#i want to use the strong body type though and like none of the face mods have been updated for them 😭

[lelianaslefthand]

me trying to come up with a tav to romance gale

[itsonlydana]

Heyy I just wanted to ask if you could write something for Thranduil x gn!reader just something really light and fluffy maybe like how he takes care of reader what they do in a day and just spending time together doing romantic things and reader really just enjoying life without a care in the world... (Deine Fanfictions sind soooo super ❤️Ich stecke grade sowas von in der Prüfungsphase es ist echt Gold wert wenn man deine Stories zu Lesen hat🤌🏻 )

Spoil Me, Pamper Me, Love Me | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x gn!reader 👑

a cozy day spent with Thranduil

warnings/tags: none, fluff!

words: 1,4k

an: such a lovely request; had such a fun time writing it :) take the elvish terms of endearment with a grain of salt.. i literally googled them lmao but i made sure to use gender neutral names. [Ich wünsche dir viel Erfolg bei deinen Prüfungen, anon! Ich hatte meine im Februar und hoffe du kommst da gut durch <3]

+ masterlist + rules +

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Being Thranduil's beloved comes with positives as well as negatives – he is a king, a leader after all, and most of his waking hours are dedicated to keeping up his political alliances.

This spanned from week-long travels to other kingdoms to meetings that could last long enough for most of the day to pass without seeing each other much.

Many of these affairs do not require personal attendance though and only expect Thranduil to correspond through letters; a convenience you both treasured admits all the dragging conferences at round tables that were more draining the less importance of the topic to be discussed – even a royal elitist like Thranduil, who took great pleasure in all things rich and extraordinary drew the line after twelve hours of staring at two types of wood to repair a bridge.

Paperwork days – as you called them – were the perfect opportunity for lazy mornings between you and Thranduil. Drowsily cuddling underneath silken sheets that caught the sunrise in their translucent fabric, shutting out the world for unhurried fooling around in each other's arms and with only your giggles and his huffed laughter carrying any indication you were awake at all.

Breakfast was served in your shared chambers and instead of getting up and dressed you took the small feast in bed, unbothered by the missed chit-chat and gossip that eating in the great hall brought forth for Thranduil's kisses are much sweeter than anything anyone could have done.

There is nothing the Elvenking wouldn't do for his significant other, including providing you with the ripest fruits to feed you only to lose himself in peppering kisses to your lips – chasing after the taste of the fruits that colored your lips red and pink.

"The sweetest," Thranduil mumbles, his lips moving from one upturned corner of your mouth over the bow of your lip to the other corner where he breathes another kiss into the crinkle of amusement that makes no effort of hiding across your whole face.

You are sprawled across the bed, still in an airy night robe that's pushed up to your thighs to leave room for Thranduil's hands to gently caress the skin.

The elf himself towers over you, the comfortable weight of his lean yet strong body pressing down on you as his hair falls over the both of you like a curtain of starlight. Your hands trail over his muscles as kisses the spot behind your ear that has you giggling and nudging your knee against his abdomen to push him away.

"Stop, my King–" you laughed, hands sprawled across his chest without any real strength behind them, "you know I can't stand this teasing!"

You feel the pull of his grin against your skin before you hear the rumble of his deep laugh. "I do, meleth e-guilen, I do," Thranduil says, and tipped his nose against yours, "but that makes it all the more tempting."

Your hands trail up to his shoulders and gather some of the light strands of hair, sweeping it over his back. His skin glows in the sun pouring through the window, thrumming under your touch, and with him draped over you, one warm leg between yours, the heat travels to you even if his broad back blocks out the golden light.

"Awful," you huff, "you are nothing but a dreadful lover, keeping me trapped here in bed." Like your hands on his chest, the words carry no harm behind them or any attempt to push him away from you.

If anything, you revel in the attention he peppers you with. The last weeks had dragged you apart and moments like this, where you had to think about nothing except for your lover's care toward you.

"Awful?" he repeats in a playful tone and makes a move to sit up. "Whatever did I do to deserve such harsh treatment?"

Instead, he quickly grabs you by your waist and before you can realize what's going on he has flipped you over, laughter bubbling up your lungs and spilling out while he falls back onto the mattress, pulling you with him and leaving you to topple over across him.

His fingers dig into your sides, holding you down onto him so you can't even escape the tickling that he dooms you with. "Awful, they say! I will show you dreadful, you minx."

Whenever you do make it out of bed eventually, hair all messed up by his hands, Thranduil insists on dressing you.

He treats you like you are made out of glass, warming up the milky creme in his hands before he massages it into your skin so that the chill doesn't bother you, and he sits behind you on the bed while he combs through your hair.

"Looks like thrush nested here," Thranduil chuckles. He barely evades the hand you swipe back at him as you snort indignantly. "Careful! You will scare the birds if you are not mindful of them"

The curse you throw at him instead has him gasping at the pure filth that leaves your mouth that, after hearing his reaction, curves into a smirk. "Get back to combing, Your Majesty. I do not have all day."

"Your word is my command, guren vell."

Thranduils lips kiss your neck, featherlight and then again, lingering. You sigh and let your head drop backward, falling to his shoulder, and blink up at him through lowered lashes, your eyes full of adoration.

His smile lights up a fire in your heart, the softness of it on marble features a reason to go to war just to see it again and for you to be the only recipient of this gentleness with which he wraps his arms around your middle, the hair comb long forgotten, that fuels the fire for all eternity.

On any other day, the duty to dress you would lay in the hands of your most trusted servants or your own, though nothing reached the level of wonderful that Thranduil made you feel right now, helping you to flowy robes.

For you, he even sinks to his knees, the only being alive that deserves this honor of the Elvenking kneeling in front of them, and you smile down at the crown in his hair, the silver circlet glittering just like his cerulean eyes in the midday sun, as he fixes your shoes for you but not without breathing more kisses on the inside of your calf which he carefully holds.

"Shall we walk through the gardens later?" Thranduils hand falls to your lower back on your way through the intricate floors of the underground palace, evoking a pleasant buzz in your stomach.

"We could go riding out," you muse, thinking back to the last time you and Thranduil had taken out the royal elk.

Thranduil steps closer, ignorant of the servants and elves rushing past you with lowered heads and bows, to nip at the curve of your pointed ear.

For everyone else, it looked like he had just kissed you, but his teeth grazed the delicate skin in a hidden manner.

That's how the public display of his utter devotion to you goes; loving kisses that – away from prying eyes – turn completely devoid of etiquette, as well as his hands that never seem to leave you, whether it's in the form of a simple pressure in your lower back or resting on your side to hold you close to him.

Thranduil did not need to put you on display for everyone to know you were his, the expression in his eyes told the story of a King completely in love in a way that didn't need flashy gems or luxuriant robes; not that those weren't gifts you regularly found yourself unpacking nevertheless.

"Whatever you wish for. My heart is your loyal servant," Thranduil vows, smiling at the bright-eyed expression you gift him at that.

The letters on his desk could wait for a day longer, he had all of eternity to manage his kingdom.

Thranduil spends the rest of the day tied to your side – or behind you on our royal moose, as you take him outside to the forest, Thranduils arms around your waist and his chin propped up on your head, as you let yourself fall into his chest. In these woods, with your beloved's sharp senses taking in all of your surroundings even while he busies himself with twirling the fabric of your robes between his fingers or drops kisses to your shoulder and neck, you are completely safe.

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

[hotpinkstars]

GIRL DAD OR BOY DAD? - sunday, boothill x reader

- or more clearly, to what gender would they want to have more, and general headcannons of them as papas ☺️

- brainrot brainrot brainrot BRAINROT AHHH... i love these guys and i can do a part 2 for others later but godd theres absolutely not enough dad stuff for these men (especially sunday... if there is its all yandere) so never fear novas here! ahem anyways enjoy

- warnings none! pure fluff!!! wc 711

Sunday is so a girl and boy dad.

Reason why I say this is because he likely needs an heir to take over his position when he gets too old to do so, but he also wants a baby girl he can spoil as well.

Don’t worry! He loves both of his kids the same! They’re the greatest things that have probably ever happened to him and he cherishes them with his whole life. He thanks the stars above every single day for the opportunity he received to be a father to multiple beautiful children, and thanks you for granting him the chance. 

Dunno, but I could see this man wanting a handful of kids. He wants at least one girl and at least one boy, but I could see him shooting for 3-4. Will he be around to care for them? Not all the time, but he tries his hardest (and he definitely has the resources to care for that many).

Considering they’re half halovian and half human, they look pretty much just like their father! Some have your eyes, but they all have his hair. His hair and his gorgeous wings. They have your features though, such as your face, body type, etc.

His favorite part of the day is when he gets to collapse on your shared bed, his kiddos following behind him to cuddle their dad, and most of the time you all fall asleep together. Normally, you wake up just you and him because he’s good about putting them in their own bed once they fall asleep.

Once his kids get older, he’ll teach his son(s) combat and good form. He wants them to protect, and wants to raise them to be strong and independent. With his daughter(s), if they ask to be taught combat, then he won’t see much of an issue with it. He also wants to teach them independence, but in a more subtle form. 

Just expect that his children as teenagers are going to be the prettiest kids around holy shit. They’re obviously enrolled in a private school due to their fathers high status but they always come home and list the compliments they’ve received that day. Thankfully you two have raised them well enough for them to realize that it’ll be bad if all of these get to their head and stroke their ego too hard…

Supportive father asf! All I’ve gotta say here

Don’t play Boothill is SO a girl dad hello have you met the man

He’s so excited when his little girl is born ahh he’s always dreamed of being a father to a girl and his dream has officially come true!!

Obviously, if you had a boy, he’d love him the same. He just wants children of his own tbh lol

His daughter knows western culture fresh out of the womb my friend. It’s like she was born for little cowboy boots and the cutest little cowboy hat. She’s even got a western name, he brought it up and you liked it, so the name you two settled on was Cassidy.

She has his hair! It’s absolutely gorgeous once it starts coming in- a pearly white color with little black streaks stemming from the roots. She has your eyes and your face, and his slimmer body type (before he was turned into a cyborg. This isn’t canon I actually have no clue what he looked like pre cyborgification lmao).

Oh lord, your daughter is so spoiled. On every mission he goes on he’s always bringing something back for her. It could be a super fancy necklace or even just a little trinket he picked up from a street vendor, but she has a whole shelf full of the things her daddy gives her.

She thinks it’s so cool he has a metal body. She asks about it alot but she’s really fascinated with it tbh. She likes to call it “daddy’s special feature!” and he always melts to that sentence gosh

He probably teaches his daughter how to use a gun when she gets older. He, similar to Sunday, wants his daughter to learn self defense tactics and learn how to fend for herself when necessary.

She totally has his accent. Change my mind period.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Scars Like Mine pt. 2

paring: Azriel x Reader | type: fluff | words: 1,6k | warnings: none. playlist: hurts | scars to your beautiful | beauty marks | stronger | fly with me finally part 2 is here, I am sorry for the long wait; part 1 (how Azriel meets Elia and her mother)

“Are we going flying now?” Elia bounces up and down on her chair, then gulps down the rest of her hot cocoa in one big sip. She taps her fingers onto the wooden table, her gaze ping-ponging between Azriel and you.

You reach for your daughter’s hand, trying to calm her a little while throwing Azriel an apologetic look, but he only smiles politely. “Azriel has just arrived here, my love, give him a little break and let him enjoy breakfast with us.”

It has become a natural thing for the three of you. Azriel has come here often in the past months, at least two times a week, to have breakfast with you and then go flying with Elia. Maybe on one or the other occasion, unbeknownst to your daughter, Azriel already arrived the evening before and spent the night with you. Yes, yes, it is true. The two of you have started dating a while ago and you couldn’t be happier. 

Elia knows that you are dating, knows that her mummy is suddenly a lot happier, and her days are brighter. Elia loves this, loves to see her mother smile and laugh so much, and loves to have Azriel here to fly with her. He is great at flying and can teach her so many things. She has already learned how to do a turn, a twist and fly a spiral. 

It gives you small heart attacks whenever you see those stunts, but you know that with Azriel, and him always being close to her, she is safe and nothing can happen to her, or will ever happen to her. 

“It is fine,” Azriel says, “I’m almost done anyway.” He takes a sip from his water, before gulping down the whole glass and rising from his chair. Your gaze follows him, the outline of his strong, solid body, and you pull your lower lip between your lips when memories of the other night fill your mind. It is insane and should be forbidden what his wicked mouth and his hands can do, and you wonder how you got so lucky to have met him. 

Not only for yourself. He is not only a god in the sheets. Azriel is everything you have ever hoped for in a male. Kind, caring, charming, wonderful, smart, and he loves your daughter and treats her with so much kindness and fatherly-love (even though she is not his daughter) your heart wants to cry. You have cried on many occasions already, not believing that you actually got so lucky to finally have this amazing male in your life. 

Azriel reaches out his hand when Elia jumps up from her chair and starts punching the air. He brushes his scarred hand over your head and smiles when he meets your gaze. “We’ll be careful, I promise.”

“I know,” you smile up at him and place your hand atop his, thumb stroking his marred skin. “I trust you.” You rise as well, and kiss him on his cheek and then pull your daughter into your arms, squeezing her tightly while plastering her face with kisses. “I also trust you, no crazy stunts or twists or spins,” you tell her, knowing it is useless anyway. 

In the corner of your eye you catch Azriel grinning at her, knowing that they plan on doing stunts and crazy twists and turns, but if it brings her joy, you would never forbid it. She will be fine you, you know it. 

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“I am flying!” Elia blazes ahead of Azriel, throws him a big grin over her shoulder. She is now onto her third spin in a row, Azriel always close to her in order to catch her if she threatens to fall. She has turned into a great flyer, but Azriel doesn’t fully trust her abilities yet. She is still very young, the muscles in her wings not yet so strong. 

She is so fast, and her laughter so radiant it fills Azriel with pure bliss. Seeing her happy, it is so good and knowing how happy her happiness makes you, is all Azriel needs in life. The two of you have made his life so much better – in you he has found a family, one that resembles the one his brothers have and he couldn’t be any happier. 

“Look!” Elia hollers and Azriel grins brightly. 

“So amazing, Elia!” he shouts to her over the rising wind, showing her thumbs up. She makes another spin and now even Azriel’s stomach dips. She catches herself and blazes away once again. She twirls around Azriel when she changes direction. And then…

Out of the blue, words leave her mouth that nearly make Azriel lose balance, that nearly throw him off his wings and make him slam to the ground.

“Look, dad, I am flying like a bird. I am weightless and free” She makes another twirl, one big swirl around Azriel, grinning from one ear to the other, fully oblivious to what she has just said.

For a few months, he has flown with Elia, many times, more than he can count on both hands, but never has she called him anything but Azriel before. It is hard to catch himself now. Although he never admitted it, he has always hoped for a little family of his own and children. And now…now this might truly become reality. 

The rest of the flying session passes too quickly, Azriel is unfocused, distracted but always careful so nothing happens to your daughter, but his thoughts stray, and he finds himself imagining a future where the three of you are truly a family – you and him married, and Elia calling him dad on a daily basis. It is a beautiful dream, so beautiful tears start to burn behind his eyes when he catches Elia in his arms and helps her lower herself to the ground. 

She inhales deeply, then tucks in her wings. “I need to tell mummy about flying today, come come!” She tugs at Azriel’s hand, already setting out for your hut, dragging him along with her. 

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

You brush the wet sponge over his back, and softly move on to his left wing, careful not to touch the sensitive parts. Leaning in, you kiss the nape of his neck, then carry on to help him wash his back. Elia is already fast asleep, after telling you everything about the flying session while you ate dinner. It was wonderful to listen to her, and you couldn’t stop smiling when she recounted all the swirls and twirls she made and how much joy flying brings her. 

The only thing that confused you, how absentminded Azriel seemed during dinner. He hardly added any comments, normally he loved talking about flying with Elia, this time he kept calm, was mostly distracted and you really hope he will open up what has been going on within him. 

It is almost as if he can read your mind, because only a moment after you finish your thought, he says, in a voice full of emotion, “Elia called me dad today.”

You stop. Everything stops. Your hand folds over your mouth, to keep the gasp that threatens to escape contained. Tears start to build up in your eyes and then the sponge drops into the water. “Are you–is it–I hope–”

“I didn’t mind,” Azriel answers quickly, having noticed your sudden tension. He turns in the tub, tucking in his wings so he can look up at you. “Actually…” He inhales a deep breath and his eyes close. “I actually appreciated it a lot, and didn’t mind at all. I liked it,” he sheepishly admits. “I have always wanted children, and being with you and having Elia in my life as well has brought me more joy than anything else in my life before. I couldn’t be happier and her calling me dad…it felt so right.”

“It is alright for you?” you ask, carefully.

“Of course!” Azriel turns even more in the tub and places his hand on your knee. “Is it alright for you? She has a father after all and he–”

“He was an asshole and I never ever want her to have anything to do with him. You are the best thing that could happen to her, and I love that she has probably realised that as well. She has never asked for her father, she knows that he has caused us this pain, that her body is marred from fire because of his doings.” 

You swallow around the lump in your throat and tears roll down your cheeks. “I couldn’t have hoped for a better father substitute than you. You are everything I could have ever asked for and she loves you.”

“And I love you, and our little…”

“Family,” you finish for him, cradling his face in your hands and kissing his lips softly.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

At first you hear a door open. Azriel is deep asleep, he doesn’t hear it and also not the soft padding of feet over the ground. The bed dips on your side, and you reach out your arms, lifting your daughter into the bed. “Can I sleep here tonight?” 

You kiss her brow. “Of course, my love.”

You help her crawl over your, so she can get comfortable between you and Azriel, snuggling up to your side, her face buried in the crook of your neck. Azriel stirs awake, but not completely, he mumbles a few incomprehensible words and then simply curls his arm around the both of you, inhaling deeply before falling right back asleep. 

You have to smile to yourself, your heart so full of love and bliss, it nearly bursts out of your chest. And the smile stays on your lips when you fall asleep, the two most important people close to you, in your arms and you know that everything is alright and a bright future is ahead of you. 

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @azriels-mate2 @callmeblaire @lilah-asteria

[writerblue275]

How the Heartsteel members would take care of a sick/injured S/O.

Inspiration: Extremely self-serving, but I don’t care. I’m currently in the midst of a chronic illness episode. For me that involves an ungodly headache that can last for straight days, if not weeks, and other bs. All because my body can’t handle sodium 😭. If I don’t do something to distract myself, I’m going to cry, and I’d rather not do that, so here we gooooo.

Genre: Headcanon

Type: Fluff (very very slight angst in the concept [if you squint] just because you don’t feel good).

Gender: Gender Neutral Reader

Tw: None! This is pure fluff. 🥰

Aphelios

Aphelios would actually be a great caretaker.

I think a lot of this comes from an excellent example. We know Alune took care of Aphelios when he was injured/after his surgeries. Since he was the recipient of her wonderful care, he knows what to do.

Extremely prepared. He’ll work from your place as much as possible so he can be close by (he has that little mobile keyboard set up shown in his “what’s in my bag” pic). Excellent at running out to grab supplies/medication (I feel like he has an excellent memory so you just need to tell/show him something once). Also phenomenal at making sure you take your meds on schedule and changing any dressings/wraps.

If for some reason an extra set of hands is needed or Phel needs further advice on how to best care for you, you know who he’s texting? Alune! She is happy to help however she can because you’re her friend too and she hates knowing you’re sick/in pain.

I feel like Phel’s immune system is pretty strong so even if you were contagious, he’d cuddle you. If he was really worried, there’s always his mask. (Makes my public health heart sing.) He has many extras so you can snag one too in order to be doubly safe. You get those healing cuddles!

Ezreal

This is where Ezreal’s typical golden retriever energy is extra useful!!

Like genuinely I think Ez is a really really sweet “nurse” and will do an excellent job of taking care of you. Or at the very least, he’s great at distracting you and making you smile so you don’t feel as shitty/in pain.

I can’t see Ez cooking tbh (mood), but he is more than happy to order delivery/run to grab whatever carry out whenever you want it. If he can’t do it because he needs to stay with you for some reason, he’s texting Alune and the boys and practically begging them to help him out. (One of them always does. They love you and want you to heal.)

Also happy to run out to grab whatever supplies you need. This sweet green bean is so eager to help you heal that not only will he grab what you ask for, he’ll also grab other things that you might not need. He’s of the mindset it’s better to be overprepared rather than underprepared.

I can’t see Ezreal wanting to cuddle if you’re contagious, tbh, which is fair, but he’ll definitely make sure you have all the blankets and pillows you need. He will sit near-ish to you though and hold your hand. And if you’re not contagious? Oh he’s clinging to you as much as you want him to.

Kayn

Ok…so…this isn’t Kayn’s specialty as a partner, let’s be honest here.

Kayn is an amazing partner in so many other ways, but he’s not exactly...naturally nurturing? BUT that doesn’t mean he’s not going to try. He knows you need him, so he’s really going to put in a lot of effort to try and take care of you as best he can. (This secretly sweet rockstar!)

Kayn might fake grumble about it, but he will definitely go out and get whatever supplies you need. You may need to take a picture of a label/find one on the internet but he’s got you! (“Baby, there are so many CHOICES. How do I know which is the right one? I don’t want to get something you don’t need!”)

The first time you were sick/injured and he was with you, he texted the HS group chat for advice on how to take care of you and shocked everyone. (That was the moment the rest of HS knew Kayn was really head over heels for you. 🥹 <- Their faces as they read the texts.)

One thing I cannot see him doing is cuddling you when you’re sick (unless you’re not contagious). He doesn’t want to get sick himself. He will tuck you in and give you surprisingly soft forehead kisses though. He says they’re to check your temp but you know they’re to show he cares.

K’Sante

K’Sante is another member who just gives off such excellent and caring vibes. He has to come from a big, close-knit family, because he gives eldest brother vibes through and through.

Because of this, he’s perfect at taking care of you when you’re sick or injured. He’s done the same thing for his siblings/cousins many times.

Even though Sett is officially the best cook, I still fully believe K’Sante can throw down in the kitchen. Whenever possible, he’s making everything from scratch for you. You deserve it, after all. His meals alone will have you starting to feel way better.

He is fully stocked on OTC meds, ice packs, bandages, whatever you need. As a gym bro, K’Sante can get pretty sore, so he’s already got that stuff around for himself. Also, anything you need picked up, he’s got that taken care of.

As the eldest who took care of his younger family members, K’Sante’s immune system is PREPARED. Unless it is before a really big event, he would be fine cuddling you, even if you’re contagious. If it is close to a big event then he’s understandably a little more hesitant (he does have obligations to HS) but he’ll still be nearish to you and hold your hand so you know he’s there.

Sett

Ooooooh baby this is Sett’s time to fucking SHINE.

He was raised by his incredible Ma! Like of course Sett’s going to be really fucking good at taking care of you. (He already does an excellent job of doing that when you’re not sick/injured.)

We know he’s the best cook in the group so homemade soup/whatever comfort food you want/need you will have and it will be delicious. Really good about reminding you to take any meds you need to (he sets a reminder in his phone). Also fully stocked on OTC meds, medical wraps, ice packs, etc. Like he is PREPARED. (Perks of loving a gym bro.)

Happy to give you cuddles if that will help. I feel like Sett is another member that has an immune system of steel, so even if you’re sick, he’s still cuddling you if you want him to. (You definitely do like 95% of the time because how could you not?? Sett cuddles sound fucking elite!)

Worst-case scenario and you get sick while he’s traveling? He makes sure you are in the very best hands possible and sends in the big guns. That’s right, he has Ma come over to check on you/stay with you if need be (which she is happy to do because she adores you and loves how happy you make her son).

Yone

I think Yone would be a phenomenal “nurse!”

He might come across as cold/intimidating to those who don’t know him, but you always bring the soft side of him out. That’s totally applicable when you’re sick. Sweet Yone incoming!!

He cared for his younger brother Yasuo when he was sick or injured, so he is well versed in what supplies are useful for a multitude of ailments. Is well stocked on all of it too. If for some reason you need something and he doesn’t have it, he’s remedying that ASAP.

I’ve been thinking about whether or not Yone cooks. My gut says not really besides breakfast food. While he’s not going to make you homemade soup/your comfort food, you bet he’s asking Sett or K’Sante to make some for you. (They’re happy to do so. You keep your their producer sane. Helping you is self-preservation 😂.)

While he’s likely been injured many times, I feel like this beautiful motherfucker (affectionate!!) has never been ill a day in his life. His immune system is just that strong. Whatever the issue, he is down to give you whatever cuddles you desire. (I’m bringing back my headcanon of cuddly Yone and NO ONE CAN STOP ME 😋.) Enjoy the forehead kisses and sweet little verbal check-ins.

[illubean]

OMG SORRY FOR NOT SPECIFYING😭😭 I MEANT LIKE AVATAR THE LAST AIRBENDER

JJBA Men W/ an Avatar!S/o

Characters: Jonathan Joestar, Joseph Joestar, Jotaro Kujo, Wamuu, Risotto Nero Type: Headcanons, Gn!Reader

ALL GOOD LMAOO also i lwky didn't know how to write kars ghiaccio or diavolo/doppio for this AND I COMPLETELY MISSED THE FEM READER PART OF YOUR REQ IM SO SORRY

Warnings: none?

Jonathan Joestar

thinks it's just a very powerful manifestation of hamon and doesn't question you further

it's relatively new to him so he doesn't doubt hamon can manifest itself in the elements

no matter how strong you are he still has strong instincts to be the one to protect to you

he doesn't want you to so much as lift a finger against anyone; he's got it don't worry your pretty little head

very gentlemanly and treats you like royalty simply because he thinks you deserve it, not because he underestimates you

he's amazed if he is ever able to see you in action

he also finds it very noble of you to use your powers to try and maintain balance in the world, even though he doesn't understand how a single person could do that

he likes to stand watch if you are ever to journey to the spirit world, making sure your body is safe and unbothered

Joseph Joestar

very confused on how you're able to control the elements in the first place

what kind of fancy hamon is this!?

he's seen weirder things on his adventures so he chooses not to dwell on it too much

probably asks you to use your bending for silly things, like party tricks or to play pranks on Caesar

this guy is always picking on you (lovingly) and never learns his lesson no matter how many times you use your bending to retaliate

you blew him across the room? he's getting right back up and trotting back towards you

you drench him with water? well now he's gonna grab you and get you wet too

if you can heal with your water bending he will always come to you for assistance, no matter how large or small his injury is

Jotaro Kujo

confused as to why he can't see your stand

even when you explain to him that it's bending and you have to master all the elements because its your destiny or whatever his brain is like "hm. glorified stand"

don't try to convince him of a difference, he won't get it

he's seen Avdol use Magicians Red a handful of times but he finds your fire bending to be even more impressive

asks you to use your bending for a light sometimes

your earth bending was SO useful during the fight against Wheel of Fortune

it was perfect for both offense and defense

he already acknowledges you as a strong individual but if you can BLOOD BEND?

very very impressed (maybe a little frightened but he wouldn't be caught dead admitting that)

he's a little embarrassed if you use your water bending to heal him, turning away to hide the little blush on his face from how close you are

Wamuu

you're one of the few humans he holds respect for (well...if you're human)

you are a strong fighter and take your efforts seriously

you guys are completely different; you keeping balance and him being an accomplice to world domination

but he still holds an odd kind of admiration for you

if he is to ever see you fight, especially in the avatar state, he'd think your strength could be on par or even more than him and the other pillar men

Risotto Nero

he doesn't question how you got your abilities

he could care less about your bending tbh, he's encountered many odd stand users and someone who can control the elements is probably one of the more normal abilities he's come across

though he doesn't outwardly express it, he really cares for you and is concerned about you if you are ever to fight anyone or get hurt

he would never forgive ANYONE who hurts you

and he also wouldn't forgive himself if he let you get hurt so he tries to keep you as far away from his italian mob craziness as much as possible

even if you are very strong and capable of handling things yourself he still tries his very best to protect you

[argisthebulwark]

I'll Burn Alive For You

summary: Before he gets a chance to confess his feelings, he's already lost you. gn reader, no pronouns or yn used feat: Vilkas, Miraak, Farkas, Brynjolf warnings: explicit depictions of injury, death, and grief. masterlist

"I wanted to love you." Vilkas gulps, teeth gritted against those damned tears. His hands are squashed to your abdomen and the cave reeks of your blood. Bleary eyes stare back at him - he doesn't even know if you can hear him. Grabbing fistfuls of your armor he drags you to his lap, lungs burning with the sobs he cannot let out. "Please." He's gasping, begging for you to stay. Your fingers are chilly when they flutter over his hand, smearing blood over his skin. Your lips move around words he can't hear and rage smothers all the sadness - god, he hates himself. He's always been so selfish and here he sits, wasting your last moments begging for you to love him back. "Don't go." Vilkas pleads, struggling to keep pressure to your wound - he knows you've lost too much blood but he can't give up. "The others will be here soon, just - don't go yet." Farkas or Aela will know what to do. They'll have more bandages - he's kicking himself for packing the bare minimum. It's selfish and unfair but he grits his teeth and wills you to stay alive for him. None of it matters, of course. He's seen your wounds and knows when there's no coming back. The rest of the world feels hollow when your last breath rattles under his palm. He should have told you sooner. To hell with the fear of being rebuffed. He should have confessed how deeply you'd embedded yourself into his heart, that training you had become the highlight of his week, that when you accused him of glaring he'd merely gotten lost in thought of kissing you - he should have told you before you were dying in his arms.

He should be happy. Hell, Miraak should be celebrating - he's done it. He's beaten the damned prophecy that's hung over his head for so many years, he actually killed the Last Dragonborn. He survived your crusade on Apocrypha and withstood your attacks - he won. His cruel smile slips when your grip on his arm lessens. You were strong but he was quicker, the dagger easily finding the vulnerable curve where the plates of your armor didn't quite meet. Even when he twisted the knife you'd clung to him, bloodied lips pleading with him to find some other way past this. As Miraak watches your empty eyes stare off into nothingness he feels the life drain from him. Each breath that rattles through your lungs takes you farther from him, sending you to the one place he can't follow. His boots would never sully Sovngarde's heavenly fields but you, oh the gods know you deserve the best the heavens can offer. It's wrong. You are slipping through his fingers and he's powerless to stop it; dropping the blade Miraak grasps for your shoulders, attempting to shake life back into you. This is wrong. He fucked it all up and he needs to stop it. "Dragonborn." He can't make his tongue form your name, the very thought of it feels like a sin. He's done nothing to earn that type of familiarity. "I've changed my mind. We can find another way -" He knows that it is futile. Even as Miraak faces the god that has ruined every facet of his life and offers to forge a new deal he knows that his actions mean nothing - yet he cannot stop himself from trying.

Farkas feels the flame of his heart gutter out. Your hand grows limp where he clutches it to his chest, though your grip on his tunic loosens. He feels so far from the rest of the world, as if he's floating somewhere far from his body - this cannot be real. "No," his whisper breaks the silence, "not yet." It wasn't supposed to be like this. His heart is supposed to be skipping nervously when he asked you out to dinner - it was all planned out. You were supposed to return from the mission, exhausted but successful. Farkas would sweep you off your feet with the promise of dinner and a hot bath. You were supposed to listen to him stumble over his words trying to explain how deeply he'd grown to love you and giggle when he made some awful joke. This wasn't supposed to happen. Aela wasn't supposed to haul you back to Jorrvaskr soaked in blood and mummified with bandages. He wasn't supposed to hear those apologies - this wasn't right. "Don't leave me yet." Farkas begs, voice breaking when he raises your cold fingers to his lips. "We haven't gotten to the good part."

Brynjolf knows loss - grief has been his constant companion over his many years, but he'd forgotten how terribly it burnt when fresh. He heard nothing past the ringing in his ears after those fucking words passed Mercer's lips. "Real sorry, kid." Mercer offered a pat on Brynjolf's shoulder but he's forgotten how to speak. His mind replays that last moment over and over; the little kiss you'd left on his cheek before skipping after the Guild Master, the promise that you'll speak more after returning, the confident grin that made his heart skip. You were so full of life that it had overflowed into him, reigniting a heart that had felt dead for decades. No. Mercer is wrong. He chokes down whatever miserable sound threaten to escape his throat, eyes cast wildly around the Cistern praying that you'll hop out of some shadow and laugh at him for believing such a silly thing. His heart is beating too fast. He can't get enough air in his lungs. The room is spinning and he's going to be sick, he's going to lose his footing. Everything is wrong. Brynjolf has no clue what he's thinking. His feet are moving of their own volition when he trudges through Riften, mind buzzing with that terrible need to prove Mercer wrong. He'll fight through that fucking ruin and find you there - you could be injured, you might need his help. He will not lose you.

[mysticovo]

Hiya! Could you do a Rise!Donnie reverse hurt/comfort fic?It could be about anything,I just feel like that silly goose needs a hug or something.✨🌕

I studied code because I wanted you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I was falling in and out of sleep. The sound of a keyboard filled the almost silent room. Soon the noise switched to tinkering, then back to typing every few moments. The relaxed breathing slowly became strained. A few angered mumbles drifted through the air.

I opened my eyes to a room bathed in purple. My face resting on something green and scaley. I originally came to the lair for a study date with my boyfriend, Don. Eventually it evolved to me on his lap cuddling him. I suppose I fell asleep in the process of it.

He was probably running updates on Shelldon or fixing whatever his brothers must’ve broken, again.I shifted my head to the side to gaze down at what he was working on. It was a…smart..toaster? I feel like it was used in another pranking war by the others.

He took of the case and was focusing on fixing the very, very damaged internal machinery. Specifically the heaters and power source. While also untangling the wires. It wasn’t working as he planned. He slammed down the screwdriver in his hand and slapped the other over his eyes.

“Dee?” I asked. He jumped once i said something, “ Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah of course I am”, he replied. His voice was wavering. The hand around his eyes tightened while the hand on his desk drifted to my back and hugged me closer to him. His entire body was shaking and his breathing became heavier. I sat up to fully look at him. It seemed as if he was on the verge of tears. “Oh Don”, I sighed out. That…might’ve been the final straw before he broke into tears. Donnie shoved his face into my top and threw an arm around my neck. I hugged him closer to my chest and laid my head on top of his. The sobs were a muffled mess and it was all I could hear. We sat there for a while. I don’t know for how long but it felt like hours…

A muffled noise came from Donatello. I looked down at him as he shifted his head to the side.

“What was that?” I asked him softly, I didn’t want to overstimulate him when he was already upset.

He sat back up and brought back that mask he usually had, the bad boy one of course.

“Never mind…I’m fine”, He mumbled back as he rubbed the last few tears out of his eyes.

“Donnie…you can’t just say you’re fine when you just broke down like that..” I at him again and brought a hand to his cheek/beak. He was avoiding my eyes. He was..hiding something. “You can tell me anything.”

“I just-“, He sighed and looked down at our laps,”-I’m the tech guy. I’m the smart one. It’s all I’m good for….if I can’t do this simple fix and be that, why would any of you need me..”. Tears had welled back up in his eyes, his voice was wavering again and it seemed like he was holding the cries back. He was…trembling.

“Don, none of us could ever think that-”, I paused, hugging him again and rubbing my thumb against his beak,”-Plus you’re more than that. Why even made you think that we wouldn’t need or want you?” I started to wipe away the tears in his eyes.

“You see everything my brothers do and are. Raphael is strong, everyone thinks Leo is funny and the face of the group and Mikey’s the creative one. I’m nothing like them..”, He mumbled it again, his gaze softened as he looked into mine.

“Donnie, I wouldn’t want you any other way. Preferably nothing like your brothers….no offense to them though.” I sort of laughed when I said it, I didn’t mean to though. I didn’t really expect him to laugh as well. More of a chuckle maybe? At least it was boosting his mood.

“You’re still funny at times, I love it when you make a science related joke that almost nobody gets. I sometimes get them though. You’re strong as well, it doesn’t matter if it’s with some tech or not. Remember that time you swung an entire giant drill with just a Bo stick? How is that not strong? What about all the battle shells, the turtle tank and all of the other tech you’ve made? You wouldn’t be able to without some creativity. I know you say you’re not like them but you are in your own special way. And I love that..I love you..”. I smiled at him, he had an expression on his face that was sort of hard to make out. I think it was a bit surprised, but somewhat happy? I gently and softly kissed him on his beak, right next to his mouth but not on it.

“I…love you as well…”. He mumbled it again. It was a hard thing for him to vocalize.

“please don’t ever think like that again. Now…do you wanna go back to cuddling? Maybe you can ramble as we do…”, I smiled at him and pressed my forehead against his.

“I’d..I’d like that..” He smiled back and hugged me, moving to grab his forgotten screwdriver.

“Want to hear some facts about uranium?”

~~~~~~~~~~~ The title is from Rat by Penelope Scott. I hope you liked this moon anonnie! Sorry it took so long! It’s been sitting in my school notebook for a while and has sort of become an inside joke from one line. Points to whoever guesses it. 💜🐢💜

(⌒▽⌒) Bai my mystic deers!!

[im-an-anthusiast]

Discuss your OCs. Now 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵

Ok so here is Thomas. Or well was. Here lies Thomas. Because while I wasn't looking he transed his gender. Or well. Gendher. This is the second OC this has happened to! Although, to be fair, Albion transed his gender retroactively - as in he was always male, he just swapped his AGAB. So, Tommy (?) here uh. Well. I haven't really written anything (good) about her. (I wrote two fluff romance pieces about her and Santi, her love interest, an OC whom I actually have written about!) I am in fact sitting on a half-finished familial trauma (my beloved) piece for Tommy. I keep getting stuck on a single word and closing the piece for another month.

So, what's up with Tommy? She's a very tall, for one. Has shaggy, dark grey hair, and is about 200 years old? 225 if I recall correctly? I might be getting that wrong. Her most prominent feature are her unnaturally bright - glowing, emerald green eyes. This is due to a part of one of my Magic Systems! She has a so-called Remnant Signature, which doesn't affect her Magic but affects her body. The special girl that she is, however, she also has another Signature. This one, however, is a regular Signature, and thusly affects her Magic. However, it borders on a Blank Signature with how large it's Stature is, meaning using Magic causes significant Maogic Recoil (better name pending). This is not at all helped with how she was forced into training Magic since young! This huge amount of Magic Recoil has given her the Magic-induced equivalent of very bad asthma (and other respiratory issues). Because I can't write a non-disabled character! I am also thinking about her having trouble seeing due to her own eyes projecting light... I think I love torturing my characters a bit too much. Oh also she's fucking BUILT.

Anyway, due to her respiratory issues, she has to use Magic Drugs. Which she deals, by the way. She controls a good ⅓ of the Magic Drug market. She, in particular, uses the inhaler form of a strong mix of Pollen Breaths, a kind of healing Drug(s) called Floral(s), which is/are made from the processed Flesh and Blood of Hexstarveds. In addition, it provides immediate respite from the effects of mind-affecting/altering Magic, which can be quite handy when striking deals with other Magi (plural of Magus, the colloquial name for a Mageblood Magic Channeller).

But that is neither here nor there. She also carries around a notebook simply for the sake of reading out Fun Facts™️ when none immediately come to mind. She also likes to take up regular professions, for the combined sake of enjoying studying, helping people, and needing a cover story for insane income and occupation. She's currently posing as a doctor, and let me tell you, she absolutely kills it in a labcoat! She also wears a lower-face gas mask (which is also her Tether (a tool for safer Magic channelling)) sometimes, though it is usually hanging off of her neck. This is because I cannot write a character without giving them an option/reason to cover up their face her second Signature, which I've already mentioned but not named, White Smoke, with the combination of the Discipline and Branch of Magic she uses - Creation Manifesting Magic - allows her to create smoke around herself. Which uh. Not only causes her respiratory issues, also worsens them. Obviously.

She is the daughter to two important Magic families, though I'd perhaps rather leave that to the piece which I want to sink my teeth deeper into that.

In addition, it is interesting to consider that Magebloods do not have extraordinary lifespans unless they have consumed raw Halfblood (A Mix of Mageblood and Hexstarved, often also referred to as an Unsated Mageblood) Flesh, or being hopelessly addicted and dependant on Iðuns, a special, extremely rare, insanely addictive and body destroying type of several Magic Drugs that slows the aging of or rejuvenates its victims consumers.

This has been yours truly, Felix Adustus, ranting about yet another OC. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did

[thebestofoneshots]

Weekly fic snippet!

Thanks for the tag sweetheart @starchaser-lily

Extract from Gilded Constellations Chapter 14

“All you want,” you replied with a smile “if he tries to kiss you, though, don’t blame me for it.” You both laughed, and a comfortable silence followed, then you remembered you still had books inside your bag and pulled them out, setting them on the bed beside him. He grabbed the one at the top, when you noticed which book it was, you pulled it from his hands. “You can’t read that one.”

“I can’t read… A Wizard's Handy Handbook of Spells?” He asked as he read the cover name from your hands.

“It’s not that,” you added holding it tightly between your arms. “It’s… not actually A Wizard's Handy Handbook of Spells, I charmed the cover.” He rose an eyebrow and tried to take it from your grasp, you pulled back but it was too late, he had it on his hands again. Remus had an awful lot of energy for someone who had been badly hurt just a couple of hours ago. “Remus, give me that!”

“I wanna know why you charmed the cover first,” he said while dangling the book in the air.

You looked at him with a frown and jumped forward to try and grasp the book from his hands, but he pulled it back, to the side of the bed. “Remus!”

“Am I gonna have to read it?”

You stood up, and extended your hands over him, to try and get the book that was on the other side of the bed, but your feet got trapped with your backpack strap and you ended up falling over Remus. He groaned as your body crashed over a particularly nasty bruise. Your scent filling his nostrils from the closeness, Sirius was right, you smelled awfully nice, a little like him too.

“Shit Rem, I’m sorry,” you said standing up as soon as possible “I didn’t mean to–“ the brusque movements had caused his shirt to rise up slightly and you actually saw the nasty bruise your body had crashed against, you looked at it with a concerned frown and then back at your friend “Remus…”

He adverted your gaze, he did not like being pitted “I’m fine.” He said once he turned back to you, using his free hand to pull down his shirt again “I’m strong, remember?”

“Yeah, someone falling over a bruise hurts, no matter how strong…”

He shrugged, he’d definitely had worse than you falling over him “you’re light, didn’t hurt much.” You looked at him, sighing “and you smell nice, no wonder Sirius wants to have you on his lap all the time.” Finally, you laughed, shaking your head as you stared at your friend. Remus realized you had a really nice laugh as you did, he shook hi head from the trance of staring, he wasn’t sure he’d ever found a girl as pretty as you. “Will you tell me what kind of book you were trying to hide from me, or will I have to figure it out myself?” He asked raising an eyebrow.

“It’s a spicy romance novel,” you said avoiding his gaze, he smiled diverted. The more you know, he thought. “It was recommended!” You added.

“Yeah, sure.”

“It was!” You insisted “by your little Ravenclaw girlfriend, actually”

“Nina Blythe?!” he asked in desbelif.

You nodded “Are you sure you don’t want to date her? She’s clearly into the good stuff.” He gave you a look and you laughed, Nina was beautiful, but she definitely still had a baby face, like Remus had said when you told him she had a crush on him.

“She’s not really my type.”

“Which is…?”

“None of your business, of course.” He replied sassily, and then changed the subject “How spicy?” He asked, curiosity taking the best of him.

You shrugged “I’ll tell you when I get to the spicy part,” you told him with a shrug, taking the book from his hands, he let you do it without any fuzz this time “but um…” you pointed at one of the other books on the bed “this one’s good, you’d like it.”

“Is it also spicy?” He teased.

“Remus!” You complained “not every single book I read is spicy!”

He shrugged “Wouldn’t shame you if you did.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a breathy laugh “It’s not spicy, but it is really good.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said taking the book and opening on the first page. Soon enough the two of you were comfortably reading. You were so engrossed in your book you’d totally forgotten the initial reason you’d gone there. But as you continued flipping pages, it was like the string you had been trying to reach earlier was finally there, shining brightly for you to take it, and tie all the mysterious facts into one sole explanation. As your eyes moved through the words in the book, the description of the male lead started to resonate with you…

Remus was strong. Remus had a lot of scars and bruises all over his body, and they were definitely not caused by Grindyllows, he always carried around a calming draught, and had other rather strong pain killer potions on his room as well, he tended to stay away from you when you wore your silver ring, literally jumping from your grasp when you touched him with it on one time, and was also visibly mad at Sirius when he brushed over his fingers with it on, as if they both knew something you didn’t –electric shock, my ass.

…

Series Masterlist

I don't know if I should tag you guys on this one, since it's just a snippet but I'll do it, hope you enjoy this tinny lil teaser of what's to come...

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader @orkwardx0  @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow @sbrewer21

[withlovewriting]

All I Ever Knew, Only You 5: Bad Men

Chapter Five.

I saw the part of you that only when you're older, You will see too, you will see too, I held the better cards, But every stroke of luck has gotta bleed through, It's gotta bleed through, You held the balance of the time, That only blindly I could read you, but I could read you, It's like you told me, 'Go forward slowly, it's not a race to the end,' Well you look like yourself, but you're somebody else, Only it ain't on the surface, Well, you talk like yourself, no, I hear someone else though, Now you're making me nervous

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 6,832

Chapter Warnings: Conversations alluding to physical abuse, explicit language, Jonathan beating Steve's ass, slut shaming, canon-type violence (which may or may not end in un-aliving someone), Carol and Tommy at this point are their own warnings, mentions of the death of a child/children.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

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Chapter Five: Bad Men

Despite Nancy’s persistence, you declined the offer to stay at hers that night. Sure, none of you felt particularly safe, but you needed the comfort of your own bed that evening. Plus, you weren’t exactly willing to let Nancy or Jonathan see you cry.

All the lights were off when you arrived home, your mother’s car gone from the driveway, most likely in the town over where she could drink in peace after work. At least it meant she was far away from whatever was lurking in the shadows of the woods.

You’d crawled into bed after checking and rechecking the lock on the door, only slightly more worried about the creature than you were about your mother’s wrath of being locked out. Despite the presumption that sleep would manage to evade you, you’d fallen into a restless sleep eventually.

The only thing that seemed to rouse you from your fitful sleep was the incessant ringing of the phone, but thankfully a pillow over your head was enough to drown it out.

When the pounding on the door started, however, your body jerked upright, moving on its own accord. Your heart pounded rapidly against your chest as you crept towards the door and it was only when you heard Nancy’s voice calling out to you that your stomach returned to its rightful place in your body. Your annoyance, however, grew tenfold.

“Why are you banging on my door so loudly, and so early?” You asked, swinging the door open and almost knocking yourself out, “Do you know how lucky you are my Mom isn’t home?”

“We need to talk. It’s about last night.”

Nancy and Jonathan perched on your sofa, thighs lightly grazing and the former’s eyes taking in the mess in front of her. Broken coffee table, pieces of what she presumed was either a glass or — from the smell of the house — an ashtray littering the worn carpet.

“Should we say something?”

Turning, Jonathan’s own concerned expression met hers, but the boy shook his head, “No. It’s best if we just drop it.”

Nancy wanted to protest, but the sound of your bedroom door creaking open was enough of a distraction. Still, the girl couldn’t pull her ocean-blue eyes from the cut on your cheekbone as you rejoined them.

“Please tell me you’re not going back in there,” you sighed, sitting on the small armchair as you watched the two closely.

“No. Not exactly, anyway.”

Releasing a deep sigh, you grabbed the packet of cigarettes from the side table, lit one up, and settled back into the seat, continuing only once the thick smoke had burned your lungs, “I don’t like the sound of that. What do you plan on doing? Wait for it to climb back through your wall?”

Nancy shuffled slightly, her cheeks tinted a dusty rose as her thigh nudged Jonathan’s, “The night Barb went missing… She had a cut on her hand. She tried to shotgun a beer and slipped.”

Your brows pulled together as you watched the girl silently. If she had a point, she needed to get to it.

“You never told me that.”

“It didn’t seem important at the time,” Nancy’s eyes dipped to her knees when she saw the annoyance cross your face but forced herself to continue, “but after last night… That thing didn’t have a face but it still chased us. It still knew where we were. It hunted us.”

Rubbing your hand over your face you winced slightly as your fingertips grazed over the small gash on your cheekbone, “Yeah, I was there, Nance. I don’t need a reminder.”

“No, I mean… It couldn’t see us. I know it heard us but… It was tracking us. Tracking you.”

Releasing a sigh, you stubbed out the cigarette straight onto the end table and sat forward resting your face in your hands, “Nancy, please. Just spit it out.”

“You have a cut on your face, your hands… There was a reason it went after you and not me, and I don’t just mean your name-calling.”

Jonathan’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked between you both, unaware of what fully happened on your trip to the Upside Down.

“You think it what... smells blood? Hunts like a shark?”

Remaining quiet, Nancy simply nodded causing the slightly condescending smile that had tugged at your mouth to drop, “Shit. I mean, I guess that makes sense.”

“We’re going to kill it.”

Nancy’s voice — however soft — was full of determination, and that might’ve been the only reason you didn’t laugh at her absolutely ludicrous idea. When neither of the two continued to speak, merely glancing at you like two puppy dogs, you let out a long sigh,

“You don’t even know if you can kill it, let alone how.”

“It has to have a weakness-”

“This isn’t some kind of fairy tale villain, Byers. You don’t have a clue what this thing even is.”

“We were hoping that maybe you’d help-”

Pushing yourself from the small chair, you couldn’t hold in the frenetic laugh that bubbled up from your chest as you shook your head, looking anywhere but the two delusional teens who were perched ramrod straight on your couch,

“You’re both out of your minds. I’m not tagging along on this suicide mission-”

Jonathan’s voice trembled, but his dark eyes remained steady on you, “We know the stakes. We know that this thing, whatever it is… It’s dangerous. Deadly. But this is about my brother. This is about Will. And I’m doing this for him, even if it kills me.”

Your pacing had halted the moment the boy spoke with such conviction, feet suddenly cemented to the ground as he stood and made his way toward the door, Nancy dubiously following him.

“I get that you’re scared. And I totally understand if you don’t wanna do this. But we thought that you should know.”

Sending you a sad smile — one that told you no matter your decision, Jonathan wouldn’t hold it against you — the boy pulled open the door, beginning to make his way outside, only for your words to halt him,

“How the hell are we gonna kill this thing?”

Two sets of eyes turned back toward you, brightened with the hope that they wouldn’t have to do this alone. Nancy took a few steps toward you, ignoring the cracking of already broken glass under her boot, a small gracious smile pulling at the edges of her lips,

“We have a few ideas.”

“This feels beyond illegal,” you huffed, following Jonathan around the Hawkins Hunting and Camping store, and the fact that you were now here to fight some kind of faceless monster that had already planned on making you its next meal almost made you laugh outwardly.

Jonathan — not quite able to muster the same amount of tact you had — snorted quietly, causing you to peel your eyes away from the wall of rifles and send him a sharp glare instead, “Since when were you concerned with breaking the law?”

Grabbing a gas canister from the shelf in front of you, you didn’t bother to lessen your stare, “Since my Mom got called to the school by the cops, maybe?”

Jonathan took the canister from your hands, sad eyes boring into the small cuts on your palm. Suddenly much too aware of the unspoken question that was on the tip of his tongue, you squirmed on the spot, shuffling your weight between each foot as you crossed your arms over your chest.

Palms now blocked from his view, he bypassed the mark on your face completely and instead sent you an eye-roll, hoping to defuse the uneasy tension that had quickly built between you, “Please, as if Hopper would let anything happen to you.”

Hearing just the man’s name forced your brow to pull into a frown. Grabbing the gas back from the boy’s grip, you turned on the spot and marched toward Nancy, who was silently browsing the different types of animal traps.

Piling all of your wares into the trunk of Jonathan’s car, a red car cruised by honking, and a — somehow, even more annoying — familiar face peered out of his wound-down window. Reed Jackson.

You barely caught the derogatory comment he howled towards your small group, and it took you a moment to realize that it wasn’t actually aimed at you.

Breaking into a power walk, you stalked after Nancy as she made her way down the street, halting so quickly in front of The Hawk that you almost barreled right into her. Peering up towards where Nancy was staring — her crestfallen expression tugging at your heartstrings — you cursed under your breath as you took in the painted red words,

ALL THE RIGHT MOVES STARRING NANCY THE SLUT WHEELER

You were confused at first. Nancy was well-liked among your peers at school — even if she was a little prissy — and you wracked your brain to try and work out who would’ve written something like that about her. If anything, you were sure Nancy’s reputation leaned a little closer to prude than anything else, and if you weren’t — unfortunately — privy to the fact she’d had a tryst with Harrington, you might’ve assumed the same.

And then you heard them.

Nancy was already moving, and you and Jonathan chanced a glance at each other before following her, hot on her heels as she turned down the alleyway and came face-to-face with the man himself.

Tommy ceased his new artwork — naming Jonathan as his next victim — as you all watched with bated breath as Nancy and Steve stood in a silent showdown.

It was a slap that could be heard around the world. Harrington’s head shot to the side by the sheer force of impact alone as his friends all let out a shocked gasp. If you were being honest, you didn’t know Nancy had it in her.

“What is wrong with you?” She asked, and you couldn’t help but feel impressed that she hadn’t allowed her voice to crack. It was obvious she was hurt, but you couldn’t work out why Steve was so upset with her.

Steve’s darkened eyes peered down at the girl, the only part of his face that didn’t remain stoic, “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you. I was worried about you.”

Nancy’s mouth opened, but Steve didn’t let her question him, “I can’t believe that I was actually worried about you.”

You couldn’t help but watch the two, your eyes darting between them as you watched their verbal tennis match and it wasn’t until Tommy interrupted his girlfriend's attempt to involve herself in the couple’s business that you realized his attention had been turned to Jonathan instead, and it all seemed to click in place for Nancy.

All but rolling her eyes, she watched as Jonathan timidly approached, his dark eyes darting between Nancy and Steve.

“You came by last night.”

“Ding! Ding! Ding! Does she get a prize?”

“Shut up, Carol.”

You ignored her pointed side-eye as Tommy wrapped his arm around her shoulders, cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that.”

“What, you just let him into your room to… study?”

The realization that Jonathan had stayed over at Nancy’s last night caused you to bite down on your bottom lip. If Steve had come over and seen them, then sure… It probably looked bad. But he should’ve trusted Nancy. If anyone had a reputation, it was him.

The guilt hit you just as quickly, knowing that if you had taken up Nancy’s offer and stayed, maybe Steve would’ve been a little more understanding, and she wouldn’t be slut shamed on the front of The Hawk’s marquee.

“We were just…”

“You were just what? Finish the sentence,” When Nancy didn’t respond, Steve stepped in closer, peering down at the girl with nothing less than disgust, “Finish the sentence.”

Your eyes darted toward Jonathan, the boy’s own were wide and unsure. They hadn’t been doing anything, you knew that. But you couldn’t explain the reasoning to Steve.

Scoffing, Steve began his retreat, “Go to hell, Nancy.”

“Come on, Nancy, let’s just leave,” Jonathan tried to pull at her arm, but Steve stopped, turning quickly for one last stab.

“You know what, Byers? I’m actually kind of impressed. I always took you for a queer but I guess you’re just a little screw-up like you’re father.”

Steve continued to push the boy as you all tried to walk away, but his anger was bubbling under the surface, his words purposeful and full of indignation, wanting nothing more than to hurt Jonathan the same way he was hurting.

Jonathan froze at the mention of his father, and you knew why. Lonnie Byers was an absolute piece of shit who walked in and out of the Byers’ boy’s lives constantly throughout their childhood before wandering back in as if nothing had happened. He was cruel and selfish, and Jonathan had felt it was his duty towards his mother and brother to protect them from the violent man's wrath.

Jonathan was nothing like Lonnie.

But Steve saw a chink in Jonathan’s normally stoic armor and continued to pick.

“Ignore him, Jonathan. He’s not-”

“Yeah, that house is full of screw-ups. You know, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised. A bunch of screw-ups in your family. I mean, you’re Mom-”

“Harrington, just stop.”

“I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother. I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you, but the Byers? Their family is a disgrace to the entire-”

Steve didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as Jonathan’s fist flew through the air, connecting with the former’s jaw, knocking him sideways.

The silence was piercing and seemed ever-lasting as everyone froze, waiting to see what would happen next. Steve — who wasn’t really one to physically bully anyone at school — versus Jonathan, who’d only ever been on the receiving end of a fist.

Steve rushed the boy, tackling him to the hood of a parked car before using his body weight to throw him to the floor.

Nancy stood trying to get the boys to break it up, whilst you stood wide-eyed doing your best impression of a fish. Despite the fists that were thrown, you couldn’t help but picture two hairy cats scrapping in a yard.

But Steve had pushed Jonathan. After everything that had happened, Steve’s comment was the straw that broke the camel’s back and as far as you were concerned, the boy deserved every hit that Byers got in.

Tommy shoved his way between the two, but Steve beckoned him off as the two began to brawl again. At least Harrington had one redeeming trait and kept the fight fair.

The next thing you knew, Steve was dragged up by his friends before running off in one direction, and Jonathan was being restrained by Powell after Jonathan had elbowed Callahan accidentally after one incredibly painful right hook to Steve’s cheek.

You stood with Nancy in shock watching the boy as the adrenaline finally wore off, his body becoming lax against the hood of the same sky blue Ford he was not too long ago thrown onto, his breath coming out in pants as Powell handcuffed him and led him into his own vehicle.

“I’m just saying, Florence, that I don’t know why I have to be here. I wasn’t even the one fighting.”

The older lady peered at you from under her glasses before she made her way to the small freezer, you quick on her heels, “And I’m just saying, young lady, that you have to be here to give a statement. And whilst I’m glad you’ve — for once — kept your hands to yourself, I won’t if you continue to follow me around this office like a pesky little gnat. Now take a seat. The Chief will be back any time now.”

Sending a sarcastic smile her way as you mock saluted, you made your way back to where Jonathan was handcuffed to Powell’s desk. You’d known Flo for a long time, and her comment was more so a promise, than a threat. You’d been on the receiving end of her swatting hands more than enough times to know she didn’t fuck around with empty threats.

Nancy stood, making her way toward Flo to request some ice for the boy, whilst you watched her from a safe distance. Even Nancy Wheeler wasn’t safe from the older woman's annoyed whacks.

“I’m not one to condone fighting-”

Jonathan huffed out a small puff of laughter through his nose, dark eyes staring up at you as you perched on the desk. Raising your brows, you crossed your arms over your chest and hoped to keep the mischievous grin your from lips long enough,

“As I was saying… Whilst I do not condone violence of any kind… You totally kicked Harrington’s ass back there.”

A languid smile graced his features, but couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“I mean, really. You totally had him. If the cops hadn’t broken it up, he’d probably be lying unconscious in that alley still. What the hell got into you?”

Jonathan’s brow furrowed slightly, his eyes full of confusion as your expression turned serious, “I thought you didn’t care about Harrington-”

“I don’t,” you reiterated, placing a hand over his own, “I care about you, Jonathan. And this isn’t like you. I’ve never seen you hit back in a fight, let alone throw the first punch-”

“I’m not proud of it,” he told you somberly, his eyes peering down at the metal around his wrists, “But what he was saying, about my Mom, and Will… about Lonnie. I just… I couldn’t stand it.”

“And nobody blames you for that. I’m sure Hopper will understand, and it isn’t like Callahan’s going to press charges. That’s way too much paperwork. This is just… just mandatory.”

Sighing, Jonathan’s shoulders hunched even further as his hands moved, testing the strength of the cuffs, “How can you be so sure? God, this is the last thing my Mom needs right now-”

“Last year, I was at a party at Mike Lewinski’s house, and one of his neighbors called the cops to break it up. Callahan got hold of me when I was running, and when I tried shoving him off, I accidentally headbutted him. Broke his nose and even heard the bone crack. And yet, here I am to tell the tale. I mean, sure... I had to scrub the floors here every day after school for a week, but no juvie.”

“I found some ice.”

Removing your hand quickly from Jonathan’s you turned to send Nancy a small smile, “And now she’s back, I’m gonna head out.”

“Didn’t Mrs Larkin tell you to stay here until Hopper arrives?” Nancy questioned, her blue eyes darting between you and Jonathan as if she was trying to unravel something that she couldn’t quite make out.

Sending her a sardonic smirk, you pushed yourself from the edge of the desk, eyes settling on the secretary who was now tapping away on her computer, the repetitive clack, clack, clacking already grating on you,

“Me and Flo are on a first-name basis. Plus, Hopper is kinda the reason I want to leave.” Placing a hand onto the girl's arm, this time you smiled at her warmly, “He’ll be fine. And if you’re still up for our monster-hunting session later, let me know and I’ll be there. Until then, I’m gonna go find my bike.”

Waiting until Flo turned in her chair to rifle through some files, you began your descent to the door, almost breaking out into a jog. You heard the woman’s annoyed call of your name and could bet a hundred dollars that she hadn’t even turned around.

Barely squeezing through the small gap of the door — sneaking as if the woman hadn’t already spotted you — you left her with your parting words, “If he needs a statement so bad, then Hopper knows where I live.”

You really didn’t want to head back to the woods alone, you thought to yourself before letting out a long, annoyed sigh.

Hands burrowed deep in your jacket pockets — a futile attempt to keep them warm — you continued your long walk. After grabbing your bike, you’d head back, tidy up the mess from the previous evening, and hope that Hopper didn’t make a home visit. Then, you’d wait for Nancy’s call before heading out to what felt like your inevitable death.

Plucking a cigarette out of your crumpled pack, you shook your lighter a few times, cursing under your breath when the damn thing wouldn’t light.

Grumbling, you made a slight detour and headed to Fair Mart, only to stop abruptly when an irksomely familiar head of hair caught your eye.

Perched on the hood of his BMW sat a bruised and bloody Steve Harrington.

“It suits you, you know?” You told him as you approached, his head jerking up in your direction.

“What does?”

“Getting your ass handed to you. Maybe someone should do it more often.”

He tried to roll his eyes, but you caught the slight flinch, brows pinching together in pain, “Look, I’m really not in the mood-”

“Where do you get off on treating people like shit? The stuff you said about Byers? Not ok. And the shit about Nancy? What is wrong with you, Harrington?”

“What’s wrong with me? Jonathan and Nancy were-”

“You have no idea, do you? Jonathan has just lost his brother. He’s still grieving. And Nancy? With your reputation, I wouldn’t exactly be throwing stones in a glass house.”

“Come to fight your boyfriend's battles for him?” Carol asked before popping her gum, glaring at you as she made her way back towards Steve, her boyfriend’s arm in its usual place over her shoulder.

Leering at you, a haughty smirk pulled at the edges of Tommy’s lips, “Yeah I mean, how does that work now? Are you and the Princess gonna have allocated days, or just, you know… Share? Together.”

“Ew, Tommy, shut up. There’s not enough bleach in the world to get that image out of my head.” Carol glared, elbowing her boyfriend in the ribs and causing his arm to drop from her.

“Do you two ever shut the fuck up? Seriously, you’re insufferable.”

Popping her gum a little too loudly, Carol’s icy blue eyes set on you in a cold stare, “You wanna go for another little trip, freak? Or did your Mommy already beat me to it?”

“You don’t know shit about shit, Carol.”

“Really? Are you sure about that?” Carol let out an insolent cackle, stepping closer to you, “Because we all know how much your Mommy likes to pour liquor down her throat after your dad left. I mean, I’d probably go crazy too, if one of my kids died because the other one was a useless, pathetic-”

“-That’s enough, Carol.”

Huffing out a surprised laugh from her nose, Carol turned toward Steve, who had pushed himself from the hood of his car, his body slightly shielding you from her.

“Are you kidding me, Steve? Please, it’s no wonder her only friend is Byers. They both have something in common. Fratricide, right?”

“Don’t forget that loser, Bridgette or Brenda, or whatever-”

“Oh god, her. Yeah, gotta admit though, I’d rather be dead than stuck with you, too-”

“Her name was Barbara, you stupid son of a bitch-”

Leaping toward the girl and fully prepared to have a fight of your own, you were quickly blocked by Steve’s chest as he swiveled, the boy using his body to hold you back as Carol cackled out loud, despite the quick back step she took, hiding slightly behind her boyfriend who didn’t bother to move.

“Get off of me, Harrington-”

“You’re gonna end up doing something you regret, trust me-”

“Oh my god, you really are a psycho. Runs in the family, I guess.”

Carol’s words only egged you on further, the annoyance you felt toward Steve suddenly hidden under a blanket of rage toward Carol, and a need to smash her stupid face into the sidewalk.

“Carol, shut up-”

“Everything okay out here?”

Turning your head, you saw Earl from the gas station exit the store, squinting in your direction before looking around at the group. Finally managing to shake Steve’s grip from your biceps, you took a step away from the group, eyes flitting toward the older man,

“Everything’s fine, Earl.”

“You sure? I can call Hopper if-”

“-No. It’s fine. I was leaving anyway.”

Earl remained still for a moment longer, uncertain as to whether or not he should leave, but when you sent him a stiff nod, he slowly made his way back toward his car, lingering for just a moment before getting in.

“Remind me again, is the chief your mom’s boyfriend, or yours?”

The catty remark went over your head — just — as you turned your attention back to Steve, the boy at least having the decency to look abashed, “You know… For weeks I had to listen to Nancy go on and on, defending you to Barb, telling her that she didn’t really know you and that you were actually a decent person, and for just a minute there, I thought maybe you were.”

Steve’s brows pulled together, disgrace and pain etched across his features as clear as day as he waited for you to continue, his brown puppy dog eyes staring into your soul, “But maybe Barb was right. We might be freaks and losers… But you guys are assholes. You’re an asshole, Harrington.”

Ignoring the need for a new lighter and instead stomping off towards the woods in an attempt to locate your bike, you could hear Carol’s high-pitched voice, mocking your words as you left.

“You say blood draws this thing?” Hopper asked, eyes locked on the beast in the photo Joyce had handed to him.

“We don’t know…”

“It’s just a theory.”

Hopper raised a brow toward the teens, waiting for one of them to clarify. Unsettled under his stoic observation, Nancy broke first, explaining about Barb’s cut on her hand, about how the monster seemed to hunt you down as if it could smell the clotted blood on your cheek.

“Wait a damn second… You’re telling me she’s gone back to the place where this… thing tried to attack her?”

“She’s looking for her bike,” Jonathan shrugged, face pinched as he realized the danger you’d put yourself in, “but we’ve only seen this thing at night.”

His reassurance fell on deaf ears when Nancy piped up, explaining how she was certain she’d seen it stalking around the woods at the back of the Harrington house. A curse fell from Hopper’s mouth as he rubbed a hand over his beard,

“The other day she… She was running from something. She told me… shit. She told me about it and didn’t think I believed her. But she saw it. You all saw it?”

Nancy and Jonathan looked toward each other before nodding.

“Right. Ok. Shit. I’ll be back.”

—

“How long ago did she leave, Flo?”

“What am I? Her personal timekeeper?” Flo sighed, continuing to type on her computer until Hopper slammed a hand on his desk, making the other officers around the station jump, but Flo was immune to Hopper and his sudden outbursts, “About an hour and a half ago.”

“And you just let her go?”

He knew that directing his irritation toward his secretary wasn’t right, but Flo was more than aware that it wasn’t just irritation coursing through Hopper’s body. Right now, he was worried.

“I have about as much luck keeping her in this station as I do getting you to complete your paperwork.”

And as always, Flo had a point.

Spinning on the spot, you were certain this was where you’d left your bike the night prior. You could still see the track marks where you’d almost barreled into Nancy. Your heart was pounding as you stood with your hands on your hips, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip.

Taking one last look around and preparing to return home empty-handed, you spotted what looked like drag marks. Inhaling deeply, you forced your feet forward and ignored the lump that began to creep its way up your throat, threatening to suffocate you.

Pushing back the bush, your eyes widened as your hand found its way to your mouth to stop the loud scream that was bound to erupt from you. You’d found your bike, but it wasn’t exactly… ridable.

The metal frame was bent out of shape along the down tube and completely torn apart at the top tube. One wheel was flat and torn as if something had bitten into it and decided that rubber tiers were of a selective palate, and you were missing an entire pedal, crank arm included.

Blood stained the side of it, and you could only presume that the monster had been stalking about after eating the deer it had allegedly dragged into… wherever you found it.

Nose scrunched up in disgust, you pulled the bike through the bush as quietly as you could, an annoyed huff falling from your lips as you fully took in the irreparable damage, “Well shit…”

—

Your legs ached as you trekked through the woods — following the train tracks that would lead you back to civilization — but you didn’t stop until you reached the junkyard, the fear of the woods still at the forefront of your mind no matter how much you tried to compartmentalize it.

“When do you feel good about anything?!”

Your brain forced your body to halt mid-step and kick a metal pipe that was on the floor, profanities falling from your mouth as you hobbled about on one foot, your hands grabbing the metal pole, ready to launch it across the yard. The voice was muffled, but loud enough to be close. Looking around, you could hear a commotion, hushed voices bickering somewhere in the distance, and it wasn’t until you turned toward the old, broken-down school bus that you saw four pairs of eyes staring at you, heads quickly darting down when they realized you’d noticed them.

“You know, a junkyard really isn’t the kind of place you wanna be hanging out. There’s rats and all kinda shit here. Literally.”

You could hear mumbled conversations before a lone head popped up, eyes widening when the person was quickly yanked back down.

Raising a single brow, you began to walk toward the bus once you realized you recognized the owner of the big, brown eyes and most likely the owners of the bikes that were not-so-well hidden under the vehicle, “Lucas? Is that you?”

More mumbling, before a singular voice caught you off guard, “I can deal with her.”

Unable to control the small huff of laughter at being threatened by a preteen, you knocked on the bus door, watching as the same four pairs of eyes peered around the bus seats,

“Sinclair? What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Are you sure we can trust her? What if she’s with them?”

Lucas shoved off the vice-like grip from his jacket before sending his curly-haired friend a deadpan look, “She’s my babysitter. I really don’t think the bad men would’ve bothered with her.”

More grumbles and hushed whispers continued as the boy made his way toward the barely closed door, pulling it open fully and letting you in.

Once inside, he quickly shut the door as best he could behind you, eyes widened when he saw the broken metal pole still in your grip.

“Why are you holding that?” Nancy’s little brother questioned, eyes brimming with suspicion as he stood in front of a small girl.

Looking down toward the object that in all honesty you’d forgotten that you were even holding, you placed it on a front seat before making your way toward the group slowly, the little girl's eyes never leaving you, “Why are you guys hiding in a broken down bus?”

“Have you seen them?”

“Seen who?” you asked, turning to watch the curly-haired boy, Dustin, peering out of the window.

“A bunch of bad guys in repair trucks. They’re after us-”

Unable to hold in your snort, you settled onto a seat in front of Lucas, “Why? Did you steal their hammer wrenches or something?”

“This is serious, alright? They’re really, really dangerous and if they find us, they’ll kill us all. You included!”

Finally taking him seriously, you turned back toward Dustin as he settled in his seat and let out an exasperated sigh, “Wait… You guys are being for real? Why would a bunch of repairmen-”

“They’re not repairmen! They’re from Hawkins lab, and they’re after us because we have her!”

Your eyes turned toward the small girl, her brows furrowed slightly as her dark eyes watched you with a type of fear you’d never seen before. They were being serious.

Sitting up straighter, you shook your head, “I haven’t seen any guys in any trucks, but I came through the woods. Have you told Hopper? He could-”

“Lando Calrissian!” Dustin bellowed, a finger pointing at Lucas.

“The dude from ‘Star Wars’?” You questioned, forehead creasing in confusion at the boy's sudden outburst.

Dustin’s eyes somehow widened as his mouth fell open, “We finally meet a chick who’s into science and ‘Star Wars’, and we’re gonna die! How is this fair? How is this just?”

“Ok, first of all, Curly, don’t call me a chick. You’re like, what? Ten?”

“-I’m twelve-”

“-I don’t care. And second of all, Hopper isn’t going to betray you. If you’ve contacted him and he knows about these… bad men, he’ll keep you safe.”

The sound of approaching cars caused all of you to turn and look out of the window, Lucas’s hand grabbing your jacket to tug you down with the rest of them when they’d realized it wasn’t, in fact, Hopper.

“What was that you were saying about him keeping us safe?” Dustin asked, hiding behind a half-broken seat.

“Are you sure these guys are the bad men?”

The little girl nodded, her coffee-colored eyes felt like they were penetrating your soul as she spoke softly, voice barely above a whisper, “Bad men.”

You nodded before inhaling slowly, moving into a crouch as you crept toward the front of the bus, hands wrapping around the discarded pipe,

“What the hell are you doing?” Mike whispered, eyes wide as he watched you.

The little girl’s clear trepidation caused a field of goosebumps to burst through your skin, and despite barely knowing these kids, with the exception of Lucas, you believed them.

“Your bikes are under the bus, they’ll know you’re here. Just… Hold out until Hopper gets here. You can trust him, I promise.”

You held up your finger in a silent attempt to hush them as you crept a little more forward, taking up a crouched position at the front of the bus, peering out of the window before quickly ducking back down.

They had found the bikes.

As the broken door creaked open, you tightened your sweaty grip around the pipe, chest heaving as you watched the man appear in front of you. His eyes narrowed slightly, definitely not expecting to see you there right before the loud thunk of metal echoed around the small bus, the man dropping to the floor as blood began to pour from his temple, staining the dirt. The same blood that had splattered down the sleeve of your jacket.

Sharp gasps fell from the boys' mouths, whispered curses only stopping when a commotion could be heard from outside as you pulled the door together before raising the pipe behind you once more.

The door creaked open, and you swung. Your breath caught in your throat as a large hand gripped the now bloodied pipe, blue eyes wide as the man flinched away from you,

“What the hell, kid?”

The car ride was silent as everyone's eyes flittered around, unsure glances between friends as they sat ramrod straight, crushed together in the back of Hopper’s cruiser.

Your eyes, however, remained unfocused on the road ahead as darkness quickly swept across the town, your body finally rid of adrenaline, the events of the junkyard playing dangerously over and over in your mind, causing your hands to shake.

“What the hell were you doing out there, kid?”

Blinking a few times, you tried your hardest to stop any tears from falling, “I was looking for my bike.”

“Yeah, I found it,” he huffed in annoyance, rubbing a hand over his face to scratch his beard, “I saw it all mangled and thought… I thought that thing had got you.”

You felt like you were trying to swallow down a lump of barbed wire, leaving your throat sore, and tight and scratchy, “It was deer blood. Last night… Nancy said she saw a dying dear.”

Releasing a deep sigh, Hopper tipped the brim of his hat back a little, eyes darting to his mirror where he watched the group of kids sit silently in the backseat before he turned off toward the Byers house.

“What’s wrong, kid? Normally by now you’d of cursed me out at least three times and threatened to roll out of the car.” Hopper tried to joke, but his tone still felt too heavy. He still felt too guilty.

You were silent for a moment, watching the headlights illuminate the driveway,

“Did I kill him?”

Now it was Hopper’s turn to remain silent as he processed your question, unsure of how to mollify you, or if he even could. The silence continued as the house came into view, and you barely took note of the door opening, Joyce, Jonathan, and Nancy all dashing out onto the porch.

Killing the engine, Hopper placed an arm over the back of your seat, turning toward the kids, “Go see Joyce. We’ll be out in a minute.”

You felt the group's eyes on you as they were all ushered out, and whether their expressions were filled with pity or fear, you really couldn’t tell at that moment. You watched as Nancy embraced her brother awkwardly, the rest of the group hanging around for yourself and Hopper to vacate the vehicle.

Unbuckling his seat belt, Hopper finally turned to you, and the look in his eyes alone told you all you needed to know.

“He was going to kill all of you. He was gonna kill a bunch of innocent kids. So if you ask me, you did the world a favor-”

Turning toward the man, he finally saw your eyes, red and brimming with tears that were threatening to fall, “did I kill him, Hopper? Yes or no.”

“Kid-”

“Hopper…”

“He was a bad guy, alright? He-”

“Please, Hopper. Please.”

The crack in your voice halted any more of his attempts to comfort you. If he didn’t say it, maybe you wouldn’t believe it. Maybe you’d never know, and then maybe you’d be okay. But staring into your crest-fallen eyes as you practically begged him for the truth, hands shaking in your lap as your fingers tugged at the sleeves of your jacket, he knew he couldn’t lie to you. You already knew the answer.

Gripping the steering wheel so tight that the skin stretching over his knuckles paled and the rubber underneath them creaked, threatening to break, he finally answered,

“Yes.”

You were unable to hold in the sob as it forced its way past your lips, chin wobbling as the dam finally broke and tears began to almost pour down your cheeks.

“But listen, kid, and I know that’s not your forte, but listen, alright?” Hopper unbuckled your belt and turned you, his large hands settling at the top of your shoulders and squeezing reassuringly, an attempt to ground you, to pull you back and realize that you weren’t alone. He was here,

“That guy was a dead man walking. Because if you hadn’t done what you did, he’d have killed those kids out there, and yourself. And then I would’ve killed him.”

Your eyes darted towards the group of children that Joyce had begun to usher into the house, a protective arm around them as only a mother would. You caught the little girl’s eyes once more, wide and worried but fixed on you.

Your attention was pulled back toward Hopper as he continued, “You killed a bad guy. And only the good guys, kill bad guys, alright? By doing what you did… You saved five lives. And that is what is important. That is what you need to focus on because right now… I need your help to save one more.”

[gabessquishytum]

Hiiii warprize anon here! Glad to see people are still warprizing hob, I think it’s good for him. Truly, anons, you are doing glorious work with that AU.

I wanted to write dark obsessive dream next in all his dubcon glory next but no one cooperated? Have some less porny character introspection instead ig…

It’s amazing how little it takes for a grown man to become used to being a pet. As weeks stretch into months, Hob revels, just a little. In the lustful linger of eyes on his body. In the quirk of that cruel mouth when Hob pleases the king. The eager stirring of his cock even before he eats aphrodisiacs. Even his punishments—even the hot lash of the whip—begins to feel like sacrilegious worship. Gasping for breath, holding his thighs spread as the king buries himself in his body certainly is. In the blackest and most honest hours of the night, Hob knows the truth. He is starting to like it.

That’s the danger of the king’s service.

Hour by orgasmic hour, the king is twisting himself into Hob’s mind and body like a key carving out its own lock. He demands Hob’s submission, his pleasure and his desire for his own. But how many people had the king had in such a way? How many prizes have knelt, and learned to live at his pleasure? And where are they now? Abandoned surely, replaced. Hob is the chalice the king sips from now but he is one of dozens, maybe even hundreds. The king might have taken a prize from every battle won.

Hob is…not special.

He kneels on his cushion, waiting for the king who has stepped from the throne room, and reminds himself.

Footsteps approach and stop just behind him. Always, when the king is away, a guard is assigned to keep a close eye for Hob’s protection, though none are allowed to take his chains in their grip. Not unless Hob runs. Daring, the guard plucks at the chain between his nipples until it swings against Hob’s chest. He holds his breath.

“How’s it going?” A voice drawls. “Knees a little tired?”

Hob glances at the door for the absent king before raising his head. The guard above him smirks like he knows a joke and Hob is the punchline.

“Yes, rather,” Hob replies. “Even with the cushion.”

“His majesty seems to like that,” he muses.

Corinthian. That is his name. He’d heard the king give him orders with iron in his voice. The way one talked to a guard dog who wasn’t trusted. A creature who couldn’t be taught to fear the whip.

“You’d know better than me.” Hob meets his eye as best he can through the man’s dark glasses. He is very handsome, golden and strong. Perhaps this is the answer. Perhaps prizes who lose their luster are given other ways to serve.

Corinthian tilts his head. Hob feels his eyes trace down the marks the king left. Lurid love bites at his throat and faint fingertip bruises on his hips. “I really don’t. Suppose I’m not his type.”

“Surely you’ve seen the others then.” Hob replies. He keeps his hands folded where they’re bound at the small of his back.

“Other … prizes?” Corinthian’s grin only grows. “Sweetheart, no. You’re the first.”

Hon stares but senses no lie. “Can’t be.“

“Picking a prize always been his right but he’s never felt the need to use it until now. Until you.” The man leans closer, dangerously into his space. Hob feels him breathing, he’s so close. “I’ve heard the sounds he pulls from you at night. He must have years of pent up energy.”

Hob’s throat is dry. Something fragile, winged and stupid flutters in his chest. But before he has to think of a reply, Corinthian snaps back to a respectful distance an instant before the doors swing open, and the king sweeps in. He climbs the stairs, slinks back to claim his throne. Hob is still reeling when his cool hand finds his chin and tilts his head up.

“You did not move,” the king says. It is not a question but an expectation.

Hob shakes his head. For a long moment his eyes glitter down on him, simply watching. Then fingers card through his hair and he is guided to rest his head against his king’s knee.

Lying face down on the floor after reading this tbh. Like. What can I say? What can I add?

Knowing that he's the only one is a further kind of beautiful torture for Hob, because once again he's asking himself over and over again: why? Why him, above anyone else? There's a part of him in agony over his imprisonment, the curtailing of his freedoms, the fact that his mind and body are no longer his own. Then there's the part of him who wants to know why, so he can be good. He needs to know how he can keep the favour that he has miraculously obtained.

And Dream? He never gives answers. If Hob even dared to ask more than a small, sobbed "why me?" in the midst of some blissful torture, Dream wouldn't bother to answer. Hob thinks that the king likes him kept ignorant and confused. It's another way to keep him in line. He's always dancing on a knife's edge, wondering whether the king will eventually toss him aside - never knowing if he's truly safe.

So he'd better be as good as he can. Never give Dream a reason to throw him away. But he will slip up eventually - its only a matter of time...

[justsome-di]

The Fairest of All Stars: Chapter 11

Andy didn’t mean to become a pirate captain, but after killing the captain of her ship, she finds herself thrust into the role. Years after the incident, she is fierce and feared and recovering from a tropical fever that wiped out half her crew.

Just as they’re about to dock, they find an injured siren left behind by her choir. Andy, drawn to her, pulls her onto the ship and decides to keep her there until she recovers. But with the Navy hunting for both pirates and sirens, Andy has just made her ship an even bigger target for an iniquitous captain looking for revenge.

Warning for suicidal thoughts and violence. Will contain mature scenes.

Also available for free on Patreon (paid members are five installments ahead and will get exclusive bonus stories) and on AO3. If you enjoy reading Stars please consider leaving a comment on AO3, Patreon, or reblogging these chapters! Follow for more updates!

“Pinkey, you better have a genius plan in that beautiful brain of yours.”

Pinkey was busy looking over the edge of the ship, too absorbed in the unsettled waters to respond to Andy.

“Pinkey,” Andy snapped. "Get it together.”

He looked up finally. His usual carefree and cheery disposition had been replaced with a haggard face and tired eyes. He had clearly been up all night. Most likely working out some sort of plan for the ship.

Andy steeled herself. She needed him more than ever.

“What did you think up?” Andy said.

Pinkey’s gaze went from Andy to Syan to the rest of the crew around him, as if taking in the weight that all of their lives were depending on him. A full dozen men were waiting for him to speak. Andy wished she could have told him not to worry so much. If they died, they died. There was no way to prevent it at this point. It wouldn’t be his fault.

She wished she had the courage to tell him that. It wouldn’t be his fault.

Pinkey squared his shoulders. “It’s not a foolproof plan.”

“I’m not asking it to be.”

There was an eerie silence on the water. Despite being so close to the Navy ship—they could now clearly see the men marching along their deck in their blue suits and silly, stupid white powder wigs.

“Here’s my plan,” Pinkey said. He gestured to Syan. He pressed his hands together like he was praying. “It involves you, Syan. You’re really going to be the reason we get out of this alive—if we do get out of this alive. How many men do you think you can take down?”

All the men stared at Syan. She stared back. Andy wanted to rescue her, and she was ready to jump to her defense. Syan wasn’t their fighting machine, she would have said. They weren’t going to use her as a weapon, ask her to risk her life for them. Andy was going to deflect and ask Pinkey to continue detailing the plan without Syan’s involvement.

But Syan spoke up first.

“None,” she said.

Pinkey’s eyebrows drew together. “None?”

“I think you’ve all been misled.”

“What does that mean?” Tobi asked. Though the question was for Syan, he glared at Andy. “We’ve been misled?

“I’m not the type of siren you’ve heard stories about. I’m not strong. My singing isn’t powerful. I’m sort of… the runt of the litter. I won’t be much help.”

There were groans and swears. Pinkey’s face fell. Joseph closed his eyes and nodded as if he had suspected the whole thing.

“Just our luck we’d get a defective siren,” Tobi said. “And very convenient you kept that from everyone until now.”

“Hey,” Andy snapped. “This isn’t her fault. What was she supposed to do? Tell a ship of strangers that she’s actually weak and vulnerable on top of being injured?”

“I think she got what she wanted from us, and now she’s going to slip away the first chance she gets. I say we hand her over to save our skin.”

To Andy’s relief and shock, everyone turned angry eyes at Tobi. Especially Pinkey.

“Bastard!” Syan spat.

“Tobi,” Andy yelled. “I swear to fucking God, the only reason I’m not killing you right now is because we need bodies against them! You’re fucking useless as anything else. Pinkey, please continue your plan.”

Pinkey continued. “Uh, well, we all need to save our ammunition. No one shoot at long range. Wait until you can guarantee a good shot. Even if that means waiting for them to get on the ship. Even if it means they’re drawing first.

“When we’re out of bullets, switch to swords. Don’t let them corner you. Everyone stays tight together in the middle of our ship. Partner up. Have each other’s backs.”

“If you fuck over one of us, you fuck over all of us,” Andy added. “Put some damage on their men. When they return, we’re going to make sure that everyone knows that they faced us.”

She wasn’t expecting to gear up for such a motivational speech, but there she was. All eyes were on her. Pinkey’s face turned bright, excited.

Especially Syan’s. Her eyes were wide, captivated at seeing Andy’s passion for the first time.

Andy really had been a pretty shit captain for a while. It was time she started acting like she was leading all those men.

“It’s not about coming out alive,” Andy said. “It’s about putting up a fight. We are not going to surrender like some cowards. We are not going to let them think that we’re a weak, meager pirate crew. Their egos are already bloated enough as it is. They don’t need to believe that we buckle under the pressure of their presence alone. We let them know that we’re here for a fight.”

The men cheered. Syan clapped her hands.

“Don’t let them win before they’ve killed every last one of us. Even if we only fight for five minutes—we make sure they’re a damn good five minutes.”

The men’s faces reddening and their brows sweating in fear, in anticipation, in excitement. If they were all going to their deaths—at least they were going together.

Andy gripped her sword at her side. Her pistol was heavy in her coat pocket. They’d be lucky if they lasted five minutes, but Andy’s watch had broken months ago so there would be no way for her to know.

Pinkey handed Syan a saber. She tightened her hand around the hilt. Her knuckles paled from the force.

“You can still hide—“ Andy began.

“No,” Syan said. “I’m not hiding.”

“The more men, the better,” Pinkey said. He squeezed Syan’s arm. “Remember everything I’ve taught you.”

“You’ve barely taught me anything.”

“Hold on tight and slash,” Pinkey said. “That’s all you need today.”

He looked a bit sad. Andy couldn’t blame him. His instructions were on how to be desperate, how to try to live. It’s how everyone first learned how to wield a sword. Swing it at whoever’s coming toward you. Don’t lose it. Because there are moments where something is better than nothing and that something had to harness brutal, feral energy to make up for lack of technique.

Pinkey took Syan’s wrist and elbow, helping her support the sword.

“Use the weight of the saber to your advantage,” he said. “It’s all going to be in your shoulders. Follow through with your motion with your whole body.”

He guided Syan’s arm in a slow swing. Andy didn’t get jealous this time.

She looked at the rest of her men. They were hyping themselves up. They went through some motions with the swords and checked their guns. Whatever little ammunition and gunpowder they all had left would be used.

And then her eyes settled on Syan. They settled on the sharp angle of her jaw and the curve of her high cheekbones. The chestnut coloring of her complexion. Her long eyelashes that rested on her freckled cheeks as she looked down at Pinkey’s hands wrapped around her arm.

Syan’s skin, when she had first come on board, was gray. It had looked like watery mud from the ocean, ashen and sickly. But it had since brightened in the sun and tanned beautifully. Freckles had popped out over her face and over the tops of her shoulders. They painted her cheeks and nose like a mask for a masquerade ball, just so slightly altering her the appearance that Andy first knew.

Andy would mourn all the lost opportunities with Syan—the things that had never happened. The mornings of sharing a bed, the evenings of pinching Syan’s body and biting her neck, the little things that Andy wouldn’t even know would happen. She mourned the mystery of the future.

Andy leaned against the railing of the deck. Syan looked up, tried hiding a smile, and then looked past Andy.

“Captain,” Syan said, and Andy gave herself half a second to revel in hearing the title coming from lips. “They’re coming.”

Andy looked over her shoulder. She was expecting the men to rush over as soon as they learned that her ship was a sitting duck. No response to the canon, no escalation. The Navy knew that they were fucked, and Andy expected them to take full advantage.

She had expected half the crew to storm her ship and the other half to wait patiently as if they were watching someone squash a spider. She was expecting bloody violence and pressing herself up against her men and holding Syan close to her side, a hand pressed to her waist just to make sure that Syan was the last thing she felt on the earth.

But rather than a violent storm of men that Andy had imagined, there was only one rowboat coming across the water with a handful of men. Their blue uniforms and white wigs were so distinct, Andy could vomit all over them. As the boat drew closer, they turned from dark pinpricks to defined people with swords at their sides and scowls on their faces.

Pinkey checked that his pistol was loaded and silently ushered the crew away from the edge of the boat and to the middle of the deck. There, they stood together, the hot sun beating down on them and the air so stiff Andy thought she would choke on it.

Andy reached out for Syan’s hand and clumsily intertwined their fingers together. Syan’s palm was warm and dry. It was so large and her fingers so long that she could easily cup Andy’s hand in her own—as though Andy’s hand had been made specifically to be the perfect size for Syan’s.

They held each other desperately, discreetly, just like that. Andy felt her fingers going numb, but she only squeezed back harder. If they were to die, they would die with parts of themselves mended together.

It didn’t take long for the rowboat to reach the ship and for all but two men on board to climb their way to the deck.

Andy’s knees went weak. The captain climbed aboard first with his stupid hat and golden buttons on his dark frock coat. He pulled himself around in jerking motions, only using one hand and the other limply flailing at the end of his arm. Once on the deck, his hand rested limp on the hilt of his sword.

The fingers were completely incapable of being used and curled inward toward his palm. Andy couldn’t see from where she stood, but she could imagine a clear scar on his hand. Right in the middle of his palm. It would be thick just like the scars that were on Syan’s legs, heavy on her thighs and trickling down her calves, and pale like sea foam.

“Captain Andrea,” he said. His voice was even, calm, and just as deep as Andy remembered it being. “We meet again. Charmed, I’m sure.”

Andy’s mouth split into a sneering smile. “Captain Bettridge. Always a fucking pleasure to see you.”

[captainsophiestark]

Better Than Revenge

Rebekah Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2022!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Prompt: “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

Summary: Y/N has become the town's supernatural doctor, against their will. They've formed a fairly good bond with the Mikaelsons, despite being human, and it didn't take them long to fall in love with Rebekah, although they haven't admitted that to her.When Rebekah's on the war path against the Mystic Falls gang, however, it might just be time to admit those feelings and see where things take them.

Word Count: 2,317

Category: Angst, Fluff

A/N: This absolutely doesn't follow the timeline of TVD correctly, largely because I misremembered the details of the seasons and didn't double-check until this fic was almost done. Just pretend the one where Elena stabs Rebekah in the back before the dance is the same one as when Rebekah runs Elena and Matt off the road, all with Klaus alive and in his own body.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed as I headed up the familiar stairs of the Mikaelson Mansion, home to five terrifying Original vampires in none other than Mystic Falls, Virginia. I'd been roped into the vampire drama fairly early since I worked an internship with the medical examiner and I couldn't just ignore all the suspicious deaths and disappearances. From there, I'd actually managed to form a peace with most of the supernaturals in town, functioning as a sort of secret doctor for all the various witches, wizards, and werewolves running around.

Honestly, I would've been happy just to stay out of it. But when the Mikaelsons rolled into town, hell broke loose all over again, and I got roped into helping them along with every other supernatural creature in town.

If I was being honest with myself, I didn't mind the Mikaelsons all that much, especially in comparison. Elijah was always very polite and we'd become fairly good friends, Kol and I shared a love for the same type of music, and Finn was just happy to have someone to gush to about Sage. Klaus and I had taken a little longer to gel, but we'd finally managed to form our own weird friendship too, and he regularly came to the rescue if somebody in town decided they wanted to use me as leverage.

And then there was Rebekah. Gorgeous, strong, secretly soft and kind Rebekah. I'd fallen pretty hard for her from the first moment I saw her, and at this point I was just proud of myself for being able to form a normal, calm friendship with her without totally freaking out. Out of all of them, Mikaelsons and Mystic Falls gang and everyone in between, she seemed the least happy to be caught up in all this stuff, too, although she probably wouldn't admit it.

She'd been planning to go to the high school dance with some of the Mystic Falls kids, and I'd wanted to go with her so badly I could hardly stand it. But she was going with Stefan, and they seemed intent on rekindling some something or other from their past. It seemed like a terrible idea to me, but if it made her happy, I wasn't going to get in the way of it.

So, instead of going to the dance with my crush (even though I'd definitely outgrown high school), I'd stayed home. I fell asleep early, only to get woken up in the middle of the night by my phone screeching at me, Klaus' unique ringtone blasting through my room. He needed me immediately, ASAP, emergency, he'd said. I groaned and muttered some incoherent curses, but got moving nonetheless.

Now I was trudging up the gravel path towards their house, trying to stay awake and alert for whatever I might find inside. You really never knew in situations like this.

Just as I reached the porch and was about to knock on the door, it went flying open, and I found Rebekah storming out, a furious expression on her face. If it hadn't been for her superspeed she probably would've crashed right into me and taken us both to the ground.

"Whoa!" I said, taking a half-step back in surprise. "Bex, holy shit, you scared me!"

"Y/N? I'm sorry, I didn't- what are you doing here?"

"Your brother called me," I huffed. She gave me a knowing look as I crossed my arms, then looked her up and down. "What are you doing, storming out of here like this? Shouldn't you be at the dance?"

Her expression darkened, and I frowned. She'd been burned by the Mystic Falls Scooby Gang before, and I just hoped this wasn't another repeat.

"I never went to the dance," she said, fury rippling off of her in waves. "Elena quite literally stabbed me in the back with a dagger when I was over at her house, getting ready with her. So now, I'm going to make her regret every choice she's ever made that led her to this point."

With that, Rebekah started marching past me again, but I caught her arm as she went. She stopped, even though she easily could've ripped her arm out of my grip, and stared at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Bex... Can we talk for a second?" I sighed, dropping her arm and running a hand through my hair.

"Sorry love, but time is of the essence tonight." She started walking away again, and I stared after her as I debated how involved and honest I wanted to get with this. Knowing the Mikaelsons, however, I couldn't ignore the fact that inaction on my part would probably result in at least one person being killed. Despite how badly I didn't want to admit my feelings to Rebekah, I couldn't let that happen.

No matter how much the damn Mystic Falls kids had brought it on themselves.

"Rebekah, stop. You know you're not mad at the actual backstabbing, right?"

Rebekah whirled around at that, hands on her hips and eyebrows raised as she stared at me.

"I'm not? Why on Earth, please tell me, wouldn't I be mad about that?"

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, then looked back at her.

"All you've really wanted since the day I met you, Bex, was to have a fun, happy, human experience. I'm not you so I guess I can't really say, but if I had to bet? I'd say not getting to make some high school friends and go to the dance and have that experience is something you're more upset about than anything else."

Rebekah frowned and looked away from me, staring at the ground for a few, long moments. I gave her a second, then crossed the yard to stand in front of her. She glanced back at me and I could tell she was barely holding it together.

"Why does it feel like you know me better than my own brothers, sometimes?" she managed. We shared a small laugh, and throwing caution to the wind, I took her hand in mine. She didn't pull away.

"Bex... I'm sorry, but I have to ask... do you really think the best way to get what you want–that happy, human experience, with or without the Mystic Falls kids—is by going after and maybe even killing some of them?"

Rebekah didn't respond right away. She'd gone back to staring at the ground, but then she met my eyes again, mascara starting to run down her cheeks at last as some of the emotions she'd been trying to hold back broke through.

"Yes. No. I don't know." She laughed at herself and shook her head, then continued. "But one way or the other, I know I can't let them get away with this. I'm a Mikaelson. I need to remind them of it."

"I hear you, Bex," I said, taking a deep breath as I started rubbing soothing circles over the back of her hand with my thumb. "And I've heard your brothers saying the same things about a million times. But can I maybe offer an alternative solution?"

Rebekah frowned, curious, and nodded. I swallowed, trying to brace myself to really take this leap. There would be no going back, especially if it turned out she didn't feel the same way I did. But I cared about her, and I'd never forgive myself if I stayed silent now.

"Maybe... would you want to leave? With me?" Rebekah's eyebrows shot up, although she didn't pull her hand out of mine. I still found myself looking at anything but her. "I just... I've been wanting to leave Mystic Falls for a while, and live somewhere else or travel or... or anything, really. And I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather do it with, if you wanted to come with me. You know, escape all this revenge and drama shit. Just, like... go live those peaceful, semi-human lives together, for as long as we want to or can."

Rebekah didn't respond for a few long moments, and I swear I was on the verge of a heart attack for every one of them. When I finally forced myself to look at her again, I found her eyes wide and hopeful as she stared at me.

"You'd really do that for me?" she finally breathed. She squeezed my hand a little tighter, and I wasted no time grabbing her other hand in mine as well.

"Rebekah... absolutely I would. I've been wanting to leave anyway pretty much since the Salvatores showed back up, and... I honestly can't imagine anyone else I'd rather go with." I muttered the last part, almost under my breath, but thanks to Rebekah's vampire hearing, she caught it anyway.

"I feel the same way," she breathed. I smiled up at her, not quite able to believe this was real, and before I knew what was happening, she tugged me closer to her and wrapped her arms around my waist. I brushed a stray hair out of her face and wiped a bit of the mascara away, smiling at her brightly.

"That's good to hear. You Mikealsons are usually so forward I'd kind of given up hope that you liked me back."

Rebekah scoffed. "Just because my brother's been throwing himself at Caroline doesn't mean we all behave that way."

"Fair enough," I laughed, then closed the rest of the distance between us for a soft, sweet kiss. I swear fireworks exploded between us, and a warmth like the sun expanded in my chest, even as we broke apart.

"So..." she said, smiling softly at me. "Should we leave now?"

"I wish I could say 'hell yes' and we could steal your brother's car and start an adventure together, but I need like ten minutes to touch base with Klaus," I said, taking a few steps backwards to the house. "He called me here for some stupid emergency or something and if I don't check in he'll probably make it his new life's mission to hunt me down or some stupid shit like that."

"He does do that, doesn't he?" she asked, smiling after me. I shot her a look, then turned and jogged back into the house. Rebekah called after me, "I'll gather some clothes and other essentials we might need, then meet you in the foyer."

I shot her a thumbs up without turning around as I reached the door, then took the stairs two at a time. I got to the second floor and quickly found Klaus' study, where he sat in a chair with his back to the door, brooding over something or other.

"Hey," I said, only slightly out of breath. "What did you need?"

"It can wait," he said, finally turning in his chair at last. I glared at him, Original Vampire be damned.

"You woke me up in the middle of the night for an emergency and now it can wait?"

He shrugged. "When I woke you up in the middle of the night, it was before you were planning to run away with my sister."

I sighed. "You people and your superhearing, damn. You really have no respect for privacy, do you?"

"No, I don't. Not when it comes to her," he said, standing slowly from his chair. I blinked, and then he was in front of me, hand on my throat as he slammed me into the nearest wall. I gasped, trying not to completely panic as Klaus stared me down, black veins under his eyes. "If you hurt her, believe me, it will be the last thing you ever do."

"I'm trying to keep her from getting hurt!" I managed to choke out. Klaus glared at me for another moment, then released me and stepped back. "Geeze!"

"Rebekah has been through a thousand years of hell, sometimes at my own hands," he said calmly, like nothing had ever happened. "She deserves some happiness."

"I couldn't agree more," I said, rubbing at my throat a bit as I straightened and looked at Klaus again. "I'll take good care of her. You have my word."

He huffed, his eyes flashing as he stared me down. "You might just be the only human whose word has any value. Do try to visit from time to time, won't you?"

"We will. Just try not to get in the middle of so much drama we don't want to come back, alright?"

Klaus scowled at me, but I just raised an eyebrow back at him in challenge. After a moment, he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Get out of here before I change my mind."

I grinned and saluted, then headed back downstairs with a bounce in my step. I found Rebekah waiting for me, a few bags around her feet and a smile on her face.

"I hope he didn't give you too much trouble," she said. I waved her off.

"Nothing I can't handle. You ready?"

"Darling, I've never been more ready for anything in my life."

We shared a smile as I took her hand, each of us grabbing a few of the bags and then heading out the door together. I had no idea where our new adventure would take us next, but I couldn't wait, for whatever might come. With Rebekah by my side and the world at our feet, the possibilities were endless.

[dp-marvel94]

The Same Type of Ghost- Chapter 1

Summary: Deep in the Infinite Realms, something writhed. And only Clockwork can help.

Word Count: 2136

Chapter 1(Here) -> Chapter 2 -> Chapter 3

Also on AO3

Note: For @everystarstorm @modordracena @five-rivers

For Phic Phight 2023. Welcome to my first entry for phic phight this year! Have some eldritch horror and a bunch of angst for this first chapter. As you'll see from the tags, Clockwork comes next chapter to makes things better. Below are all the prompts I'm using for this, though not all are relvant for this first part.

The clones are back, how are they no longer goop? Kibby | everystarstorm | _ | StarStorm21 | _ (Team Human)

Soft and cozy body horror. (Yes borrowing that phrase from Rivers because it’s good and I always want more.) Modor Dracena | Genevieve#6101 | modordracena | ModorDracena (Team Human)

Horror, but soft and cozy with lots of sensation. Five-rivers | FiveRivers | five-rivers | Marsalias | FiveRivers (Team Ghost)

Clockwork knew about Danielle of course, he knew everything. But knowing about her was not enough to prepare him for the full force of her puppy-eyes when she came to him asking for help. Aedelia | Aedelia#2626 | aedelia | neokid93 | neokid93 (team Ghost)

Clockwork is DEFINITELY not sick, stressed, tired, or overwhelmed. The idea of an incredibly powerful ghost with control over time itself experiencing anything like that is ridiculous! Everything is fine, and anything that implies otherwise is mere coincidence.Lurking | Lurking🕓🍁#5333 | Currentlylurking| currentlylurking | (Team Human)

Also, an important note. This story is canon to my "Life and Death is all Perspective Series" set after Drifters (the story where Prometheus, the muscly frankenstein clone is the main character). It assumes that all the clones have been reunited at some point in the future. A main focus here is Prometheus' experience in Vlad's lab before his death, when he saw a lot of other clones destabilize and as the oldest and most stable, tried very had to make sure none of them were alone as they passed.

Deep in the Infinite Realms, something writhed. 

“Stop! NO! Stop!!” A scream of agony.

Pained whispers. “No. No. Please.” 

“Master? Where’s? Where’s... No. No.” Frantic rambles.

“Why?! Why?! Why?!” Weeping sobs.

So many voices- screaming, crying, whispering, wailing- at once. Too many hands… one, three, fifteen, fifty. Reaching, gasping, touching. 

What was… No…. That’s not…. Why…. Thoughts caught and released, shifting like so many limbs.

Limbs? Two hands touched, combined. Smaller? Smaller! Yes! No. Good…. Bad?! What…. What. Why….

A wet, sunking noise. Black, white, green mass of ectoplasmic flesh undulated. One leg divided into two. Too many limbs. Twisting. Growing. Dwindling. 

Another head budded, rising up from the mass. A new mouth opened, a wordless moan of sorrow.

A flash of memory flickered. Needle in the neck. Knives. Red blood, seeping from a gash. Cracked bones. Green… so much green. Like….

Eyes darted – green, blue, red, black, white -- dozens on every surface. 

Can’t… focus. What… where. NO! NO! 

The surroundings… almost familiar. So much green. But where…

“ Stop! Hurts! Please make stop!” A mouth cried.

Can’t…. Focus. Too much. Too many…. Too many directions. Nothing makes…. Pain!... Why!... We didn’t…. Where is….

A cry in front of-

All eyes darted forward, alert. A cry, not from we-me-us-I but….  

Focus! A tall, muscular figure. Scarred with tears in his green eyes. 

One head tilted in curiously. Then a second…. Wait. We know….

Dozens of memories slotted into place. Strong arms, holding, caressing. Fingers, wiping away tears. A gentle, deep voice. And the words….

“I’m not gonna… not gonna leave you. I’m… I’m right here.” A focused watery smile, a finger moving to whip away the tear. “You’re not alone.”

Recognition. All eyes focused on the face, black tendrils reaching out to touch, to grab. Malformed limbs encased the other, smaller figure.

 All voices spoke as one. “Brother?”

“How much farther, Ellie?” The girl turned at the question, taking in Prometheus’ raised brow as he continued. “We’ve been flying for a long time now.” Nervous eyes flickered around the green atmosphere, dotted with a few floating rocks and distant purple-green clouds, but mostly empty. “I’ve never been out this far.”

“We’re almost there.” Ellie offered her larger clone brother a comforting smile. “Twenty minutes or so. See that chunk of rock.” She pointed. “That’s where we’re going.”

The muscular clone nodded. “Alright.” Some of the tension leaked out of him, the question casual. “What exactly did you want me to see anyway?”

The girl’s smile morphed into a grimace, the memory flickering in her mind. The distant cry of pain, the writhing mass of black and green, all the blinking eyes…. Ellie shook her head, forcing the disturbing image away. “You’ll see….” 

Pro wrinkled his nose, the skeptical look making dread and guilt sink like a stone in her gut.

The smaller clone looked down; she would have shuffled awkwardly, dragging a shoe across the ground if there had been any. “I thought…. I might know what it is… whatever I saw.”

That… creature, if that was what it had been. That thing she’d seen from a distance and fled from, full of fear and dread… There had been something oddly familiar about it. Later, when she’d arrived at their lair, Ellie knew she had to investigate and somehow… Pro had to be the one to go with her. 

The taller clone accepted the statement with a sigh, flying forward to hover at her side. An arm briefly wrapped around her in a side hug. “Let’s get going then.”

The rocky island loomed larger and larger in Ellie’s vision. She still couldn’t see anything yet but… her ear twitched. A noise, quiet under the roaring winds of the Realms. The sound of crying…

The girl swallowed, core heavy in her chest. They still needed to get closer but-

“What’s that?” Pro’s hand on her shoulder paused her flight.

Slowly, he pointed. Ellie’s eyes widened. There, along the bottom of the island, almost completely blocked by the rock…. Something squirmed.

A scream pierced the air.

“Pro! Wait!” The larger ghost dashed in front of her and Ellie cursed herself. She should have told her brother about this; the creature had screamed like that this last time. 

Ellie hurried after Prometheus, quickly approaching the island. He dipped down, curving to the side to approach the source of movement from below. 

Another wail. The smaller ghost covered her ears, eyes focused on her brother. His wide eyes darted, searching for the origin of the sound. 

Where was it? It should have been right in front of them. Ellie’s stomach knotted. This was a horrible idea. But… 

A wet snapping noise sounded.

The girl froze, ears drawn to the sound. She didn’t… she didn’t want to look. Something green and sticky dripped past her. God. She didn’t want to look. That… that couldn’t be….

Slowly, as if by a spell, her head tilted up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Prometheus do the same. 

Both clones stared.

Prometheus couldn’t look away. Eyes wide, body frozen, he couldn’t move, couldn’t look away from… from…. He couldn’t describe it. Or maybe, it was too horrible to describe. 

The mass of flesh… constantly moving, fluctuating. It looked… wet. Or gummy. Sticky? So much green…. Arms sprouted, legs, flashes of hair. Eyes blinked, stared, wept. And the noise….

“Make stop! Make stop!” “No. No. Please.” “Master? Where’s? Where’s... No. No.” “Why?! Why?! Why?!”

Blood curdling screams. Crazed rambles. Haunted whisper. Excruciating wailing.

It…. god, this was too much. Too horrible. Nausea rose, tears welling in his eyes. This was… this was horrible. He… he needed to get away. He needed to get his sister way. This was… this was wrong. But…. 

“ Stop! Hurts! Please make stop!”

Prometheus recoiled, a choked sound, part-sob and part-scream exiting his throat. His stomach twisted, a sick sense of familiarity. 

Suddenly, all the monsters' eyes darted forward, focused on him. One head tilted, then another. A breathless pause and…

Black tendrils reach out.

Panikedly, Pro tried to pull away.  “Hey! What are you-”  Slimy, misty, sticky limbs wrapped around his torso.

The larger clone frozen, core locked in blind terror. He shook, mind spinning and blank. Behind him, Ellie screamed. The malformed arms-legs-tails tighten around him. A small, hysterical thought…. He was going to die again.

But… every eye- red, blue, green- fixed on him, the massive body freezing.

“Brother?” The word was gibberish to Prometheus’s ears, mind unable to comprehend. The squeezing lessened into something almost tender….. Like an embrace. “Brother.” Recognition sparked in the hundreds of eyes. A dozen voices speaking at once. “Brother was there. Brother holds. Brother protects. Brother loves.” 

Prometheus trembled, mind crashing to a stop. “Wha…what?” Throat hardly able to form words.

“Shhhh.” The massive creature shushed him, one tendril extending to caress his back. “I’m not gonna… not gonna leave you. I’m… I’m right here.” One face… the painfully familiar face in front of him, forced a watery smile. “You’re not alone.”

Those words…. Prometheus had said those words to… to… The clone’s eyes widened, understanding crashing over him. “No.” The word brimmed with dread.

“Let him go!” An ectoblast slashed into the creature, Ellie finally pulled out of her stupor. 

The monster, the creature let out a cry.

Pro barely registered. “No. No. It can’t…”

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t!

“I said let him go!” Another shot from his sister. 

A confused whine. “Let… go? No.” A head shook. “No! Yes! Let him go. Hurt brother bad!” The grip tightened. “No! Brother stay. Need brother.” 

Prometheus let out a whimper, tear spilling. “No. You’re… you’re not….”

A set of the creatures’ eyes widened in alarm. “We hurt brother. No… accident. Didn’t mean… Bad! Let go.” The being writhed. “We need! No!” The voices echoed, fluctuating. “Yes! Let go.” Tendrils tighten, lossen, tighten.

Another ectoblast from Ellie. “You, listen! Let Pro go!”

Prometheus shook, core in his throat. It hurt. It hurt. The shadowy limbs hurt. But…. but this… this was worse. The truth, what was happening… it wasn’t possible

“No! Yes! What… why? Brother…. Where?” The voices…. So many voices, arguing. “Why?! Why?! Why?!”

The creature shook, movement returning. Heads, limbs sprouting and disappearing. The mass of appendages holding Prometheus twitched…. The abomination less let-go-off, more threw the older clone.

Prometheus tumbled, hand over foot, chest heaving with emotion. 

“Pro!” Ellie darted after him.

The larger clone slammed into a small shelf of rock.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes are wide with worried.

Wobbly, Pro pulled himself to his feet. He felt… felt sick. Head shaking, stomach heaving. “No. Ellie. No. I’m…I’m…” Bending over, he threw up. 

The smaller ghost jumped back. Her eyes popped wider, panicked. “It hurt you.”

Frantically, his head shook in denial. “No. No. That’s not. It… They didn’t… didn’t hurt me. That’s not…” The taller ghost whipped his mouth. “Ellie…” The word came out so pained. “It’s… That’s them…. All the… All the..” Another heave. “All our brothers that die. They’re there. They’re right here. They’re over there. But… But… they’re stuck together.”

Prometheus’ legs wobbled, falling to his knees. “This is… this is so wrong. It’s so wrong. It’s…” In the background, the creature’s argument with itself has devolved back into incomprehensible noise.

This was… this was a nightmare. A nightmare. All the… the brothers he had held as they died, comforted as their bodies failed. The memories flashed in his mind. All the blood and ectoplasm. Deep cuts, scapals, needles, vials of liquid. The cries, the screams, the eerie silence. The begging.

Please make stop! Make stop!  

Pro shook. He’d been there. He’d held, he’d comforted as they died. He’d whispered words of comfort the best he could. And once he’d…. He listened to the begging and with the needle and drugs, put the poor brother out of his misery. He’d died.  They’d all died. They were… they were all dead and gone.

But they were all still here, all right here. In that… that thing, that abomination, that affront to nature. His insides twisted. All those memories, those bodies, those souls forced together. It was… it was wrong. It was sick. It was… it was cruel. It was… bile rose in his throat, eyes falling over the corrupt, twisted, warped mass. This… this terrible unholy conglomeration. 

There were no words for how horrible it was, never enough tears of the injustice, the perversion of how things were supposed to be. He’d already.. He’d already faced this grief. The reality that all those brothers were gone. They were dead, the only solace that they were no longer in pain. Except….

The grotesque amalgamation….  They were weeping-screaming-crying in pain. 

Pro shook his head, his nauseous feeling melting away. “They’re.. They’re in so much pain.” No. No. No. That was worse, so much worse than then just being gone. The wrongness, the affront to nature he could handle -He was a full ghost clone of a half ghost for crying out loud; the definition of what was natural must be much larger than when he was foolish enough to think. But this…. “They’re hurting… hurting so much.” A desperate compassion crowded his core “I need to help them. There.. There has to be a way to help them.”

For a long moment, Ellie stood, a shaking hand covering her mouth. She stared into the distance, her eyes unseeing. Until… “What?” The words finally stirred her back to life.

“I have to help them.” Prometheus repeated, conviction filling his voice.

The girl’s eyes flickered from him to the being, wide and afraid. “How?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

Head shaking. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have brought us here.”

“No!” Pro suddenly stood. “No! We… we needed to find them. We found them for a reason. They need… need our help.”

An agonizing wail behind the pair… Ellie flinched. “Pro. We can’t… there’s nothing we can do.”

Prometheus’ mind raced, desperate. “There has to be..” Fresh tears spilled down his face.

And at their back…

“Brother! Brother! Where are you?! Where’d he… alone… alone!” A sob. “Hurts! Hurt! Please!”

Pro turned, trembling with emotion. “They… they need me.”

Ellie stared, unable to process as the monstrous abomination half-crawled, half-swam forward. Again, tendrils reached for Pro. But this time, the larger ghost fell into them, weeping and blubbering desperate comforts.

Empty despair. Helplessness. All she could hope was Pro crying himself out and being able to get him away from the creature. She… she needed help. She had to get her brother away from this abomination even if… even if it at one point in time, had been… had been….

It struck like lightning. “Time…” Her eyes widened, an idea catching.  “Clockwork…” She zoomed away. “We need Clockwork. He’ll… he’ll help.”

Note: I hope you enjoyed that angst fest. 😅 Things will get better next chapter, once Clockwork shows up, I promise. I don't know when that chapter will be out though. Next week looks very busy for me, just like this week was. Finding time to get this part out was a struggle. :( But I really wanted to get something posted for this event before too late in the month. As always, feel free to let me know what you think. If you need any clarification about my weird idea, feel free to ask too. 😅

[treatpeoplewithfanfiction]

Strawberries and Memories

Harry Styles x F!Reader 

Rating: Allowed for minors.

Words: 0,7k

Warnings: none, just some fluff for today 

Author comments: hello, my beautiful people! Happy new year! This was a request from a reader who’s missing summer and I hope everyone like it! English isn’t my first language, so please, be kind. To join my taglist, send me a message via ask. 

Although you knew it was cold, you were naive to think that in the middle of December leaving home early wearing just a thin cold sweater to spend the whole day outside would warm you up enough. You body hurt, your fingers were stiff and your teeth chattered, and although you weren’t that bothered by the cold, it made you miss summer days, specially the last ones, where you and Harry had spent the most incredible afternoons ever under the sun and in the ocean water. You sighed as you remembered that even though you forgot using sunscreen on the last day at the beach, making you both back home burned and sensitive. Those days were deliciously unforgettable.

You took your phone off the pocket and walking back to the office after lunch, you typed a few words to your man: 

“babe, I'm missing those days at the beach, remember? just haven’t decided what I miss more... If it’s the heat (I mean, seriously? what was I thinking when I left home with no warm clothes?) or just cuddling up with you without worring about anything else in life.” 

And you couldn’t help smiling as you read the reply:

“Message from Harold 💕: back home asap to cuddle up a little, then I heat you up and we solve both of your problems.” 

(...)

The day had just fallen and you returned home on the subway while thinking about the week in Eroda Islands, and how you would give it all up for the heat of that day. Then you unlocked the phone screen and went straight to your photos, looking for a specific one: Harry with his lips in a straw drinking coconut water. That was one of the ones you liked the most, and not only of the trip, but of him himself. His gaze was calm and his face seemed rested. You were a little surprised he didn’t answer your last messages. At that time of day he was always online, but you figured he might be busy with something else or still behind the wheel, late to get home. You didn’t mind so much. In fact you just wanted to get home soon, put on some proper clothes, and plant yourself in front of the fireplace until take roots.

Leaving the station, you faced the wet, freezing wind from the street and damn, you could have sworn you could remember times you cut yourself with a kitchen knife or fell off your bike and felt less pain than at that moment. As you walked down the two or three blocks from the station to your house you hummed something to distract yourself, making you think a little less about the shivering under the wrong clothe you had chosen to wear.

When you got home you saw that Harry's car was at the garage, which was strange because he rarely failed to answer your messages when he was home. Anyway, you grabbed the keys from your pocket, and as you opened the door you felt a strong thermal shock, stronger than you imagined. You went inside, already feeling much better from the temperature inside, but… Why on earth would Harry leave the air conditioning on at such that high temperature?

“Baby? I’m home, you in?” you asked, curious to know what he might be up to.

“Yup, babe, in the kitchen.” You heard his voice answer.

Almost there, you saw him appear at the door, in shorts and barefoot, his hair messy, basically reproducing the picture you had seen earlier, which he knew you liked so much. He was holding a coconut in his hands, with a straw, and smiling, happy to see you. He came up to kiss you, and gosh, you loved that feeling when you smiled and felt him smiling between the kiss. Releasing his lips from yours he looked at you tenderly and pulled you by the hand into the kitchen so that you could see several fruits, all chopped up, just waiting for you. He took the bowl of fruit and said:

“Honey, I just didn’t have time to get the beach, okay? But the cuddling part…” he paused slightly, putting a strawberry in your mouth. “We can work that one out right now.”

Your eyes sparkled and you couldn’t help but giggle and kiss him as you realized what he had done, unable to believe how lucky you were to have Harry by your side, and happy to know that that weekend would probably be as precious in your memories as the last hot summer days.