#she saved him yes but she turned him into a monster because she was really just a child herself

[parker-d-bloodrose]

OKAY BUT COMMANDER COSMO IS LITERALLY FROM A DIFFERENT TIME LINE AND HE JUST WOKE UP FROM BEING TRAPPED IN THE NECROSTAR FOR GODS KNOWS HOW LONG AND HE JUST KNOWS INTUITIVELY THAT COSMIKA IS THE POWER SOURCE FOR THE ASTRONAUT??? LIKE HOW!!!!!

[bhaalble]

Back on my Wyll script doctor because I was talking about it with a friend. Specifically imagining a version of Wyll's big Character Choice that felt like it had some actual teeth.

Imagine a world where instead of a cartoon evil hot lady Mizora and Wyll's relationship actually had some complexity to it and like. some genuine push and pull which gives him temptation to stay. I just keep thinking about this 17 year old who his whole life wanted more than anything to be a hero, who got his chance to do something heroic and selfless and save the city from certain doom, and his reward is getting kicked out because he did it the "wrong way".

Imagine if instead of forcing his silence, Mizora instead comforted him. How unbelievably cruel of your father! Well...since you've nowhere else to go, why not stick with me? We make a pretty good team, as it turns out, and I can get you a whole list of monsters who need killing. Plenty of devils and demons loose in your world targetting all sorts of innocents. Our interests can keep aligning, and you get a place to sleep when you need it.

Wyll makes his peace with it, because he has nothing and no one. And Mizora's not GOOD maybe, not by Ulder Ravengard's definition. But she's fun. She delights in his growth. And she does certainly keep direct him at greater evils, devils who really do need killing. And if she spies on his every waking moment, well, she worries. If she sends him after the occasional innocent, well, she had people who she has to answer to as well. She's a devil, how much can he fault her for her nature? She's always seemed like she knew where the line was...

Karlach (and the player) express their doubts, of course, but for act one at least he's defensive. Yes, she punished him and he hates it and its miserable but....he was in breach of contract! She's NEVER gone outside its bounds, she's always stuck very closely to their agreement. Wyll, who wants so badly to trust others and believe everyone has the chance for good, can't find it in him to believe the worst even of a devil.

And Mizora is FOND of Wyll, loves him even in her way. As a cherished pet, as a trusted tool, as a best-laid plan. Never enough to choose his own well-being over her own agenda, never enough to see him as his own person. He's her little project, the long shot noble brat she gambled on when Tiamat decided to get too big for her britches. And it paid off! Wyll always pays off, currying her all the favor from Zariel she so desperately craves. And who are you, or anyone, to come between them? She's treated him well. As she's quick to remind him, she wanted him when no one else did, aided him while the rest of his city slept snug in their beds. And if Ulder Ravengard didn't want a son with a whiff of infernal, then do you REALLY think he'd want you with lovely horns and Avernus in your blood?

You discover his father's been taken. Beyond igniting a lot of old feelings, it brings up a question of succession. Of course, Florrick isnt giving up on him, but if not...there aren't currently any likely candidates to take over the Flaming Fists. Not trustworthy ones. Florrick will take the position, but everyone knows in the back of his mind Ulder never really stopped planning for it to be Wyll. With the city in chaos and a cult army on the rise, they may need an answer sooner rather than later. Wyll feels the call of the Gate, but knows just as well that Mizora wouldn't want him to return in such an official capacity.

For the first time ever the leash starts to chafe in a way he can't keep pushing through.

Act 2 rolls around. Mizora sends up the Warlock signal. After potentially some encouragement from the player, Wyll (NOT THE PLAYER. I DONT KNOW WHY ITS THE PLAYER IN THE GAME ITS WEIRD) hesitantly proposes that maybe, if he does this....they can do a renegotiation of his contract. Not break it, he assures her quickly! Just....reopen the terms, take a looks at the agreement. Maybe discuss an exit ramp? After all....I mean, neither of us truly thought I'd be doing this forever, did we?

Based on Mizora's reaction. Yeah she did.

But fine. She agrees. And Wyll's not mad that it turns out you're rescuing her, not a nameless "operative" for Zariel. He would've done that on his own had she asked. Its the fact that she apparently didn't feel like being honest, that she let him fret and worry about potentially handing Zariel back some runaway for basically no reason. Its the fact that she came here to check in on the cult that abducted his FATHER just to see if Zariel could make any use of them. And its the fact that she seems surprised and annoyed that ANY of this bothers him.

All this builds, of course, to the final confrontation. The basic elements are the same. Mizora outside the coronation (this time needling at Wyll, "I'll be at camp if you're not too high and mighty to consort with the likes of me anymore"), Ulder tadpoled and fighting it. Mizora makes her offer. I can end the contract now, and you're free to go running after daddy (who won't want you btw! not like I do!). You'll lose all your powers, all my aid, all those juicy quests to chase down the greatest monsters in the hells. Take on your father's job and settle in for a life of misery and compromise and only doing as much good as the nobles will let you. Or: pledge yourself to me, eternally. I'll give you a boatload of new powers and eternal life to boot, so long as you serve as my sword and shield.

From there I think three endings branch out, and with it three classes for Wyll. If he stays with Mizora, accepts a relationship where he will never be an equal or a free agent in exchange for the affirmation he wants so badly from his father, he remains a Warlock, with some juiced stats and extra spell slots, along with shiny new gear. If he pledges to follow in his father's footsteps, he instead becomes an Oath of Devotion paladin, pledging himself in service to Tyr, if with a sense of doomed finality. The Blade of Frontiers is officially retired, and along with it any identity he has outside of being his father's son. Or the third path, break the contract without taking his father's role. He will look for his father, yes, but whether or not you find him he's going back to his roots, travelling around to do some good in the world (as the Blade of Frontiers) or kicking ass in the Hells with Karlach (as the Blade of Avernus). In this timeline he becomes a fighter, with a default preference for Eldritch Knight.

What's important: if he breaks his contract then Mizora is NOT hanging around camp. She will leave in a fury, accidentally bound by her own word to withdraw her influence completely if he breaks his contract. She may still approach the player some night to sleep with the player, framed for high approval/romanced players and her trying to take something back from Wyll. But Wyll will have to learn how to define himself without her breathing down his neck, without keeping her happy dominating his every thought. Its nervewracking, and even lonesome at times...but its freedom. And, perhaps, that's worth a little bit of lonesomeness.

[shisurus]

laios and shuro's relationship is so important to me it's not funny anymore... the fact shuro kept believing in laios during the latter part of the manga, then searched for him after laios became a monster and defeated the winged lion- although it was unclear what exactly had become of him- is haunting me because of how it contrasts with him choosing to give up on saving falin after he saw her as a chimera. like, laios was so sure that their fight in chapter 38 was the end of their friendship while in reality it was the beginning of it in shuro's eyes. laios kept agonizing over losing the one friend he cared for the most but it's because he didn't understand the significance of that little thing he kept carrying with him in every step until the very end of the series: the bell.

shuro gave him that bell as a token of his trust in him and his love: "we grew apart and i'm no longer fit for the position by your side, but no matter how far you go, i'll be there for you when you need me". their conflict over how to deal with falin forced them to go in different directions, but despite accepting leaving falin behind, shuro couldn't bring himself to abandon laios as well. and it's no coincidence that the bell shuro gave him was the proof that laios was still alive after all that happened, or that it's what pushed mithrun and kabru to go deeper into the dungeon instead of returning to the surface (which quite literally changed the entire chain of events afterwards).

yes, shuro decided to stop pursuing falin and report her condition to the governor so she could be stopped, even at the cost of her life. he gave up on her. but the same man also defied the canaries and fought for laios without knowing how messed up things had gotten because he chose to believe in laios above all else. and that, in my opinion, solidified just how important laios became to him- more than falin's, more than his own life, it's laios's he didn't give up on.

at the very end, when he met laios again after the latter defeated the winged lion, he gave him a hug filled with the pure, unrestrained joy of seeing his first and best friend on the island alive and well. hell, i mean, it's easy to forget that shuro didn't really have anyone close to him too- and laios might very well be the first person he was this disgustingly direct and truthful with since he was a child. and when he goes back home, there won't be anyone else like laios there; his home is still the same. it's him that changed. and later on when he will recall all those years he spent on the island, he will realize how surprising it is that all the crazy stuff he witnessed don't hold a candle to the impact those few people he befriended there had on him.

of course, laios didn't realize it until then- shuro's reaction was indeed the one that surprised him the most- but at that moment he could absolutely feel how foolish he was to be so sure he will be hated and rejected after everything they went through. it's so important that it was shuro who greeted him so affectionately, after we saw laios brooding over their fight so much: it's shuro's acceptance that he was longing for the most.

with all that being said, the one last thing that drives me crazy is that the bell laios was given to use when he needed assistance most was still with him even after turning back into his human form. that tiny item he was shown to be quite careless with and yet never let go of until he wanted to be completely alone, thinking he should run away from everyone he loved; but it was too late, his friend already heard his cry for help.

and they all answered.

[netherfeildren]

How to Endure Ardor:

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel teaches you how to love him.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post outbreak; QZ Joel Miller; I'm saying this, but the setting is sort of ambiguous anyways, Stream of consciousness, Character Study, Alternating POVs; PIV sex; The troubles and toils of breaking up and then making up with a fucked up old man; Uncaring Joel; Mentions of painful sex; Toxic relationships or situationships or whatever you want to call it; I think I'm addicted to the idea of a Joel who'll never love you and I should probably see a doctor about it

A/N: she remembers how to write, who'd of thought!

Word Count: 1.3K

Read on AO3

This is a lesson:

“Tell me again,” she says, and it’s a begging.

A begging like what? Something that carries shame and smallness in the shape of it. Stay a little longer. It humiliates him for the wretchedness it pulls from him. Joel, please. Seeping blood the color of her supplication. Please, she says, please. And who else says please to him anymore? Who asks him for anything anymore but her? The only ones who ever had are long past and gone, and he can’t even barely remember they were ever really there to ask anything of him to begin with—can’t remember what it feels like to owe someone something and want to give it to them in a way that will actually make him. 

Tell me what again? That I want you? That I’ll stay? That I love you? I’ll come back, he says instead, the only thing he can promise and keep. And he wonders if it humiliates her too, the way he lies, the way he runs, the way he swears, the way he always comes back and comes back but never returns with the things she needs. A humiliation just like it is a begging. 

The thing they have: it’s strange, fickle, honest in its lies, very, very ugly. An ugliness that is shocking in a world gone to rot already. The sky doesn’t shine anymore and they bask in it. 

But also, and, the thing they have: it’s physical, saving.

This is obvious too, even if only to them.

He slides inside and you’re what? Hot and wet and slick, and—yes, a thing like a dream, but still only a thing. Something to have, something close to desire, but not quite, more like biological want. Woman turned possession. In his mind this is an excuse, a reason, a begetting. Like, what—like what? Like when you want a thing very badly but it is very bad for you, and you need to make up any excuse to have it, lie and lie and lie—to your mother, your best friend, the mirror—a begetting like that. Easy to understand only if you’ve been there. 

It started simple, it started like nothing, it started like the first time you meet someone and you know they’ll matter, you know they’ll mean something. So it started like what? Like a lie. 

Shifts at the QZ, long and toiling and reminders of the sort of life that died in an outbreak of monsters, only if for how unlike that past it was. Humans or fungus or—

—men who hurt—you, men who refuse your love, Joel Miller.

The crutch of your age, of you being weaker or smaller or in need, him being easily felled, wooed, easily conquered by something young and given without a try because there was never the opportunity for trying before. 

Now, it is like this: you take my cock and you take my come and you take my nothing, and I give so little and yet you still find a way to take and take and take, leech of a girl, dream of a girl, hungry. And with the excuse that it’s only in a way you contrive for your own self. But in the end, what does that make you? What do I make you into? 

These are the things he asks himself. 

Perhaps she goes away for a time, tries the route of escape, of variety. But when she inevitably comes back because addiction is riddled always in the same sorts of ways: did you try different bodies? Did you try different flavors and sounds? Did you look for me in all of them? 

The answer is usually yes.

At reunion’s turn: he rolls her over to face her, Joel, damp and panting and trying to be something—perhaps better, more honest—after a season of variety and honest attempts and shut eyes. He’s so hard for her, always is. 

Again: he slides inside and you’re what? His, undeniably. Not yours. Something to want but not desire because it’s too romantic a notion, and yes, there’s a difference even if he can’t put into words what that difference specifically is. Body and heart, perhaps, definitions that differ between disparate anatomical parts or levels of deniability. 

Nothing either of you have ever been able to put into words when lust and love aren’t things you can even say out loud for the shame of them, even if they exist within said same anatomy. 

You come together, the season passed, the separation passed but still kept at hand for the next time the closeness becomes too much. 

“Tell me again,” she says, and this time he remembers what she’s asking for.

“I fucking missed you, baby. Missed this pussy.” Because he can’t say it’s her heart he missed. Because Joel Miller does not have honesty in his arsenal. 

He spreads you wide, knee to shoulder so it hurts and pulls, so it’ll be sore and reminding tomorrow. The slap of his pelvis against the back of your thighs is obscene, wet and lewd, a string of girl cum keeping you connected, such togetherness, curve of your ass to the root of his cock—the two of you are together again. 

You know what I thought, when I tried to go away, you say. He doesn’t want to know, but he doesn't tell you so either, only slides in again, the mouth of your womb right there, threatening. I’m never going to feel like this again, and I hate how certainly I know that. He wonders if the unsaid part is that he’s the recipient of that feeling, the hate. 

He wonders if the pinch inside him is hurt. He wonders if the throb is love. 

All he says because he can’t say the rest is, I missed you, I missed you, and if he could look himself in the mirror—something that’s twenty years past lost—he’d ask: are you alright? Just tell me you’re okay. And it sounds in your own voice and with your own care and the feel of your own warmth. Is there anything I can do?

Other times, he sees himself through your own eyes, and then he knows for certain that the throb is love 

So he makes up for lost time, hard—and if it was a thing he knew how to be— loving. Mouth to cunt first, primed and soft and begging, making you come again and then another once more, then inside of you. Slow, splitting you open, red cunt like a wound, balls slapping wet, pulling out to watch the gape of the space he’s carved for himself. His cock is so hard and missing you something desperate. And he’s reminded of what it is to really miss something in a way he hadn’t been in twenty years of apocalypse, he’s forced to realized that it’s been so long since he’d had something to love that he’d not realized the feeling of missing that long past someone had gone away, only faint memory remained. 

Violent, is what this makes him after that realization—thrusts turning hard and punishing. How dare you give yourself to me? How dare you then take yourself away? You come around him again, the gift of your orgasm. How dare you not be able to accept the little I’m able to give when I’m trying so desperately fucking hard to give you even just this? 

He fucks you mean, he fucks you in the way of a man who doesnt know how to say the things he needs to say, in a way that’s confusing, that could make a less discerning woman feel only the hurt. 

But then again, you know him.

Fucks you in a way that is a little bit like love.

And so, amidst all of it, there is an honesty amongst the lies. A truth unspoken that they both know—I’ll come back because I need you, because you’re the only one who can give me the things I'm not strong enough to ask for out loud. 

You’re not sure which of the two of you is the one saying it.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

[floatyflowers]

Dark! Percy Jackson Reverse Harem x Reader|| Chapter Four

<<< Chapter Three

You tried to fight them with your hardest, but you barely land hits on any of them.

But the sword is hard for you to handle and your hits are sloppy.

In the end, you got injured.

No, Ares's children didn't harm you, you cut yourself up with the sword by accident.

However, Percy fought them all off and your team won capture the flag.

Annabeth shoved Percy in the water where your doubts were confirmed as Poseidon claimed him as his son.

After the game, Chiron called you over to give you a letter from your mother.

For some reason you were so scared to open it, feeling like your mother was declaring in the letter that she disowns you and doesn't want to see you ever again.

But, it is the opposite of that.

My Sweet Angel,

I apologize for appearing like a coward, but I needed to get you to the camp.

However...I couldn't bring myself to enter the place because it brought bad memories for me.

I hate it, but I know it's necessary for your safety.

And you must understand that I would never be ashamed of you, I'm quiet proud of you.

After all, I was in your position when I was young.

PS. Your stepfather sends you his love and will prepare you all of your favorite food when you return home.

From your beloved mother,

Calista

You let out a happy laugh, finally feeling at ease that you misunderstood the whole situation.

Your mother loves you, but wait...

...She is a demigod.

But what do that make you?

Also who is her godly parent.

You will ask Chiron about it later, he must know who he is.

Suddenly you hear knocking on the front of your cabin door, you go to open it only to see Annabeth.

You smile at her cheerful and shyly but invite her inside.

Once she is inside, you begin apologizing.

"I'm sorry about my performance, I swear I tried my best but-"

She cuts you off.

"No need to worry, you did amazing on your first try"

Your expression brightens up.

"Thank you"

"No problem, girls stick together, am I right?" Annabeth says with a smile.

"Yes...would you like to stay over and chit chat for a bit?"

"Sure!"

And that's how you made a first female best friend in camp.

°°°

"I chose you for the quest, you cannot say no to it"

"Well, the quest is going to fail, did you not see my fighting skill? It's horrible!"

Percy as usual barged into your cabin to inform you of the quest.

"Come on, Grover and Annabeth will be there too, there is nothing to fear"

Your eyes grow big upon hearing the name 'Grover'  as a smile appears on your face.

"Grover is here? Is he also a demigod?"

°°°

"You are a Satyr?"

You tilt your head, looking down at the tan skinned boy's legs.

"Yes...weird, I know"

"No, it's not weird at all, actually it is kind of cute" you say.

Grover smiles and blushes but Percy walks between you both, to break the nearness.

"We need to focus on the quest" Percy asserts with jealousy.

"Is that Thalia?" you ask Annabeth as she says goodbye to the tree.

"Yes"

"She’s really gonna miss that tree, huh?"

Percy says sarcastically, looking with envy as you interact with Annabeth, also patting the tree gently, saying something he can't hear.

He doesn't want you to interact with anyone.

If he can lock you up, he will do it.

"When Annabeth first arrived here with Thalia and Luke, they were being chased by monsters. Agents of Hades. Sisters. Furies."

"Mrs. Dodds?" Percy points out.

"Yes! One was our algebra teacher. Alecto. Thalia turned back to fight to buy her friends some time. Her satyr protector tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen. So, at the last moment... Zeus intervened to save her life and... changed her form."

"The most powerful being in the universe’s best idea to save his daughter’s life... was to turn her into a tree?"

Percy mocks after his friend finishes explaining as you and Annabeth walk back to them.

"She was the bravest demigod I ever knew. She fought valiantly, and she met a hero’s fate." Annabeth defends.

"She met a pinecone’s fate."

"Percy" you exclaim, piniching his arm.

"What? I'm telling the truth"

You sigh in anger, before turning to Annabeth with a gentle expression and say.

"If I ever meet Zeus, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind"

Grover nods his head slowly at you.

"Yeah, so he can strike you down with lighting bolt"

"Can't strike me down with something he lost"

You say playfully walking ahead of them.

"She is going to get us killed" Annabeth mutter

"And I don't mind dying for her" Percy respond firmly, following after you like a lovesick puppy.

°°°

Calista walks around the house, cleaning every corner and making sure everything is in order.

She developed an OCD, ever since she became pregnant with her only daughter, you.

The demigod woman feared that all her past relationships with the gods might come back and slap her in the face through you.

She would die if something happened to you, that's why she thought it was the best decision to send you to Camp Half-Blood.

While doing house work, the doorbell rings, she walk over to the front door and opens it.

But once she sees who is on the other side, she tries to close it, but the person stops her and shoves his way in.

"This is no good way to greet me, young lady"

"What are you doing here?" Calista demands in fear.

"Well, I came to take you back to the underworld"

Hades answers back with a smirk.

"I'm not going anywhere, my daughter-"

"Don't worry, I sent someone to get her, so we can all become a big happy family"

Chapter Five>>>

[dahliamalfoy97]

INITIATION - Muzan x y/n reader

Muzan x y/n reader smut one shot

Synopsis: Y/N has woken up and has no memory of who she is. Muzan is there to remind her.

Warning: SMUT 18+!!, MDNI, rough sex, oral, monster kink, size kink, masochism, degradation kink, praise kink. Slapping, choking, tentacles, Kidnapping, detailed murder, blood, slight dub con, kidnapping, a little manipulative, penetration, anal sex, double penetration, gagging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie. Just so much filthy things because Muzan is a sick motherfucker so this one shot is probably just as twisted so proceed with caution!

word count: 4k+

Your eyes flutter open, and the first thing you feel is utter confusion. For you have no memory of where you were or who you were. Your mind was completely blank and you no memory of anything. The next thing you notice is, you're lying down on what seems to be a table.

The first thing that you see, is a pair of scarlet red eyes boring in your eyes. They were so bright and unnerving at the same time. As the source of these eyes came into focus, you could see he was a man, with inky, curly, black hair, which was tied back into a pony tail and had pale skin. He wore a black dress button down shirt with a white tie. He was striking.

"Oh good," the man speaks content tone, as he notices that you're finally awake. "You're finally awake."

"W-who who are you? And where am I?" You ask, in a voice so soft, you weren't sure if he heard you cause you could barely hear yourself.

"My name is Muzan and you are in my home," he replies cryptically. "This is the Infinity Castle."

His name and the place sounded familiar but nothing came to mind as to why.

"And why am I here?"

He just smiles, and there's something about it that makes your skin tingle. You weren't sure if it was out of fear or something else.

"You are here because I found you on the brink of death, you were on the street and you needed a home."

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion , "But how come I don't remember anything? I don't even know my name."

"That's because I turned you into a demon, and sometimes the process can erase all traces of your past life. Call it a new slate if you will," he reaches for what looks like a vial of red liquid from a shelf and shakes it. "Here drink this, this will cure the sudden hunger you're feeling."

As if on cue, your stomach grumbles, "w- what, did you say demon? Demons exist?" You ask in wonder. "So is that blood in that vial?"

That grin turns prideful, "we exist and we are the most powerful beings to walk this planet. And yes this is blood, because this is what helps you stay strong and the more you consume the more powerful you'll become. But only human blood works. Animal blood cannot keep you healthy."

An unsettling feeling settles in your stomach, "so I have to kill in order to survive?"

"Only if you choose to go through this transformation, if you don't I'll have to kill you as I won't have any use for you otherwise."

this man was much more sinister and cunning than he appeared. You're sure a normal human would have been afraid or dying to get out of this situation. But you were intrigued. Despite the fact that he was probably a terrible man and a murderer- you were fascinated by him. Perhaps it was the fact that he saved you from whatever life you had lived before.

"So why did you choose me to turn into a demon?"

"Because I saw something in you that seemed valuable to have," he replies. "Would you like to know of your past? I can show you."

"Sure."

"Drink this," he holds me a vial of clear liquid.

You take it, study it before gulping it down in one go.

At first nothing happens, but suddenly your eyes drift shut and images begin flying through your mind.

Images of your parents and them dying, you being taken in by a man. A man that had looked kind by the smile he wore and the warmth of his hands.  But that smile had been a mask for the monster he really was. And those hands ended up being the source of all your nightmares as he did things to you that you didn't dare think about. Finally, the vision ended with your hands covered in blood, as he lay in a pool of blood, lifeless. You dropped the knife and ran.

You had vowed to had never trust a man with a smile or warm hands again.

"She's a murderer!" An onlooker had shouted.

"a monster!" Another had yelled.

But you had ignored them, walking by all of them in silence.

Eventually night had come and the streets had died down, all the people had gone to their homes and you were left alone on the streets in the dark of night. After what you had done. Nobody would take you in. Nobody wanted a murderer.

You held the knife that you had killed your captor to your neck. All this pain would end if you ended it here. But wait. Why did you have to stop living? Why give up your life ? They're the ones who deserved to die. They all ruined your life.

The first house you had reached was a family you knew well. They were the ones responsible for your torment. It made you sick how they could live happily and comfortably after condemning you to a life of hell.

You didn't waste a second as you slit their throats in the dead of night. And the second time in your life, you felt powerful. For you finally had control of your own life.

You didn't stop at the one house. You went to 12 more. Murdering those who had mocked and tortured you.  The ones that had stood while your captor had abused and violated you and did nothing to stop him. They all just stood by and watched and then had the audacity to point fingers at you. To call you the monster.

At the 13th one, you found someone had already beaten you to it. You saw him devouring the arm of the man. Part of you was disgusted. But part of you was relieved. The being turned to you after finishing his meal.

"Thought I'd help you out," the man said. This was him. This was Muzan.

"Are you one of those demons? The ones I've heard about?"

"I'm not just any one of those demons. I am the Demon King and I've come to recruit you into my Army. Make you become one of us."

"And why would I trust you?" You ask.

"You don't have to trust me or anyone, just help me rid of the world of people like them," he nods to the ground, his eyes burn with hatred.

"What do I have to do?"

He holds out a hand, "come with me".

You study it warily, "just as long as you let me do whatever I want. I want full control of my life and who I'll get to kill and-"

"There's certain humans I'll task you to kill, but as long as you follow my orders and remain useful, freedom is yours."

You look into his eyes and see a shared look of hate and anger, that's all you needed before taking his hand."

You come back from the vision, who you are and what you how you had gotten here- was suddenly clear. You grab the vial of blood from his hands. He smirks in amusement as you drink it without hesitation.

"Good girl."

That phrase alone has you locking eyes with his and something in you awakens in those scarlet orbs.

"What else do I need to do to be one of you."

Something akin to relief flashes in those cold scarlet eyes, a smirk graces those devilish lips.

He turns a finger down your collarbone that's exposed from the flimsy gown you wore. A shiver ignites from his touch. For a demon's usually cold touch. His was scorching and setting you ablaze.

"First, pledge your life and your soul to me?" His hand comes back up to your face, brushing along your lower lip, causing you to suck in a breath.

"What do I need to do?" You swallow thickly. You said you'd never trust a man again. But this here was no man, he was a devil. A sensible person would run away. But you - you felt the desire to follow him anywhere. Perhaps it was the fact that he saved you. Or that he a really good manipulation tactics and that he just wanted to use you. But you found yourself wanting to be used.

"Let me show you," is all he says.

In a blur, your clothes are ripped off of your body. Leaving every bit of you exposed. Something in the devil's eyes made your nipples harden and yours thighs clenched. Maybe it was the fact that he was completely dressed and you were completely naked. Or he was the Demon King and you were completely and utterly defenseless about what he was about to do.

He leans over you and begins running a hand down your chest, brushing along your tits in a teasing manner down to the apex of your thighs. Every where his hand touched, a trail of electricity was left it in it's wake. Heightening all of your senses.

"Gotta make sure you're in pristine condition, and that you're exactly what I need," with his veiny large hands he forces your legs apart. His thumb grazing your clit, lightly. Which was already throbbing and aching with need. "That fucker that violated you, how did you kill him?"

You inhale a strained breath, before exhaling, the slightest of his touch was enough to have you needy for more. "I cut off his dick and shoved it up his ass, before slitting his throat."

His gaze never leaves your as his thumb begins to rub your sensitive bud with his thumb, "and did you enjoy it?"

You smirk, "I did."

He hummed, "good. I'm going to erase every memory of his touch from your skin and replace it with mine. From here on out, you will belong to me. Understood?"

You nod your head eagerly, "Yes, Master."

His teasing touch on your clit speeds up, "your pussy is already mine. Look at how quick it responds to me and I've barely done a thing to it."

"Please do whatever you'd like, Master. I want to exceed your expectations."

Without needing any further permission, he sinks in a finger, you let out a moan and he lets out a growl. You had never been touched like this. So the touch was foreign odd at first, but when he began to prod his finger between your tight walls, the more adjusted you became.

"Fuck, Dollface, you are tight as fuck," he closes his eyes as if to revel in the feeling of you around his finger, and when he opens eyes again, the red in his irises has been blown away by his black pupils, stealing your breath away. You cry out when he adds a second finger, scissoring open even wider. Not long after, he's got your pussy wrapped around his three fingers. They slam into with a wicked force. Your juices are soaking his fingers in seconds, but he doesn't stop his attack. His grin becomes feral. "You just came from that alone ? Fuck, you are a real gem."

You arch and quiver as he continues to jab his long fingers in and out of you. Any logical thoughts are forgotten as his mouth finally adds to the fray. Sucking your clit and biting it with his teeth, you shamelessly grind yourself on his tongue as he ravishes you thoroughly.

"F-f-fuck," you whimper, "Muzan, don't stop." Tears escaped your eyes, and you pressed grabbed his head and pushed in closer into you, wanting him as deep as he could go. You moaned at how soft and silky his hair felt in your hands. It was so soft compared to this beast of a man. You were so overcome with overwhelming pleasure, it was hard for you to think straight. The only thing that you know for sure, was that you wanted more.

"How could I when you taste so goddamn sweet, so much better than any of the humans I've devoured, baby, you are my own five course meal. So fucking delicious."

His words are so filthy, the way he continues you to wreck you with his mouth has your stomach turning in knots. And white hot pleasure takes over. You watch in amazement as your arousal sprays his face, yet he gleams in pure delight.

He detaches his mouth from your pussy and stands up, grabs you from your neck and pulls you in for a hot and hungry kiss. His lips are demanding and possessive of yours- there's no question for who's in control. He dominates you in seconds and you submit without hesitation. It was almost scary with how you vowed to never trust a man or let one ever control you again, yet you were throwing all that away for the Demon King himself. But you didn't care anymore. You wanted to submit to him in any and every way. Call you insane or call you weak, but you knew the minute you saw him that first night, you were already gone.

You yank him closer to you, tearing his shirt off, your newly awakened demon powers must include sharp claws, because you rake your nails down his back causing him to moan. And it makes you feral as he moans because of you. You grow more feral with that knowledge.

"You are perfect for me, Angel," he praises against your lips. His mouth leaves yours and begins leaving kisses along your neck, alternating between kisses and bites, which would leave a purplish hue when he was done. You grind yourself on him even harder. You reach down and rub his clothed cock.

"Please Muzan," you beg, "I need you."

He drops you onto the ground, "so needy for me, but I need to finish examining you first. And if you pass this test, I'll reward you. Now kneel like the perfect whore you are and open your mouth."

You instantly do what he says, you kneel on the hard floor and open your mouth. He finishes stripping out of his clothes. Your mouth waters in awe. For he was breathtaking. So beautifully chiseled in every way. There was no flaw. He was pure muscle and sinewy. His cock stood proud and tall against his abdomen. It was massive, girthy and long, with a slight curve. He was demon but he was built as a god. No- he was a god.

He closes the distance between you, stroking his cock in his hand. He rubs the crown along your lips, before pressing his head past your lips. His precum coating your tongue.

"Suck," he commands and you do, you suck on his tip slowly, unsure of what to do. You begin to swirl your tongue around his head and the underside. You tentatively lick a stripe down his shaft. Soon, he loses patience and thrusts the whole length into your mouth in one go. If you had still been a human, your mouth would have been torn to shreds but your demon mouth gave you better strength to handle the harsh action. Your throat was forced open wide as he slammed into your mouth. Spit and precum drooling out of your mouth. You try your best to hollow your cheeks you can take him in better. But he gives you barely anytime to adjust and uses your mouth as he pleases. He grabs your hair and pulls out of the way, making it easier for you to take him. He forces you down on his cock, causing you to choke slightly.

"What a perfect cocksleeve for my cock," he laughs darkly, "so fucking perfect," his laughs turns to grunts as his thrusts get more harsher. You sob around his cock in pleasure. His hips begins to stutter, his cock begins pulsing in your mouth. It becomes heavier and you feel something hot and salty shooting down your throat.

Before you can take a breath, he's picking you up and throwing you onto the table. Your back hits the table harshly and you yelp. He yanks you towards him, spreading your legs apart. He runs the length along my aching, in slow, tortuous strokes. Making you whine.

"You did so well, you've passed all of my expectations so far. Now I need to you beg for me."

"Please, Muzan."

He growls, "please what?"

"I- y-your-"

He slaps your clit and you scream, "use your fucking words!"

"Please, Master," you beg. "Fuck me. Please."

He chuckles, "now there's a good little slut."

Finally, he's aligning his tip with your entrance. He slowly pushes the tip in. You can't keep your eyes away from the sight of him entering you. You feel every vein and every crevice as he pushes past your slick walls. The stretch burned and you struggled to accommodate his size. You instinctively clamp around him.

"If you fucking do that, I'm going to cum before I can even start. So relax," he demands, softly rubbing your tummy with his hands.

You take a deep breath and feel yourself relax. Soon he's all the way in and you moan at how full you are of him, at how much he stretched you out by just settling inside you.

He pulls out before slamming right back in. He grips your hips tightly as he begins ramming into you at full speed. The sudden action, causing you grip onto his shoulders for purchase. Creaking sounds and slaps of skin, fill the room as you get fucked by the Demon King. Every inch of his cock plunging into you deeper and deeper with each thrust, and it's not long before he finds the spot that once he hits it you turn into mush. Completely in a state of bliss as he abuses the spot over and over.

"More more more," you chant.

"Look at you so compliant and submissive for my cock," his growls. His red eyes flashing bright with contempt. "I knew when I saw you, you'd be a perfect fit for me and my cock. That's the main reason I recruited you. Was to have your pussy as my personal fuck toy."

You're so out of it. Every thrust and every inch of his cock scraping your walls is paradise. You didn't want him to stop. Suddenly the table breaks, but he catches you at inhuman speed before you can fall. You wrap your legs around his middle, as thrusts up into you, this new position made it hard to tell where he ended and where you begin. His chest was against yours, he took your one of your tits in your mouth and began sucking on it, causing you to arch your back. You grip his hair and drag your nails down his back. He seemed to be able to reach new places from this angle and you could feel the wave building up inside you and you shuddered as you clamped down around his throbbing cock. The coil in your stomach as it snaps and you can feel yourself coming undone.

“Fuck,” you sob in pure bliss from your high.

“You make such a pretty mess around my cock,” he cooes, he grips his hands around your neck. Not relenting from his consistent assault. He squeezes and instantly cum again from just the way he seemed to cut off air making you senses even more overwhelmed. “Like the pretty little slut you are, designed to take my cock like champ. Like that’s your only purpose in life is to satisfy my needs.”

Not long after you feel him growing within you, his thrusts become a little more erratic, but they still powerful to make you shake. He lets out a roar as hot white ropes of cum shoot into you. Your cunt flutters around him, hungry for every drop.

“Yess, my perfect little cum dump,” he slowly pulls out groaning at the sight of the white liquid oozing out of you. He gathers it in his fingers and pushes it all back into you, a hoarse cry escaping your lips. Because you were so sensitive. “But I’m not done with you yet.“ He picks you up and carries you to another table. He manhandles you so you’re flipped onto your stomach and your legs are hanging over the edge. He grabs some restraints and takes your wrists and binds then behind your back. Something covers you eyes taking away your eyesight. He was rendering you completely useless for whatever he had planned next and you could do nothing but take it. All of your senses were being limited and heightened at the same.

You could feel his hands grabbing your waist, pulling your ass to rub against his cock which was still rock hard. Your pussy lips are being pulled and pinched by his fingers. you feel sharp sting on your sensitive clit causing you to jolt at the sudden force.

“Such a pretty little pussy,”is all he says before slapping it again, then without warning,his cock is spears into you again. He feels even bigger than before, as your pussy struggles to take him. You have nothing to grip onto just your front being pressed into the table and his hands on your hips to anchor you as he plows into full force once again. Suddenly you feel something on your leg, it feels wet and hard. It creeped along your thigh. Another thing like it wraps around your other leg, stretching you out even further. Something prods against your other entrance, your ring of muscle is being prodded by it. Something like a tongue flicks against it but that’s impossible because Muzan is still fûcking you with his cock. It pushes past your ring of muscle, a new burning stretch takes over and your tight hole is being stretched by whatever this thing was. It didn’t matter what was teasing to your little hole you were spasming around his cock. You shake and fall apart at the overstimulation.

And it seemed Muzan was getting off of it because he was laughing and praising you.“ now you really look like a fuck doll, a perfect little toy for me to fuck. You should see yourself,” Suddenly your blindfold is being ripped off, while still being pounding into. Your head is being forced by something wrapping around it. It’s the same wet thing that is wrapped around your leg and attacking and fucking your asshole at the same time. Everything was too much. You had no sense of time or anything. You couldn’t tell if what too were seeing was real. But tentacles seemed to wrap around your throat and leg. Another one is pounding into your hole, while being split by Muzan’s cock which looked bigger. His hair was now a snowy white and fell into waves to his shoulders. His chest was the same but ribbons of red laced around his arms, mouths with sharp teeth dotted his skin in strange places and tentacles sprouted from his back.

“This is my true demon form, are you scared little one?”

But before you can speak, tentacles are being shoved into your mouth. Rendering you speechless, as you gagged around them. Saliva drooled down from your mouth and your eyes watered everything was too much. You were in a mix of pain and pleasure. Your body was not yours anymore. It was his. His plaything, his experiment. You should have been begging for him to stop. Begging for him to let you breath and trying to escape this beast. But you could only feel yourself getting more nd more turned on.

“What was that?” He taunts, “I can’t hear you.”

You babble or try to around his appendage, it leaves your throat for a moment, “no,” your voice is barely a sound, “I am not scared of you, I want more,” you wheeze out.

His eyes widen in shock for a moment, before darkening and sick, twisted grin takes over his features, “you should be. You should be trembling under my feet. I don’t think you understand the power I have over your now. For this body no longer belongs to you. It belongs to me and I’ll use it whenever please. Every vein, every moan, every curve and hole of your body, is MINE. Your only use to me is that of a perfect little fuckdoll for me to bend and break however I please. To use whenever and however please. You only exist to only please me. Understand?”

“Yes!” You scream, you’re a sobbing, trembling mess. “Please use me whenever and however you want.”

Your mind is broken, your body is spasming out of control. You are completely lost but yet your are mended by this devil.

“I’m yours, Master.”

“That’s right whore,” he seethes, “YOU. ARE. FUCKING. MINE!”

You cry in pure ecstasy, everything after that becomes a blur. All that you can understand is that his cock and appendage are pounding into both of your holes. You’re being split apart. Every inch of you is on fire. His claws rip into your skin at your hips, blood sprays out. But you keep taking it. You reveled in the pain. It made you feel alive. And if you were human, you’d be long dead but as a demon you could take any of it and you loved it. You loved how brutal and twisted this was. His tentacles wrap around your throat once more. Fingers forcing their way down your throat. You gag and choke from being denied of air and all sanity. He pulls his fingers out and smears saliva on your face.

He roars in delight, “what a filthy little bitch. You’re still so willing to take everything I give you. I love it. You are so fucking perfect for me.”

Suddenly one of his mouths latch onto both nipples your clit at the same time as if every inch of your soul ls being sucked out of you. You lose all feeling in your body. It writhes and falls apart over and over. You lose count of on how many times you cum in those minutes or how many positions he changes to wreck you in. You just take it. Your mindset slipping further and further away from any sanity or clarity. You were only aware of him and inch of you he broke and mended over and over again.

Finally, what seems like eternity, he’s shooting into you again, until you’re completely filled and covered in his cum. “You look so perfect covered and filled with my cum.”

He pulls out. All appendages and mouths detach from you and you’re falling into a heap but he holds on you. Not caring if you’re completely drenched in cum. You’re completely fucked and incoherent but his soft kisses bring you back slowly.

“So did I pass your initiation and requirements?” You ask sleepily. He chuckles.

“You met every single one of them and more. You’re nothing but perfect for me and I want you more than just my recruit. I want you as a my queen and you are perfect for that role. It’s why I was watching you for all these years waiting for the perfect time to claim you.”

“How long have you been watching me?”

He grins, “that night, when you murdered that monster, the both of you were supposed to be my victims. But you surprised me with how brutal you were. How cold and relentless you became and from then on, I knew I needed to have you.”

You’re at a loss for words, his scarlet eyes bore into yours with something like adoration and love. But that’s impossible because he’s a demon you’re sure he can’t really feel any of that.

“Well thank you for saving me,” you say, reaching up to pull his face down to yours. You claim his lips in a needy kiss. He hums in content. “I would love to be your Queen. I am yours, forever.”

“Yes, mine.”

[sattlersquarry]

orange juice (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 4 AU) Steve's world changes in the worst way when he loses you. He struggles to move on...but he learns he might not have to when he miraculously gets a second chance with you.

Word Count: ~8k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, death, grief, alcoholism, mentions of sex, mention of alcohol poisoning, and an allusion to a suicide attempt (in a miscommunication!!!! no one actually tried). the reader is presumed dead after the events of season 4. lots of angst and hurt/comfort with a happy ending bc if I ever wrote something without a happy ending my identity has been stolen. inspired by "orange juice" by noah kahan with some other references to his music sprinkled throughout.

a/n: i've been bouncing between this and bloom for the past few months and they are two very different fics tonally, but i hope you enjoy. please let me know if i missed any warnings because this one is kind of heavy.

🍊🍊🍊

ORANGE JUICE

MAY 1986

A ringing phone rouses Steve from a restless sleep.

A near-empty bottle of gin rests on the floor by his bed. He doesn’t remember drinking it, nor does he remember anything else from last night.

It’s been two months since you died. Steve’s not taking it well. 

That horrible day, Steve, Nancy, and Robin ran from the Creel House and found Eddie and Dustin sobbing over you, your eyes lifeless and the wounds on your abdomen weeping.

I’m so s-sorry, Steve, Dustin had said through sobs. W-we tried to save her!

An aftershock of the initial gate-opening earthquake caused panic amongst their group. Steve wanted to carry your body back to the real world for a proper burial, but there was no time before the aftershock got much too intense. Dustin and Robin refused to leave the Upside Down without him. He wasn’t going to let them get hurt, so despite the fact it broke his soul in half to do so, he allowed his friends to drag him back to the gate in the Upside Down’s version of the Munson trailer, leaving you behind.

When the dust settled and reality set in that Steve was going to have to move on without you, grief overtook him. He turned to alcohol as a welcome distraction. He’s been consistently ignoring Robin’s desperate pleas for him to talk to a professional, to drink less, to try and really process his pain.

Steve should listen, but he won’t. Instead, he’ll grieve. He’ll wallow. He’d rather wither away into nothing than work on bettering himself, because you died and that’s not fair. To you, to him. To everyone who loves you.

Steve groans, a deep rumbling thing from deep in chest, as he stretches and rubs sleep out of his eyes. He blindly reaches for the phone on his nightstand.

“Hello?” he mumbles.

“Steve, hey.”

Steve sits up like a rocket at the tremble in Robin’s voice.

“Robin? Is everything okay?”

“Uh, kind of. I mean, yes! But no. Sorry, I just—can you come to Hopper’s?”

“What is it?” Steve asks. He staggers to his feet, getting tangled in the phone cord. “Is it Vecna? Shit, who did he take?”

“No one!” Robin says, voice way too high to be believable. “Please just come over when you can.”

Steve drives over to their basecamp at Hopper’s cabin, a million bad scenarios racing through his head. What if Vecna cursed Dustin? Or Nancy, or any of the others?

What if somehow he got El, and the Hawkins’ team was really doomed?

It takes Steve almost forty minutes to get to Hopper’s, due to earthquake damage and military roadblocks all over town. He raises his hand to knock on the door, but it swings open before he can.

Joyce smiles at him, but her eyes are mournful.

“Hi, Steve,” she says warmly. “Please, come inside.”

This isn’t what Steve expected. Hopper, El, Will, Jonathan, Nancy, and Robin are sitting on various chairs and couches in the cabin’s main room. Usually, it’s frantic around here: everyone running around with mixtapes, weapons, and crudely drawn maps of the town with markings where the most frequent monster attacks are. It’s never this still.

When Steve and Joyce walk in, everyone looks at him, sympathy in their eyes.

Steve’s first thought: Shit, is this an intervention?

Before he can ask, Hopper says: “The gates are closed, Steve.”

Steve’s mouth twists into a frown, heart pounding in his chest. That wasn��t the plan.

“Wait, what? How?”

“We’re not sure,” Joyce says. “But Will—”

“I can’t feel Vecna anymore,” Will explains. “And El checked this morning, and she found Vecna in the Void and…”

“He’s gone,” El says quietly. “Dead. Finally.”

Steve sinks onto a couch cushion. That should be good news. Steve should be celebrating, toasting to the death of the bastard that ruined his life and took you away by way of the demobats. But—

“We were supposed to go back,” Steve says. The back of his throat burns when he swallows hard, trying to choke down the sensation of nausea that’s either from his hangover or his panic. Or both. “We were going to go back and get Y/N’s body.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Jonathan says, looking down at his feet.

Steve whirls to Hopper, eyes blazing with a flash of anger that never seems to leave him these days.

“You promised!” he yells. “You promised that we’d go back for her!”

“I know,” Hopper says, keeping his voice even. “But something—or someone—killed Vecna in the Upside Down and the gates closed. The fight is done. It’s over.”

Steve’s lip wobbles. He won’t cry in front of them. He won’t. But his head spins.

“What am I going to tell her parents?” Steve says, voice cracking.

“You don’t have to do it alone, Steve,” Nancy says. She reaches a hand to touch his shoulder and Steve bats it away. “Steve—”

“This is such bullshit,” Steve snaps, turning to Hopper again. “If you had let me go back down there before, I could have brought her body back. We could’ve given her a proper funeral. Given her parents closure! But you made me wait!”

“It was the right choice,” Hopper says firmly. “I didn’t want to invoke another Vecna attack on Hawkins until we were ready to fight.”

“Maybe there’s a gate that we missed and—”

“We checked the gates this morning,” Robin says softly. “They’re all closed.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Joyce says. “But it’s over.”

Steve doesn’t say anything else. He storms out of the cabin, ignoring Robin’s pleas to come back, to not be alone right now. Steve drives back home, not without stopping at the liquor store first and loading up on various spirits to numb the pain.

Over the next week, you go from declared missing to officially declared dead. Steve can’t let on to your parents that he had known for months, and Hopper doesn’t want him to tell them the truth about Vecna, demobats, and the Upside Down. It kills Steve to lie to their faces, to attend the funeral where they bury an empty casket, knowing what he knows. Knowing that your body is trapped in another dimension. Dead and alone.

🍊🍊🍊

NOVEMBER 1986

“Y/N wouldn’t want this.”

Robin’s words echo in Steve’s mind hours after she’s fallen asleep in the uncomfortable armchair next to his hospital bed.

An overindulgence forced Steve to spend his Thanksgiving in a hospital—not that he had any plans with his family to get ruined anyway. Although he had been invited to Thanksgiving with the Buckleys, Wheelers, Hopper-Byerses, Sinclairs, Hendersons, Mayfields, and Munsons, Steve declined every invitation. He resigned himself to a holiday alone without you, got heavy handed with a bottle of whiskey, and passed out in the neighbor’s lawn.

When he awoke, he was in the hospital. Joyce and Robin were there, the former fretting over him and the latter chewing him out for being such a dingus and scaring her so badly on a holiday.

Like a broken record in his head of the worst song Steve’s ever heard: Y/N wouldn’t want this. Y/N wouldn’t want this. Y/N wouldn’t want this.

Robin didn’t say it to be mean. She said it to get him to wake up. To cool it with the drinking, because if he kept going at the rate he was going, he’d meet a worse fate than a pumped stomach.

Joyce quietly reenters the room and smiles.

“Oh, you’re still up!” she says. “I thought for sure you’d try to get some sleep.”

Steve shrugs.

“I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up.”

Joyce settles on the chair next to Robin’s, ignoring the sleeping girl’s loud snores.

“When I can’t stop replaying the past in my mind,” Joyce says, “I try to think about my future instead. What are my aspirations and goals? What can I do differently to achieve them?”

Steve chews his bottom lip.

“Is it bad if I have no goals?” he says, feeling quite sorry for himself.

“Why do you think that is?” Joyce asks gently.

Steve shrugs again, before rubbing his eyes.

“Shit, I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve spent the past 3 years on edge thinking I’m going to get killed at any minute?”

Steve barks out a hollow laugh. “Or maybe it’s because 2 years ago I met someone who turned my life completely around, and she did get killed, and I wasn’t there to save her or be with her when she died. And I couldn’t give her or her parents a proper end and every time I close my eyes, I see her laying there. And I don’t know what my future looks like without her. I don’t even think I want one.”

Steve hates crying in front of other people. But when Joyce wraps an arm around his shoulders, he breaks down.

“It’s going to be all right, Steve,” she says. She squeezes him a little tighter. “I know it’s hard moving on from loss, but you do have a future. You have so many people that love you and are going to help you figure it out. And Y/N would want you to keep going. She’d want you to go off and do wonderful things.”

Joyce was right. If roles were reversed, Steve would want you to keep going without him. Not waste away and drink yourself into a coma.

Steve’s life is changing. And despite everything, things might be looking up.

🍊🍊🍊

FEBRUARY 1987

There is a beautiful girl in Steve’s bed and she’s touching him all the ways he likes to be touched—but he can’t even enjoy it because she’s not you.

He tries to clear his mind of all distraction. The girl with him—Molly—is very, very hot. And the feeling of her hands all over him should be sufficient to keep him focused on the moment. But his mind keeps wandering to you.

You were the last person he was truly intimate with. Sure, he’s kissed girls at parties. But that’s different than what’s happening now. Different than being in bed with Molly and her wandering hands, her gentle touches, her salacious whispers.

Steve thinks maybe he’s finally done it. Found a girl that can help him move on from you, the girl to help him feel whole again. To not feel so alone.

But then, overcome with sensation, Steve makes the worst possible faux pas in bed: he moans the wrong name.

Molly ceases kissing him.

“What did you just call me?” she asks, sitting up suddenly with narrowed eyes.

Steve sits up as well, resting against his headboard and floundering for a response that won’t make him sound like a douchebag.

“I just, uh, well—”

“Who is she?” Molly asks. She widens her eyes in horror. “Oh my god, are you seeing someone else? Am I ‘the other woman’?!”

“It’s nothing like that,” Steve rushes to assure her. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just got caught up in the moment.”

“Caught up in the moment thinking of someone else when I was about to blow you!” Molly snaps. She stomps off the bed and grumbles as she pulls her jeans and sweatshirt back on.

“Wait, hold on!” Steve says. He struggles to put a pair of sweatpants on, hopping around frantically one-footed to pull them up as Molly grabs her purse and yanks open Steve’s bedroom door. “Please don’t leave, Y/N—ah, Molly!”

“Unbelievable!” Molly scoffs as she stomps down the staircase of the townhome Steve shares with three other students at the University of Indiana.

Molly gets to the front door but stops, whipping around to face Steve as he catches up to her.

“Who is she?” she demands. “An ex-girlfriend?”

“In a sense, yeah, but—”

“If you’re still so hung up on her, maybe you should ask her to blow you instead!”

Steve thinks about being an asshole. About letting the anger that simmers in his bloodstream 24/7 rear its ugly head. About snapping at Molly, telling her that yeah, totally, he’d love to get a blowjob from a corpse stuck in an alternate dimension.

But then Molly would feel bad and give him the pitying look Steve hates. So instead, he says, “Yeah, I’ll do that. See you in class.”

Molly huffs before giving Steve’s cheek a sharp smack! He doesn’t wince. Upset at his lack of reaction, Molly storms out.

Just as well. Remembering how the love of his life is dead is a real mood killer.

Steve rubs his forehead and heads to the kitchen. He eyes the six pack in the fridge. He hasn’t touched alcohol in three months. The temptation causes his hand to graze a beer can, but he quickly pivots to a cartoon of orange juice.

He chugs the drink before stalking up the steps to his room. Steve drops to his knees and blindly reaches in the dusty space under his bed. He grips the corner of a box and drags it to the middle of the floor.

Once opened, two black button eyes stare back up at Steve. It’s Lambchop, a stuffed animal lamb that your parents gave him. After your parents held a small funeral and buried that empty casket, they gave Steve this box of your things.

Lambchop here was her favorite toy, your mother had said at the time, eyes glistening with tears. She always hoped to pass it on to her own children one day. I think she’d want you to have it.

Steve thanked your mother and father, gave his condolences, went home, drank enough whiskey to fell a horse, and passed out.

Shaking himself out of the memory, Steve climbs onto the bed and places the lamb on the pillow next to him. It’s one of few connections to you that he has left, so he’ll cherish it, even if it’s a little silly.

What Steve doesn’t realize is that in another dimension, the very person he’s yearning for lays in the version of her bedroom created by the Upside Down, holds a dirty version of Lambchop, and yearns for Steve right back.

🍊🍊🍊

MAY 1987

You and Steve used to have your futures mapped out: start at U of I together in fall of ’86. Move in together after your freshman year of college. Get engaged by fall of ’89, married in fall of ’90, and have two kids by ’95. Spend the rest of your lives together, happy and healthy, with the horrors of Hawkins far behind you.

That was before Steve’s world changed in the worst way. Before you died in the Upside Down, when you drew the bats away from the gate. You were a hero, trying to keep them from flying into your version of Hawkins and destroying it.

Steve struggled for a long time. He’s still struggling, but in a slightly better place.

He’s sober six months now. He thinks of you often, but he tries to focus less on how he desperately misses you and more on how you wouldn’t want him to spend the rest of his life miserable and drunk.

But he does miss you so, so desperately. And he would give anything to have you back.

It hurts being reminded of you, so Steve stays away from Hawkins. But he can’t say no when Mrs. Henderson invites him to Dustin’s sweet sixteen birthday party, so he makes the trek back.

“Steve!” Mrs. Henderson coos, opening the front door with a beaming smile. “Welcome!”

“Hi, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve says. She pulls him into a hug and he adds, “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s so lovely to see you too!” Mrs. Henderson says. She leads Steve through the house. “Please, come in! You can put Dusty-Bun’s gift on the dining room table. I have strawberry wine in the kitchen—ah, and orange juice, or lemonade. It’s yours if you want it!”

Mrs. Henderson pivoted to juice awfully fast. She must have found out about Steve’s Thanksgiving Break bender. Steve tamps down the feeling of shame worming its way through his mind and body, instead offering her another small smile before turning to the dining room to drop off Dustin’s gift.

Dustin and the rest of the Hellfire Club are in the den, playing a one-shot campaign that Eddie planned. When Dustin sees Steve, his face lights up.

“Steve! You made it!” he says, rushing over and giving him a bear hug.

“Hey buddy,” Steve says, hugging him back. “Happy birthday, Henderson.”

Dustin grins, and it lifts Steve’s mood immensely.

Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, and Erica greet him next, along with Eddie and his Corroded Coffin buddies. Eddie can barely look Steve in the eye, guilt from not being able to save you eating away at him. Steve’s told him multiple times not to feel bad about it—he knows Eddie and Dustin tried their best.

“Want to join the campaign?” Dustin asks Steve.

“Oh, I don’t know how to play,” Steve says. “I’ll just watch, okay bud?”

A short while later, Robin arrives. Once the campaign ends, Mrs. Henderson brings out the cake, and then gifts are opened.

“He looks really happy, huh?” Robin whispers to Steve, nudging him gently with her elbow.

Steve nods with a smile. Dustin took your death really hard—the two of you had been close ever since you helped him, Steve, Lucas, and Max fight the demodogs in the junkyard. Seeing Dustin smiling and laughing with his closest friends on his birthday makes Steve really, really happy.

Still, Steve’s heart aches. You should be here. You should be smiling as Dustin opens his gifts. You should be getting cake frosting on your nose, playing along with the campaign although you have no clue what’s going on.

Ice grips Steve’s chest. He gets a flashback of you lying on the cold ground, unmoving, and—

“You okay?” Robin whispers, brow furrowed. How the hell can she tell that he’s upset? It’s frightening how observant she is.

“Fine,” Steve says, throat tightening. He’s not. But he isn’t going to let his grief ruin Dustin’s big day.

At the end of the night, Dustin asks Steve when he’ll be back to visit again.

“My summer classes end in August,” Steve says. “I’ll come by then. Maybe we can hit the pool?”

Dustin seems disappointed that it’ll be a while before he sees Steve again, but he doesn’t push.

However, Steve ends up coming back to Hawkins much sooner. Three weeks after Dustin’s birthday party, Eleven calls Steve and tells him something that makes his heart stop:

“Steve, it’s about Y/N.” 

🍊🍊🍊

Steve is a frantic mess.

He sits in the Byers-Hopper basement, knee bouncing as he intently watches El try to find you in the Void again.

El had told him that she’d sometimes look for you in the Void, hoping to give him some semblance of closure. However, she claims that a few hours ago, she finally found you for the first time and saw you not as a corpse, but fully alive. It’s a hope that Steve didn’t dare hold onto before, not until now.

As soon as she called, Steve got in his car and drove to Hawkins, going ten over the speed limit the whole time. He picked up Robin and Nancy along the way to El, Will, and Jonathan’s, and (unfortunately) Mike tagged along.

“Do you see her?” Steve asks, voice cracking.

“No talking, please,” El says, tightening her blindfold.

Steve purses his lips. Will gives him an apologetic smile and Robin squeezes his arm to offer a semblance of comfort. Jonathan looks between Steve and El, an uneasy expression on his face.

“I see her,” El whispers after a few minutes.

Nancy gasps. Mike’s eyes widen. Steve staggers to his feet.

“She’s okay?” Steve asks. “Where is she?!”

“I can’t tell,” El says. “But she’s holding a small, white fuzzy animal. Wait, is it dead?”

“Lambchop,” Steve says.

“Come again?” Nancy asks.

“Lambchop is her favorite stuffed animal,” Steve explains. His heart pounds in his chest at the realization that holy shit, you really are alive. “She must be in the Upside Down version of her house.”

“Y/N!” El calls. “Y/N!”

After a few more minutes of calling to you, El pulls off the blindfold and wipes her nosebleed away.

“She can’t hear me,” El says with a sigh.

“Maybe because the gates are closed,” Nancy offers.

“But if you open another gate,” Steve says, “we can get back through and find her. Right?”

“Hold on a minute,” Jonathan says, holding a hand up like a traffic cop. “Is that such a good idea?”

Steve narrows his eyes.

“Is it such a good idea to save my girlfriend’s life? Yeah, I think so, Byers.”

“Steve,” Robin whispers. “It’s okay. Just relax.”

“Relax?” Steve says, voice rising in volume with every word. “Relax?! You want me to relax? What about this fucked-up situation is relaxing! My girlfriend has been stuck in literal hell for over a fucking year! We’re going to rescue her, no matter what!”

“But opening a new gate could have major repercussions!” Mike protests.

“Screw the repercussions,” Steve snaps, glowering. “We can’t just leave Y/N down there to rot!”

“None of us want to do that, Steve,” Nancy says, keeping her voice level and calm. “But what if this is a trick from Vecna?”

“It’s not,” Will says. “If it was, I would feel his presence. I don’t anymore.”

“Boom!” Robin says, snapping her fingers. “If our human monster detector doesn’t sense any bad vibes, then we should be good to proceed.”

“Maybe we should ask El what she wants to do before we make any plans to open new gates,” Jonathan points out.

“Exactly,” Mike says. “El, what do you want to do?”

El looks down at her lap, before looking up. She locks eyes with Steve.

“I’ll do it. I’ll open the gate.”

Relief floods Steve’s whole being. He feels lighter. More hopeful than he has in a long time. But it all comes crashing down when—

“That’s not happening.”

The group turns to see Hopper and Joyce on the basement steps. Joyce looks worried, face twisted into a frown. Hopper looks angry, with his brow furrowed.

“But Dad—” El says.

“No buts,” Hopper says. “You are forbidden to open a new gate. You hear me?”

Joyce places a hand on her husband’s shoulder and says, “Now, Hop…”

Steve interrupts, walking over to the older man with a wild, panicked look in his eyes. “Hopper, please. Y/N is still alive in the Upside Down. We just need one gate so I can go through and bring her back. Please.” Hopper fixes Steve with a sorrowful stare, the smallest bit of guilt etched on his features. Still, he remains steadfast.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Hopper says. “I’m not putting my daughter at risk. She won’t do it.”

El, Robin, and Will all try to convince Hopper otherwise, their arguments overlapping into a cacophony. Nancy, Mike, and Jonathan share uneasy looks.

Steve can’t listen to this anymore. He quietly excuses himself, darting past Hopper up the steps and stepping into the backyard.

He sinks on the porch stoop and stares off into the quiet, cool night. He understands Hopper’s reasoning, but he doesn’t have to like it. He’s spent over a year mourning you, only to discover he might be able to get you back—for that hope to be dashed as quickly as it blossomed.

Steve picks a point in the tree line and focuses on it, putting all his energy into watching it so he doesn’t break down or cause any more of a scene than he already has.

He hears the squeak of the back door and Robin’s tentative, “Hey, how you doing?”

Steve shrugs absentmindedly, continuing to stare. Robin lowers herself onto the stoop next to him.

For a few blissful minutes, she doesn’t speak. She just rests her head on his shoulder and lets him stew in silence.

The spell is broken when she blurts out, “You’re not going to break your sobriety, are you?”

“Jesus Christ, Robin,” Steve grumbles, nudging her slightly so she’ll sit up. “You don’t have to ask that every time I’m in a bad mood.”

“Sorry,” she says. She picks at her fingernails. “Sorry. I just worry about you, you know?”

“I know,” Steve says softly. “I worry about you too.”

“Me?” Robin says. “No, no. I’m fine.”

Steve eyes the way her hands fidget. Before he can say anything, she blurts out, “I just don’t want a repeat of Thanksgiving. I mean, you almost died of alcohol poisoning. They pumped your stomach!”

“I know. I was there.”

“No!” Robin snaps, sounding awfully harsh despite the tears welling in her eyes. It breaks Steve’s heart to see. “You were unconscious! And it was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me, including all the torture and monsters, because I thought I was going to lose another best friend. I already lost Y/N. I can’t lose you too.”

She sniffles and Steve pulls her in for a hug. He can’t stop a few stray tears from falling down his own face as well.

“You won’t lose me,” Steve says, voice thick. “I promise, Robin. I’m not going to do that again. Okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbles, hugging him tighter. “I love you, dingus.”

“I love you, Rob.”

“That’s not fair,” Robin says, pulling away and wiping her tears on her sleeve. “You have to call me a mean nickname back or I just look like an asshole.”

Steve barks out a laugh and shakes his head.

“You are an asshole.”

“Perfect,” Robin says with a small smile. “Now we’re equally jerks. Just the way I like it.”

The back door opens and Will steps out.

“Hopper changed his mind!” he says with a grin.

Hope pumps like blood through Steve’s cold, shrunken heart. He’s going to see you again. Fuck, he’s going to see you again.

🍊🍊🍊

The next day, the group stands in the basement once more, this time making their plan for a rescue mission. Mike squealed to Eddie, Dustin, Lucas, and Max about what’s going on, and they all showed up wanting to help too.

“Not happening!” Hopper barks, a fierce look on his face. “New rule: you have to be 18 to come along.”

Eddie pumps his fist in victory, thrilled that he gets to come and try to make things right after losing you the first time. The younger teens grumble.

“But El is going!” Dustin complains.

“El is going to stay in the Lab with Joyce,” Hopper says. “She’ll open the gate for us and wait.”

“I can keep the gate open for one hour,” El says.

“That’s plenty of time to find Y/N!” Robin says brightly. “We already know she’s probably at her house.”

“And she lives close to Hawkins Lab,” Jonathan says, pointing to a map of Hawkins. “So we’ll be in and out.”

“It’ll be easy!” Eddie says.

“Don’t jinx it,” Hopper warns.

Nancy turns to Steve and pats his shoulder.

“You feeling good about this?” she asks quietly.

He nods. Although, truthfully, he’s terrified. If they come all this way, only for him to lose you again…he’s not sure he’d be able to handle that.

🍊🍊🍊

The Upside Down is not what Steve remembers.

The alternate dimension used to be dank and cold, like an endless winter’s night. Now with Vecna gone, it’s brighter, with a yellow sky and actual green foliage, not the moldy, dry shit from before. It seems less dangerous than last time.

No matter how much it’s changed, the thought that you’ve been here alone for over a year makes Steve’s blood run ice cold.

“This way!” Hopper barks, tracing his finger on his map of Hawkins and leading the group toward your house.

Jonathan and Nancy walk side-by-side with Hopper, glancing around at the tree lines constantly for any sign of danger. Eddie and Robin hang back, Steve walking slightly in front of them. He hears them whispering about something, but when he turns his head to try and listen, they quiet down.

He’s not an idiot. He knows what they’re worrying about: if they can’t find you, will Steve have another breakdown? Go on another bender? Would Steve even survive it?

Steve’s been wondering the same things himself. But for now, he stays positive, his optimism increasing tenfold when the six of them turn onto your street.

He can’t help but pick up speed, jogging past Hopper and causing the older man to snap, “Hey, stay behind me!”

Steve ignores his protests, shouting your name and pushing through the front door of your house.

He’s been here many, many times. He’s walked the pathway from your front door to your bedroom over and over again. Steve walks that path for the first time in over a year, charging up the steps and tuning out the concerned warnings from his friends.

He bursts into your bedroom, calling your name. He doesn’t see you, but maybe you hid when you heard the front door open. So he checks the closet, the ensuite bathroom, under the bed, to no avail.

Steve’s eyes sweep the space for any clues of your whereabouts. Most of the room seems untouched, except for your bed, where the sheets are rumpled and a grimy Lambchop the Stuffed Lamb sits primly on your pillow with her soft hooves crossed over her lap.

Steve picks up the toy, heart stuttering at the sight. You were sleeping here last night. You must have been. But where are you now?

“Steve!” Robin calls from down the hall, bringing him back to the present. “We found something!”

Steve gently places Lambchop back on the pillow—arranging her the way you always do, because anything else seems disrespectful—and heads back downstairs.

Hopper, Jonathan, Nancy, Eddie, and Robin are crowded around the kitchen table. On it is a sheet of paper with a rudimentary sketch of the town.

“Check it out,” Jonathan says. He traces his finger across the drawn lines. “It’s a record of where the gates originally opened.”

Sure enough, there are big stars drawn over Hawkins Lab, Eddie’s trailer, the road by the trailer park, Lover’s Lake, and the Creel House.

“That’s why she’s not here,” Nancy says. “She’s out searching for an opening.”

“We don’t have long,” Hopper barks, glancing at his watch with a grimace. “El can only keep the gate open for an hour. We have forty-one minutes to get back to the Lab.”

“We could split off into teams,” Nancy says. “Jonathan and I can go to Lover’s Lake.”

“Steve and I will hit the trailer park and the highway,” Robin adds. “Eddie and Hop, you can go to the Creel House.”

“We find Y/N,” Hopper says, “and we head back to the Lab. No wasting time. We move fast, we stay vigilant. Got it?”

The younger adults all nod and agree to stay on their walkies in case anyone needs to get in touch. Then, they split off to their destinations.

As Steve and Robin sprint toward the trailer park, Steve can’t stop panic from enveloping him head to toe. What if they’re too late? What if you’re dead—again? What if you don’t remember him somehow. What if—

“Look!” Robin says, throwing out an arm to stop Steve in his tracks. He skids to a stop and sees where she’s pointing.

Behind the closed curtains of the Munson trailer is the beam of a flashlight moving around. Steve’s heartbeat quickens.

“Okay,” she whispers as the duo slinks toward the trailer. “We need to think about this carefully, and make a plan to—wait, Steve!”

He charges into the trailer.

A figure flinches and whips around, hunting knife raised. Steve almost falls to his knees in shock at the sight. It’s really happening.

“Steve?” you whisper, voice cracking. He stands in front of you, hands raised and eyes flicking between your face and your knife. The corners of his eyes burn, tears starting to form.

He says your name, and the look on your face cracks his heart into seventeen pieces. He starts to step toward you, but—

“You’re not real,” you say quietly. “You can’t be.”

“No, I’m real!” Steve says. “It’s me, Y/N. It’s Steve. We’re here to take you home.”

You step back, still pointing your weapon at him.

“Don’t come any closer!” you shout.

“Okay, okay!” Steve says. He steps back, slowly.

“Steve!” Robin shouts from outside. “What’s going on in—”

“Stay outside, Robin!” Steve yells, voice wavering as he eyes your knife.

“But—”

Steve swiftly locks the trailer door without turning away from you.

The two of you ignore Robin’s knocks and protests. Eventually, she gives up, and Steve hears the crackle of her walkie-talkie.

“You can’t be Steve,” you say, shaking your head frantically.

“I am,” Steve begs. “And I’ve missed you so much—”

“You can’t be Steve because there’s no way into the Upside Down!” you say. He notices your arm start to shake. “Trust me, I’ve checked and checked and checked and there’s no gates anymore. And since my Steve isn’t a corpse at the Creel House, I know Vecna didn’t kill him and he’s back in the real world. If you’re not Steve, who the hell are you?”

Steve swallows hard. The back of his throat tastes acidic and he feels desperation wrench its way through every cell in his body. When he imagined his reunion with you, he didn’t anticipate this conversation.

“El reopened a gate for us,” Steve explains patiently. “We thought you were dead. But El looked for you and saw you were still alive, so we came to rescue you.” He glances at his watch and his brows furrow. “But we don’t have a lot of time. We need to head back to the Lab because she can’t keep it open forever.”

“How can I trust you?” you say. “How do I know you aren’t a trick?!”

“I’m really me, I promise,” Steve says. He hesitates before stepping closer to you once more. This time, you don’t move away. “We’re safe now, because Vecna’s dead.”

“I know. I killed him.”

Steve’s eyes widen a fraction.

“You what?”

“I had to,” you say. You shrug and look a little delirious. How much sleep have you gotten in the last year, Steve wonders. “Vecna brought me back. He would've flayed me and sent me to spy on and kill all of you if I didn’t kill him first.”

Steve almost falls over. The haunting fact that you had to fight Vecna alone makes his stomach turn.

The pained look on Steve’s face seems to shake something deep down in you. Any resolve you had crumbles. You heave out a sob, dropping the knife to the ground. Your knees buckle.

In seconds, Steve wraps you in his arms as you sink to the ground.

You cry, limp in his hold. Steve cries too, choking on encouraging words and apologies and everything he’s wanted to say to you since March 1986, when he thought he’d never speak to you again.

The door rattles. You startle and Steve holds you a little tighter.

“HARRINGTON!” Hopper barks. “Get a move on!”

“We have to go,” Steve says, urgent yet gentle. “We can talk more when we’re home. Okay?”

You nod, standing on unsteady legs.

Steve squeezes your hand before leading you out the door.

The whole rescue squad is out there, and you look wholly overwhelmed at seeing everyone after so long alone.

“No time for pleasantries,” Hopper says. “We’ve got less than twenty minutes to get through that gate.”

“Or it’s a slumber party at Y/N’s,” Eddie jokes. He playfully knocks his shoulder against yours and you gasp at the sudden contact. “Oh, sorry—”

“RUN!” Hopper yells, clapping his hands.

Everyone bolts toward the Lab. Steve and you run side-by-side, hands intertwined.

Shock envelops Steve’s senses, but he keeps running. The one thing racing through his mind is to get you back to safety.

The Lab’s gate is not the gaping maw it once was. It’s about the height of a minivan door, but its width is quite smaller—and slowly but surely shrinking.

El and Joyce stand on the gate’s other side, looking relieved to see everyone.

“Hurry!” Joyce says, waving you forward first. You hesitate, but Steve says, “We’re right behind you. Go on.”

You crawl through the gate and stumble to your feet on the right side of the universe. Steve would normally let everyone else go in front of him, but he wastes no time following behind you. Next comes Robin, then Jonathan and Nancy. Eddie and Hopper bring up the rear.

As soon as Hopper’s crawled through the gate, El drops her hand and it sews itself up—for the final time.

Steve and the others swarm you, all speaking too fast and asking a million questions. Joyce opens a first-aid kid and tries to sit you down and asses your various cuts and bruises. They hurt Steve to see.

“Look at her! She needs more than bandaids and alcohol wipes,” Eddie says, nodding in your direction.

“He’s right,” Jonathan says. “Mom, we need to take her to the hospital—”

“No!” you say. You stumble toward the staircase. “I need to go home. I need to see my parents, let them know I’m alive. How long have I been down there? I’ve been keeping track, and it has to be at least ten weeks, right?”

Steve places a hand on your shoulder. You look at him, eyes wild. “Y/N,” he says softly, “it’s been 15 months.”

That seems to be your final straw. Steve catches you as you pass out.

🍊🍊🍊

SIX HOURS LATER

While you get checked over by Dr. Owens and his people, Steve paces the hospital waiting room. Robin chews her thumbnail and watches the doors to the ER. Nancy and Jonathan bend their heads together and whisper, and Eddie attempts to distract Dustin and the other teenagers by juggling snacks from the vending machine.

After you fainted, Steve didn’t want to leave your side, but Hopper said everyone except himself and Joyce had to go home.

If our entire merry band shows up at Hawkins Mercy Hospital with a presumed-dead girl, it’ll look too damn suspicious, Hopper had said. Go home. Clean up. Wait three hours, and then you can come check on her. We’ll keep you updated.

In exactly 180 minutes, Steve and the others charge into the ER asking the nurse on duty about you.

“She’s still being looked over,” the nurse tells them. “Her parents and the Chief are with her now. You can wait over there and we’ll call you when she’s able to have visitors.”

Another 180 minutes go by. Now, everyone’s getting antsy. Steve has half a mind to charge into the ER and find you himself.

“Simmer down, Steve,” Robin says, noticing the way he’s squeezing the lilac teddy bear he bought you at the gift shop. “You’re choking the life out of that thing.”

“Why haven’t we heard anything from Hopper?” Steve asks. He checks his pager for the fiftieth time. “He said he’d keep us updated.”

“She’s probably going through a psych eval or something,” Max says.

“Or an interrogation,” Mike says darkly. “Maybe they think she had something to do with the murders last year.”

“Shut up, Mike!” Nancy hisses.

Steve curses and pinches his nose. Last year, a cruel man named Colonel Sullivan swept into Hawkins, searching for the real culprit behind Vecna’s kills after Eddie was proven innocent (thanks to a bogus alibi cooked up by Owens’ team). Steve was one of the unlucky few questioned, due to his connection as Jason’s former basketball captain. The thought of you, disoriented from so long in that shithole, handcuffed to a hospital bed while Sullivan grills you makes him see red.

Another sinking realization hits Steve: he’s changed since last year. What if you don’t like him anymore, once you realize how much of a mess he became when he lost you?

Hopper emerges through a set of double doors. Steve’s charging over to him in seconds, the rest of his friends piling behind and all talking at once.

Hopper holds up his hands to silence the group.

“Owens wants to run some more tests,” Hopper says. “They’re checking for contaminants in her bloodstream. You all can see her soon.”

He points at Steve. “Except she’s asking for you right now. You ready?”

Steve nods and squeezes your new teddy bear again. He gives Robin a panicked look, and she gives him a quick hug.

“Go get her,” Robin says with an encouraging smile.

Steve smiles back before following Hopper down the hall. Joyce stands outside your hospital room and smiles when she sees Hopper and Steve approach. Steve freezes.

Through the plane of glass in the door, he sees you with your parents. All three of you are crying.

“I don’t want to interrupt,” Steve says, backing away from the door. Before he can fully chicken out, Hopper bursts in and says, “Hey, look who came by.”

You and your parents look up. At the sight of him, your mother and father beam.

“Hello, Steve!” your mother says, sweeping him into a hug. “Can you believe she’s back?!”

“It’s a goddamn miracle,” your dad says, wiping tears on his sleeve. “We’ve been praying for this for so long.”

“Let’s leave these two alone to catch up,” Joyce says. “Grace, Roger, why don’t we pick up some food for Y/N?”

Your parents agree and step out with Joyce and Hopper. When it’s just you and Steve, all either of you can do is stare at each other with awkward smiles.

You clear your throat and point to the teddy bear.

“Is that little guy for me?”

“Yes!” Steve says. “Uh, sorry.”

He hands it to you. When your fingers brush, it feels electric. Still, after so long apart—no matter how much he’s dreamed of what it would be like if he somehow saw you again—everything feels stiff. You’re the love of his life and he can’t think of one thing to say.

“How have you been?” you ask quietly, seemingly just as uncomfortable as Steve.

Steve can’t help but laugh and says, “Terrible. I mean, shit. I know what you went through is way worse—”

“I don’t want to talk about what I went through,” you say sharply. Steve recoils and you wince. “I’m sorry, Steve. I just—I’ve been through this like five times with Owens’ guys, and over a cover story two more times with the cops. I don’t want to talk about me. I want to hear about you. What’s been going on?”

Steve wants to know more about what happened. About how you killed Vecna. About how you survived. But he doesn’t. He would never push you to discuss anything you didn’t want to, but he hopes that one day you’ll feel ready to open up to him.

Right now, you want to hear about his life. Where to begin. Steve thinks of sugar-coating the truth but doesn’t when he admits: “For starters, I almost died last year.”

You gasp and sit up a little straighter.

“What? Oh my god, what happened?”

“I’m fine now,” Steve says, waving away your concerns.

“Was it Vecna?”

“No, nothing like that. I really missed you, and I was in a bad place.”

You swallow hard, eyes turning glassy.

“Oh, Steve. Please don’t tell me you tried to—”

“No!” he says quickly. “It was alcohol poisoning. I drank too much being too lonely on Thanksgiving. Had to get my stomach pumped. It wasn’t all bad, though. Robin and I watched ‘A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving’ on the hospital room TV and Joyce snuck in some pie for me.”

You ignore his attempts and lightening the mood and wave him even closer to you. He cautiously approaches and intertwines your fingers when you reach for his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “I feel like it’s my fault—”

“Stop it.”

“Steve…”

“No!” Steve says. He shakes his head vehemently. “Don’t think like that. I just…struggled without you. But it’s not your fault that I’m a basket case.”

“You’re not a basket case,” you say. You squeeze his hand. “You’re the hero that crossed dimensions to come rescue me.”

You kiss his palm before scooching over on the hospital bed. You pat the spot next to you.

“What if your parents come back?” Steve asks.

“I’m not trying to hook up right now,” you say with an eye roll. “I just want you to lay with me.”

Steve is happy to oblige. He settles next to you. You rest your head on his shoulder and hug the teddy bear he brought you.

“So, you didn’t move on?” you ask quietly after a few minutes of peaceful silence. “Find a new girlfriend?”

“What?!” Steve asks, looking down at you, jaw dropped. “You really think I found someone else?”

You nod, fidgeting with the bow around your bear’s neck.

“15 months is a long time,” you whisper. “I don’t want to stand in the way if you're with someone else.”

“I couldn’t,” Steve says. He rests a hand on your knee cautiously. When you don’t flinch or move away, he keeps it there. “Y/N, I don’t want anyone else. I only want you, if you’ll still have me.”

You look up at him, noses practically brushing. The close proximity makes Steve’s cheeks flush rosy pink.

“You mean that?” you ask.

Steve nods. It seems to placate you, because in seconds, you’re lifting your chin to kiss him.

It’s a soft, gentle thing. An innocent brush of lips, like the kisses you shared very early in your relationship. Not the passionate “welcome home” kiss that Steve wants to give you, but he understands if you need to take things slow. He’ll move as slow as you need.

For the first time in months, Steve feels hopeful about his future again. Steve’s world is changing once more, in all the right ways.

🍊🍊🍊

EPILOGUE

You and Steve have your futures mapped out: after six months of physical and emotional healing, move in with Steve and join him at U of I in spring of ’88. Get engaged and subsequently married sometime within five years. No kids—at least, not biological ones, because your time in the Upside Down has caused lasting physiological effects that you don’t want to pass on to children. Maybe you’ll adopt a kid, or some dogs.

It's less of a map and more of an amorphous outline of what you two want to happen. All you two know for sure is that you never want to be apart that long ever again.

Steve’s heart and soul have changed, but they belong to you, and yours to him. Always.

🍊🍊🍊

a/n please lmk what you thought 🧡

tag list; @hollandweather @starry-eyed-steve @aloneinthehellfire @tvandfanfic @a-dealwith-god @stevebabey @keerysquinn @spoookysix @inkluvs

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Okay picture this:

Jaskier and Geralt end up by the coast for a monster hunting job with sirens. Geralt tells Jaskier to stay behind because he thinks that as a Witcher he will have a certain immunity to the sirens song, but as a man Jaskier would not. 

Cue the hunt Geralt goes down to water and Jaskier follows secretly behind. Geralt actually does get ensnared by sirens and Jaskier has to be the one to save him.

But Jaskier is pissed, “ I mean, really, Geralt you listen to these, these fish for five minutes and you’re already in love. But it took me!! Twenty years.” Jaskier never let him live this down, he brings it up in arguments over and over again.

“Oooh I fell for the monsters spell?? What about you mister oh the siren wouldn’t ensnare me”

“Oh you want me to be quiet?? Well I guess you prefer the song of a siren then hmmm?” (My headcannon is that Geralt actually like jaskier singing and talking but want him to be quiet on hunts)

Geralt is so confused on how Jaskier could be immune to sirens. He comes to the conclusion that Jaskier is one. He preforms bunch of tests that leave Jaskier perplexed, soaking wet and smelling of fish. But yet he can’t figure out why Jaskier has never changed forms.

He ends up, bringing jaskier to Kaer Morehn. He asked for his brothers and Vesmeirs help on trying to figure out why Jaskier was immune to sirens. They all believe his theory on Jaskier being a siren yet none of them can prove it. The tests get more and more ridiculous and nothing works. Jaskier firmly believes the reason he wasn’t ensnared is because he’s a musician.

Jaskier: “Why yes they had lovely voices but they were all very high pitched, a little scratchy if you asked me. Reminded me of my time in Oxford. Some of those singers could not hold a tune.”

Geralt: “you love the sea”

Jaskier: “of course I love the sea, do you know how many songs there are about the sea?? Hmmm Geralt?? Do you know how many different love stories I can create by using the sea as a metaphor??”

Geralt: “you like fish”

Jaskier: “it’s easier on my throat.”

Geralt is tearing out his hair. Vesmeir is so offended over the fact that he can’t prove anything concrete.

I don’t know what would be funnier ending, but I have options:

1: if he really was a siren who just didn’t know it

2: he challenged and siren (unknowing) to a singing competition, and the siren was so impressed that she blessed him with

2.5: he slept with a siren who liked him enough to bless him

3: he really was immune because he was a musician. I mean you really think that Oxford is turning out basic singers, absolutely not??

[literaryavenger]

Broken - part 4

Summary: You get woken up, still in Bucky's bed, by a very unpleasant guest.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Language. Innocent and broken Bucky. Tony being an insensitive asshole. Reader still being dramatic, lol. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.4K

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: I finally finished this chapter! I have some ideas for like one more chapter but after that I do not know where to go with this. excellent. Yes, it will take a while for me to keep going. Sorry. It's also getting harder to choose a Bucky photo to put here, lol.

Masterlist

You wake up to the sound of someone near you yelling. Again.

Slowly, You open your eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the morning light.

After you’re no longer blind, you look for the source of the noise that woke you and see a very angry looking Tony yelling at Steve.

Something about 'how dare he go near her' and 'if she gets hurt I'll kill you both', those are the only things you're able to understand between the yelling and your still half-asleep mind.

It takes you a second more to realize that you’re not in your bedroom, so you look next to you and see Bucky already awake, watching the scene that's unfolding before you without making a sound.

The fear and hurt on his face are like a bucket of cold water that wakes you up completely.

You turn back to the other gentlemen and, finally, you’re able to comprehend what's happening. 

Apparently Tony and Steve went looking for you in your room to talk about yesterday and, not having found you there, asked Jarvis where you were.

The AI promptly snitched on you, and Tony came barging in to 'save' you from Bucky, Steve hot on his trail.

Steve obviously wouldn't let Tony hurt him, so, Tony being Tony, is being a dramatic bitch acting as if he walked in on Bucky straight up choking you and not the a good way and not just two grown ass adults peacefully sleeping.

So Tony started yelling about wanting to do something drastic about the situation and waking up both you and Bucky in the process.

Because fuck sleep, right?

You’re not really sure how long the current events have been going on for, or how long you just sit and watch after waking up, trying to get a handle on reality.

All you know is that the moment the words 'he's gonna kill her and it's gonna be your fault too' come out of Tony's mouth, you've had about enough of both of them.

You take both of your shoes, which were in front of the bed where you left them the night before, and throw them at the screaming idiots with as much strength as you could master which, when you train everyday with a trained assassin that pushes your limits further and further, is a lot of strength.

You hit Steve in the back of his head and Tony deadass in the face. Thank god for Clint's lessons. And for the fact that you were wearing combat boots yesterday.

The second Tony gets hit, he turns to the bed with a murderous look on his face, probably thinking it was Bucky, but when he sees you wide awake and with a satisfied smile on your face he quickly pieces things together and calms down a bit.

Steve is just confused, but when he also realizes what is happening, he looks kind of amused at the sight of you and Bucky on the same bed.

When the men's attention is finally away from each other and on you, you ask the question you’ve been wanting to ask since you were very rudely woken up. "What the fuck are you two dumbasses yelling for?"

Steve cringes at your choice of words but seems to think better of saying anything seeing that you're already pretty pissed at them.

"Hey! You don’t get to ask questions right now!" Tony’s still yelling and suddenly you wish you had more military approved shoes to throw. "What the hell do you think you’re doing sleeping with this monster?!"

"Tony, stop with the name calling, for the love of God!" Steve says, clearly as exasperated with him as you feel.

"Yes, for fuck sakes, Tony, stop. You can’t just keep showing up every time I’m near Bucky acting like he’s planning my murder!" You feel Bucky tense up next to you at your words, so you turn towards him "alright, poor choice of words, but the sentiment remains."

You turn back to Tony, who's about to say something, surely some more insults for Bucky, but you don’t give him a chance.

"I’m getting really tired of your judgment, of you thinking you know what’s better and making decisions for me. I thought I was clear yesterday: I don’t care what you think Bucky is, I have a brain of my own and can make my own decisions based on my own opinions. The Bucky that I met is nothing like you say he is, and I’m not going to avoid him just because you have hang-ups. I’ve been kicking ass since before you decided to play superhero and definitely can take care of myself. I don’t need to be saved from anything, especially not from Bucky, who’s been nothing but quiet and sweet and right now is about the only person in this tower who has never lied to me. Now, get the fuck out of here and, unless somebody’s ass is on fire or dead, do not bother me. And you better leave Bucky the fuck alone or I’m going to be pissed. Clear?"

You honestly didn’t think that would’ve been the end of it, but to your, and Steve’s, surprise Tony merely nods his understanding before stomping out of the room.

"Same goes for you, Captain Dumbass. Out, now." you tell the blond super soldier, who looks like he was dying to say something.

Thankfully, he thinks better of it and, with one last smile towards Bucky, leaves the room.

You sigh, relieved that they’re gone, but now the room is eerily silent. Just when you can’t take it anymore and are about to say the first thing that goes through your mind, Bucky finally says something for the first time since you woke up.

"Thank you." it’s so quiet that you almost think you imagined it, but when you turn to face him you find him already looking at you and he keeps going "You didn’t have to do that. You know, defend me. So, thank you."

"Don’t worry. He was being an ass, he deserved it." you smile at him "Let me know if he bothers you again, I’ll be sure to shove one of his helmets up his ass." he smiles at you, but it falls almost instantly.

"I don’t deserve your kindness…" he looks away from you and it breaks your heart a little.

"You actually believe that, don’t you?" you say quietly, more to yourself than him.

"Bucky, look at me." you say with the same soft voice you had yesterday while you were helping him.

You wait patiently until he looks you in the eye and when he does, you slowly move your hand towards his face. When he doesn’t pull away or stop you in any way, his eyes never leaving yours, you let it sit on his cheek.

"I hope you know that I really meant what I said. I don’t think any of the things Tony does. It doesn’t matter to me who you were, I see who you are now and that’s what’s important. Everyone deserves kindness, but, based on everything I’ve heard these past two days, I think you might deserve it more than anybody. The world failed you once, I’ll be damned if I let it fail you again. Okay?"

He looks at you with teary eyes and, before you know it, he's giving you a hug much tighter than yesterday, almost like he's afraid that if he lets you go you’ll change your mind.

"Okay." he whispers into your shoulder when you hug him back just as tight.

You can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. There’s just something about Bucky that draws you to him and maybe, just maybe, the feeling’s mutual.

You let Bucky decide when he’s ready to let go and after a few minutes he does. You give him one last smile and then move to get out of bed, when his voice stops you again.

"Can I ask you something?" you look back at him nodding. "yesterday, at the gym…" he starts and you tense a little, knowing where he was going with this so you decide to cut him off before he even gets the chance to ask anything too specific.

"It was nothing, I was just angry and needed to work off some energy" you get up and put on your shoes while you talk "honestly sometimes I lose track of time while I’m working out, it’s no big deal."

He must’ve seen the change in you tone and body language, because he quickly says "I’m sorry, it’s none of my business, I didn’t mean to make you mad."

You stop on your tracks as you were making your way towards the door, turn around and look at him.

He seems to feel actually bad just at the thought of upsetting you, which makes you feel guilty for giving that impression. This was just a topic you weren’t ready to talk about.

"I’m not mad, Bucky, I promise. I just don’t particularly want to talk about it." he nodded his understanding. "tell you what, I was thinking of taking a quick shower and changing and then going to the big kitchen to get some breakfast. How about we meet in 15 and go together?"

He seems to hesitate a bit at the idea of going to the kitchen where everybody else is going to be, and you can't blame him.

You yourself would gladly avoid everybody, but the big kitchen is just better stocked than the one on your floor.

"C’mon nobody will bother you and, if they do, they’ll have to deal with me. I’ll make us pancakes." you add with a smile, trying to convince him.

Finally, with a smile, he nods. Nobody can resist pancakes.

With a victorious nod of your own, you leave his room and go next door to yours where you take a shower and change into some comfortable sweats.

About 15 minutes later you come out of your room to find Bucky already waiting for you, leaning on his door. As soon as he sees you he pushes himself off his door and smiles at you, then you both make your way to the elevator in silence.

It's a comfortable silence, not like the one before in his bedroom, this was one you didn’t feel the need to fill, and apparently neither did he.

You make your way to the kitchen and you pat one of the stools at the island, signaling at Bucky to sit. He does and then watches as you make your way around the kitchen picking all the necessary things.

You work in silence, but you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you the whole time. Not like it bothers you.

It isn't like when guys ogle you in bars, where you know what they’re thinking just by the look on their face, and is never clean thoughts.

No, Bucky’s gaze feels like being seen for the first time in your life.

Somehow you just knew he wasn’t thinking anything dirty, every time your eyes meet his and you give him a smile he gives you the cutest smile back, and you can't help but think that his face looks like a little kid’s on Christmas.

You somehow feel like he's just so amazed by you and he makes you feel like you're the only person in the world at this moment.

Every now and then a different Avenger enters the kitchen, but you do your best to ignore them all. You're still pissed and don't feel like yelling at anyone else today.

You finish making pancakes and make a plate for Bucky and then one for yourself. Knowing he's a super soldier and probably has as fast a metabolism as Steve’s, you give him a generous serving, still leaving plenty for everyone else.

Yes, you're angry, but you aren’t cruel.

You sit down next to Bucky and smile at him when he says a quiet ‘thank you’.

You watch people come in and out, throwing a thank you for the pancakes but then giving up when you won't even look at them.

That is, until Scott came in. He sits in front to you while he eats some pancakes, and when he's finished he tries his luck. "Hey, Cassie’s coming over later. Do you want to hang out with us?"

You narrow your eyes at him, pointing your fork in this direction. "Are you using your cute daughter to get me to talk to you? ‘Cause that’s a dick move."

You hear Bucky chuckling and turn your head towards the amazing sound with a surprised smile on your face, but before you can comment about it, Scott answers you.

"Can you blame me? You won't talk to any of us, what’s a guy gotta do to get his best friend back?" He says laughing.

You turn back to him and can't help but laugh at the pout he's giving you. "Fine, you win. Just stop making that face, please, you look like a sad puppy."

"That’s why it works!" he laughs victorious "She’ll be here around eleven. See you later." he puts his plate in the dishwasher and leaves. You do the same thing with yours and Bucky’s plates and then turn to him.

"Ok, so I have a couple of hours before Cassie gets here. Do you have anything planned for today?" he shakes his head no and you hum in response, but before you can propose anything Steve comes into the kitchen.

"Hey Buck, ready to go?" at Bucky’s confused look, Steve elaborates "We have a meeting with Fury. We need to discuss your hearing, remember?"

"Oh, right…" is all Bucky says, glancing at you before he gets up while looking at the ground.

He almost looks sad at having something to do today, even if it’s something important. Steve looks from you to Bucky a couple of times, but your attention is solely focused on the brunette, still trying your best to ignore Steve.

"Well, I’ll find something to do." you tell Bucky, getting a little closer to him.

"Come find me when you’re back? You know, to tell me how it goes?" you try your luck and, when he looks up, his eyes are a little wider, even if he was smiling, clearly surprised that you still want him around.

"I will." he says. You return his smile and give him a quick peck on the cheek before making your way to the elevator.

"Bye, Bucky." you say as you get on it, and hear him say ‘bye’ while the doors close, as you think about a way to make yourself busy for a little while.

You completely miss the way Steve grins at Bucky and the groan that Bucky lets out at his friend's stupid face before going his own way with him.

Part 5

Taglist: @aesthetic0cherryblossom @buchi91 @sapphirebarnes

[yellowbunnydreams]

Do You Need Some Vitamin D? (Part 2) (Incubus!Afton x Oblivious!Reader)

~Hello all! I'm back again...for a bit anyway, just been busy with life and stuff. Hope you are all doing well, I figured you could probably do with something to prove I am actually alive~

@ruh--roh-raggy xp-doggy redbunny03

CW: 18+ MINORS DNI. Fluff, age gap (Reader 20's - William Afton 40's(?)), teratophilia, meet-cute, punny pick-up lines, scenes of working out, minor porn-logic, ditzy! reader, could be classed as bimbo! reader?, size-difference, flirting, monster-lover, sexual innuendos, Monster! AU

Heading to work on the next Monday was certainly uneventful after the interesting text you had received from your boss over the weekend. Somehow, that photo hadn't been saved to your phone, but you definitely didn't keep scrolling back to look at it, admiring the little details about how his strong arms looked in the low light, how tight the shirt seemed across his broad chest. But you thought you had gotten over those thought by the time your shift rolled around.

Until William Afton walked in in that damn shirt.

"Okay, now you're staring." Your co-worker made you jump as they snuck up behind you. Seeing the familiar face of Claire behind you and making you blush and scowl, shaking your head as you turned back to look at Mr. Afton, before realising that he has already gone to the office with a surprising pang of disappointment.

"I'm not staring!"

"You totally were...Was he wearing a new shirt today? I'm not sure I've ever seen him in colour." Claire raised an eyebrow, and you tried to shrug nonchalantly.

"I wouldn't be able to tell you." Claire's eyebrows went higher on her face as she put her hands on her hips, giving you a slightly tilted head look that you knew meant she saw right through you.

"Right...And you definitely aren't blushing right now!" She thought for a moment before her eyes widened, giddily gripping onto you and smirking as you looked slightly confused by her sudden enthusiasm. "You have a crush on Mr. Afton!"

"No!"

"Yes! Oh. Em. Gee! You have a crush on our boss!"

"Faz-fuck off with that! Do you want me to get in trouble? And I don't have a crush, he's just...nice." Your cheeks heating up as you avoided her gaze, but your colleuge simply tutted and wrapped her arm around your shoulder, holding you tight to one side.

"Wow, never pinned you for the type to go for older guys...Why don't you ask him out to the Valentine's Dance?" She teased, earning a sharp jab in the ribs from your elbow and a playful pout from her.

"I'm NOT going to ask our BOSS to the Valentine's party." Earning an eyeroll from Claire as she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow again. You were sure if she kept doing that, she would be stuck in a permanently surprised expression.

Claire simply shook her head, throwing her hands up in the air as she chuckled slightly, turning to go and walk off to the main floor and direct you towards the prize counter. Looking over her shoulder and smiling wickedly as she shrugged.

"You know, I'm going to ask that DILF out for you if you keep this up. You're going to ask him."

"What the faz-fuck is a DILF Claire?" You asked, staring after her with a mildly confused expression. "Claire?"

Monday's were never busy at Freddy's, so you never had to really worry about keeping ontop of all the niggly little jobs that made you want to curl up and cry; like untangling the slinkies because a kid just have to have that specific one, or a parent complaining that the claw machine hadn't payed out despite their kid 'winning' and having to crawl around for the one specific plushie that you knew they hadn't won but you had to retrieve anyway.

The prize counter was however, mercifully quiet on Mondays, and it also gave you a good vantage point of the employee's only door, where you could see everybody coming and going, including Mr. William Afton.

It was weird, how you noticed him a little more as he stepped out onto the floor today. How that purple shirt was still a little bigger on his frame than the broad man should really be wearing, even though you swore the photo on your phone showed him filling it out, the colour complimented him though. His greying hair swept back out of his face, that greying beard that you found yourself wondering how it would feel if he brushed his cheek against yours... Shaking your head, you quickly snapped out of it, it wasn't appropriate to think that way about him, he was your boss after all.

He however, was thinking similarly about you. Not that you would ever know it aside from the slight smile that curled his lip whenever he looked in your direction. William's heart pounded slightly in his chest as he slowly made his way over to the prize counter, making sure to stop and greet staff and reprimand them if needs be, saying hello to customers. It was all torturous to him as all he wanted was to see you, take his mind off of paperwork for a while and enjoy the soft vanillaish smell you always seemed to have. It was that or cocoa butter, he couldn't decide, but you smelt like candy to him, and it made his mouth water in more ways than one.

You glanced up as a shadow fell across your back, placing out some new prizes with the ticket price stuck on gently with tape. Turning to give your usual greeting before finding yourself looking at a broad chest, eyes wandering up as your cheeks heated and your eyes met intense silver behind gold framed aviators.

"Mr Afton! Nice of you to pop over to see me." William blinked for a second before chuckling, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly and giving you that lopsided smile that made him look quite charming.

"Well, I thought I would come see what prizes are up for grabs...I have a few spare tickets from me getting bored." You smiled back at the thought of him playing the same arcade games and silly games as the kids, such an imposing man being a kid at heart. Watching him stuff one large hand into his pocket as he spoke to you.

"That's great! What can I get you, sir?" Watching his eyes scanning the thick, freshly cleaned glass at all the prizes before his eyes caught something, his smile widening as he reached over the counter and gently pulled a ticket from your vest, your own heart racing in your chest as his thick fingers brushed against your ribs ever so slightly and your eyes naturally followed his hand as he flipped the ticket over to show you.

"Two-hundred tickets for a sweet like you? I'd gladly give triple for this prize." You giggled and shook your head, hair bouncing softly around your face as you touched the back of your own neck. It was silly, he almost sounded like he was flirting with you, but you chalked it up to your silly thoughts about the older man recently.

"I'm afraid I don't think you can own a human, sir, and thanks for picking that off, it must have gotten stuck there earlier." Laughing it off as William paused then chuckled, his smile tightening just a fraction.

"Right...No of course I can't own you. Six hundred Faz-Tokens seems like a measly compensation for a life anyway." He was confused by you again, and it made him all the more intrigued. He thought the flirting was obvious this time, he even called you a prize, asked to own you, implied he wanted to take you home. Yet there you were, barely reacting like it was nothing. The fingers in his pocket laced around a few cherry candies in his pocket, pulling them out and unwrapping one, popping it between his teeth and offering you the other. "What prize would you get, if tickets were no problem?"

Looking at the prizes, you hummed as you considered it, taking the candy with a quiet thanks and placing it in your vest pocket, not wanting to indulge in front of your boss. After a few moments however, your eyes landed on a toy-bonnie plushie and you smiled, pointing it out in the case.

"Spring-Bonnie, he's always been my favourite." William's relaxed smile returned, and he gestured for you to take it out. Counting out the eight hundred Faz-Tokens on the counter, he pushed them towards you and then pushed the plushie back against your chest as you offered it to him, leaving you a little confused yourself.

"Well, I hope he's going to a good home then."

"Sir?"

"He's yours, doll, keep him. As a token of my gratitude for putting up with such a silly old man." Rubbing the back of his neck, you shook your head after a moment, carefully cradling the plushie to your chest as your cheeks heated up once more. Maybe you were developing a cold, or coming down with something..Maybe Claire had been right about you starting to develop a crush on your boss.

"You're not a silly old man, Mr. Afton, I find you quite funny, and you always brighten my day." It was William's turn to blush as he looked down at you, giving that warmest smile that made his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. You could have sworn you heard the sound of his foot tapping repeatedly against the plush carpet, watching him rock back and forth onto his heels a few times.

"That means a lot to hear, bunny. Enjoy your new friend." With that, he walked off, leaving you clutching onto the yellow velveteen rabbit with the purple bow-tie carefully. Smiling happily to yourself as you thought how you perhaps wished just a little bit that he was really flirting with you.

When you got home that night, you debated for a long time how you could thank William Afton properly for his kind gift. And for the candy too. You carefully sucked on the hard sweet, savouring the almost too sweet cherry flavour as you got changed into pyjamas and glanced over at the Spring-Bonnie plush on your dresser, deciding something for a moment before taking a deep breath.

"Fuck it." You said to the plushie, picking it up and stroking the soft ears as you placed it down on your bedspread, setting it up carefully so that it was nice and presentable before whipping our your phone and snapping a picture. Pausing over your keyboard, trying to think of something subtle and funny to put before sending it to your most recent contact.

William's phone buzzed as he hunched over the bench in his workshop, his thick fingers moving the animatronic parts before him with a practised precision. Shirt changed out for a more comfortable t-shirt and feeling his foot tapping against the floor in no particular rhythm. Lit cigarette burning in the ashtray besides him as one large hand reached out to pick it up and take a drag whilst the other grabbed his phone. Clicking open the message without a thought as he was sure it was from Henry, trying to talk to him about 'his outdated methods'.

His heart practically stopped however, when he saw the picture that had been sent through.

From what little he could see, the bed was a single, the sheets neatly made up and white, able to just make out some form of pattern across the duvet cover. The walls were beige, which surprised him as he had always suspected that you weren't a beige wall person. But what really caught his attention, was the presence of a familiar Spring-Bonnie plush, front and centre to the bedding, tucked against the pillows in pride of place. His silver eyes wandered to the caption quickly as he wondered what you had to say. Had it been a mistake?

'I thought you would like to see that he's settled into his new home. Thanks for the candy by the way, I'm not usually a cherry person but I'm eating it now :)'

William's hand instinctually reached for his pocket, pulling out another candy and unwrapping it quickly and putting it in his mouth. Tobacco and cherry mixing together to create a unique sensation that made his brain light up happily, swearing softly under his breath that he was constantly running out of pocket candies since he had a bad habit of crunching them rather than savouring the taste. Thinking for a moment before he finally replied.

'He looks comfy, Although that bed looks rather uncomfortable for cuddling in.'

You blushed as William mentioned cuddling, but you tried to shake the thought out of your head as you tried to image those large, strong arms wrapped around you, holding you against his chest.

'Well, he's not oversized, so we should fit fine. He's nice and soft! Not like I've ever slept in a bigger bed anyway :p' Climbing into bed, you were tempted to send another picture, but knew that would be overstepping professional boundaries by a country mile. Unknowingly to you, William had the same thought and barely got to snuffing out his cigarette before he practically sprinted up the stairs, feeling his legs changing as he went, feet becoming more elongated and lapine to accomodate his bounding strides. Almost throwing off his slacks and diving into his bed like he hadn't been down in his basement just moments before. The perk of supernatural speed, he supposed.

The next message you received was a photo, another one that brought colour and heat to your cheeks and gave you the start of a fluttering feeling in your stomach as you looked at it. William Afton was in bed, his broad chest obscured by a thick pillow that he clutched tightly with one large hand, his chin rested ontop with a lazy, almost half-asleep smile on his face. Glasses pressed into one side of his nose as you thought it was rather cute and somehow kind of hot at the same time.

'Well, there's always plenty of room in mine if you want to try it for size. Goodnight, bunny, see you tomorrow.' William wondered if he went too far, but it felt right to invite you, to extend the offer and hope you realised just how badly he would rather replace the pillow with your smaller body against his, but he missed your reply, as he soon fell asleep clutching onto the pillow. Holding it and twitching in his sleep as his nose wriggled, dreaming that the person of his obsession was against him instead of an inanimate object.

'Goodnight Mr. Afton. It does look comfy there, but that could be what's in the bed, lol' You knew the older man would definitely not be flirting with you, you imagined him to be more of a flowers and a date kind of guy, rather than pick-up lines. Not that you were entirely sure why you kept having those thoughts about him at all, but as you curled up on your side, you knew that somehow, you had to flirt with the giant man.

[hermesmyplatonicbeloved]

An Analysis of Percy's Request for the gods

People like to claim that Percy gave up godhood for Annabeth. Like no??? She had nothing to do with it. If Percy even considered her, he would've realized that Annabeth would've loved to be immortal? She was considering becoming a hunter of artemis in ttc (but couldn't join because she was in love/had a crush on 2 boys) and was offered it by CC in SoM (but rejected it to continue the quest to save chb).

Her whole aspiration is to make something that will exist for the ages so she will be remembered. What better way to remain relevant and eternal than to become a god? If anything he would've turned around and asked Zeus if he could make his significant other a god/immortal like Dionysus did.

Now let's look at the actual reason for Percy turning down godhood.

Percy never wanted to be a god. He never wanted to be a demigod. He actually tries to avoid being the hero (giving Clarisse the fleece in SoM, letting Artemis fight the bad guy Atlas in TTC, and giving Luke the dagger in TLO. There's more but those are the big ones). He actively chooses the mortal world over the greek myth one: every year he spends a mere 2 months at camp and 10 months in the mortal world. There's no way Percy would've said yes to godhood, and none of his reasons for rejecting it involve Annabeth.

Moreover, let's look at his actual request to Zeus. None of it currently benefits Annabeth.

"No more undetermined children. I want you to promise to claim your children - all your demigod children - by the time they turn 13. They won't be left out in the world on their own at the mercy of monsters. I want them claimed and brought to camp so they can be trained right and survive."

Annabeth is already claimed. This request has more to do with Luke's dying request, to help the unclaimed demigods.

What's interesting, however is the wording. We've seen something similar to the statement, "left... at the mercy of monsters," before in TTC. Nico runs away, and after Percy spends all night looking for him without success he tells Chiron. Chiron's response? "Alas, I hope he was eaten by monsters." Percy then spends the rest of the year all the way until BotL worrying and looking for Nico. To this point in canon, Nico doesn't have a home in the above ground world.

This request had more to do with Nico and Luke than anything else.

"And the minor gods Nemesis, Hecate, Morpheus, Janus, Hebe - they all deserve a general amnesty and a place at camp half blood. Their children shouldn't be ignored."

This is similar to the previous request in that it's fulfilling Luke's dying request. Although it is interesting that Percy asked the Olympians to forgive the minor gods. As far as PJO goes, he never meets any of them (until HoO and afterward). However, he does meet some of their children, like Ethan Nakamura. So it's not a stretch to say that this request was made in Ethan's memory; Ethan who was neglected by the gods but was a good enough person to realize what needed to happen and tried to change sides at the final battle.

"Calypso and the other peaceful Titan-kind should be pardoned too."

Remember during botl Percy spent weeks recovering with Calypso? Remember how she saved his life, and fell in love with him and how he was tempted to stay with her? Didn't Percy call Calypso his biggest what-if? Percabeth stans must be rolling in their graves at the realization that Percy's request was more for Calypso than Annabeth. (And don't come at me or Percy for Calypso not being freed immediately, that was on the gods; not Percy. He did his part).

"And Hades [...] Your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that."

Remember in bolt when Percy asked Nico to stay at camp with him? And Nico asks Percy if Percy really thinks Nico will be welcomed? And Percy couldn't answer because camp treated him harshly in tlt and SoM - and Percy wonders how much worse it would be for the son of the lord of the dead? It took 2-3 quests for camp as a whole to respect and welcome Percy, and Poseidon's domains are much less scary than Hades'. Yeah. Percy is literally using his one gift from the gods to give Nico a home, a safe space at camp half blood.

Also, it's interesting that Percy is the only demigod that Percy calls out by name, even though what he's doing primarily benefits all demigods.

"No more pact of the big three. That didn't work anyway. You've got to stop trying to get rid of powerful demigods. We're going to train them and accept them instead."

This is the only part of Percy's request that he really benefits from. Since the summer than Percy learned of his heritage, he's been told over and over that he's too powerful/dangerous to exist, that Zeus and Athena and the others are considering killing him. Remember in TTC where its hinted at that the gods were considering voting whether or not to kill Percy? Yeah. This is Percy asking the gods to let him be, to stop lobbying for his death.

Not to mention, in scene after that council meeting in TTC Percy learns that Nico is a child of Hades, another child of the big three. He's immediately adamant about keeping it a secret, against the wishes of both Annabeth and Grover. Percy (unlike Nico) knows that the only reason why he isn't dead is because Poseidon vouched for him. Nico, who's father doesn't have a seat on the council, doesn't have that luxury. This request is as much about Percy as it is about Nico.

So in summary, why did Percy turn down godhood? Because: he wants to live a mortal life, he wants to honor Luke's dying request (better life for demigods), he wants to protect Nico and because he wants the gods to stop having reason for wanting him dead.

Thank you for listening to my TED talk lol.

[ezzydantes]

Telling the Monster Trio you're pregnant...

Author's note: Just light fluff and lovings from our Monster Trio after you tell them that you are pregnant.

Luffy

You had spent two years with Luffy while he had trained. You had been the one to pick up the pieces after Ace had been killed at Marineford. Your lover had never really been the same after, hellbent on getting stronger so that he didn't have to lose anyone that he loved ever again. He had vowed that he would not lose what was left of his family.... you.

While the thought made your heart swell with love and adoration, it also began to break because of the trauma you had both endured during it. You had fought alongside Luffy as he tried desperately to save Ace. The both of you finding an inner strength that had been hidden and potentiality that needed to be exploited if you two were to carry on in the New World.

Rayleigh had been a saving grace for you both. Teaching you and Luffy the ins and outs of using Haki as well as building on fighting separately and as a team. However, there was one thing he had not been expecting the last six months of his proposed two year training schedule for you both.

"So you're pregnant?" he quietly asked as Luffy slept with his head on your lap, holding your right hand to his chest.

You simply smiled, knowing you couldn't hide the fact from Rayleigh. He had a sixth sense about EVERYTHING it seemed. "Yes... I haven't told Luffy yet because I am not so sure myself...not like we have a doctor here..."

"I can tell you that you are... and I know that you have a well enough intuition being a woman, that you can tell....", he stated matter of factly.

"I know what you are thinking... a pregnant woman at sea is not meant for the future King of the Pirates..." you scoffed as you raked your fingers through Luffy's hair... ensuring he didn't wake up.

"No... what I am thinking is the two of you will need to consider long and hard what a child would do to this dream of freedom that you have. It will definitely nullify it", the elder man raised his eyebrow at you.

"You think I haven't considered that? That I haven't brought up to Luffy that eventually being together the way we are will result in a child? He's well aware...", you whispered as you started tracing your lover's face before leaning down and kissing his forehead, "You can say what you want, Silver King... we will make our way in this world as we always have... together...ALL of us..."

Rayleigh smiled at this. "Then I will only say this... hold onto each other because there will be a time that will either make you both stronger... or break you...."

"Fair enough... ", you smiled as you leaned against the tree and shut your eyes. Luffy turned to sleep on his side and wrapped his rubber arms around you, nuzzling into your hip as he did so. "Mmmm.. I love you, y/n..."

"I love you too, Lu..." you sighed as you began to drift off to sleep.

The next morning Luffy was already awake, trying to find something for the two of you to eat for breakfast. When he returned he gently shook your curled up form. You had at some point nestled down onto the ground from your sitting position against the tree in the middle of the night, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. "Hey! Sleepy head!" he shouted as he threw the large beast he had caught on the ground in front of you. You moaned at him, "I'm still tired Luffy...."

His hand immediately shot to your forehead. You were never one to sleep in, not in all the years he had known you. "Are you sick? Are you okay?"

"Luffy..", Rayleigh warned. Let her sleep... she's tired."

"But we still have training to do...", the young man pouted as he kept feeling all over your face, trying to find any sign of fever.

"Lu... I'm fine... ", you stated groggily as you sat up, "I'm just really tired today."

"You've been acting differently the last few days...", Luffy hinted, "What's really going on?"

You looked to Rayleigh who merely shrugged his shoulders. "It's your business to tell him... so I think I will simply go this way..." And with that their teacher walked towards the jungle without as much as another word. This caused Luffy's eyebrows to raise. "What's going on?"

"Luffy... you know how I told you that if we kept sleeping together...without taking any precaution that there might be a baby born from it?" you started to explain but was quickly shut up by your lover snatching you up and into his lap as he sat down. "Are you pregnant?"

"Possibly... I won't know for sure until we are somewhere that I can be tested...", you began but Luffy immediately shut you up with a kiss. He clung to you tightly like you were the last bit of breath on this Earth. He relented on his passionate kiss and began peppering kisses all over your face, before resting his lips on your forehead. "I thought that might be the case... and if it's true.. I couldn't be more happier..."

His lips speaking those words against your flesh was mind altering. You couldn't help but blush and embrace him tighter to you, eventually burying your face in his chest. "I was worried..."

"I know this is going to be a BIG step for us... and it's going to change a lot of plans... but I am still going to be King of the Pirates....and you will be Queen... we're going to be free for the rest of our lives and our child... will be happier for it", he whispered into the crown of your head, "I always wanted us to have kids... I can teach them all kinds of things!"

His excitement warmed your heart. You took his face into both of your hands as you looked up at him. "Its not going to be easy...", you began but he quickly shut you up yet again with his finger on your lips.

"I am training to be stronger for you and my crew. That includes our baby... I will NOT lose anymore of the ones I love...", he stated very seriously as he pulled you back into his chest, "You, this baby, our crew... you're the only family I have left and I refuse to lose any of you."

You couldn't help yourself and blamed it on the hormones since you were normally not so emotional, but you began to cry and cry and cry... you had never cried so much in your life. "Thank you, Luffy..."

"No... thank you. I have a kid that will grow up to be an even better pirate than me one day!" he began laughing as he wiped your tears away. You could only shake your head and giggle through the sniffles as you buried your head back into his chest.

Zoro

You and Zoro had been in Wano not even a week before you noticed he was enjoying his time there. In all of your adventures and traveling together, you had never seen him more in his element. He had met master swordsmen and craftsmen and looked like a child who had been introduced to a candy shop with no budget to speak of.

It truly warmed your heart to see your lover in his element. but you knew that something might change his attitude. You had recently visited a doctor during one of the few moments that Zoro had left you alone. He had confirmed what you already knew... you were pregnant. It had to be that time a couple of months ago during your reprieve from the crew on your own. Luffy had granted you and Zoro time alone and you had taken off to an island that you had wanted to visit for a while... Grekko.

It reminded you of your homeland that had been taken by the Celestial Dragons long ago to serve as their own vacation spot. It had the bluest waters, the greatest food (many dishes that were from your homeland), and hanging gardens in the central most part of the island. Zoro had taken you to a resort there with the money that Nami had actually helped him save up. She had even talked down the prices so that you two could enjoy more on the amount she had helped him set aside and more.

The view from your balcony in your suite was breathtaking. You could watch the sun rise, the sunset, and even the full moon. He had planned it perfectly so you could see all three based on your descriptions from childhood. He proclaimed to you that he had loved you since he laid eyes on you at 10 years old. Hence why he asked you to remain by his side after Kuina passed. He had considered you HIS since then. Once Luffy was King of the Pirates, which was just a matter of time, he wanted to marry you. After making love for hours that night, Zoro decided he couldn't wait. He wanted you to be his wife then and there and threatened a priest to perform the ceremony. While the both of you wanted your crew there, it was a special moment. You and he had tried to plan things out accordingly throughout your lives, so the spontaneous idea to wed on the island was new for you both. A mutual decison...

You and he had talked about children but agreed to wait until the right time to start having them.... and this was the most inopportune moment to have one. You guys were setting up to go against Kaido... an Emperor and being pregnant during this time was dangerous.

Your thoughts were keeping you from sleeping and nausea was beginning to set in from the stress of it all. You clawed your way out of your husband's embrace to stumble to the toilet where you barfed your heart out. Zoro had naturally woken up from you tearing yourself away from his embrace, so he came to check on you. He was half asleep and naturally grumpy from the way he had been awoken. "Oi..", he called out as he walked up to the scene in front of him.. the gruffness immediately leaving him as he saw you puking your guts out, "Baby... are you okay?"

He leaned down to hold your hair out of your face and crouched beside you at the toilet. He rubbed your back with his free hand and kept reassuring you that you were fine. "Zoro... I need to tell you something..."

"You're pregnant... ", he deduced as he continued to rub your back, "I figured after Grekko... if I didn't get you pregnant then..."

Your green-haired swordsman chuckled to himself when you looked back at him with shock on your face. "Baby... not to brag but I fucked you into that bed so many times and in the hots springs... as many times as I came inside of you, I wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't a baby..."

"You're not upset?" you questioned. Timing could not have been worse.

"I've always wanted a child with you.... someone to carry on my name in one sense or the other.... to teach the sword... my greatest dream besides becoming the strongest swordsman in the world is having my kid surpass me...", he stated honestly as he wiped your mouth with a wet cloth he had just procured.

"But our lives... your oath to Luffy...", you began but was quickly silenced by him grabbing your face with both hands.

"Luffy will be happy for us... he may be an idiot but he knows good news when he hears it...", he assured as his thumbs began to gently stroke your cheeks. You couldn't help the tears that came slowly at first, until your husband held you to his chest and then it was an all out bawl fest.

"I love you so much, y/n and our child...", Zoro cooed into your hair as he held you tight to him.

Sanji

"I'm pregnant...", you announced in the kitchen early in the morning before the rest of the crew could interrupt the two of you. Sanji immediately dropped the knife he was using to cut up veggies for the omelets he had planned to make. His cigarette dropped onto the floor as he whirled around with hearts in his eyes.

"Y/N LOVE!!!!!" he screamed as he ran to you and engulfed you in his arms, holding you tight to him, "REALLY?"

"Yes... Chopper confirmed it yesterday but I asked him to keep it secret until I could tell you.... are you happy?" you smiled, knowing damn well your man was over the moon about you carrying his child.

"Y/N!!! ARE YOU KIDDING????" the cook shouted as he began twirling you around in his arms.

"BABE!!!" you shouted, "Don't do that!!! I'm already sick to my stomach..."

Your cook immediately stopped and sat you down in a chair. He began feeling your head with one hand and placing his other on your stomach. "I'm sorry... its just..."

You couldn't help but smile as he began to weep. Black Leg Sanji fell to his knees before his lover and held you close so that his face was next to your womb. "I wanted you to carry my children for so long.... ever since the Baratie when I told Zeff I was going to make you mine..."

You hugged Sanji close to you combing your fingers through his hair as you whispered how much you loved him and how you were his completely even before you were pregnant, which caused the man who had always had a stiff upper lip to fall to pieces in your embrace. Between his sobs and declaration of love and protection for both you and your child, he kept rubbing his head against your womb and kissing it reverently.

"Sanji... Baby...", you cooed as you lifted his head up to look at you, "This is going to be hard.. you made an oath to Luffy...."

The cook quickly stood up, never letting his embrace on you break, keeping you and the newly formed life within you close. "I will never let you or our child get hurt... and neither will our crew..."

"I know..", you gently caressed his face, wiping away any stray tears, "Our child will be protected."

"How far along are you?" he quickly changed the subject, "And why didn't you tell me sooner?"

You laughed at his pouting face. "I wanted to be sure and as I said I wanted Chopper to keep it secret until I could tell you.... "

"You don't even know how happy you've made me, Love", the cook pulled you to his chest and kissed the top of your crown, "You've made me the happiest man in the world..."

"Would you prefer it be a boy or a girl?" you innocently asked. He quickly pulled you from him with his hands still gently, but firmly on your shoulders as he looked you straight in the eye. "Be it boy or girl... I am going to love our baby because its ours... yours and mine."

"Shall we tell the others?" you smiled. He grew serious in the moment and picked you up bridal style. "No... I want you both to myself for just a little while longer."

Sanji began to walk to your shared bedroom and ignored some curious glances from your crew mates.

"Hey Sanji! When are you making lunch?" Luffy called.

"Make your own damn lunch... I'm spending time with my family!" the cook growled as he pushed past Franky.

"Whoa what's with the attitude, Bro?" the cyborg asked.

"Y/n is pregnant! She needs rest and I will need to make her a snack...what are you craving, Baby?" Sanji asked as he continued on his way leaving a stunned Franky in his wake.

You couldn't help but giggle at this. "Well I don't know what Baby is craving... but I would like some cucumbers and carrots... with some ranch? Maybe some pickles... oh and lots of water... I've been craving water like crazy....", you began listing off things.

Once inside the room, Sanji stated he would fulfill of your needs and encouraged you to relax and maybe take a nap. Once he was down getting your snacks together he admitted he didn't mind taking a nap with you.

"But what about the rest of the crew?" you earnestly asked. You felt bad if he didn't fulfill his duties just because he knew you were pregnant.

"They know how to fend for themselves and Luffy can't break the lock on the fridge. It was one special request I put in with Franky while he was building the Sunny...." he stated matter of factly.

"Smart man.... ", you teased as he leaned in for a kiss.

"By the way... I know you need your rest but...", Sanji coyly hinted.

"Of course...I heard it was good for the baby and I am already pregnant so...", you wiggled your eyebrows.

"Oh you're going to be the death of me my Love...", the cook grinned as you entered your shared bedroom, "Don't hold back..."

"Wasn't planning on it", you grinned as you squealed from him gently throwing you on the bed and immediately draping himself over you, shirtless. You laughed at the fact that he was quick to get undressed and even more so to have you the same way.

Hours later you two revealed yourselves and announced the joyous news to the rest of the crew, who already had an idea due to Franky freaking out by Sanji's casual statement. The crew celebrated with a party, which Sanji simply sat with you in the corner of the kitchen, enjoying being cuddled up with you and your growing child. He did not drink because he wanted to make sure he was within his senses to take care of you and the baby during the night. You didn't mind his over protectiveness... knowing it would be part of his demeanor from now on being a father. You simply rolled your eyes and enjoyed his embrace, longing looks, and sweet nothings he kept whispering in your ear. You couldn't help but feel overjoyed at the fact that you couldn't have asked for a better partner and the family that you two shared.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Monsters in the Garden (Ettore x Reader) 18+

No one comes to your garden but you, not even Dr. Dibs. So what is the most dangerous man on the ship doing leaning against your doorway and watching you work?

Pairing: Ettore x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT SMUT; hand job; kissing; blood; mentions of rape, murder, and violence; female genital mutilation; vague mentions of corpse mutilation

Author's note: This was inspired by a session I had with the Ettore AI made by @harrenhalhottie (RIP). It was just so good I had to write it out for y'all. This Ettore is a little different from normal, but I can't help but look at a one-dimensional character and want more. Hope you enjoy, and let me know if you want a Part 2, because I have ideas...

This song also heavily influenced the vibe:

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3

Monsters in the Garden

You were on your knees, leaning over one of your raised garden beds when you noticed him leaning against the open doorway. He wasn’t quiet on his approach – he wanted you to know he was there.

Ettore was always there, in some dark corner, watching you.

By this point, you were almost used to the burning feeling that crawled beneath your skin whenever his eyes were on you.

In the right light, those eyes were a mesmerizing blue. The color reminded you of the sky back on Earth. If he hadn’t been so goddamn creepy, you might have been happy to stare into his eyes just to remember home, even briefly.

But he was easily the most unsettling person you’d ever met. Always leering at the other women on board – though in the past weeks, you had apparently become his one and only target– and using the Box proudly, far more than anyone else did.

It was no wonder why. You knew what he was.

Everyone on board was a killer, including you. But Ettore was the worst. The most dangerous of you all. For he was the only one who had… done worse than just kill his victims.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

Well, some would say what you had done was worse. But that was different. Your victim was already dead by the time you started your work on his corpse, and it had been more than deserved.

You did not let yourself linger on that. You never did these days. The further away from Earth you got, the more distant it seemed. The rage, the guilt, all of it.

Ettore wasn’t distant. He was mere feet away from you, intruding on your garden.

Not yours, not really. Because of your past – specifically, the degree in horticulture you were only one semester away from completing when you were arrested – you were assigned to look after the gardens instead of something more related to the actual mission of the ship like the rest of the crew.

Or more basic, in Ettore’s case. Dr. Dib’s called his assignment “ship maintenance,” but you all knew what he really was: the janitor.

But he never came in here. You made sure of it, keeping everything meticulously clean and fixing all your equipment yourself so no one – least of all Ettore – would ever have a reason to intrude on your space.

You didn’t even allow Tcherny, the other gardener, in here. He was fine with it. He preferred the vegetable and grains and left the medicinal plants – kept in their own room – to you. The only person beside you who ever came in here was Dr. Dibs, and she hadn’t been here in months. She didn’t like the dirt.

Yet there was Ettore, just staring at you.

His eyes weren’t that beautiful, bright blue you so rarely glimpsed. His chin was slightly tucked into his chest, his strong brow casting his eyes into darkness. His face was blank, unfeeling, and unmoving, save for those eyes.

They almost didn’t look human, but animal. Yes, that was the look of a predator. And it was directed at you.

You turned away from him to face the garden bed again, hoping he would lose interest if you didn’t engage. But if he didn’t, and he did try something…

Well, you had your spade next to you. It was probably sharp enough to dissuade him from doing anything you didn’t approve of.

So, you resumed your work, carefully tending to your poppies.

Once the lovely purple-pink petals that were just unfurling fell in a few days, you would harvest the sap from the seedpods so Dr. Dibs could synthesize more of the sedative the crew was forced to take each night. Only a handful, carefully selected by you, would be spared and allowed to produce the seeds that would become the next crop.

Though you hated playing a part in producing the drugs, the poppies were still your favorite plant. They were the only flowers you had left.

The garden was always your happy place, even on Earth, and you quickly found yourself concentrating not on Ettore or the sounds of the ship or even the ship itself. There was only you, the dirt, and your beloved plants.

So, when you finally stood and looked away from your work, you had entirely forgotten that Ettore stood there.

Still, he remained leaning against the doorframe, watching you. He hadn’t moved a fucking inch.

You jumped slightly at the unexpected sight, your hand flying to your racing heart.

While he did not flinch at the motion, Ettore’s brow raised slightly, and the corner of his mouth quirked up.

At least the hunger in his eyes had abated. Somewhat.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, love,” he crooned as he uncrossed his arms and took two steps forward.

God, you had never heard him speak before.

His voice wasn’t particularly deep, but it was low and smooth. His accent was like something out of those British action movies a boyfriend in high school loved to make you watch. Perhaps it was those memories – of either the boyfriend or the handsome actors, that made his voice sound almost alluring.

It had to be. It couldn’t be him.

You instinctively stepped back, raising your hands to try and communicate that you didn’t want him near you. Unfortunately, you forgot your spade on the ground, leaving your hands empty. Fortunately, your gloves were loose enough that he could not see the slight trembling in your fingers.

“I just…” you stammered. “I forgot you were there.”

He just stared at you impassively, those predatory eyes taking in every detail of your face, then traveling lower and lower.

Some of the hunger returned when his gaze landed on your breasts.

You had to shut that shit down.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, pouring all your contempt into your voice to mask the fear that still crept within your blood.

Ettore looked back at your eyes, the corner of his lip flicking up as though he was holding back a sneer. “Just passing through.”

You risked looking away from him to glance at your watch. It confirmed what you already knew. “You’ve been standing there for over an hour,” you informed him. One hour and eighteen minutes, to be exact. “Hardly what I’d call ‘passing through.’”

He raised his brows slightly, apparently surprised it had been that long. “Guess I lost track of time. Watching you is…” he turned his eyes, not to your body, but to the flower bed you had just been working in. When he looked back, he gave a sly smile. “Relaxing.”

Bullshit, you thought. But then you bit back the sharp tang of your own cynicism. Gardening was relaxing to you; it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that he honestly found watching you relaxing as well. If it had been anyone but Ettore, you probably would have believed them without a moment of doubt.

But it was Ettore.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

You glared at him for a long moment, trying to communicate that you wouldn’t be fucked with – you wouldn’t be a victim. Then, when he still didn’t drop his gaze from yours, you took it as an acknowledgment of the threat and turned away from him.

You were at least half-expecting him to pounce on you then and there, but he didn’t. You didn’t hear a single sound as you walked to your workbench, situated on the opposite wall from the door, and took off your gloves.

“There’s nothing more to watch,” you said over your shoulder. Then, grabbing a clean rag from one of the drawers, you began wiping the dirt from your forearms – rinsing it off in the sink would risk a clog, which would mean a visit from maintenance and Ettore. “I’m done for the day.”

He didn’t reply, only grunted his acknowledgment. He never moved as you continued to wrap up your work – cleaning your tools, sweeping the dirt that had made its way out of the beds, and washing your hands. Still just watching you.

At least it confirmed that it wasn’t the gardening he found ‘relaxing.’

Finally, you discarded your rags in the laundry bin. It would need to be taken out soon – it was ready today, but you were already running later than you wanted. In just ten minutes, you had an ‘appointment’ with Dr. Dibs, and you didn’t want to make her angry. Again. Doing so has become kind of a bad habit of yours.

So, you turned to face Ettore, who continued to stare at you as you stepped within a few feet of him. He stood a little taller at your approach, puffing his chest out as that near-rabid hunger took over his eyes once more.

Your stomach fluttered, and you told yourself it was only because you were nervous about whatever Dibs planned to do to you tonight.

But then the corner of his mouth quirked up, and your heart sank at the realization that it was because you – or rather, your traitorous, repressed body – found Ettore attractive.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

He would be just your type if you didn’t know why he was here. You had never been able to resist a good jawline, and his could cut fucking glass. And as you took another step closer, his height became just as enticing. You always told people you only liked tall men so they could reach things for you. But really, you just loved the feeling of having a big, strong man to protect you.

No one had looked at you like you needed protection in years. No, you were now what people needed protection from.

“Though she be but little she is fierce,” the lawyer had said when convincing the jury to not be put off by your size. A fitting quote, since Shakespeare himself had inspired some of the more gruesome details of your crime.

And now, you couldn’t help but take another step forward, then another. All along, savoring how far back you had to tilt your head to look into those beautiful blue eyes.

God, as he tilted his chin back as well, the bright lights of the garden set them blazingly bright and the bluest you’d ever seen them. They were even better than the sky back home…

You forced yourself to look away when you felt heat begin to pool between your thighs. Instead, you stared over his shoulder to the hall, trying not to snap when you heard him laugh slightly at your movement. Was the blush you felt visible?

“You’re in my way,” you said, your voice more of a whisper than you intended.

When his smirk faded, and his lips – very pretty lips, you realized – fell slightly open, you thought he would have some cutting remark. But he only stepped to the side to allow you through.

As you passed him, you were close enough to catch his scent. Everyone on the ship used the same soap, so how did he smell so different? Beneath the clinical smell you all carried, there was something deeper, more masculine.

You really needed to calm down before your appointment with Dibs. She knew you didn’t use the Box – not after that first time had failed to get you off, despite the engineering genius of the contraption – so seeing you this riled would lead to questions you didn’t want to answer.

Touching other inmates was against the rules. And even if this wasn’t touching… even thinking this way about another prisoner may incur her wrath.

So, you walked a more than respectable distance away from him before turning back. He was still half-in, half-out of the garden. But he wasn’t staring at you anymore, but rather at the poppies...

When was the last time he had seen a beautiful flower?

You glanced at your watch again. You barely had enough time to make it to the infirmary.

“I need to lock the door,” you said, drawing his gaze back to you.

His brow furrowed slightly as he glanced from you back to the door, then back to you again. He sucked his teeth as he looked at you in condescending disbelief. “You need to lock up flowers?”

“It’s protocol,” you answered. Perhaps your tone was a bit harsher than it needed to be, but you were both criminals - murderers. He could handle a little bitchiness. “And there’s more than just flowers in there.”

Ettore let out a laugh that was little more than a hard exhale, but the twinkle in those eyes told you that he was indeed amused. Then, crossing his arms, showing off the odd, triangular tattoo on his forearm, he stepped away from the door.

You would have to walk by him again to get to the door. Perhaps he was cleverer than you gave him credit for – if you had previously given him any credit at all.

If you weren’t so pressed for time, you might have stayed to tease him some more. This was surprisingly fun, even when you knew what he wanted from you and what he had done to get it from other women. You were just that bored.

And horny. You were very, very horny.

That would be what got you in trouble.

You scoffed, pushing past him to lock the door. It took all your effort to slip the key in as your fingers trembled at the feeling of him hovering over you, his breath hot on your neck as he stepped closer to you.

This shouldn’t make you horny. On the contrary, it should make you afraid. But still…

When the door finally locked, you spun around quickly, tucking the key between your fingers like a claw – something one of the college policemen once told you about.

But Ettore stepped back – once, twice. And then the was pressed against the wall opposite you. His stare was still hungry, and you could easily see how heavy his breathing had become, but he didn’t advance.

“I have to go,” you told him, unsure why you were doing it. It wasn’t like you needed his permission or even wanted it. “I have an appointment with Dibs.”

His eyes darkened then. Not with lust or animalistic hunger, but rage. It was almost… possessive?

It was gone as soon as it appeared, replaced by his usual empty stare. Still, you did not dare move, not after whatever it was you just saw.

“Can I…?” Ettore gritted his jaw and looked away, his hands balling into fists at his sides. You didn’t know if he was about to cry or kill you – and you didn’t know which would be worse. He still looked away from you as he continued, “Can I come here again tomorrow? Just to watch.”

You should immediately forbid it. It was wrong, it was a bad idea, and it was just fucking weird. But as the hour chimed on your watches, you realized you couldn’t leave when he looked so desperate, almost sad. And you definitely couldn’t say anything to make that horrible expression worse.

“Yeah,” you whispered. You turned as he looked back at you to shut off the alarm on your watch. Dr. Dibs would be pissed at you, of that, you were sure. At the moment, though, it didn’t seem to matter. Not when his eyes lit up again, not from any light, but with excitement. “If you have nothing better to do, I guess that’s fine.”

The corners of Ettore’s lips quirked up like he would smile, but he quickly corrected it and set his mouth in a straight line. He didn’t want you to know just how excited he was, but you did anyways – he wasn’t a great liar. Tipping his head in an attempt at indifference, he sniffed before speaking. “Yeah, wicked.”

You winced a little at his pathetic attempt to seem cool, but it faded quickly when your watch beeped again. This wasn’t an alarm or the chiming of the hour but a summons. If you didn’t obey it, you knew Dibs would happily use the stupid watch to deliver a steady stream of low-level electric shocks until you did.

She was just as much of a killer as the rest of you – worse than some, if the rumors were right. Why should she have such authority over the rest of you?

It was pointless to question it, and even the beginnings of the line of thought had ruined your mood. So much so that you didn’t say anything else to Ettore before turning away from him and stalking down the hall toward the infirmary.

After you had disappeared around the corner, Ettore took a deep breath, silently congratulating himself on handling that almost like a real person would. Then, he turned in the opposite direction as you. He was due to clean the canteen before dinner. But fuck that. He needed the Box – now.

-

Dibs had been pissed. Not only that you were late to your appointment, but that you were so obviously turned on when you got there. It wasn’t like you could hide it, not when she immediately ordered you into the stirrups and got a front-row seat to your weeping and flushed cunt.

“Have you been using the Box?” she asked, that sickeningly sweet smile plastered across her face.

You pursed your lips, looking away. “No.”

Her smile faded, and her eye twitched. “And yet here you are, practically dripping.” She reached for something on her tray, but you couldn’t see what. You had a pretty good guess, anyway. “Well, at least it makes my job easier.”

It had been anything but fucking ‘easy,’ you thought as you cradled your aching abdomen. Under the pretense that you were already wet enough, she had shoved her speculum into you hard and fast – and without lube.

If you thought her tests and procedures had been uncomfortable before… they were downright torturous yesterday. Especially since she conveniently ‘forgot’ to give you any numbing agents or sedatives. And definitely no painkillers.

Not even the sedative you were served with dinner had helped. For the first time since you boarded this godforsaken ship, you hadn’t slept.

Thankfully, you had little work to do in the garden besides waiting for the poppies to drop their petals. But you didn’t want to just wallow in your pain, so you decided to sit at the edge of the bed where your little willow tree resided.

It wasn’t growing very fast, likely because it didn’t have the room it needed or deserved. Still, you were happy with the progress it had made. When the ship first took off, it was little more than a bonsai. Now, it stood a good eight feet tall – the only plant you needed your step stool to tend.

In truth, it didn’t need much tending. Trees never do unless they are very young or something is wrong. But sitting next to it, examining the patterns in its long leaves and tracing lines up its trunk, was spectacularly soothing.

You had never considered harvesting anything from it. Not yet. It was too little still, and you didn’t want to risk damaging it permanently since you couldn’t simply order a new start. But as another pulse of pain surged through your stomach, you found yourself reaching for a lower branch.

All you needed was a small twig to chew on. It was an ancient Egyptian remedy, one that eventually led to the invention of Aspirin. And even if the sedative didn’t help, perhaps something more natural, something you had grown yourself, would.

You had just wrapped a hand around the branch when you felt a large hand close around your shoulder.

Instinct kicked in, and you whirled around, freeing yourself from your attacker’s grasp. Without processing who it was, you threw your arms out, shoving with all your might. “Get the fuck away from me!”

You only recognized Ettore after you had backed into the wall. He had also fallen on his ass and crawled backward on the floor – apparently, you were stronger than you thought. Any amusement at the fact died when you saw the anger burning in those eyes.

It was entirely possible that you just really fucked up.

But your adrenaline, from the pain and the scare he had just given you, was racing too hot and fast to let you consider that possibility.

“What are you doing?” you spat. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Ettore’s face grew even more furious, if that was even possible. His eyes burned as bright as any fire you had ever seen. It was beautiful and deadly. “You fucking… you said I could come watch you!”

Damn it, you did say that.

But it was before Dr. Dibs had been such a cunt.

And she had only done it because he got you horned up like you were a pathetic high schooler.

“Well, now I changed my fucking mind!” you shouted. If you could stand, you would have. Towering over him and just screaming your heart out would feel so good. But you hurt too much to even entertain the thought. “I don’t want you here – I don’t want you!”

Ettore shattered.

You watched it happen as your venomous words left your lips.

His face fell, his eyes began to water, and even his tattoos seemed to go dull.

At that moment, he was not Ettore, the murderer, rapist, and monster.

He was just a boy – the both of you were barely more than teenagers when you left Earth – and he was broken.

You broke him.

You looked on in horror as his trembling lips set into a hard line that echoed in his harsh brow, and the tears in his beautiful eyes faded to reveal a primal rage that chilled your blood.

There he was.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

Ettore stood slowly, like a tiger rising from its crouch upon realizing its prey has no escape – that it could play.

But then he looked away from you, sniffed, and moved for the door.

His leaving without doing anything to you should have made you feel overwhelming relief, but it did not. Instead, a great yawning pit of guilt and regret opened in your chest, hurting nearly as much as your wounded core.

You tried to call out to him, take your words back, and apologize, but all that came out was a short yelp of pain. This time, it was accompanied by wetness between your legs – and not the pleasant kind.

As you folded over, burying your face in your knees as you pulled them into your chest, Ettore paused halfway out the door.

He’d heard noises like that before. From other women in pain – pain that he caused. His lip twitched, and his head tilted out of his control, the movement more animal than human.

You were helpless and apparently wounded. This was his chance.

But as he turned to face you, he caught sight of the poppies you so lovingly tended to the day before. With the memory of your soft smile as you cupped a particularly pretty bloom, one that was a deeper pink than the others, he was able to pull back on the reins of that instinct.

Just slightly, but just enough.

“You hurt?” he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded into your legs and lifted your head without meeting his eyes. “I think… I think I’m bleeding.”

Ettore was frozen, his hands flexing, relaxing, and balling into fists as he tried to keep hold of those inner reins. If he was smart, he would leave. Go straight to the Box and fuck himself until this hateful urge was gone. If he was a good person, he would offer his help.

He was not smart. And he was most definitely not a good person.

But something about you and those goddamned poppies woke what little was left of his humanity and made him want to try.

So, he just stood there, staring at your helpless form as he fought a vicious war inside himself.

You watched him. Watched as his eyes flicked over every inch of your body with dizzying speed, as various parts of his body twitched and flexed. You’d never seen anything like it before, except…

The vague memory of a play you went to on a middle school field trip reemerges. Your whole grade was reading Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and it just happened to coincide with the local community theater’s production of the play.

It wasn’t a good play. Even at twelve, you could tell it was objectively bad. But the man who played Jekyll and Hyde was decent (one of your classmates told you he was their pediatrician), mainly when he performed the ‘transformation.’ You hadn’t been able to look away as he contorted; every movement was desperate, halting, and frantic.

Not unlike how Ettore moved as he watched you.

When he came out of the fog that had settled over his eyes, which Ettore would you get? Did he even have a Jekyll to his Hyde?

You knew you should take the opportunity of his distraction to run. The infirmary would be best, but it would mean seeing Dr. Dibs again. You had no desire to admit that you needed her help. The showers were also an option, but it would allow others to see you in a weakened state. You didn’t want to admit weakness. Besides, Dibs would hear about that as well.

So, even though you knew it was stupid, you decided to take the biggest risk of them all.

“Ettore…?” You called his name softly, unsure of the pronunciation. Whether it was right or wrong, he didn’t seem to mind. He locked eyes with you, and his nostril flared as though he really was a predator and could smell the blood you were now confident was leaking from you. “I need your help.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he looked like he would run from you. But beyond another twitch of his head, he did not move.

“Please?” you begged. You felt pathetic, but you kind of were, so you tried not to let it bother you too much. “I don’t think I can stand on my own.”

Ettore’s brows furrowed at that, and his lips went from a near-sneer to a determined frown. Then, with a lumbering gait, he approached you in only a few steps, holding a hand out in front of him for you to take.

You stared at his hand for a moment, admiring the elegant length of his fingers. And then you realized: he was shaking.

It was subtle, but it was there.

Tilting your head, you looked up at his face. Apart from the slight widening of his eyes, it was again set in passivity. But what was more peculiar than his trembling or his expression was the fact that he was steadfastly refusing to look at you.

Indeed, those blue eyes were set on the softly swaying leaves of your willow, tracking their movement like the tree would attack him if he looked away.

You were so used to his eyes on you. Was it wrong that you wanted it back?

Before you could ponder the answer, you raised an arm to take his hand. He squeezed your fingers painfully as he helped you onto your feet.

The pain surged again as you stood, causing your knees to buckle the second Ettore let go of your hand. You stumbled, falling against his chest.

It was no more than instinct that had him wrapping his long arms around your shoulders and waist to catch you. An instinct that his brain was yelling at him to abandon you and let you fall.

It was too dangerous to touch you, to feel your soft skin as his hand accidentally slipped into the side of your overalls – why the fuck were the sides so low when your shirt was so short?

At the sensation of your hot breath against the sensitive skin of his neck, he let out an involuntary groan as he tightened his grip on you.

He had to get away. Now. As fast as possible. He didn’t want to hurt you. He really didn’t. But his blood was singing with desire, more intoxicating than any liquor or drug. Keeping his fingers from digging into your flesh possessively was almost painful, and he was so, so hard.

The reins were slipping…

You felt it, his hard length pressed into your stomach as you brought your hands to his chest to steady yourself.

You should push him away again. Slap him. Yell at him. Kick him as hard as you could right on that hard, impressively long length.

But you did none of it.

“I need to get to my worktable,” you whispered, “there’s a medkit there. And…”

You looked into his eyes, watching them dilate even further as you finished your request. “I’ll need help getting out of my overalls.”

That blue you were so entranced by was all but gone. Ettore looked like a man possessed, his breathing heavy and heaving as he lowered his chin to look into your eyes.

There was no way he heard you correctly. You knew what he was, what he had done. And you were smart, so much smarter than him. Far too smart to ever ask someone like him to take off your clothes. Even if it were to help you with an injury – an injury he still couldn’t see.

But then your eyes squeezed shut, and you fell forward to bury your face in his shoulder as you moaned in pain.

And then…

Then your right hand moved up his chest to wrap around his neck. Not to choke or hurt, but just to hold.

He expected your hands to be rough from working in the garden all day, but they weren’t. No, your fingers were unfairly, unbearably soft as they swept across his bare skin, coming to rest against the tattoo on the side of his neck.

When was the last time anyone touched him like this – tenderly and without fear? It had been years, even before he was put on this doomed ship.

Ettore almost came just from that simple touch.

More intense than even the extraordinary pleasure was the feeling of near calm that washed over him. It soothed the pain he felt in every muscle and quieted the violent, primal urges roaring within his chest. They weren’t gone, but they were further away.

It made it easier to take the reins.

“The worktable…” he breathed as his grip on you relaxed slightly. He still held you firm enough to keep you standing, but you no longer worried you would bruise.

You pulled away slightly, noting the way he whimpered and winced like a scolded puppy as you slowly removed your hand from around his neck. “Yes.”

He nodded frantically, sniffing and taking a few deep breaths. As if he needed to prepare himself for the short walk to the table. Then, moving with a slowness that suggested the motion took all his concentration, he lowered his arm from your shoulders.

When Ettore turned to the worktable, even with his other arm still around your waist, you felt a rush of unwelcome cold. Even when you were still clothed and the garden was kept at a balmy temperature.

He walked slowly. Perhaps you would have thought it was out of concern for you and your pain, but you knew by now that this was hard for him.

Indeed, when he pulled away after you were leaned against the table, a faint sheen of sweat had broken out across his brow. His breathing was still rapid, and his eyes were glassy, as if he were several shots in.

“Ettore?” When he met your eyes again, you looked down at the buttons on your shoulders holding your overalls up. He followed your gaze and made a choking sound when he realized what you meant. “If I let go of the table, I think I’ll fall.”

It wasn’t just his hands shaking now, but all of him. So much so that you couldn’t tell whether he was nodding or just shaking that badly.

Either way, he reached for the first button on your left shoulder. It took him a few tries, but he got it done. The strap fell, and one side of the overalls slumped, revealing the tight white shirt beneath that left very little to the imagination.

Ettore growled.

What the fuck? Humans don’t growl. At least, you had never heard it.

And yet he did.

A flicker of fear started in your chest, and you chose to focus on that rather than the bloom of something else lower within you.

He began to reach a hand, tense and shaking, towards your breast. But inches away, you caught his wrist. You had to lean further against the table not to fall, but you weren’t letting go.

“The other button, please.” Though you spoke quietly, the command was clear.

You only released his arm when he looked into your eyes and confirmed with a twitch of his lip that he heard you. He clenched and unclenched his fist several times before finally going for the other button.

It took him even longer to get this one undone. But at least he didn’t growl again when the other half of the overall’s torso fell limp around your waist. His eyes did linger on your breasts, but you let it happen.

You had great tits. And he deserved a little reward for helping you, didn’t he?

So, you let him have a few seconds to just stare. As long as he didn’t try to touch again. Because you didn’t want that, right?

Ettore’s gaze fell further, to where the overalls were just barely hanging onto your waist. You said you were bleeding, but he still hadn’t seen it. So just where was your injury?

His cock twitched, and he was sure you could see it through the thin scrub pants he was forced to wear as he realized what would happen next. “You need ‘em all the way off, eh?” He hated how weak and shaky his voice sounded, but he supposed it was better than growling. You hadn’t reacted well to that. “Do you need me to…?”

“Yeah,” you affirmed. Of course, you knew you should say something about burying your spade in his chest if he tried anything. But the fact that he was asking, rather than just ripping the garment off, made you feel almost safe in having him do this. Almost.

You would feel even better about it if you couldn’t see his dick straining against his pants and twitching almost as much as he was.

C'est la vie, you supposed. Though that probably applied more to something trivial, like your school’s football team losing a game they should have won, than you being forced to ask a serial rapist and murderer to take off your pants. But close enough.

You shivered when he lowered his hands to your waist, causing him to pull back slightly. “It’s fine,” you assured him. “Keep going. I’m fine.”

Ettore nodded and fixed his eyes on the bottom drawer of the table as he took the thin fabric of the overalls between his fingers and started pulling them down. Really, he could have just nudged them, and they would have fallen to the floor. But he kept them in his grip as he lowered himself into a kneeling position.

He never once looked at you. Not at your ankles, or your legs, or the apex of your thighs – which were covered with more blood than you expected.

Damn it.

You considered what to do next as Ettore remained on the floor, carefully slipping the overalls over your feet. A difficult task when he refused to look at what he was doing.

By the time he finished, and you felt very much like Donald Duck – shirt, shoes, but no pants – you knew what you had to ask.

It was the stupidest thing you’d ever done.

“As long as you’re down there,” you said, your joking tone flatter than you intended, “the medkit’s in the drawer just to your left. Can you grab it and… and help me onto the table?”

Ettore didn’t reply but yanked the drawer open and grabbed the medkit. After tossing it on the table, he rose. Then, still not looking at you, he wrapped his arms around you again – one around your waist, the other around your upper thighs – and lifted you onto the table.

God, you felt so good in his arms. You were the perfect size, like you were made for him to hold. Warm and soft and… wet?

His eyes shot to the arm that had been wrapped around your legs. And both of you looked on in horror as you realized it was now covered in blood – your blood.

For the first time, you saw a look of disgust come over Ettore’s face.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, voice breaking as tears of embarrassment began to fall. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!”

But he didn’t say anything. Instead, Ettore simply stalked over to the utility sink a few feet from the worktable and slammed the faucet on. He didn’t wait for the water to heat before shoving his arm under it.

You watched in humiliation, fumbling to lower your panties as he grabbed the soap and began to scrub. “I’m so sorry,” you said again, ripping open the medkit to find a packet of gauze you could press between your legs. “Ettore, I’m so sorry!”

He shook his head as he scrubbed harder and harder, until his skin burned from more than the searingly hot water. You were bleeding, you were hurt, and all he had been thinking about was how much he’d like to fuck you.

It had never stopped him before, not with any of the other girls. He had never minded having their blood on him. He savored it, actually. But it had been him who made them bleed. You…

“Who?” he growled, stilling his scrubbing but keeping the arm under the water. The burning distracted him from the desire to find someone to hurt. Because he needed to hurt someone. Badly. Preferably whoever did this to you, but he wasn’t picky.

You didn’t want to tell him, not when you recognized that look in his eyes. It meant violence – retribution. You had seen that same look in your eyes when you watched the recap of your trial from your cell, and your lawyer was telling the jury, in excruciating detail, why you had killed your victim.

For a moment, you thought about trying to pass it off as you just being on your period. But he wouldn’t buy it. Not after what you’d already told him. Besides, all the women on the ship were synced, and your periods were still two weeks away.

Finally fed up with your silence, Ettore shut off the water and turned back to you, not bothering to dry his arms. He just prowled back to you, standing between your spread legs as he stared deep into your eyes without a glance at your mostly exposed cunt. You turned away, not wanting to face the darkness in his eyes, but he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

“Who?”

You bit your lip and fought to get free of his grip, but to no avail. Knowing then that it was hopeless, you locked eyes with him again as you said simply, “Dibs.”

He growled again, not with hunger, but with rage.

And then he turned away.

He would hurt her, you realized. He would kill her.

You weren’t opposed to the idea, but you were opposed to what would come next. What the other prisoners would do to Ettore afterward. And perhaps you as well, since he would do it for you.

Before you knew it, your hand had shot out to grab his shirt, and he froze.

“Don’t,” you pled. When you tugged on his shirt to draw him back to you, he only resisted for a moment before coming back toward you. “It was just her punishment. I’ll be fine. She wouldn’t… damage me permanently. She needs me intact for her experiments. I promise, she was just being a cunt.”

Ettore cocked his head and pursed his lips like he would argue, but you couldn’t have that. So, you lifted the gauze from between your legs to show him how the blood flow had already stemmed somewhat.

“See? It’s already getting better.” But your weak, reassuring smile fell when you realized what you had just done.

He realized at the same time, and he could not stop his eyes from dropping to what you just made visible to him.

His erection had begun to flag while he cleaned your blood from his arm, but there was no stopping it now. Not when he had a full view of what he had been dreaming of for weeks.

Just like the rest of you, your pussy was so pretty. He wanted to kiss it, stroke it, fuck it. His blood hummed with the desire, and he barely stopped himself from diving forward. He closed his fingers around yours where they bunched the front of his shirt. The feeling of your skin against his was his salvation, an anchor to his humanity.

Not you, he told himself.

Not you, who didn’t look at him in fear or disgust. At least, not entirely.

Not you, the only person since his mother died to touch him with anything other than aggression.

Not you, who had trusted him, even knowing what he was.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

“Please.” His plea was hardly more than a breath. Pathetic. “Please, let me go.”

For even with your touch, he was losing his grip on the reins. If he stayed here one second longer, he would do something he really didn’t want to do. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

You could see how much danger you were in, but you did not let go. No, you tightened your grip on his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your forehead rested against his.

Finally, you could look into those eyes and remember the sky back home as you had wanted to for so long.

But the sky wasn’t enough.

You wanted him.

You knew you couldn’t have him fully, couldn’t do what you really wanted. Not when you were injured like this.

Still, you brought your other hand to his chest, feeling him shiver as your fingers traveled lower and lower. Finally, you rest your palm against his length through his scrubs, feeling a sense of satisfaction when his hips cant slightly forward into your grip.

He didn’t have to say anything for you to know he wanted this as much as you do. But, of course, he did. When was the last time a woman touched him there, let alone willingly? The thought should have disgusted you, but it didn’t.

Perhaps you were just as much of a monster as he was,

“Dibs will punish us if she finds out we did this,” you whispered, your lips mere inches away from his. “But I don’t really care, do you?”

Ettore shook his head, his eyes burning like the fires of hell, where you both belonged. He was so close to breaking, losing himself, losing control. He was little more than an animal following the primal instinct to mate.

But letting you take control – and you were undoubtedly in control now – made it easier. For once, it wasn’t him who had to pull back on the reins. Not when he gave them to you.

He nodded vigorously. He wanted you. He didn’t care that he didn’t deserve it. And he didn’t care that you were probably just as monstrous as he was. He just wanted you.

You smiled, pressing a single kiss to the corner of his lips before sliding your hand past the waistbands of his scrubs and boxers and taking hold of him.

He immediately let out a pitiful cry as his stomach tightened, and he had to concentrate so hard not to come before you had even begun to move your hand. It was only made worse when you giggled at his struggle. The sound was sweet and light and utterly infuriating.

Needing to shut you up, Ettore brought his hands back around your waist as he tugged you to the table’s edge. He leaned forward to kiss you, but you pushed against him, holding him back. Then, tensing, he grunted, a low, throaty sound and a begging.

“I know,” you whispered, mock sympathy barely disguising your amusement. “I know what you want. Believe me, I want it to.” You laughed again as you began to pump him slowly, collecting the precum on his tip with every stroke to ease your movements. “You can kiss me another time. Right now, I just want to look at you. Is that okay?”

His hands tensed around your waist, and for a few seconds, he looked like he would let that animal loose and lunge at you. Like he would kiss you with all the pent-up frustrations of an entire life spent unwanted.

But he stopped, looking from where your hand disappeared below his pants to your eyes. And he nodded. Not a small, weak movement, but a firm, final motion.

He would allow it.

He would allow you to do whatever you wanted.

You smiled broadly, and again, he had to hold back his release. He wanted this to last forever.

At last, you released Ettore’s shirt from where you had bunched it with your offhand, raising it to his neck. You traced each line of his maze-like tattoo as you sped your movements, savoring each wince and whine he let out. Cataloging each reaction to figure out, without him having to say a word, exactly what he liked best.

And what you liked best. You were particularly fond of how his eyes would squeeze shut, and his mouth would fall open each time you grazed your thumb over his leaking head, following a short trail up and down his slit.

It was such a mesmerizing sight that you brought your hand up from his neck to touch his face. Every movement of one hand was echoed by the other as you explored each feature.

The severe line of his jaw. His large chin. The sharp cheekbones and flat brow. His long, elegant nose. The pink plush of his lips, from which he let out such tantalizing moans and whimpers.

Once you had taken in every inch of his face, you cupped his jaw in your left hand to feel it work as you sped the ministrations of your right hand. His eyes squeezed even further shut, and he grunted like an animal. But you didn’t stop. You only went faster and faster.

“Are you nearly finished?” you asked teasingly.

Ettore cracked open his eyes, looking from your taunting smile to your hand, working him so skillfully, then back to you. He moaned almost inaudibly, and that animalistic hunger returned to his eyes. He had been locked in a cage for too long, and now you had set him free.

“Yes,” he moaned, almost too quiet to hear.

You brought your thumb to rest against his lower lip, smiling at the feeling of his increasingly frantic breath against her.

For so long, you had feared this man. And now he was reduced to putty in your hands.

With a mischievous twinkle in your eyes, you pressed your thumb further into his lip and let your other hand slow, ignoring his protestations. “Before I let you finish,” you said, your voice tauntingly innocent, “I need you to answer a question for me. Can you do that?”

Ettore’s body jerked wildly as he desperately tried to regain some of the friction you had just deprived him of, but his eyes stayed locked on yours.

He knew he would do anything you asked him to then.

If you asked him to jump? He’d ask how high.

If you demanded he get down on his knees and beg? He’d do so happily.

If you told him to throw himself out of the airlock? He wouldn’t hesitate.

Compared to what he would do, what you actually asked of him seemed so simple.

“Fine…” he gasps, tightening his grip on your waist as though you would pull away. “What is it?”

You smirked, savoring that dark look in his eyes. How could you ever have been scared of it?

Then you squeezed his pulsing cock, just past the point of pleasure, to emphasize the power you held over him.

And, of course, he loved it. Groaning as his head toppled over into your shoulder. You carded your hand through his short hair as you whispered in his ear, “What feels better, my hand or the Box?”

Any pain, any embarrassment at being so pathetically at your beck and call, or any emotion other than his desire for you faded at the question. All that mattered was you and your perfect touch.

It felt wonderful even when you tugged on his hair quite hard to make him face you again. The answer was written on his face, in every piece of the complete, utter joy he felt in every inch of him, but especially where your skin met his.

“You,” he said, the word like a prayer. “You.”

Your responding smile was wicked, and you almost went back on your promise not to kiss him. But you resisted and began pumping his cock at a breakneck pace, brushing each sweet spot with every stroke and letting your pinky graze against his balls each time you came to his base.

It takes every ounce of what little restraint Ettore had to not scream at the overwhelming bliss. It was so much, too much. It was everything.

But what finally pushed him over the edge was you leaning in again to whisper against his cheek, “Just wait until you feel my cunt, Ettore.”

There was a sharp gasp, a guttural cry, a whimper, and a grunt, and then he was spent. Thank God his boxers were thick, or there would have been a very obvious stain at the front of his scrubs.

Ettore whimpered again as he looked into your eyes again, unsure what this meant or what would happen next. He was so drunk on his release that words failed him, or else he no doubt would have said something stupid and ruined his chances of actually getting to experience what you had promised just before he came.

You removed your right hand from his pants, wrapping it around his neck like the left, soothingly stroking the peach fuzz at the base of his skull as he came down from his high.

There was a new look in those blue eyes. Not hungry, not animalistic. Not angry or predatory. No, it was almost reverent.

Who would have ever thought that Ettore, the murderer, rapist, and monster, was capable of a look like that?

You parted your lips and leaned ever so slightly into him. “Thank you,” you whispered against his lips. “For letting me just watch. I think… after giving me that, you deserve a treat, don’t you?”

Ettore didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He could only stare at you as pleading vulnerability crept over his face. The look of a puppy begging for a treat.

Then, he nodded, his only pleading answer.

You ran a hand through his hair again, making him wait just a moment more. “Kiss me, Ettore.” His eyes went wide at the command. “Kiss me the way you really want to.”

His throat bobbed, and he nodded again, still holding your gaze. Then, before you could even take a breath, he pounced.

Ettore’s lips were hot on yours as he kissed you deeper and more passionately than you’d ever been kissed before. It took only a moment before it felt like your souls were melding together for how close he held you. He did not relent until you were both struggling for breath.

Even then, he kept his lips pressed against yours as though he wasn’t quite ready to let you go.

“Thank you,” he said softly, the sound sending tingles up your spine.

You just sat there, smiling against him for a moment, wishing you could have taken him inside you. Perhaps you were fine now, and if he could get hard again, you could…

But then your watches both beeped the hour. He’d been there an hour. Someone was bound to notice he wasn’t scrubbing the halls soon.

So, you reluctantly pushed him away, heart clenching as he weakly fought to hang on to you. “I want to come back,” he whined.

You didn’t reply as you dressed again, your pain mostly gone, and pulled a clean rag out of another worktable drawer for him to clean himself. As you went to shut the drawer, an idea sparked in your mind. You grabbed another rag and ran to the sink, bunching the cloth as you moved.

Ettore looked on in confusion as you shoved the rag down and down into the drain until you couldn’t reach it anymore. But then realization set in, and he grinned wickedly.

You turned to him and returned the smile. “I think I may need to call maintenance tomorrow.”

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

How would the male companions go about helping/comforting a tav who’s “monthly visitor” came to town during their journey??

A/N: The timing of this ask is impeccable because guess what I just got? Lol. But seriously I would be mad as hell in the 5 or 6 days I’m supposed to stop my mind flayer parasite AND save the universe I ALSO had to deal with cramping and bleeding. Nu-uh. Nope. Sign me the fuck out. Goodbye cruel world, I would be DONE. 

TW: Mentions of Menstruation; Blood 

Tried to keep this Tav as Gender Neutral as possible so that it could apply to anyone who menstruates.  <3 

Please Like & Reblog! 

Male BG3 Companions Helping Tav w/ Their Period

⭐ Astarion: 

He probably notices it before Tav does

Of course, he offers to help “clean up” ;) (this may or may not get him a kick in the balls)

No, but seriously, if he and Tav are in a relationship, he’d have no qualms going down there himself every so often to “alleviate” some symptoms. That is, of course, if Tav would go for that kind of thing. Astarion won’t keep pushing it if Tav says “no”. He respects the hard boundaries Tav gives him. 

Of course, he teases Tav a bit. Not horribly, and it’s all in good fun. But enough to let Tav know that this matter doesn’t disgust or upset him in the slightest. It’s blood for devil's sake! What creature would be better prepared to handle it than him?

If any of Tav’s clothes end up stained or they end up bleeding through them, Astarion has just the thing to take the stains out. Turns out, knowing how to get blood out of most fabrics is quite beneficial knowledge in the vampire community. Plus he has an instinct for knowing where the best tailors and seamstresses in Baldur’s Gate are. Should Tav need an emergency change of clothes, he knows just the place! 

Then again, Astarion himself has no problem with the blood stains. After all, they’re traveling around killing monsters for gods sake! If anyone has a nasty comment about how much blood either he or Tav is drenched in, they better be damn quick on their feet. His arrows can shoot pretty far. ;P

As far as cramps or pain goes, if his previous, ahem, suggestion was shot down, he’ll make sure Tav takes a moment here and there to rest. He might even bother Gale, demanding some sort of heat pack. Scratch that. He’s most definitely harassing Gale for some sort of heating pack spell. 

If Gale refuses, he might even try and figure out how to fix one himself. Granted fire and vampires aren't the best of friends, but Tav is the only one in the last two-hundred-plus years to see him as a person. A little scorching here and there means nothing if Astarion can let Tav know how much he values them. 

🔮 Gale: 

He’s clueless, okay? Tav would have to outright tell him. I mean yes, he was raised by a single mom, but she didn’t exactly share the details of this stuff with him. And it never came up all the years he was with Mystra because goddesses don’t exactly reproduce the way other Faerun humanoids do! Please forgive him, he really does want to learn.

He immediately offers to find a spell or potion to either pause or skip this one altogether. He gets that Tav may want to opt out of dealing with it for the time being, seeing as the two of them have much more pressing matters to attend to. 

He’ll cast it himself if Tav wishes. Or he’ll find another trustworthy wizard to recommend. Although he does prefer to do it himself, he understands Tav might be uncomfortable with the thought of their new partner doing such a thing for them. His entire life has been spent studying magic, so of course he immediately thinks to use that to remedy any problem Tav has. 

Nevertheless, should Tav choose to deal with it in the old-fashioned non-magical way, he’s perfectly accepting of that as well. He’ll enquire about which local herbs are suitable for such applications, possibly even soliciting the help of an herbalist or surgeon. 

Gale wants to give Tav as many options for comfort as possible. If Tav’s concern is about heavy bleeding, he looks for answers on natural remedies to lighten the flow. Or he may even speak with a midwife about the best clothes and absorbent materials to use in the coming days.  

As awkward as he can be in social situations, he’s oddly great in this endeavor. He treats it the way he would a Weave experiment- with an open mind and curiosity. At the end of the day what matters is Tav knows how much Gale admires and respects them. And that he doesn’t think of them any less for having this bodily function. If anything, he admires Tav more for being so forthcoming. It’s an ask that actually strengthens his and Tav’s relationship. 

🗡 Wyll: 

Wyll probably shies away from it the most. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help Tav in any way he can, it’s just that he’s a gentleman, and to his knowledge, speaking of certain subjects with the one you like, isn’t something a well-behaved gentleman would do. That being said, a true gentleman is always prepared to put away their discomfort in order to aid their friends, so that’s exactly what he does. 

He enlists the help of Shadowheart almost immediately. He knows realistically, there are others he could ask (midwives, doctors, healers), but Shadowheart is an ally and a Cleric to boot. So her skills as well as her knowledge may very well come in handy. 

He’ll go along with whatever Tav decides, but he, like Gale, recommends Tav either suspend or skip this round. He thinks it wise to have all their wits about them for the battles ahead. With demons like Mizora and Raphael running about, none of them can afford to get distracted. Again, if Tav chooses to push through it, he’ll be kind and supportive, and request Shadowheart’s healing in subduing some of the more troublesome symptoms. But deep down, he’s happier should Tav decide to use magic or spells to resolve the issue for the time being. 

And then, Wyll goes all out in preparation for the next one. Once their fight is won, he can turn his attention back to his family- his Father, and of course, Tav. He makes sure his family home has a room for them, customized in many ways to Tav’s liking. Wyll has their favorite color blanket, a soft pillow, their favorite flavor tea in an enchanted flask to keep it just the perfect temperature… the list goes on and on. 

He loves Tav so much. He just wants them to be comfortable, and to feel safe to express whatever feelings they have. After all, Tav is the best thing to ever happen to him. 

🌱 Halsin: 

The nice thing about him being ‘one with nature’ is that he has no unease regarding the subject. He is an archdruid, and some three-hundred years old at that- believe me, there’s very little Tav’s body could throw at him that he’s not ready to receive. 

Out of all the companions, Halsin is the one most likely to not immediately suggest using magical means to pause or skip it. Instead, he has more natural aids at the ready- herbs, teas, heat packs, massages, and well, yes, even that. ;)

The difference between Halsin suggesting it and Astarion suggesting it, however, is that Halsin’s motivations are more focused on what he can do for Tav and their body; they’re not based on the idea of mutual satisfaction. Halsin has had countless lovers and years to understand pleasure. He knows you take turns giving, and he’s well very versed in that. 

Or if Tav isn't up for that, he'll offer to shift into a cat and rest on their abdomen, using his body heat to lessen Tav’s cramps. 

He’s also the most ‘normal’ when it comes to continuing their journey. He won’t make a habit of fussing over Tav unless they specifically request him to do so. Periods, however annoying and painful, are a part of life, of nature. Halsin believes it best to learn how to accept nature, and live in harmony with it, rather than try and prevent it. 

If Tav does want to explore other means of stopping this particular cycle, however, Halsin will help them any way he can, even if he doesn’t think it very wise to mess with the flow of nature like that. As a druid healer himself, he knows a few things or too about reproductive spells. He can make it so the symptoms lessen, or temporarily subside until their perilous journey has come to a close. 

Halsin may not want to settle for a single lover, but out of all of them, Tav seems to shine the brightest. He would do anything within his power to aid them. 

Bonus! 💪 Minsc (and 🐹 Boo!): 

He offers to fight it lol. Just straight up. 

“What is this thing causing you stress? Tell Minsc where it is so he can destroy it for you!” 

Boo basically has to be the one in charge of the situation, but then again, what’s new? 

Boo finds the supplies Tav might need, and directs Minsc to them. Boo also directs Minsc towards either Shadowheart or Halsin, because they’re better suited for dealing with these sorts of things. 

Once Minsc understands what Tav meant, he apologizes with a bouquet of wildflowers he picked. 

And by ‘picked’ I mean mostly smooshed before ripping their roots out of the ground.  

He's really trying okay, give the man some credit.

And give Boo treats to thank him for his service.

[seireitonin]

do u have E.J headcanons?

Yes! I really love him! These are gonna be very different from how most ppl see him! Ty for the ask!

Jack was almost finished with med school at 25

So he was really close to achieving his dream of being a doctor/ surgeon

He was really only friends with his roommate because he was so focused on school

He also kept in touch with his family

He was so excited for them to come out and see him graduate! They’d be so proud of him!

They worked hard to get him in that school after all!

He was also kinda shy and quiet

Not antisocial per say just quiet and work focused

Then he met Jenny

She was outgoing and sweet and invited him to hang out with her friends all the time

Jack, almost done with school anyway, figured he could use more friends

So he started hanging out with them more

But especially Jenny

They would talk and text outside the group too

Jack started developing a huge crush on her

So when she asked him out for a night out in the woods, just the 2 of them he went along with it

Then he got hit over the head and tied up

He woke up afraid surrounded by people in blue masks with tar coming from the eyes

“Hi Jack!”

Jack recognizes that sweet voice, the one he loved to hear, tainted by what was happening

“Jenny?! What’s happening?!”

“Don’t be afraid Jack! You’re our chosen one!”

“Huh?! Stop! Fucking stop!”

No one listened to Jack though

The people who he thought were his friends were about to ruin him

Take the life he loved away

They started by scooping out his eyes

They didn’t care that Jack was crying and begging for him to stop

Since they were all in med school, they were able to take his eyes out very cleanly

Still lots of pain and blood though

Then came the chanting and the tar being poured into his eye sockets

Jack screaming filled the forest but no one would come to help him

As they chanted the spell to put the demon, Chernobog, inside him he felt his body change

It was extremely painful

He screamed and writhed on the ground as he felt his teeth sharpen. His blood go black, his skin burning as it turned grey. His bones snapping and twisting as he grew a foot taller

He was a monster

And he hates it

His cultist “friends” were so satisfied

And he ripped them to shreds

Saving Jenny for last

He loved her a lot and to be betrayed like that was heartbreaking to say the least

He let out literal growls and roars of anger as he did it all

He hated killing people

But they turned him into this thing

Jack ran into the forest and violently attacked every animal he came across eating it

Crying as he did

Well crying as best as he could

Since the tar messed up his tear ducts, he can only make deep heaving noises of sadness

Jack tried to eat human food

Really he did!

He doesn’t like bloodshed and killing

He was gonna be a doctor and help people he didn’t want this

But it just tasted awful and the cravings for human flesh got stronger

He was so hungry one night he gave in, eating and killing Mitches brother and eating pieces of Mitch himself

God Jack felt disgusted with himself

When he killed Mitch’s brother he felt like an animal

So he recomposed himself and decided to use everything he learned in college with Mitch, just taking something small and simple that Jack could take easily and store even more easily

The kidneys

He still hated using these skills to harm people but at least it’s more humane

He only needs a few pieces of people to survive. No one has to die right?

He’d stitch them back up! It’s like nothing ever happened right?!

This became his routine for years

Sneak in, take what he needed, patch them up and leave

Then he came across everyone else

He related to the proxies of Slenderman the most because like him, they were being controlled by something paranormal as well

And all three of them had no say

Especially sees himself in Masky and Toby though

Masky was in college when his life was taken away from him too

Maskys friends, his life, his family all gone

Had no choice or say in what happened to him

Toby was manipulated by Slenderman into doing his bidding, just like Jack was manipulated by Jenny

They both thought they could trust the people/ entities that took everything from them

Jack was taken in because well all the creeps get hurt and they need a doctor

Jack had so many mixed feelings

One one hand he was happy that he finally got to use his skills to help instead of hurt

But the people he was helping….hurt people

Some of them willingly do it too

But it’s either this or living outside and continuing to hurt people with his own 2 hands

If he stayed and helped and asked for food in return then he wouldn’t have to collect himself anymore

So that’s what he did

Everyone brings him food from their victims and he patches them up

And he has a place to stay

Jack, despite how he looks is still very human

But he can never go back to the life he lost

He looks in the mirror and tries to cry, but he can’t even do that

Just unsettling heaving noises

He hates how he looks. It’s awful

He hates how people are scared of him

He doesn’t want to be this way

Jack is so quiet just because he’s so depressed

He wants his old life back so bad

So bad, in fact, he goes to his old family home a lot and looks at his family through the window wishing he could be in the house with them where he belongs

He’ll watch them sleep

He watches them cry over his disappearance

“I’m right here” he says quietly and starts to heave and whimper sadly as he puts his hand on the window “please, don’t cry. I’m right here”

He knows he can never face his family or society ever again

Not after everything he’s done. Not with what he is now

Jack doesn’t want to die, he thinks that would be a waste of all the organs he took

Just wants his old life back so bad

He can still see, there’s a demon inside him that makes sure of that

If Jack doesn’t eat for extended periods of time, he’ll turn all animalistic and everyone will have to hold him down and restrain him until he snaps out of it

He feels ashamed when that happens

“I’m not a monster. I’m not”

Most of the Creeps don’t judge him

They’re all killers and monsters after all

But he gets along with Jane really well

He gets along with Toby really well too, but Toby can be a lot to handle sometimes

Part of him is scared to get close everyone but he’s scared of being betrayed again

So he keeps to himself a lot

Jack can eat human food again after years of trying. It was like recovery therapy almost

It makes him feel more human when he eats it

He has nightmares about that night. The night they violated his body

He can sometimes feel everyone’s hands on him

So he’ll shower for hours and scrub trying to get the feeling of their hands off him

Then he’ll go to Jane or Toby’s room and sleep on the floor

Doesn’t want to be alone after that

Him and Toby bonded a bunch because Toby is the main one getting patched up

Jack and him talk for hours after he’s done getting patched up

Also Toby needs regular check ups(cipa)

Wants a significant other to love him despite his looks. It’ll make him feel human

Seeing Jane have a wife gives him hope for himself

Hes 6’10

Fluffy brown hair

Never takes off his mask unless he’s around Toby or Jane

He’s insecure about his face

He’s actually pretty nice, still work oriented and quiet though and really serious and blunt

Very clean. Cleans his tools, his clothes, his room, everything

Not the monster that everyone thinks he is, he’s still connected to his humanity and plans to keep it that way

[hueningsloverr]

౨ৎ 1,862 days !

pairing: yeonjun x reader summary: being able to love yeonjun, and the road that lead you to him word count: 1.3k extra: happy five years to our oldest member!! 4th gen it boy yeonjun!! apart of my anniversary series!

yeonjun was like a breath of fresh air, a saving grace. moving to korea at eighteen was rough, but running into the boy on the streets suddenly made it all worth it. you had bumped into him early in the spring - you were still bundled up in a jacket wandering aimlessly around seoul. instead of finding your friend at the coffee shop she had promised to wait for you in, you quite literally ran into yeonjun.

'excuse me, can you help me?' you pleaded through broken korean, and he laughed slightly, understanding the gist of what you were asking him.

needless to say, he gave you directions, even walked you to the shop and sat down with you after you realised your friend had set out on her own to find you. he even went a step above the rest and walked you back to your apartment after learning just how new to the area you were.

the rest was (basically) history. all it took was one day for him to ask you out, and those dates quickly turned into weekends tucked away from the rest of the world hiding out in your apartment. your roommate was rarely home - she worked odd hours and had her own girlfriend to visit.

before you knew it, five months by yeonjun's side became five years.

"all i'm saying," you began, your boyfriend humming mindlessly on the couch as he half watched tv, half played on his phone. "is we should go out for our anniversary."

yeonjun nodded absentmindedly, your words not truly sinking in. "yeah, yeah." he mumbled, eyes glued to his phone. kai had got him hooked on some two player game, and now the duo were both constantly on their phones, fighting monsters or something.

"it's too bad taehyun asked me out too." you giggled, leaning over the couch to watch his reaction.

nothing.

"i mean, is it bad i said yes? we don't technically have plans, so it's not a big deal."

he didn't even acknowledge your presence.

"but i felt bad, because i had to turn down wooyoung, and dino, and changbin - yeonjun could you at least blink to let me know you're not some zombie?" you groaned, moving around the sofa to sit next to him.

now it was his turn to laugh and he wrapped his arm around you, his phone discarded next to him. "i was listening," he teased, eyes glistening with mischief as he smiled, clearly proud of himself. "i just wanted to see how ridiculous you'd get."

you chose to ignore his statement, moving past the ordeal. it was sort of childish. "so, dinner? tomorrow night?" you posed, moving to sit on your knees. it was almost as if you were ready to beg. anniversaries meant a lot to you - especially as this one marked five years since moving to korea.

it was hard, leaving your life behind. but, you had to. and things had worked out. really well.

"i've got practice. why don't we go out tonight? today marks five years of us meeting." he offered, frowning when he noticed just how disappointed you were.

"yeah, sure." you smiled, pushing yourself up off the couch. "i was hoping you'd be able to get off work tomorrow, but i get it. i promise i do."

he nodded, sighing. "have you talked to your parents recently?" the question caught you off guard - no matter how good or bad of a relationship you had with your parents, calling them rarely crossed your mind. when was the last time you spoke to either of them?

"no," you huffed, though more out of annoyance with yourself than with him. if you were to call them, they would chew you out for ghosting them. but life was busy, and the time difference did not help. "they weren't the biggest fans of me moving out here, you know."

his eyebrows furrowed as his head tilted slightly to the side, "they weren't? but - when i met them a bit back, they seemed so happy for you."

you tried to suppress the growing grin on your face at the idea. "my parents were so far from happy for me, jjunie. they just didn't want to upset either of us."

he nodded slowly, letting the information seep in. "well, that's too bad. i hoped to talk to them. but i guess i could see how they probably weren't the biggest fans of their eighteen year old deciding to just move out and into a foreign city."

"why would you want to talk to my parents?" you snorted, the idea so completely absurd it didn't even seem real. "didn't you say something along the lines of, 'i'm sorry you're related.' when you met them?"

he shrugged, clearly unable to form the proper sentence. you took his silence as a cue to leave and get ready for dinner. by the time you were done he'd probably have made a reservation somewhere, or called some sort of favour in. perks of being famous.

and of course, by the time you emerged from your bedroom, grabbing a hold of your wallet from your dresser, yeonjun himself was already waiting for you by the door, holding your shoes in his hands.

"took you long enough." he smiled, though you could see the faint spread of pink across his cheeks. he was never good at hiding the fact that he was blushing. over the years he had learn't you were simply too good at spotting it, and accepted the fact that you thought it was cute.

"so where are we going out tonight, mr. choi?" you grinned, slipping your shoes on and interlocking your arm with his as you made your way out the front door. sometimes having a first floor apartment was a blessing.

"it's a surprise." was all he said, and you understood that his words truly meant surprise. as in, he was not going to be telling you. but still, you quickly recognised the change of scenery. something about it was familiar.

you were close to your first apartment - the one you lived in when you met yeonjun. you could see the park you spent many afternoons together in. and up in the distance you could faintly see the coffee shop you went to when you first met yeonjun.

and it all made sense.

"coffee for dinner? don't you have practice tomorrow?" you questioned, nudging his shoulder with your own.

he nodded, taking a moment to look at you.

it felt like his breath had been knocked straight out of him.

you were everything to him.

"you know what?" he smiled, pausing.

"hm?" you hummed, stopping just a few feet in front of him. "what is it?"

"i've been in love with you for five years." you felt your heart stop in your chest. "i've spent these last five years doing what i love, while getting to be with the person i love. you don't know how crazily lucky i feel just waking up next to you."

he began to lower himself to the ground.

now it was your turn to have the breath knocked out of you. "jjunie?"

"it would be a lie to say these past five years have been easy, but hey, i love you. so they've all been worth it." he was pulling something out of his pocket.

a ring.

he didn't even need to ask the question for you to begin to tear up (i would.), your answer already so clear to him. "you don't need to even say yes, just let me know i'll be able to love you for et-"

"yes." you smiled, rushing quickly to pull him into a hug. "i've been in love with you since i met you, jjunie. and i plan on loving you for the rest of my life. the past 1,862 days have meant the world to me."

"not like anyones counting or anything." he teased, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

yeah, moving to korea at eighteen was worth it.

a/n: i've never??? written??? a marriage??? proposal???? ive never???? witnessed???? true love????

©2024 - all rights reserved to hueningsloverr, please do not plagiarise or translate any of my work