s lake. You see a silhouette hovering over something…

Oh god.

That’s when you see it, the pale flesh of a lifeless body. A girl. Not too much younger than you. You move closer, to see the face of the monster and you gasp.

You had to be dreaming. This wasn’t real.

The face whips up to look at you, and he smiles. Blood covers his mouth, his face, his bare chest.

Steve.

“Someone’s been sleepwalking.” He chuckles, and you notice the knife in his hand. He stares at you as he plunges the knife into the girl's stomach and you flinch. You begin to tremble, and he smiles bigger.

“What…how…it’s…been you?” You couldn’t believe it. He was your friend. He was Eddie’s friend.

“The darkness doesn’t just run in your dead boyfriend, babe.” He grins. “Those stupid fucking bats almost killed me, and I became this. Cool right?”

He gets to his feet, running the side of the blade over his tongue. “Seems like Vecna’s plan worked. He got you out here, but…God do I love a good chase.”

“Steve…” you slowly step back.

“You should probably run now.”

And you’re sprinting, you’re cutting your feet on sharp stones, getting pelted in the face by branches. Your house was close, you could feel it. The adrenaline was coursing through you, and you start yelling Eddie’s name.

You see the light from your porch turn on, just a few more feet. Come on. Come on. You skip over a log, and when you see the outline of Eddie’s form you crash into him, the air escaping you as you cling onto him.

“It’s Steve, it’s…” you could barely catch your breath and he pulls back to look at you, panic in his eyes.

“Where were you?”

“It’s Steve! He’s the killer!” You finally scream out.

A feral growl escapes his lungs and he’s pushing you quickly behind him. Steve’s footfalls were slow, but his laugh turned your blood to ice.

“What a reunion.” He smiles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Heard you’re back in your own body, thanks to that prized piece.” His eyes meet yours and you hide your face behind Eddie’s shoulders, gripping his shirt in a fist.

“It was you.” Eddie growls.

“Oh the night I almost made your guts come out? Yeah…sorry about that. Wasn’t my intention, you just caught me off guard. Got a little spooked.” He giggles.

“Get out of here.” Eddie’s voice is deep.

“Can’t do that, man.” Steve’s voice is low. “He wants her.” He nods to you, and you meet Steve’s eyes.

“What are you his lap dog? Came to do his dirty work? Do you bend over for him too?” You taunt and a menacing growl escapes Steve.

“I bow to no one.” His eyes narrow and then he grins, rolling his eyes. “I really didn’t want to have to do this the hard way but if you come with me, my old friend. I’ll spare your boyfriend.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He laughs loudly. “Yeah, I’m not that great at lying. Vecna wants his head but, I’m willing to let him go. If you come with me.”

Eddie growls louder. “I’m not gonna tell you again, get out of here.”

“Oooooh, you sound so sexy all undead and stuff. No wonder she screams your name.”

“Fuck you!” You yell at him.

“Oh I’ve been dreaming of it.”

A loud, feral sound escapes Eddie and he’s lunging at Steve. You fall backwards on your bum and watch the scene unfold, screaming Eddie’s name as the two start throwing punches. Steve had grabbed Eddie by his waist, launching him into a nearby tree and you scream when you see the tree had split in half. Steve looks at you, a sinister smile on his face. Eddie springs to his feet, tackling him to the ground. You stare at them frozen as they continue to brawl. You felt helpless, you didn’t know what to do. What could you do?

Eddie was on top of Steve now, his fangs extended as he was trying to take a bite out of Steve’s throat. Steve growls loudly, kicking Eddie so hard in the stomach he flies off of him, landing hard on the bottom step of your porch. The wind is knocked out of him and he’s struggling to get up. You rush towards him, but before you can get your hands on him, Steve grabs you from behind and you feel the cool metal of the blade against you’re throat as he holds you tightly against his chest. You struggle in his grasp and Eddie weakly gets to his feet.

“Are you done now?” Steve asks with a grin, and you feel tears burn your eyes.

“Eddie…”

Eddie stares at you and at Steve, panic and dread on his expression.

“Can you swim?” Steve asks you, his mouth too close to your ear. You don’t respond, and he tightens his hold, you cry out, feeling the sharpness of the blade as he pushes it deeper into your skin. “If you want her to live you need to listen to me now, Eddie. He’s gonna be pissed that I kept you alive, but…you were a prize to him, so he might deal with it.”

“She’s not going there. I’ll go.”

“No!” You scream. “Eddie, no!”

“Both of you or she’s dead.”

Eddie stares at you, you stare back at him.

He nods.

Steve laughs. “Good! Ha! This is gonna be so fun.” He pushes you off of him, and then you feel his fist hit the back of your head, and then darkness.

A/N: Finale part coming soon 💛

@kellsck @kelsiegrin @trixyvixx @fearless-wretch-insanity

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fluff #eddie munson x smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson series

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ashc-from-ao3 · 2 months

Text

Trouble with a Vulcan

Spock x female reader

Spock was sitting on his t'hy'la's couch waiting for her to return, the enterprise crew was on a two week shore leave and (name) had decided to make the most of it. She went back to her home town to enjoy the scenery, the town was a small rural community and little trouble came it's way. So when (name) said she was going out for a walk only moments before he thought nothing of it. He snooped around for something to do until she returned and came apon her dvd's of old earth movies and shows. Most he deemed illogical but one seemed to hold a value in his sharp mind. Jeopardy. The viewer gained knowledge from watching and knowledge to a vulcan was always exciting. He put in the first disc and sat back.

-----(name)'s pov-------

(name) Was smiling brilliantly the young woman bounced along the streets reacquainting herself with the town. She was walking down a alleyway when a large thuggish man stepped out of the shadows. She went to turn around but her path was cut off by another man.

"Well hello darling. What is a thing like you doing all by yourself?" (name) tried to go past the first man but she was knocked to the ground and her vision blurred before she blacked out

-----spock's pov------

Spock had sat through four episodes of jeopardy, he knew most of the answers and only two were unknown to the half vulcan. He was now starting to worry about (name) she had been gone two hours. The town was not that large, she should be back. He was just getting ready to search for her when the door slammed open, it closed just as quick and the deadbolt was turned into place with a heavy *thunk* followed by a second *thunk* signalling the locking of the other lock. Spock reached the door and saw (name) slumped on the ground. Her hair was matted with mud and blood. Her cloths wear torn and she had several bleeding scrapes and rapidly forming bruises. She was panting and shaking, spock made it over to her faster than he ever had before. He helped to to stand and held her at arm's length

" (name) what happened?" (name) whimpered and tried to snuggle into spock but he held her away from him so he could observe her,

"I went down a alleyway and some men......." (name) trailed off unable to answer, instead she looked up at Spock hoping to find anger in his gaze, anger towards her attackers at least . She knew of the precision driven power in her boyfriend's body and she would love to see him vulcan nerve pinch the two men. However when she gazed at him, he showed nothing not a flicker of concern,anger or even pity...nothing. Since they had started dating Spock had been more lenient with his emotions around (name),he was still as logical as ever but he let her see the human side he so often tried to hide from others. The fact he showed no emotions scared her.

"So you feel nothing after hearing that your girlfriend was attacked? Not a sliver of anger? NOTHING?" The woman was horrified by the fact Spock was still unresponsive. She removed her arms from his still frozen grasp,unlocked the door and fled going to the one place she felt she would be safe, her best friend scotty's house. She flung open the door and fell sobbing into the engineers arms as she explained what happen. Scotty's face did contort in anger and the Scotsman started swearing in his thick accent, that only got thicker as he got angrier .

Meanwhile Spock had finally managed to compute that someone who was not him had dared to touch what was his dared to harm what was clearly marked as his. He was logical and calculating and when it came to the bedroom he was just as thorough when giving (name) love bites around her neck as he was when saving the enterprise from one of kirk's hair brained schemes. The bites clearly stated she was his, his to touch and no one else's. Anger finally came though quickly followed by worry and then confusion as (name) was no where to be found. He quickly thought of the other members of the enterprise crew who she would go to. He searched each crew members house down to places where she would never get to and then he finally figured it out, Mr.Scott! (Name) and Mr,Scott wear close she would definitely go to him in a time of need.

Spock frantically banged on Mr.Scott's door and when he opened it the Scotsmen knew instantly what was up.

"Mr.spock, she asked me not to let you in but I can see you need to speak to each other." Mr, Scott moved aside and pointed at the closed bathroom door.

"Cleaning up" was his only explanation. Spock needed no more promoting and. Instantly he was by the door.

"T'hy'la? You you there? I must speak with you about my actions." He heard a muffled Russian swear,curtesy of Chekov and Scotty drinking nights, followed by a soft sigh, he held his breath hoping she would for once be logical about her actions and let him explain. She was. (name) opened the door carefully and dressed in only her undergarments and a oversized bathrobe. She sighed heavily and dragged him into the bathroom.

"T'hy'la I mu-" Spock was cut off by her placing her hand on his mouth before she lent forward and kissed him

"Spock it's okay, I was over emotional and I overreacted. I couldn't expect you to fully understand what I said in the four seconds I gave you. I am sorry I reacted very unlogically." Spock looked at (name) and enveloped her in a comforting hug

"You never react logically, it is one of the reasons I love you."he whispered as he gently drew his large hands up and down her back and sides in a comforting action. Eventually (name) started calming and she giggled happily at having her vulcan back in her arms and being back in his.

(name) leaned up and kissed Spock with all the passion and love she could muster, Spock quickly returned the kiss and his hands had started to roam over the woman's tiny body, suddenly a loud "ahem" broke the couple apart. (name) Flushed red and Spock's face was flushed as well Scotty stood in the doorway of the bathroom a smug grin on his face.

"Now I am glad ye are back togetha but could ye please do that at home?"

(name) Name smiled and leaned into Spock as he wrapped his arms around her protectively he leaned his head by her ear and whispered

"It would be illogical to continue this with someone watching but we will most certainly continue this later."

#spock #spock x reader #while I envision kelvin timeline spock it can be any spock you like

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sanjisluvbot · 1 year

Text

ISEKAI YANDERE STRAWHATS X BLACK FEM READER PT 7

Masterlist

1 2 3 4 5 6

TW: drugging

Your eyes widened, you knew the edge you felt from Luffy wasn’t something you could easily shake off. Luffy was good at emotional manipulation but you were even better, I mean you had to be. Law was right to tell you to try and distance yourself from him but it was hard when he was really the only person you could trust.

“ Luffy what would make you think about that right now?” You said trying to remove his arm from your waist though your efforts were no use as he gripped you even tighter.

“ You’ve been really close with Traffy, I- no the entire crew has noticed and I just wanted ti know if you’re going to make us go through this again.”

Damn them all to hell honestly.

You wanted to express your anger to him so badly but that would just foil your plans completely. Deep breaths y/n, just reassure him and the crew so they can let you go to Zou.

“ Listen Luffy, me and Law just have a lot in common. We get along really well and we’re just friends. I’m not gonna leave. ”

He smiled at you and started talking to you about his plan to unlock the fridge that night with the help of one of Ussop’s new inventions. You began to tune him out when you realized that your anxiety was beginning to overflow. Your hands felt clammy and you wanted to be alone. Luffy’s grip was agonizing and you knew it was his way of threatening you silently.

If this plan wasn’t executed to perfection who knows what they’d do to you. What would happen with Law if they- no, no more negative thoughts. If you stress this too much they really will notice.

Meanwhile in the library Robin was drinking tea while reading a book with chopper.

“ Robin, have you noticed how close Y/N has been with Trafalgar?”

Robin looked up from her book and smirked at the doctor, “ I think she likes him… maybe he liked her too they’re both strategists”

“ I guess”

Robin was weary though, she knew deep down you had not fully accepted everything so why would you get close with Law? She was sure she heard everything right when you two went off but could they have a hidden agenda being together?

Before she thought any further the man of the hour walked in. He nodded in their direction and went to the book shelf himself picking out a book on ancient medicine.

“ Traffy y/n seems to have opened up to you since we’ve gotten off Punk Hazard. What made you so close if you don’t mind me asking?”

“ She’s very intelligent and we get along well.”

“ oh, well she’s more of a closed off type so I was just curious because it happened so fast.”

This is what you were talking about. Robin was the most observant and the most dangerous, Law needed to think of a way to through this woman off their tracks quickly.

“ Well aside from her intelligence she’s beautiful, I couldn’t resist wanting to know her better. When switching out the cuffs she told me about the adventures you’ve been on and she sounded so entranced with everything I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her.”

The conversation went on for a while and Law was able to tell her suspicions died down a bit but his guard wasn’t completely down. There was no wonder the government wanted her for themselves Robin had a way with words. The rest of the crew was getting ready for bed and Law was using this time to stall before questions from them kept him from the little sleep he normally gets.

Wandering towards the make quarters he saw you leaving from a shower with Nami, he couldn’t help but stare at the way your skin glowed. He wasn’t lying about you being beautiful.

You felt eyes on your back and looked up to the stairs, Law was leaning over the railing and when u made eye contact he gave u a soft smile. You waved and continued your way to the room while drying your hair, Nami nudged you when the door closed.

Here we go man here we go

“ When did you too become a thing?”

“ We aren’t a thing. We just have some things in common and when he told me he wanted to strategize something clicked and it brought us closer in a way.”

“ That’s great, he’s cute too maybe you should date him”

You gave her a fake laugh and made your way to bed wanting to end this never ending interrogation.

The next morning you were in DressRosa and everything was going accordingly till you needed to leave. There was a huge fuss on whether or not you should stay with the captains and vice captain or if you should go to Zou with the others. Law was able to convince Luffy but the look in Zoro’s eye told you he knew Law was shitting through his teeth.

“ Why would Y/N go to Zou? We can protect her here”

“ Why would a woman who doesn’t have a devil fruit or any fighting skills need to be in the middle of a war?”

“ What would she do in Zou? None of us even know your crew and without all of us there so many things could happen to her because as you said, she’s defenseless”

Law was able to manipulate the boys easily causing a fight between the two hotheads.

“ What are you trying to say you angry green drunkard”

“ I’m saying I can protect y/n better than a horny cook with shitty eyebrows”

Eventually you found yourself starring into the endless sea feeling giddy knowing you were closer and closer to freedom. Getting to see Momo turn into a real life dragon had to be one of your favorite highlights as well, you would very much miss this world even though you don’t want to admit it.

That awful nagging in the back of your head that wants you to stay started again as you grew closer to Zou.

Is it that bad to sta- YES. Yes it is stop it brain you need to go home you can’t just live this double life.

“ Y/N chaaaaaan, you look so stunning in the sun like a goddess from the heavens. Do you want a sweet tart?”

You happily took the treat and settled down after the crew dealt with the impending threat of big mom. How you wish you could stay to see it and see Sanji as a pretty prince.

For some reason, as you were almost done eating the treat you felt slightly weaker like you needed to take a nap. The crew let their eyes wander to you every once in a while like they were waiting.

Have I been drugged? Why would they drug me now?

“ Y/N chan please understand it’s only for your own good and protection that we do this.”

Your vision grew blurry and you tried to quickly stand up which failed miserably, you fell to your knees and everything just looked like shapes and colors. How long would this last? You needed to contact Law and his crew. They’re gonna save you.

Back on DressRosa while you and Law were on the deck with Ussop, Frank, Kin, Momo, and Franky the crew discussed your sudden closesness with the new captain.

“ I think they’re into something more than we know”

“ Of course they are y/n hasn’t fully adjusted to everything yet, why would she be so chummy with a captain from this world she’s never met”

“ Well they did seem to have hit it off, they could just really like eachother…”

“ Nami, although that might be true there is definitely something more to their relationship. I think it might have something to do with her being specifically one of the people to be sent to Zou first.”

“ Robin is right, he was so adamant on arguing with me to send her to Zou.. it was strange”

The crew argued, but Luffy silenced them. They awaited their orders knowing that the look on Luffy’s face.

“ Let her go, whatever they are planning won’t go as they think especially because they won’t be together for a while.”

They all silently agreed till Robin spoke up once more, “ Chooper, would you be able to make a drug for Sanji to put in y/n’s drink or food? Not one to harm her but maybe to keep her asleep for a while till we are reunited?”

The doctor and the cook were conflicted, this went against everything they stood for but it was captains orders and they loved their little y/n.

Sanji held back tears as he carried you into your room, having to go to such lengths just to keep you with them strained his heart.

“ She’ll be okay right chopper? It’s not hurting her or anything she’s just asleep?”

“ Y-yes it was only sedatives and sleep medication in a medium dose. She should only be asleep for a few days”

The guilt was clear to see on their faces, and the guilt was on the rest of the tiny crew as well but deep down it felt real good to know that this was going to ensure y/n would not only be safe but in their arms forever.

Whatever it takes.

Tags: @herwritingartcowboy @axulaphie @arminscum-slut @toshirolovebot [ If you are missing I apologize, please message me I’ll add you today <3 ]

A/N : sorry this update took a while, I’ve been dealing with some things mentally and it interrupted my writing flow. I’m really glad everyone is enjoying this series the support means so much to me along with your comments. I’m in shock with how many people are enjoying my writing, and I’ve got more things coming during the weekend <3

Not proofread btw 💀

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calmlyerratic · 7 months

Text

Encounters of the Future Sort

Chapter 1: Disappearing Cauldrons is Never a Good Sign

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read it here on Ao3

fic summary: AU & headcanon-oriented time travel. A freak cauldron explosion leads the Marauders hurtling forward into the future where they come into contact with Harry and friends. Alternating POV's. Anything is possible. Lots of shenanigans, but also an emotional rollercoaster. Silly, Jily, and Wolfstar. Full summary here.

chapter wc: 2.4k | rating: T | cw: none

notes: 1976 Timeline—takes place before the willow prank and Snape's worst memory, both of which happened in the spring of 1976. That's all I'll give away for now, happy reading :)

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April 1st, 1976

11am

It was a beautiful Saturday morning. The sun twinkled through lofty clouds, casting rays of warmth on the freshly thawed spring grounds of Hogwarts. The majority of students were outside, lounging along the banks of the Black Lake and enjoying this sudden heat wave.

But if someone just happened to journey up to the school's seventh floor, their nose would detect the foul stench of rotten eggs, their eyes would see through the fog that consumed the corridor, and they would be led to a room that could be found only if you knew where it was. And in this room, they would discover four boys hovering over a giant, brass cauldron.

"Shut up Moony! We're fine."

"I agree with Prongs—shove it."

"No one cares what you think Padfoot!"

"Ouch, Moony. And I didn't realize words could bruise..."

"Oh—sod off. It's not my fault that you two have some absurd death wish."

James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew had been bickering for the better part of the past hour. Each had a curious bubble around their heads to protect them from the horrid smell of the simmering potion.

"Stoke the fire a little, will you Wormtail?" Sirius said as he stirred the cauldron. He slowly removed the long wooden spoon and set it on a bed of parchment, serving as a makeshift spoon rest.

Peter drew his wand from the pocket of his robes and murmured, "Incendio."

The flame underneath grew, gently lapping the sides of the cauldron.

"Your hands are so tiny, Wormy." Sirius complained, adjusting his dragonhide gloves. "I dunno how you wear these."

Peter held up his hands, inspecting them. "Are they?"

"No, Padfoot just has long, delicate fingers." Remus huffed.

Remus was watching Sirius anxiously, eyes flickering between the thick, murky greenish contents of the cauldron to the spoon rest...which was turning an odd, startling red as liquid seeped through the ivory parchment.

"Why are we doing this again? This isn't even close to proper procedure..."

"Oh, just relax Moony," Sirius flexed his fingers in Peter's gloves and leaned back on his arms leisurely. "You did say we needed some extra potions practice for our O.W.L.'s."

Remus rolled his eyes. "I meant you should ask Slughorn for some extra lessons, or something. Not attempt to brew a complicated and potentially fatal potion! You do know that I'm a Prefect and this is exactly the kind of thing I'm supposed to prevent?"

"But you're here aren't you?" James pointed out, grinning mischievously.

James was sprawled over a table, leafing through several different ancient, thickly bound books. A reflection of incandescent light through the fog reflected off his head bubble, casting shimmery flames onto his round spectacles.

"I'm only here to make sure you don't blow yourselves up," Remus stood in exasperation and began pacing.

"We'd be simply unhinged without your supervision," Sirius bit his lip to hold back a grin.

Remus glared at Sirius, who raised an eyebrow and winked. Remus flushed slightly, crossed his arms and sat back down, muttering.

"Okay," James checked his watch, "we're getting close now."

"What next?" Peter asked, pinching his nose through the bubble charm. "The smell's getting worse...we've got to be almost finished? We've been working on this for months now—"

"Months?" Remus was alarmed. "Wait, I thought you said—"

"No time, Moony."

James scanned through the colossal books, a frown on his face.

"In this book, Potions for the Potentially Challenged, it says to add one additional scoop of lacewing flies. But in this one, If You Can Brew it, You Can Do It...calls for three scoops total. We already did one yesterday when we added the unicorn hair—"

"Unicorn hair? Where are you getting these books?" Remus peered over at them discerningly, as though to check their authenticity.

"My father's library," Sirius shrugged. "Nicked them when I left."

"You're in way over your heads," Remus massaged his eyes shut.

"If you care so much about our safety, you should really be the one doing this, Moony. You know the rest of us are all dead awful at potions." James pointed out, turning a page and pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his long nose.

"Yeah, but you insist on being the high and mighty Prefect instead." Sirius shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "You know, the more I think about it, your position of ensuring safety is truly more of a hazard."

"Safety equals safety hazard," Remus moved a finger in midair like he was solving a complicated arithmancy equation. "Check."

"Okay, we're in a time crunch here so I say we—what did you say again, Prongs?"

"Add the lacewing flies," James nodded. "Two scoops, Wormy."

"Right," Peter passed the ingredients to Sirius, who threw them in the cauldron.

"Okay good—now stir it three times counterclockwise..." James read carefully. "And I think we've done it!"

The four boys watched the cauldron with bated breath.

The thick, murky liquid began to slowly bubble, like boiling mud. James and Sirius beamed at each other and high-fived while Remus let out a sigh of relief.

Then suddenly, despite the steady flame, the potion went very still.

"Um, is that supposed to happen?" Peter shifted nervously.

"No," James frantically leafed through his books. "It's supposed to...turn red, I think? No, this one says it's supposed to have a greenish tinge—"

"Great, " Sirius chucked the wooden spoon across the room and it clattered along the stone floor. "We muffed it up. So much for that prank—"

"Prank?"

"Oh hush Moony, it's April 1st for Merlin's sake. Like you didn't know we weren't doing this purely for academia—"

"Hold on," Peter was gazing into the cauldron, its contents casting a luminous glow over his bubblehead charm. "I think it's doing something…"

The muddy potion began to vibrate oddly, then fell very still.

"That doesn't seem right..." James flicked through more pages.

Remus clasped his hands together. "Well, you tried. Let's call it a day?"

"No way, Moony." James stated firmly. "We've spent way too much time on this to just give up. There has to be a way to fix it..."

"Too bad you're on the outs with Evans, mate, she's Slughorn's red headed prodigy." Sirius considered, stroking his chin. "Well, she's a stickler, anyway. Hey—where are you going?"

Remus had jumped to his feet.

"I'll be right back! Don't move!"

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

A short while later...

"It needs to be bubbling—"

"Well let's just turn up the heat then?"

"Hold on just let me read a bit more—"

"What is this place?"

Sirius squinted his eyes at this new voice and put a hand to the forehead of his bubble, like a crow's nest lookout on a foggy evening.

"Evans?" Sirius called.

James head shot up from his reading. His hand jumped to run through his untidy raven hair, as if it was a reflex to hearing her name.

Through the thick, vapid air consuming the room, three figures approached the cauldron.

Lily Evans had her nose between two fingers. "Well we found the source of the godawful smell, ugh."

"I told you," Remus shrugged sheepishly.

He glanced towards the other boys with poorly concealed guilt. The origin of this became quite apparent when another person stepped out of the misty shadows.

"Snevillus?" Sirius crossed his arms, mortally betrayed. "Really, Remus?"

Snape glared forcefully, like a giant sulking bat. "Lily, I told you this was a bad idea—"

"She can do what she wants, Snevillus." James glared too, his hand twitching towards his wand.

"Oh shut up, the both of you. You can bicker later," Lily rolled her eyes. "I'm only here because Remus asked me."

"Look, this is beyond us—that cauldron is dangerous." Remus rubbed the back of his neck, clearly ashamed that he was revealing their secret shenanigans to the Marauder's worst enemy. "Lily and Snape are the best in our year at potions—"

"Yeah, real Slug Club royalty." Sirius scoffed.

"We have it under control," James insisted firmly.

"This—" Lily glanced around, her voice nasally from pinching her nose, "does not look under control. Or smell like it, either. You're smoking out the entire seventh floor."

"I think it's steam, actually." Peter offered. "It feels rather moist—"

"It's a figure of speech," Lily said shortly.

The cauldron suddenly began to hum—it was the sound a thin glass of water makes when you run a finger around the rim. All six of them turned to stare at it.

"We could smell it from the Library," Severus sneered as he waved his wand to produce a bubblehead charm.

"I can smell you from the—"

"Padfoot!" Remus warned. "It's gone too far, okay? We need to fix it. Or vanish it, or something." He turned to Lily. "What do you suggest?"

Lily waved her wand and produced a bubblehead charm too, inhaling the fresh air. She approached the cauldron and peered over the edge.

"I for one suggest," Sirius began haughtily, pointing his wand at the base of the cauldron, "that we are incredibly capable of finishing this up ourselves. It just needs a little more heat—incendio."

The flame under the brass cauldron grew and the mucky potion began to bubble.

"There!" Sirius grinned victoriously.

"It looks just like the description..." James ran his finger along a page. "Thick, mud-like, dull green—"

"Er, P-prongs?" Peter stammered, his eyes widening. "It's bright green."

The bubbling potion had suddenly become the shade and consistency of algae and had begun to vibrate oddly again. The base of the cauldron began to shake.

"Er, Potter?" Lily was backing away from the cauldron slowly. "What kind of potion is this, exactly?"

"You imbeciles! Aguamenti!" Severus flicked his wand and a jet of water shot out of it to extinguish the flames.

It didn't seem to make a difference. The cauldron was now vibrating so violently that the stone floor beneath them began to shake.

"Sev, what do we do?" Lily's eyes were wide with apprehension. "I've never vanished something this temperamental before—"

"It might settle down," Severus stood with his wand at the ready. "I removed the heat so there's no further catalyst. Let's give it a moment."

However, the cauldron continued to vibrate even more violently. The very walls of the room began to creak. The fog around them became thicker and dense—with a spectral, syrupy magic that couldn't be seen, but felt.

"I say we get the hell out of here," Sirius suggested. "Moony, you were right okay—"

The bright green algae potion suddenly turned a vibrant shade of red. Severus went rigid.

"RUN! JUST RUN!"

But it was too late. The cauldron exploded mere seconds later with a giant BOOM and the next thing the Marauders, Lily, and Severus knew, they were lying face down on the hard stone floor.

"Bloody hell," Sirius groaned as he sat up, massaging his temples.

"What happened?" Peter blinked around, in a daze.

"Uggggh..." Lily was sprawled out on her back.

"You okay, Evans?" James jumped to his feet and offered her a hand.

"We all appear to be fine," Severus sneered jealously as he scrambled to his feet.

Lily glared at him as she took James' hand. "So glad chivalry isn't dead."

"Speak for yourself," Sirius grunted. "Oh, Snivellus—help a damsel out?" He batted his eyes, extending his hand mockingly.

Severus looked down and flushed. "I meant—"

"Where's the cauldron?"

All heads turned towards Remus, who stood where the cauldron had been just moments ago.

"I-it's gone." Peter stammered, biting his fingernails.

And sure enough, it was. They all stared for a moment in silence, eyes wide with shock. Disappearing cauldrons is never a good sign.

"The fog is gone too..." Remus broke the silence as he removed his bubble head charm, causing the others to do the same. "And so is the smell."

In fact, the room was totally empty. No tables or books or leftover ingredients. The cleared fog revealed the familiar structure they had willed the room to take, starkly resembling a stone dungeon classroom with slightly higher ceilings.

"Huh." James contemplated, tousling his already messy hair. "Weird."

"Yeah," Peter echoed. "Weird."

"It could be the room?" Sirius suggested. "But it usually only changes before you enter, not while you're inside it..."

"What the hell does that mean?" Lily raised an eyebrow. She had never been in the Room of Requirement before. "Never mind—I don't want to know, there's been enough surprises for one day."

Severus opened his mouth and looked like he rather did want to know but had too much dignity to ask, so he shut it again.

"Let's go, Sev." Lily turned towards the door.

"Thanks, Lily!" Remus called after her sheepishly. "I owe you one."

"You never owe me anything, Remus." Lily threw him a kind smile. "You other three better pay up, though."

Severus shot them all one last gaunt glare over his shoulder before he sauntered after Lily and into the corridor.

"Snevillus?" Sirius raised an eyebrow at Remus, still very much hung up on this betrayal. "Our dear sweet Moony...why?"

"He was with Lily when I found her," Remus rubbed the back of his neck again. "I'm sorry..."

"Thank you, but your apology is kindly rejected." Sirius shook his head disapprovingly. "And you're supposed to be the discerning one—"

"In my defense, I thought you were going to blow up half the school."

"You always overreact, Moony."

"Well, something blew up!"

"Yes but we're fine, aren't we? Crises averted."

"So, you admit it was a crisis?"

"I admit you were very concerned there would be a crisis."

"If you two are done bickering like an old married couple," James tapped his foot impatiently, "I'd quite like to move on with my day."

"Too bad we wasted all that time brewing..." Peter sighed.

"You feel it too?" Remus asked, eyeing their surroundings. "I didn't want to say before—but this place reeks like powerful magic. I've never smelled anything like it."

"Unicorn hairs aren't cheap either," James exhaled deeply, then straightened his shoulders with a grin. "Oh well, no use crying over spilt potion."

"This room feels...weird." Peter observed nervously.

"I don't smell anything?" Peter knit his brow and sniffed deeply.

Remus wrinkled his nose. "It's a—y'know...wolf thing."

"Let's go mull it over outside," James stretched his arms. "I need some time to grieve our best laid plans, and all that."

"Anyway," Sirius blew a stray hair out of his face, "what could possibly happen?"

"I dunno," Remus wrapped his hands around his elbows and shuddered. His hair was standing on end. "I can't explain it...I just have a bad feeling about this..."

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notes: I started writing this 11 years ago and just recently rediscovered my love for the Marauders and fanfiction. Initially, I posted it on another site and was shocked to see how much love it's gotten over the years. So here we are! Rewriting this is totally healing my inner child, hope you enjoy :)

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