Tumgik
#tw: mentions of death
Note
In your theory about the Spring Bonnie suit possession, did Afton ever get used to it? Like after going through the pain long enough he was kinda numb to it? Also what are the situations in those thousands of times that he would have died and had to pull himself back together? Like if he got too tired and couldn't hold it much longer?
Very curious about this theory and it's also HORRIFYING
Although he's spent a really long time stuck inside the safe room, I don't think he has ever gotten used to the pain. I guess it only contributed to his hatred of the children. He took advantage of it, overpowering his own suffering with feelings of anger and resentment.
Spending 3 decades undead is one thing, but spending 3 decades undead and locked away from the world is another. In a sense, time stopped for him. If time stops, nothing changes, and so does his mind. There is not "enough room" for him to process any of those negative thoughts.
In regards to the multiple deaths situation, there's a way to exemplify it:
Imagine an anatomical heart. The resting heart rate for adults ranges from 60 to 100 beats per minute.
Now, imagine that the diastole (when the heart muscle relaxes) is a cell falling apart, and the systole (when the heart muscle contracts) is the cell being forced back together. Now, imagine a REALLY quick heartbeat. It's so fast that you could hear a quiet whirring sound, like a machine. Those are the cells, breaking and rearranging themselves over and over again.
You can't exactly get tired/notice time passing if you lack a reminder of the world moving on (e.g., scrolling on TikTok). Once Springtrap was freed, all the hate he'd accumulated spread over. Time was "unpaused". He left the loop and was allowed to move on, meaning he could eventually get tired.
Getting tired meant allowing himself to permanently stay dead, which he took a long time to do. At some point, he must've leaned against a wall in silence, in the same position he was found at Fazbear's Fright, and waited for the already deteriorated cells to succumb. I think that's how he died.
233 notes · View notes
nell0-0 · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
The dichotomy of T&I Obito at its finest
504 notes · View notes
comatosebunny09 · 11 months
Text
Of course, you were nervous when he asked you to have lunch with his mother. It would be your first time meeting her, after all.
You spent the morning fretting over your hair and makeup. Tore through your closet for the perfect outfit to compliment your figure. And only the best flowers would suffice for the woman who bore your wonderful husband and adorable brother-in-law.
Would she even like the flowers?
You were a shaking, sweaty mess the entire car ride. Picked at your nails and some loose threads on your outfit. Kyojuro assured you throughout your journey that you were perfect.
“She would have adored you,” he said, drawing your hand into his on the center console. He squeezed reassuringly, a youthful smile rounding his lips. Though your heart still raged within your rib cage, you returned the gesture. Swallowed thickly as the iron-wrought gates of her home slid into focus, ominously contrasting the endless blue canvas that stretched overhead.
The driver's door slamming shut brought you back to the present. You peered at your reflection in the rearview mirror whilst Kyojuro circled the car to fetch you from the passenger side.
It was now or never.
The path to her home was a quiet one, juxtaposing the war taking part in your mind. It was humid, yet the cool breeze rustling the trees was a welcome combatant for the heat. Birds sang peacefully overhead. Wildflowers sprouted from the cracks of the cobblestone, bowing beneath your feet. The air was stained with petrichor and other scents associated with summer.
Kyojuro held your hand the entire way down, occasionally beaming over his shoulder to keep you grounded. You clutched the picnic basket in your opposite hand tighter as you approached her sanctuary, your heart thrumming in your throat.
A knot of anxiety formed in your stomach.
What if you messed this up? What if you disrespected her and jeopardized your marriage?
You halted in your tracks, slipping out of Kyojuro’s grasp. The intrusive thoughts swarmed above, causing your shoulders to slump. He turned to you with bewilderment clinging to his features, about a foot ahead. Expression slid into understanding as a fond chuckle left his lips. His smile held a somberness that made your heart shrivel.
This was no time to be afraid. He needed you now more than ever.
He closed the distance between you in four strides, dwarfing you as he gently twined your fingers with his. “Do not worry, my love,” Kyojuro said in hushed octaves. “She does not bite. I promise. Though, she might have turned over a few times due to my questionable choices in life.”
His eyes twinkled when you snorted. Cupped your jaw, angling your head towards his for a succulent kiss.
He draped an arm around your shoulders, leading you to his mother’s resting place. Plucked the basket from your fingers, leaving your side to unfurl the picnic blanket. But not before urging you forward with a hand at the small of your back and a wink.
Whilst Kyojuro laid out your lunch, you took up the bouquet he left near her gravestone. The knot forming in your belly slowly unraveled as you kneeled. You released a weighted breath, carefully arranging the flowers by her headstone. You admired the crisp marble with your fingers, reverence coloring your eyes.
A warm hand on your shoulder startled you. You peered skyward, the afternoon sun silhouetting your husband, casting an ethereal glow on the gravesite. Kyojuro crouched beside you, bumping shoulders whilst he mirrored your position.
“Told you she was harmless,” Kyojuro jested, luring a smile to your lips.
“Shut up and pay your respects,” you snickered, clasping your hands together and bowing your head. You side-eyed your husband until he did the same. Silently thanked his mother for birthing such a wonderful human being, wishing you could’ve met her sooner.
245 notes · View notes
thewayuarent · 6 months
Text
On death talks
Listen, Ray isn’t diagnosed, but we can assume he has some type of depressive disorder among other things (addiction, ptsd, suicidal tendencies). And as someone who was diagnosed with depressive disorder I can confirm that death talks are kind of usual thing (I’m not telling this is like that for all people with depression but for some of us - absolutely).
A lot of my conversations tags death theme - as a joke, or quick mention, or way deeper than that. I also have thoughts about “what if I die tomorrow” pretty often.
And I’m fine, I go to therapy and take antidepressants, but this is how my brain works sometimes.
This is not foreshadowing. This is realism.
What is way more important for me in this scene is that it’s the very first time Ray talks about his future.
Tumblr media
And of course it’s not his own dream, it’s Sand’s. But this is a progress.
Until that every character but Ray had a future dreams or at least plans.
Mew and Cheum with hotel project they’re pretty passionate about.
Top with his parents business he knows he’ll get one day.
Ton with New York maybe and definitely with photography.
Nick with his dream job in animation.
Sand with festivals around the world.
And Ray? Nothing. He stuck in his past and never saw his future.
Until now. This is not perfect, but this is a step forward.
This is what this scene is about for me (among other things about SandRay obv).
As someone who has this experience I am really proud and hopeful for him there.
140 notes · View notes
starrspice · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
You all asked for it so here you are
Moon’s death (in the form of a familiar nightmare for him)
277 notes · View notes
i was possessed randomly so you all get this 😈 (i gotta keep my place in the angstflayer somehow lmao)
tw for mentions of death, nothing explicit! just talk of passing on/the afterlife
——————————
It was smoother than he thought it’d be, dying.
Passing on.
The moment of death.
It really was just like falling asleep.
He knew it was time; he was old now (decrepit if you ask his grandkids) but it was something he didn’t even realize he was so ready to welcome. Whatever illness he was saddled with the last couple years already fading out of his memory.
Stepping into his new…life? he’s not sure what to expect.
He floats along for a while. In nothing, being nothing, when suddenly, the nothing in front of him starts to solidify.
Instead of nothing, Dustin Henderson is a young man again. He can see his feet walking across pine needles and leaves. over hard-packed dirt and pebbles.
He knows this path, and starts forward confidently.
Skull Rock comes into view through a break in the branches, looming over him and coated in dappled sunlight.
So, he sits down. Settles in to wait for his friends, hoping they are far behind him, when he’s startled by a noise above him.
First, a leather jacket plops down in front of him, followed closely by worn white reeboks, ripped black jeans, a flash of a white shirt. All still wrapped around someone he lost way to fuckin’ soon.
Dustin’s chest and throat constrict, his eyes burn.
The figure turns, their insane brown curls frizz tossed away from his face when he does.
“Hey butthead.” Eddie Munson smiles at him for the first time in 70 years. “You have my vest.”
Dustin looks down at himself. The worn denim vest in question is, indeed, hung over his shoulders. Fitting just a bit bigger than he last remembered.
He huffs out a chuckle, the tears start to fall down his cheeks. “Thought you might want it, asshole.”
He’s crushed into a hug that lasts an eternity, finally pulling away from Eddie after a good eon or so.
Huffing out another laugh when he does, Dustin wipes the tears off his face and says, “Not that I’m not over the fuckin moon to see you, but is.. is he here?”
Eddie grins at him, “Is who here?”
“Henderson!”
Steve.
Steve’s here.
He’s actually fucking here.
“‘Course he is, little man. Been waitin’ for you, ya know.'' Eddie shakes his shoulders, spinning him around and starts to march him back down the path. “Well,” he feels Eddie shrug behind him, “You AND Robin, of course. She’s just real stubborn about leaving, I think.”
They’ve gone maybe four whole steps, when Steve Harrington breaks through the branches in front of them.
“Dustin!” Steve strides forward, wrapping Dustin up in a hug.
He mumbles everything and nothing into the tears that soak the cap atop his head. A good trade for the already soaked spot at the front of that yellow sweater of his.
“You’re here! I missed you so much! It’s too soon… it’s always too soon, but still! Your kids are all so beautiful, your grandkids too! I’m so so sorry I left before I could meet them, Dusty, I wanted to so badly.”
More and more (mostly repeated “You’re here!”s) until he can’t say anymore and falls silent around him for their own eternity.
“I missed you too, Steve.”
98 notes · View notes
jo-harrington · 3 months
Text
As Above, So Below - Chapter 5: Via Domus
Tumblr media
Previous Chapter: Chapter 4 - Malum Malus
Summary: You wake to find yourself in the Upside Down and discover a world-altering revelation.
Word Count: 13.8k
Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)
Warnings/Themes: Van Helsing Inspired, Kas!Eddie, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Death and Injury, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Major Character Deaths, Grief, Mourning, Yearning, Discussion of the Upside Down, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Unprotected PinV Sex (he's undead it doesn't matter), Oral Sex (F Receiving), Bloodletting, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References
Note: Sorry this is a little late but this snow storm had my internet down right as I went to post. There isn't much to say but...this moment has been one 10 months in the making and I might not have edited it...but I don't care, I'm literally the proudest I can be. I'm sure there's people to tag and thank for their support. I'm so ready to sit back and reread this. I didn't write it; it just came through me like a prophecy. And that isn't condescending, it's the truth.
This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.
You can find my masterlist here.
Please do not interact if you are not 18+.
Enjoy!
Tumblr media
“The devil doesn't come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you've ever wished for.” - Tucker Max, Assholes Finish First
November 6, 1983 October 15, 1987
Everything was wrong.
From a dreamless sleep, consciousness hit you like a freight train and drug you to the land of the living under its wheels, one painful mile at a time.
You were aware of every nerve, every bump and bruise, every cut.
Every bite.
Because surely there were more than just the ones on your throat now.
And when you finally opened your eyes, you burned.
Not just your body; the very essence of you sizzled and popped like hot oil in a pan.
It was overwhelming, overstimulating.
There was both an absence of feeling--of being--and an abundance of it.
Images flashed through your mind. Memories. And not just yours.
Leaving Hawkins the first time.
Kas, the brides, and their seduction and subsequent attack of you.
Billy--a different one than the one you knew now--screaming and clawing his way up a rickety wooden staircase while a creature lurked just out of sight below.
A man in tattered and bloodied white clothes, his skin burned and mottled. Blind in one eye. And a creature that met him and allowed him to--
The smell was next as you finally remembered to breathe. You swallowed great gulps of air then choked as they burned your lungs and tasted like a mix of wet, cloying mold and dry, putrid battery acid.
Finally, a high pitched ringing as your spirit finally settled back into yourself. You clenched and unclenched your hands--stretched your fingers and toes--to regain some kind of recognizable feeling back into them.
As you tried to recognize who you were now, in this body.
In this world.
Everything was wrong.
No...when you woke up, everything was different.
The first coherent thought through your head was that you were dead and this was surely hell. Proven not only by the pain and the affliction of your body and mind, but because the skies overhead flashed and burned bright red with infernal lightning.
The brides had drained you dry and this was your eternal punishment. It was the only explanation.
If you steeled yourself and turned your head, would you see your father's face--frozen in an eternal scream--staring at you?
You wrenched your eyes closed for a moment, steeled yourself to test the theory, and you winced as the bites on your neck pulled and stretched.
When you opened them again, you screamed. It was a weak, strangled sound, and echoed as you shuffled away as much as your sore body would allow.
It was not your father's face that you found beside you, but it was a face nonetheless.
Petrified.
Screaming.
Flesh half-rotting off a skull, petrified golden hair layered with soot and muck. There was a neck and torso too--arms--and the further you dragged your eyes down the body, the more decayed and damaged the bones became. The skin and flesh sloughed off.
Until they all tapered off--melted off--into bone, then into nothingness, where the ribs ended abruptly in a half-jagged, half-charred state.
It was where the ground ended too, the body teetering on the precipice.
"Mother...fuck..." you hissed and swallowed thickly.
You weakly melted into the ground again; your eyes slid shut so you could take stock of yourself once more.
Sluggishly, you returned to your senses. Head, torso, limbs all accounted for, even if they were a little worse for wear. You'd survive. You'd heal eventually...hopefully.
Before long, your abilities jumpstarted from cold at the proximity of a dead body. Great. Though you supposed you'd almost considered yourself grateful that they were returning, if not for the phantom fingers that scratched at the back of your mind; the lingering spirit that belonged to this body wanted to communicate but didn't quite know how.
You didn't have the patience to ferry the remnant of someone's soul closer towards consciousness right now.
But it was a reminder.
There were no bodies in Hell. No death in Hell.
For all intents and purposes, the damned would be considered alive.
So no, this wasn't Hell.
This was--
You forced your eyes back open and stared at the gaping, mangled maw of jagged walls that stretched and reached into the roiling, starless sky.
--an attic.
There were visible slats and support beams, boxes and furniture covered in sheets, and burnt, decayed vines clinging to the walls and along the floor. Most notable was the fact that the structure--this house--was simply broken. Shattered. Not only was the roof broken, as though a giant had torn into it--peeled the slats and shingles open and left them rent and tattered beneath their hands--to curiously peer inside, but the whole structure was as well.
The side of the floor you and the body were on tilted at an awkward angle; not unnavigable but still odd as you found the strength to hoist yourself to your feet and stumbled at the unevenness. Once you were upright, you could see the other side; across a strange valley that revealed broken beams and wide structural mouths that promised rooms below, there was a set of stairs that led downwards.
Uneasy with the minimal strength you currently possessed, you used your power to send some sort of signal down through the jagged, rotten foundation to ask the earth for help. And not just help, you asked for a sign of where you were and what happened to you. However, you were immediately turned away. A hiss at the back of your mind, that settled adjacent to that incessant scratching, warning you from trying again.
This earth was not like the earth you connected with regularly. It was incompatible with you, but only just so.
There was a blink of a thought in your head that you could make it bend to your will if you really wanted. If you were tempted enough.
But temptation was what got you here, wasn't it? Your jeans were still unbuttoned and you felt some kind of internal, medieval shame as you fixed them and fastened them back up. Shame, not only because the brides had fucked you if you could call it that, but because they'd gotten the better of you. They'd used your weaknesses against you--used Eddie against you--and now they'd stolen you away to the Upside Down.
That's what this place was right?
And it wasn't a stretch to guess the why's here either.
Kas had used them to bring you here so he could finally be rid of you.
Well, you weren't going to sit here and wait for your death like a lamb to the slaughter. If Kas wanted to kill you, you were gonna put up a fight.
The fires of wrath were stoked inside you and you let them restore your strength and fuel your journey onwards. You readied yourself to make the jump across the broken floor.
Suddenly, the scratching at the back of your mind got horribly loud. A voice, a young man's voice, strained and croaked inside of you.
"Help me. God, please help me."
The broken remnants of the being you'd woken beside finally found its voice.
You scowled as resentment decided to mingle with your wrath.
"No one's going to help you," you grunted and shuffled your foot into the side of its rib cage. You kicked the body into the gulch below and as you took your leap, you delighted in the sounds of the bones shattering as it impacted the ground below. "God is dead."
Tumblr media
The descent was precarious.
Despite the strength you had gathered, your body ached and your movements were clumsy. It was like you left a part of yourself behind and struggled to continue without it. Additionally, as you progressed along the path, you found that the house itself was broken in ways that defied logic.
Hallways switched back upon themselves or dropped down into a deep burning abyss, floors tilted upwards and then stopped abruptly, doors opened to brick walls, and then, your favorite, a ticking grandfather clock seemingly floated in the air on its own.
Did physics exist in the Upside Down? Gravity? Or was it like Superman, where differences developed without the interference of a certain color sun?
Eventually you made it to what you believed to be the ground floor, and although there was a looming sense of dread that only got worse the further along you walked, your footsteps felt sure and stable. It felt better, safer.
There was a crack in one of the walls you passed where you spotted the shadow of tree limbs, and just up ahead you could see the sky over a half-demolished wall.
Once you rounded this corner and that to reach your supposed freedom, you found yourself faced with what could only be described as an altar. Some site of a wicked ceremony. The walls of the house split open and revealed the expansive red and grey waste of the outdoors, but instead of finding dead grass and trees like you thought, there were structures made of stone and vines and twisted tentacles, just like you remembered from the tunnels.
Towers.
Stalagmites.
Pillars.
Something rustled behind you and you turned on your heel to find the source of the noise, only to find the dank hall you'd just exited empty. It rustled behind you again and you spun back to face the pillars, but you were still alone.
You were being taunted now, teased. Surely that was it, wasn't it? This was a game; you survived the pitfalls and traps of this nightmarish house and now the hunt was truly on?
"I know you like to play with your food motherfucker," you hissed aloud. "Let's play."
You progressed confidently, unwilling to let yourself falter as the ground underfoot transitioned from wooden floorboards to decorative checker tile to uneven earth and the air became heavy with ominous anticipation.
Despite that, you took a moment to inspect the pillars as you passed them, only to be met with an even stranger sight.
Chrissy. Fred. Patrick.
They were eerily still, petrified even; faces serene, as though they were sleeping. The pillars seemed to encapsulate them; a wing melted into the stone here, claws elongated into branches there.
There were four pillars...but three Brides.
You vaguely recalled a flash of Max's memories, of her running through a red landscape almost exactly like this; you took the chance and reached out to touch the empty pillar, only for your suspicions to be confirmed. It was meant for her. The pillars were the final resting places for all four of the victim's of Vecna's curse.
A place for their bodies to be displayed like trophies, signifying his triumph.
It was a sickening thought, but brought about further revelation that this place didn't belong to Kas, but the Lich himself.
The Creel House.
"I was right," you huffed a small laugh of victory. Your hunt for Kas had led here; if only fate hadn't tempted you off the path to the cemetery, you would have been that much closer to defeating Kas now.
Fresh off a small win and with your body primed for psychometry, you moved and touched each pillar curiously. You witnessed each Bride's transition from the husk of a body to the monstrous beings they were now. They hadn't meant to be the puppets of an atrocious master when they were resurrected; it had all been done in an act of defiance. Their forms had been carefully crafted by his clawed hands, and life breathed back into them by a hopeful heart.
That heart was broken here too; those same clawed hands were formed on the very floor behind you...
"No," you tried to shake the thought off you. You didn't want that; didn't need that. Didn't need to empathize with Kas...right?
Still...the intrusion continued.
You wanted to connect to this earth didn't you? So you must gain all manner of information, whether you want it or not.
More images flashed against your will; you didn't need to touch the silt and soil beneath your feet for it to reach out and touch you. The blood that soaked this ground leeched up from the depths to provide you hair-raising clarity of the brutality committed a mere few feet from where you stood. No care had been taken when a body on the brink of death was implanted with bones and teeth and claws. You watched the flashes in unblinking horror until screams suddenly echoed in your ears, terrible and ear-splitting; you were witnessing a transformation--a metamorphosis--from something to nothing then back to something again.
"No!" you shouted and your voice echoed, into the eerie night. Wings flapped and a creature roared in the distance. The images fled along with them, and you heaved several labored breaths as you settled back into yourself.
There was a rustle behind you again, and you froze; you were so lost by the intrusion of the birth of a monster in your mind that you didn't notice said monster approach you.
This was it.
You'd faced monsters before, countless times. Of course, you'd always been armed with weapons, your powers. Now you'd been stripped bare; the brides had rid you of your weapons, and this dastardly dimension had denied you access to many of your abilities as you recovered from your weakened state.
Unless they were useful to the Upside Down itself, so it seemed.
Still, your eyes honed in on a glint of silver beside you. Brilliant amongst the squalor of the Upside Down and folded neatly in Chrissy's claws that rested across her chest:
Your crucifix.
Your hand shot towards the cross of its own volition, but as your fingers caressed the carved hyacinths, you suddenly doubted yourself.
Was Chrissy's grasp on it truly that strong or was it just a trick of the mind? If you couldn't even resist her and Patrick...how could you possibly fight Kas?
Except, you'd already fought Kas hadn't you? Already got the one-up on him. That's why he'd relied on so many cheap shots to get to you. You would make it through this, with your teeth gnashing, your bare hands, and your raw faith. Or you would die trying.
"Lord, I am not worthy to receive you," you whispered as you pried the relic out of the harpy's hands. "But only say the word and my soul shall be healed."
Footsteps slunk closer to you, audibly clearer now, and you readied yourself, focused on all the holy light within the sludge of your corruptible human body. When they finally stopped just inches behind you, you could feel cold breath cascade over you, and you knew it was time.
You pivoted on your heel, sneakers crunching the ground beneath them into dust, and you raised your hand to brandish your cross at your assailant. His hand clashed against its other side and stopped it dead between both of your faces; your eyes went wide as he gripped it tight and it burst into flames in front of your eyes.
You wrenched your hand away and backed into Chrissy's body as Kas let out a mighty, wretched wail.
You were so singularly focused--horrified--as you watched the symbol of your family's legacy burn and melt in his hands, so expectant of his form being consumed by holy flames as he crumpled and bent at the waist and screamed in agony, that you didn't really look at him until it was too late.
The fire extinguished suddenly and Kas flung the remnants of your crucifix to the side, and as he stood, you could feel all the blood rush to your head. There was a buzzing in your ears and you swore the dark circles that crowded your vision were only to spare you from the sight.
Whatever vision you had in your head of Kas was gone...and in its place was suddenly something both old and new at the same time.
There was a smirk carved into his face, so smug and triumphant, and made only more pronounced by the deep scars that went from the corners of his mouth and back along his jaw towards his ears. Still, his enticing lips twitched, failing to bely a smile. His deep eyes were locked with yours, abyss-like, but warm and welcoming in this otherwise unforgiving world as he stared at you with a fondness that you couldn't fathom.
He was tall--taller than you remembered--and even taller still as your legs failed you and you collapsed to your knees before him; he took two rapid steps forward, hands stretched out as though he would try to catch you before you hit the ground. All you could focus on were the sharpened, blood-stained points of his fingers though, and when you flinched as they got too close for comfort, he stopped in his tracks.
Your breathing got heavy and your shoulders and chest heaved the longer you witnessed him. Because it truly was the witnessing of something beautiful and terrible, wasn't it? Something you'd wished for over and over again until you simply couldn't take it anymore.
"No, no, no," you couldn't stop your mouth from its fumbling repetition. "Nononono. No. N-no, no, no!" Over again the word erupted from you until you were shouting. Until you were sobbing.
You covered your eyes with one hand to stop yourself from seeing, and your mouth with the other to keep what remained of your soul from spilling out.
You shook with grief--three years worth of grief that only became more surmountable with each day that passed--then anger.
How dare he, how dare Kas use this final thing against you, how dare you let him?
But that was just an excuse wasn't it? Some kind of excuse so you wouldn't have to face the reality that was just on the other side of your hands. One that you would cling onto to help your poor heart survive.
You would deny it, until you couldn't any longer.
"Sweetheart." You shook your head at the decadent rasp of his voice; your ears strained to catch more but you couldn't handle it. Tears began to leak from your eyes and collect in the creases of your fingers as you pressed them harder into your face. "Angel, please."
The urge to roll your eyes at the ironic nickname battled against the need to bask in it.
You could feel him get closer, feel his massive form invade your space. Your aura buzzed excitedly as it brushed against his with the proximity and your heart beat in your ears; your body knew what your mind refused to accept. It made you feel lightheaded.
Don't fucking pass out.
The claws worked their way beneath your fingers and you resisted as much as you could until you simply couldn't hold on any longer.
And once they were away, there was nothing that you could have done to stop yourself from responding to him.
The you that you had been just seconds earlier no longer existed. That being, forged by resentment and pain and grief and the will to succeed beyond all hope, was torn apart by those claws--gently peeled apart bit by bit--and as your eyes opened, you were suddenly the you that you were before. Or maybe, more accurately, the you that you were beside everything.
Despite everything.
The being that only existed with him.
You.
You were here with him.
Eddie.
And he was here with you.
Alone together and together alone.
No one else existed but the two of you as you opened your eyes and your gaze washed over him once again.
Lightning flashed overhead as you absorbed the sight before you.
Hands. Eddie's hands. Calloused from hours of guitar playing and scarred from that one time he got too eager pulling a stouffer's lasagna out of the oven and forgot the gloves. Only now they were scarred further, with lines along his phalanges and razor-sharp talons at the tips of them.
Hair. Eddie's hair. Soft and curled just so and sometimes shiny, but oftentimes just a frizzy mess from head banging so hard. It would get in his mouth, leaving him spitting and sputtering as he got some idea mid-headbang. Only now it was held up and out of his face by a fluffy green scrunchie, and only his bangs and a few loose pieces framed his features.
Face. Eddie's face. One that looked at you with so much relief and gentle love. Your memories couldn't hold a candle to having him here. Your eyes went blurry with tears again at the fact that he was actually here just inches from you. His eyes and lashes and his round nose and his kissable lips. Lips you needed to kiss like you needed air. Only those lips started to move to form words again and as they did, you spotted the sharp tips of fangs.
He looked the same, exactly the same...but simultaneously different in every way that counted.
Time stopped.
You thought about being in the trailer with Chrissy and Patrick, all the words that you had excused in the moment, as you allowed yourself to be tempted by Kas.
In actuality...had it really been Eddie? Words that had been borderline insidious suddenly took on a much more intimate connotation.
"You're not real." You breathed shakily, one last attempt at pulling back the veil at some trick of the mind. "I can't...I can't..."
On the other hand, you remembered the graveyard, the way Eddie had been there in a way...beyond your sight, refusing to be seen by you. Refusing to be known by you. And again countless other times. Including the day he'd...
"I can't look at you," you said weakly. "I'm not supposed to look at you."
What had he said to you then? That he'd never really left? That he would wait...as long as it took...and here he was now. That hadn't been Eddie; how could this suddenly be him? He was...
"And why not?" he chuckled gently. "I think we both deserved to see one another; I've crossed the oceans of time just to see you again."
"That's..." you stared at him in disbelief. Tremors wracked your body and his gaze went from fond to worried again.
Your mind went a mile a minute trying to come up with something, some way to deny all of this. Rapid fire, you thought. About Vecna and the Upside Down and the earthquakes. You thought about Wayne and Dustin and Max. Over and over, ideas flashed as all the pieces finally clicked together. Vampires that weren't vampires, and the Brides; the trailer and the visions and the grave and...and...and...
He was alive.
"That's..." You began to laugh, the small shakes of a giggle turning into big, bright guffaws that shook you. You grabbed his face with your hands and squished his cheeks together, gleefully watching as it smooshed and shifted in the way only his play-doh-like features could. "That's not the quote, you big dumb idiot."
Tumblr media
Home had been an abstract concept for you for some time.
For most of your life, when you thought of home, you thought of your Nonna's house. Her flat, just downstairs from yours; you spent most nights there anyway, your father's childhood bedroom repurposed for you. You had a home in the dinners you'd cooked together and late nights where you'd watch Johnny Carson until it was time to hold hands and pray together before bed. Home meant turning the key in the lock of her door and her giving you big cheek kisses.
Tesoro di Nonna.
Her treasure. She was your treasure too, your best friend, but she, herself, was not your home. At least not anymore.
You found that when you came to Hawkins. When you met Eddie. From the moment you met him, he had been that warm place of comfort and love. When you left, and even when you believed him to be dead, going home meant returning to Hawkins.
Returning to him.
So when you both overcame the euphoria which accompanied the realization that you had found each other once again, and he said "let's go home," you knew that there wasn't far to go.
You were already there.
There was something about returning home after a long time away, though. Things changed and it didn't take very long for you to notice the changes in Eddie.
He held your hand as you walked through the barren waste of the Upside Down, and it was actually quite a long walk. Practically across the entirety of Hawkins, and you were truly in awe that it actually was Hawkins. You walked down familiar streets, through the town center that was fully intact unlike its decimated state in the real world, and Eddie even pointed out the windows of your old apartment over the deli, as if you forgot.
Very few words were shared between you at first, aside from short and fond little tidbits to reminisce old times spend together--something that you'd constantly been doing since your return; your heart ached to think that your ghost had followed him around, both in Hawkins and here, reminding him that you'd left him to this fate.
There was not much more conversation than that though, and while you basked in the sweet memories, especially being reunited, you couldn't help but wonder why he was so...uncharacteristically quiet. The Eddie you knew was never at a loss for words; why was he holding back asking you questions? Telling you how much he missed you?
You held back your own thoughts, questions, and admissions too if you were being honest. Something about being so open in this dimension, something about the strange din of silence due to the lack of life made you feel...strange.
You wondered if he felt the same way?
If you could feel the creatures that shuffled just out of your line of sight, given what you knew about the hive mind that existed between them, you knew Eddie could as well.
But if that was the case, he didn't show it. You supposed Kas he was the master of this realm; he didn't need to be afraid of it.
In fact, the more you observed him, the more you noticed how at ease he was here. He'd always been confident walking around Hawkins, shoulders straight and head held high despite the suspicious stares and whispers that seemed to follow him just because his last name was Munson. But now Hawkins--the Upside Down--seemed to bend to him the further you walked, proving his mastery over it.
Down one street, the tentacle vines slithered and shifted as Eddie led you ahead, and when you dared to look back they returned to their original places. Shadows at the corners of your eyes shifted as he pointed something out to you with a fond smile and a laugh. Finally, when you reached the woods, gnarled and dark as they were, his presence seemed to cause a group of bats that had been resting there to stir.
Instinctually, you flinched, divine sense tingling in response to their unnatural energy as they began to fly overhead; Eddie even squeezed your hand to calm you down, but your defenses were up now. You readied yourself for an attack as they circled and swooped down a little too close for comfort.
You watched, dumbstruck, as Eddie tsked and then reached up with his free hand; one of the bats got lower and its many flailing tails brushed against his fingertips before it screeched and then soared away. You felt that there was something more to it, though; there was something else there as his fingers twitched against them.
A yearning, maybe; a desire to...what? Join them?
"It's alright," he reassured you softly, an undertone of happiness in his voice. "See, they're harmless."
"Harmless?" you scoffed in disbelief, having witnessed their devastation first hand. He looked back towards you and lowered his arm, brow furrowed in confusion at your tone; you felt a strange rumble, an undercurrent, just beneath the surface of his skin as he flexed his hand around yours again. "I..."
"Sweetheart. Just trust me. What are you--"
Like that, the illusion was broken.
It hadn't taken that long. A couple of hours, mostly spent in silence and the overwhelming awe of being in one another's presence again, but suddenly you realized he was different.
Of course, you were different too.
You never really fathomed a moment like this; you'd always thought--hoped--you'd be reunited in Heaven. That everything would work itself out there. All wounds healed, all sins forgiven.
But this was not Heaven, and you'd never imagined your reunion like this.
You looked at him again, really looked at him this time. Tried to look past your Eddie, to see what had become of him here in the Upside Down. You started with his hands, the long scars you noticed just a short while ago, and you traced a finger along them. It was almost cathartic as you felt a phantom ache in your own hand, as you began to truly digest and understand what had happened to him.
Dustin had refused to tell you...and with good reason.
The ache burned through you the further you went. His arm was covered with the sleeve of his leather jacket, but still your fingers traveled, touch penetrating the worn leather; he looked and felt...bulkier somehow. Even his skin looked too tight on him. Gone was your noodley, human boyfriend and in his place...something else. Broader shoulders, a thicker torso, and a slightly elongated neck that proudly bore scars as well.
Just like your own bites, you thought, as Eddie's aches were momentarily replaced by your own. You both displayed the healed remnants of shredded, devoured flesh.
The memory of the pain they once brought him practically sang through his skin the further you went and you couldn't help but listen and absorb it. Unlike your scars, even the most recent ones from the Brides, that had been the product of your will to survive, Eddie's were the evidence of something dastardly that sought to destroy and consume. In fact, they had succeeded; you felt the burn of a thousand mouths filled with sharp little teeth ripping through flesh. Ripping through his flesh.
The longer you held on, the more you felt and understood. Mouths led to claws, consumption turned to torture, and eventually he was ripped further--pulled apart--until he was left broken, raw, and screaming.
Just like you'd seen back at the Creel House.
Vecna cut him open and emptied everything that made him him, and filled him with darkness and malice and--
You wrenched your hands away from his and rubbed them together as they tingled, suddenly numb. All of the echoes of his pain vanished and instead you just felt...conflict.
"What's wrong?" Eddie stepped closer, worry etched deeper creases into his face now. "What did you do?"
"I--" you flinched away from him and he paused.
This wasn't just Eddie anymore, your Eddie who survived a few scrapes and bruises and came out of any conflict--large or small--with a few choice words for his assailant and a story to tell.
This was Kas, forged through the burning flames of Hell to fight. To destroy.
And if not by name, then by acts.
Acts done with Vecna's influence, at first, and now atrocities in their own right.
Eddie always knew when your mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts; he'd say that you were thinking too loud. Time hadn't changed that, it seemed. He still knew exactly how to read you.
"Listen," he started carefully, treating you like a spooked animal because that's exactly what you were. "I know you have questions. We just need to get home first."
Unfortunately, you were also a stubborn piece of shit.
"Where is home?" you questioned. "What...Eddie...how?"
"I'll tell you everything," he promised. "But you're hurt...and I'm sure you're hungry. Thirsty? I could only bring you so far before--"
"Before?" you urged.
"The hungrier I get," he began. "The harder it is to control everything. Control myself. I couldn't be around you like that. But now you're awake...and I have to get you home. We need...to get home..."
You wanted him to explain it all to you; you'd seen the fangs, witnessed the Brides and other vampires feeding, it wasn't a secret that he must hunger for blood too. You just needed more. But he needed something too. There was a singular, desperate focus that edged his words--the need to get you home, get you safe--and you knew you weren't going to get answers unless you obliged his request.
If he could be patient...so could you.
You gestured ahead and the two of you continued your journey.
However, you made sure to keep your hands to yourself this time, unwilling to inadvertantly see more of his becoming, and Eddie clearly noticed.
"My hand is pretty cold," he said after a short stretch of silence. His eyes slid over to you and he wiggled his fingers. "Sure is a shame that there's nothing to warm it up."
You scoffed and your heart ached; this was how he got you to hold his hand in your coat pocket during the winter as you'd venture out and about. It was his thing, refusing to wear his gloves so he wouldn't fumble with them when he wanted to smoke, while also taking the opportunity to feel your hand against his.
It was one of your favorite bits of attention that he gave you; he was still your Eddie. You knew that, and deep down inside you only wanted to know that.
But things were different.
"Ed--"
"What? You don't love me anymore or something?" he teased; however, when he glanced over at you, there was a real worry in his eyes. "Don't want to hold my hand? Hmm? That it?"
"Come on," you scoffed. "Don't. You just said we'd talk once we got home, wherever home is. We've been walking forever."
"Well we're not there yet," he bristled and laughed; it was a bitter, condescending chuckle. One you'd never heard come out of him before; not to you, at least.
"Can't you just tell me where we're going? To...Rick's or..."
"It isn't in Hawkins."
"You can't expect us to walk to Muncie," you attempted a joke.
There was a tense pause and he turned his head downward and quickened his pace.
"Don't worry," he said, tone stiff. "We're almost there."
The confidence you'd noticed earlier was suddenly gone, and as he walked, he seemed to make himself smaller.
You really fucked this up.
You tried to reach out for him, abandoning your resolve of keeping him at arms length, but he failed to notice.
He just kept walking.
Tumblr media
Before long, the town seemed to melt away.
Everything did.
Gone were the buildings, the trees, even the roads. Until there was a vast grey nothingness, accentuated by floating particles and a swirling, cursed sky. If you thought the Upside Down was a wasteland before, this only solidified that thought.
After some time, even looking back didn't seem to help things; there were no milestones that you could ascertain. Just flat terrain, the sky, and the horizon.
And Eddie.
You tried to stave away the hateful thoughts that this was a trap, that there really was a Kas out there and he was manipulating you again. Or, even worse, that Eddie was the one manipulating you.
What good did those thoughts do? Except negate the elation that still bubbled hopefully within you, elation you were also trying to hold back.
You were here now; he could kill you any time if he wanted. You weren't dead. Yet.
Lost in thought, you failed to notice that he stopped, and you walked right into his back. You shook yourself off and stepped around him, only to find a decrepit-looking ranch-style house. The attached carport's roof was partially collapsed, the siding a little cockeyed, and the mailbox was broken; it looked unremarkable, and still...
"We're here," he pressed his lips together and gestured towards the house. "Home sweet home."
"I don't recognize this place," you remarked as he led you forward.
"You wouldn't," he shook his head. "I never brought you here; it doesn't exist anymore, actually. They tore it down to build some fancy condos in...what...80? 81? Only place you're gonna find it now is up here."
He tapped against the side of his head and then waved his hand around.
"This is what it looked like the last time I saw it. Broken, a little sad. Right before it came down.”
"Why is it here then?" you asked.
He sighed and looked around.
"Let's just get inside."
The interior of the house was worlds different.
Well...comparatively.
It was bigger on the inside, the walls somehow taller than they had been just moments before you stepped through the threshold. You entered into an open concept living room that was attached to the kitchen, not unlike the trailer. Both rooms were wood paneled and there was a carpet that was split-pea green, making the already drab atmosphere darker.
Eddie brushed past you to get to the kitchen and you moved ahead to the sofa, weariness of the day finally catching up to you. You collapsed onto the brown faux-suede loveseat and laid your head against the granny-square blanket that was draped over the back; beneath the musty, mildewy smell of the Upside Down, you could faintly detect something lighter and sweeter.
Your mom wore orange blossom perfume just like this. Aqua Manda. Your father brought a bottle home for her on her birthday one year.
You cleared your throat and chalked it up to a trick of the mind; you were tired and hurt, of course little things like that would escape your psyche.
Eddie shuffled around in the kitchen for a few minutes and when returned, his hands were filled with packaged snack cakes, a six-pack of grape crush, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and a roll of cloth bandages. He fell onto the loveseat beside you and dropped his plunder between you.
"Wayne," he stated simply and gestured to everything, as though that explained it. Maybe it did, to him; on your walk you figured that everyone knew that Eddie was here and alive, Wayne included. It didn't make you as angry as you expected yourself to be. Not as angry as you'd been when you read about Kas in the Dungeon Master's Guide.
What use was it to get angry, when you just wanted answers?
You stared at Eddie expectantly, hoping that he would start talking, but instead, he moved to pick a package of Raspberry Zingers from between you. You watched, in slight awe, as he flicked his thumb against the plastic and the sharpness of his claw sliced through it quicker than any knife. He did the same with one of the pop cans, puncturing the aluminum instead of using the tab.
You, knowing these were some of his favorites and having seen him inhale more of the sweet treats than you dared count, expected him to tuck in. Instead he placed the open package and can in your hands with a longing look, careful not to touch your skin, before he went on to unwrap the bandages.
You said his name gently and he ignored you.
"Eddie," you dropped the zingers and grabbed his hand to stop him. He was the one to flinch now, but regardless, he looked you in the eye. "I need you...to tell me where we are, and tell me what's going on. Everything. We're here now...you promised."
His eyes darted between yours rapidly; if he felt that your thoughts were loud before, his were blaring right now. Broadcasting panic and worry; confusion as to what to say and where to begin.
He opened his mouth and inhaled, but his sharp fangs glinted in the low light of the room and your gaze, naturally, was drawn to them. He planted a hand over his mouth and after a second, rubbed over the scars that stretched over his cheeks.
Finally his hand dropped to his lap and he shifted in his seat; he leant back against the cushions and got comfortable.
"Before I lived with Wayne," he started, "before mom died, we lived here. It wasn't big; big enough for the two of us, a little less when my dad was still out. Everything looks a little bigger, but I guess everything does when you're younger. This...this is just how I remember it.
"That's what this place runs on. Memories. Feelings. It...generates them but also cannibalizes them. Nancy Wheeler said something...before...about it actually being 1983 here. Really, it can be any place and time you want. Henry...Vecna...showed me that. So when I started needing space...away from him, I came as far as I could past the outer limits of Hawkins and I made this place. Where he would have a harder time finding me. Where I could be alone.
"With you."
"Me?" you questioned.
"I can't explain it," he shook his head. "I can't explain any of it. It's...fuzzy. Who I am now...and who I was before...I'm not the same person.
"I was hurt so badly when you left...I thought I hated you for a while. But then...you were there, in everything I did. I had hope because you gave me hope Sweetheart. Every day I thought about getting in that van and...finding a way to find you. Some way. But I had patience and I could wait for you to come back. On the toughest days, though, you were there. You were there when the blankets on the bed felt especially warm. Or the frozen lasagna I put in the oven tasted especially cheesy. Or when I'd have a bad dream and go to get cookies out of the cupboard. You were there, and it was ok. I could hold on until you made it back to me.
"You were even out there at Skull Rock with me," he smiled. "The night...after Patrick died. I was wet and cold and so god damn traumatized and when I closed my eyes, I swore I could feel you there. I heard you tell me it would all be alright. You're the reason I didn't give up."
You knew that feeling well; more than you could really put to words.
He went on and gave you his account, his perspective and feelings, about what happened last year. Told you about witnessing Chrissy and Patrick's deaths, about running and hiding, about being hunted. He stopped to make a joke about how brave “the kids” were, braver than he was. And then his tone turned fearful and distant when he explained how he decided to be brave for them in return, brave for Dustin.
You of course knew some, but hearing all of it, especially the role he played in it all, was devastating. The what-if's returned; what if you hadn't left, what if you could have been here to save him--save all of them--what if he hadn't died. Of course the last one was void now. Still, as he closed his eyes in pain and you felt it choke you up as his emotions projected outwards again—voluntarily this time, instead of you plucking pieces off of him—you thought:
What if you could have spared him this suffering?
"He took everything," Eddie whispered. "I thought the bats were bad enough. The pain. They were just hungry but the pain. The others were supposed to kill him, to chop his head off or something, and the bats fell and the pain stopped. It was supposed to be over.
"But then he found me."
"Vecna."
"I thought I was a goner," he bared his teeth painfully, somewhere between a grimace and a smile really. "Death took forever, sweetheart. I do not recommend it. Not a bit. I don't even think I died. One minute Henderson was crying over me and the next, Vecna was tearing through my head. I always thought...well, you know when Obi-Wan tells the storm trooper these are not the droids you're looking for? I thought that I could resist that. Turns out, I was just as weak-minded as the rest of them."
He recounted his torture, the mental and the physical, and you felt it again. More acutely this time. His memories projected onto you felt fuzzy and strange, though, as if he hadn't even been there for it all himself. You recognized, through the echoes of agony, that was only so much the human mind could take, and Eddie toed the line of survival through sheer luck. He had gone through Hell, and came out alive in the end; how had he done it?
"It's because I had you," he explained. He leant in closer, voice hushed like he had a secret; he made the edges of your being feel tingly with his proximity. "Just like I told you. You were there; I know it. I held on because of you."
"Please, Eddie," you whispered. Please...what? You didn't know.
Please don't try to lessen the guilt.
Please don't try to make you feel better that you left him to this fate.
"It's true," he continued. "Vecna could take everything away. Made me hate everything, everyone. Made me kill for him. He made me his monster, his beast, his weapon..."
You swallowed painfully. How karmically poetic; a weapon of good and a weapon of evil...in love.
Fate was cruel.
"...But he could never take you away from me."
You saw it then, a flash. Some recollection of his, some coping mechanism that he'd used to survive. You saw through Eddie's eyes, felt his body; there was something quite...off about him. Shoulders broader, arms longer, fingers wet with blood.
Wings? You could feel them jutting from his shoulder blades. But he didn't have wings...
And in front of him, instead of some poor innocent soul...there you were. Strange, once again, seeing a version of you that you didn't recognize. She looked...younger...more lively than the one you saw in Billy's mind. She was smiling, eyes bright.
Speaking of eyes, you could see his reflection in your own eyes; you strained to decipher it, because it simply did not look like Eddie.
Not the Eddie of your memory. Not the Eddie who sat before you now.
You gasped and it was gone, and you were back in the living room with Eddie again. You stared at him, really took stock of him, trying to reconcile the different images of him that floated in your mind to truly accept who he was in front of you.
Broken but seemingly still whole. Alive.
Human...but not.
And that's what made you hesitate.
"Eddie," you licked your lips nervously. "Dustin said...that you couldn't leave." His brow twitched.
"I can't," he answered through gritted teeth, entire demeanor changing in the blink of an eye. He clenched and unclenched his hands, grasping at something that was beyond the fabric of reality. "I'm stuck here."
"Do you know why?"
"No. It's driving me crazy; I just want...to leave. Vecna couldn't leave either. He needed Max."
He noticed the way you stiffened at his words and his eyes went wide with fear. All of the tension that had built up within him was released again and he held his hands out to prove he was harmless.
"I don't...I'm not...I don't think that's what it is for me. The Upside Down doesn't want me to leave; I'm just not strong enough somehow. Not ready. I feel like...if I can figure out what I need, it'll let me go. I just don't know what that is.
"I did enough to save lil Red, though, twice," he ran a finger over his heart in a cross, in promise. "Not gonna just throw that all away and kill her."
"She's afraid that you are."
"Well, you'll just tell her I'm not."
"You've killed other people though," you rebuffed, almost too quickly.
It was at the forefront of your mind. Your dumb boyfriend who fed stray cats and raccoons around the trailer park...ordering an army of dark creatures to kill; it didn't make sense.
"You've killed too," he scoffed, a challenge in his eyes. "Don't act like I haven't watched you out there, angel. I've seen everything; this whole time."
"I thought you were a vicious monster," you argued.
"Who says I'm not?" That threw you for a loop. "I've told you my story, it's your turn now."
"No, we're not done with you," you reached across and jabbed a finger into his chest. "You send the bats...the Brides--nice name by the way--" You sneered sarcastically.
"Thanks," he grinned widely. "Got it all from Sven."
"--into Hawkins every day to feed. To kill."
That made him falter.
"No," he denied. "Not every day."
"Every day."
"Every three days, every week. Not every day."
"Tell me how that's possible," you narrowed your eyes. "When your friends back in Hawkins have gone out every day since I've been back for their clean up brigade, and they've been attacked every time. I've heard about it and I've seen it."
Eddie got quiet; he blinked once and his eyes became unfocused. He stared through you for what felt like ages and at some point you contemplated waving a hand in front of his face to get him to come back to you. You were about to raise your hand to do just that when a thin, opaque membrane slid sideways across his eyes, and then retracted back into the corners of them.
You thought it was a trick of the low light for a moment, then it happened again. A blink, just like a bird did with their third eyelid.
"What the fu--"
"They haven't," he interrupted you, consciousness casually sliding back into his body like he hadn't just vacated it. "They've only been leaving through the gates when I tell them to. It's been three days."
He shifted and shook the sleeve of his jacket further up his arm to reveal his wrist, then carefully unfastened the watch that sat there.
"They need to feed," he explained as he fiddled with the buttons. "I need...I need to feed again too. Otherwise I don't have control. And I need to be able to control them. They take their fill, and whatever they can spare, they bring to me. Since I can't leave. What uh...what day is it?"
"The fifteenth," you answered stiffly.
"Of?"
"...October."
"Hmmm..."
"What?"
"Guess I hadn't...nevermind." He cleared his throat. His hand shot out and grasped your wrist, then he carefully fastened the watch on your arm. "There. They're supposed to go out tonight and then you can see for yourself. Three days. Wayne will be by then too; I'll ask him to bring you your things. I know you left them behind."
"Because you...because your Brides cornered me...they...Fred...Chrissy...ugh..." You wrenched your hand from his grasp and scrubbed them over your face. "I...Eddie...I need to know why...why you---"
"I think I've told you enough," he interjected with an air of finality. "I've been trying to get to you, trying to find you, ever since I saw you back in Hawkins through their eyes. And now you're here with me where you belong, and it's time I got some answers too, sweetheart. It's been long enough. I deserve to know the truth."
Tumblr media
So you told him.
Eddie was right, he deserved to know the truth, and you'd been itching to tell him since the moment he kissed you after your very first date.
Now was the chance to get it all off your chest.
You told him everything, and not just the condensed version that you told Mary Victoria. You bared your cursed soul to, probably, the only person on earth that had ever seen you. Really and truly seen you.
Despite all that time apart, he still saw you as though no time had passed at all.
He had no qualms interjecting when you told him about your family history and about the curse. He questioned everything and you had no doubt that if it wasn't for the conditions you were in now--if life had not been as cruel to the two of you as it had been--he would have had his Hellfire notebook open and been furiously writing ideas for his next campaign.
Better yet, he would be the one figuring out the way to break it. He would have every fantasy book from the Hawkins Library checked out and spread across the floor, just to save you.
When you got to the more contemporary parts of your story, when you filled in all the gaps in your life that you left when he first got to know you, he was pensive and empathetically quiet. He still made his little jokes here and there, tried to make you laugh at the parts where all you wanted to do was cry, and he didn't hesitate to bridge the gap and hold your hand when you needed to find the strength to keep going.
And keep going was all you did.
For hours.
You told him about every monster you faced, every demise you escaped, every person who used you as a tool and held your salvation over your head to get you to act on their behalf.
Your story couldn't hold a candle to his when it came to personal agony, but he made you feel like everything you'd endured was just as soul-splitting.
Maybe it was.
But this...getting everything out in the open...it was so freeing.
Gone were the shadowy secrets that lurked in the corners of your mind, gone was all the doubt you felt in yourself.
You cracked your chest open, pried out every rusting nail you had driven into you to keep it shut, and let Eddie see all of you--see your heart--and still he stared at you with awe and resplendent devotion in his eyes.
Just like he always had.
"Not gonna lie sweetheart," he started once you'd reached a lull in the story. "That was all, uh...pretty fucking metal."
"Fuck you," you slapped the back of your hand against his chest.
"All this time you let me go on about demons and the devil and Hellfire," his tone was teasing and a smile threatened the corners of his mouth; he couldn't fight it for long and neither could you. "And really you were out here studying the Lesser Key of Solomon and the Necronomicon for fun?"
"Not for fun. For survival" He grabbed your hand and held it against his chest, used his leverage to tug you closer. He stared at you in awe.
"My girlfriend! A real life paladin!"
"God damn it Eddie!" You giggled.
"Protecting the masses, no wonder you wanted to play as a rogue, you would have been bored as a paladin. Can you smite people?"
"I swear to--yes, I guess so."
"So many secrets! And then you told me all of your little stories and lessons--"
"Eddie I swear.”
"--let me believe you fucked the Mothman?"
"Excuse me," you erupted into a cackle. "You came to that conclusion all on your own."
He stared at you with hooded eyes and a fond gaze, humming his doubt.
You shifted the hand that he held, moved your palm across his chest from over his jacket to the thin, threadbare t-shirt he wore underneath. At first, you felt for his heartbeat, to reassure you one last time that it was really him...that he was really alive.
It was a flutter, but it was there. A soft thum pum, thum pum that transferred from his chilled skin, through the shirt, and into yours. His hand enclosed your wrist and squeezed tightly, and you wondered if he was doing the same. Feeling your pulse, making sure you were really there too.
He huffed a breath as you shifted closer; your fingers brushed against something hard that was just under the collar of the shirt as you had made your little search, and upon closer inspection, you discovered a cross on a silver chain.
Your necklace.
"You kept it?" you asked.
"Mmhmm." You shook his hand off your wrist and you ran your thumb over the tiny metal flowers; your crucifix might have been gone but this was still here. "The day you left...I was so upset I threw it. Threw it in some random corner of the trailer. When I realized that it was one of the last things I had left of you I went to try and find it, only to realize it was gone. I kicked myself, cried to Wayne...I was so fucking stupid.
"Then after everything, after Vecna was gone and I healed Max back up...I found it. Here in the Upside Down of all places. Must have fallen through when the gate opened up...but it made its way back to me. Just like you."
"You're a sap," you whispered.
"Guess what? So are you."
"I am," you laughed. You felt yourself choke up then, happiness turning to sorrow in an instant. Well, maybe it was still happiness…just the sad kind. "Hmmm."
"What is it?"
"Nothing, nothing," you cleared your throat to try and let it go, but it got the better of you and tears began to prickle at the corners of your eyes.
You couldn’t help yourself, you touched him again. You’d denied yourself for too long; you needed to be as close to him as you could for as long as you could. You touched his face. Beneath his bangs, over the crest of his eyes, ran a finger over his lips, even shoved your fingers over his fangs to inspect them, to see how dangerous they were, much to his displeasure.
“Don’t,” he hissed. “I have to feed, I could hurt you.”
”I don’t care.” The words burst from you. “I don’t.”
“Sweetheart,” he said in a warning tone but you ignored him.
“I spent all this time thinking you were dead and now here you are, right in front of me. Something I never thought I would have ever again. So excuse me if I don’t care that you might bite me. Hurt me. Nothing could compare with the hurt I felt when I lost you.”
“I get it.”
“I burnt down a building.”
“That’s—”
“Pretty metal, I know.”
“I was gonna say it sounds a little crazy,” you snorted. “Cmon? You burned down a building for little old me? With a lighter and gasoline?”
“With that smiting power you were so interested in earlier,” you explained.
“Ok well…shit. That’s pretty hot.”
“Fuck. Off.” You laughed wetly.
“You keep telling me to fuck off, I’ll leave you here.”
You could tell he was trying to make another joke but you didn’t have the patience for it.
“I’m trying to kiss you right now, Ed,” you told him matter-of-factly.
He was shocked, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, like the thought of actually kissing you, actually being with you, hadn't crossed his mind either. As though he hadn’t just used the brides to bring you to completion through the mental bond they shared. To be close to you, to share in pleasure and proximity, together again.
You were about to back down, about to say it was ok, especially if his hunger--fuck, you were gonna have to keep that in mind now, weren’t you--made him nervous. Instead, he surged forward, lips mashing into yours.
It was clumsy and a little painful at first. Both of you were out of practice, it was obvious, and there were, of course, extra teeth to be mindful of. Still, once you crossed the divide and settled yourself in his lap for easy access, you found your rhythm again.
It was as though you hadn’t been apart for a single minute, let alone three years.
Kissing him was nice, it always had been; tender sweetness, even in the throes of pleasure. You always used to joke that if Eddie could find a way to meld the two of you together with his mouth alone, he would; now was no different, as the plush pillows of his lips caressed and pecked at yours.
It didn't take long for the spark that was ignited between you to grow into an inferno and you couldn't really tell who was the needier of the two of you as breathing got heavier and tongue and teeth began to explore. All you knew was him. A sensory experience, being surrounded by each other again, and it was one that you had to learn all over again because it was different. Gone was the smell and taste of cigarette smoke and cheap laundry detergent and soda or bazooka bubblegum he enjoyed, and in its place something more visceral.
The bite of arctic air and nature and musk and dirt and blood.
Aside from the few times you'd bitten your tongue or split your lip, you'd never experienced the taste of blood before, and certainly not blood other than your own. Tangy, but not unpleasant. You could get used to it blooming along your tastebuds if it meant you never had to leave Eddie again.
He departed your lips then, as though he could sense the thought and didn't want you to endure it any longer than you had to. He left one, two, three pecks to the corner of your mouth before he descended down your cheek and along your jaw. He tsked as he reached your neck.
"What did they do to you huh?" he muttered and pecked and laved over the tender, ravaged flesh. He vacated one side of your throat for the other, inspecting the damage there; it was the side that Barb had bitten too, and you knew that it was surely worse. His tongue slithered out and he growled as it slowly ran along the ridges of each wound; the sound transferred from his body to yours, a rattling chittering vibration that sent chills up your spine.
"I didn't tell them to do this. When I realized..." he began an apology, but you stopped him.
"It's ok," you huffed a weak smile. "I'll heal. I always do."
"Hmmm."
He nudged his nose against yours, a soft rub of its bulbous tip, before diving back into your mouth.
From soft touches against faces and shoulders, hands suddenly moved to grip hips and thread into hair. The scrunchie was quick to go and his curls cascaded over his shoulders; you immediately buried your fingers in their depths, steering you where you wanted him to go, on the off chance he didn't already know.
His hands moved then to settle on your thighs, and gravity shifted as he hoisted you into his arms and stood. You broke away and stared at him in question. Where had this unexpected strength come from; was it more the result of this transformation in the Upside Down? You'd found unbelievable strength as your abilities developed over the years too.
Moreover, where had he found the idea or desire to carry you anyway?
You could spend as much time here on the loveseat as you wanted; it's not like you hadn't fucked on a sofa before.
"Where are we going?" you asked as he took his first steps.
"Bedroom."
"My legs work."
"They won't before long," he grinned and you rolled your eyes. Vampire or undead or whatever amalgam of an upside down creature as he was, Eddie was still your boyfriend who would quote bad porn just to annoy you.
He brought you down the short hallway to a bedroom; it was unremarkable and had a look and feel about it that was similar to his room in the trailer in some ways...but still not at all.
There was a poster on the wall, and Sweetheart sitting on an amp in the corner--had he been the one to play Sympathy for the Devil that you'd heard on the radio; you hadn't been going crazy--a stack of t-shirts and clothes sat on a broken dresser, and a dented old thermos rested on the windowsill.
He laid you down on a mattress that had been placed on the floor and was laden with pillows and blankets. He started to rid you of your shoes and your jeans, taking as extra care as he had been not to rip into them with his claws; as needy as you were, you were also curious, and you took that moment to inspect this bed of his further.
One of the pillows was stained with blood, some of the blankets shredded to ribbons, and, buried amongst a soft comforter...two long bones that were sharpened to points.
Eddie faltered in his movements as you lifted them closer to your face to inspect and he immediately pulled his hands away from you; his arms crossed over his torso and he shrugged.
"Guess I'm a little messy," he explained sheepishly. "There, uh...might be some more in here...somewhere. Be careful."
There were a million thoughts racing through your mind; where did these bones come from, what did they belong to, had he...eaten some creature? Once again, you needed to internalize all of it quickly. This was just going to come with the territory of having Eddie back, wasn't it?
"It's...ok," you swallowed thickly and turned your eyes back to him. "I can just use it to stab you in the heart if worse comes to worse."
He snorted and licked his lips to stop himself from smiling; in the end, you both failed. You were giggling and you let out a honk of laughter that you hated but Eddie adored; he'd told you so many times. You covered your face with your hands to hide from him, but he was quick to kneel down in the cradle of your thighs to pull them away.
"I want to see you," he whispered. "I need to see you."
He kissed your hands, one, then the other, and then pulled you to sit upright; you helped him remove your jacket--he recalled it had been Mickey's...and then noted that Mickey had died by his hand as he thumbed the rips in the shoulders from Chrissy's attempted-abduction of you in the square--then your t-shirt. He was extra cocky as he used those talons to slice through your bra.
"You're an asshole," you muttered as he ducked to capture your lips again.
"Remember," he pressed a kiss and then backed off to grin, "when I kept fumbling with the hooks."
There wasn't much talking after that, as you began your true reunion, your worship of one another.
He knew where to lick, where to kiss, to get the sweetest and most desperate noises out of you. Of course, he also had his favorite little places to put his hands and his mouth.
He was careful of your throat, but that didn't mean he couldn't suck a hickey to your jaw, or your collarbone, or the side of one of your breasts. He sniffed your skin and sighed dreamily every now and again, pressed his face into the softness of your chest and your belly and just rested there for a moment, before continuing his descent.
He didn't leave an inch of you untouched when it came to these new discoveries and devotions.
He paid special attention to each prominent scar he found. Whispered words of apology, of understanding, as he bore witness to all the ways you sacrificed yourself for a God who'd essentially abandoned you. Abandoned both of you.
Every nerve in your body was alight; not because he kept pulling pleasure to the surface, but simply because of the proximity. You luxuriated in having him there, in carding your fingers through his hair, in hearing the timber of his voice and feeling it as it hummed along your skin. Even when he got too carried away and his claws scratched you or punctured your skin, as blood began to pool to the surface, you found some sense of joy. The little zings of pain only added to the pleasure.
For Eddie, though, they simply seemed to test the strength of his willpower to tame the beast within.
He finally reached the crux of you, and instead of touching or kissing as you expected him to, bringing you pleasure that way--something he'd always enjoyed before--he got to his knees and began working the belt off his jeans.
"What are you doing?" you demanded breathlessly, desperately. "You were..."
"I just...I'll..." he fumbled over his words, head still ducked as his hands worked. His voice sounded muffled and he refused to look at you. "We...we'll just finish up here and then I need to go."
"Go!?"
"I want to make you feel good, baby, I just...I can't stay. I'm already hanging on by a thread as it is."
You thought that he just meant that he needed to find his own release, which was understandable, but to need to leave? He flung his belt off to the side, and as he did, you saw. Really saw.
His eyes seemed more sunken in, surrounded by shadowy-bruises, scleras bright red. His fangs, which had just been two lone points in his mouth, seemed to have multiplied; four sharp teeth, now elongated, on his upper jaw, and two on the lower.
You called his name once, then again more forcibly, to get him to stop as he shed his jacket. He froze, and then stared at you, practically ashamed.
"They'll be back soon and I'm hungry," he explained. He let the jacket drop to the ground and then stared hungrily at his hands, at the fresh blood at the points of his nails. "I'm so...hungry."
He had mentioned that, that he'd been hungry, before. Which was why he couldn't be there when you were brought to the Upside Down.
But he said that he'd fed days ago; how long had you been here?
Was it just the drawing of your blood that had him hungry again? Needing to be sustained.
You spoke instinctually.
"Feed on me."
His eyes widened in shock.
"Sweetheart--" he tried to warn you, but you stopped him.
"Chrissy and Patrick already did," you rationalized. "Barb did. You're not going to do anything that they didn’t; just...try to be gentle and don't kill me."
"I'm trying not to kill you."
"I know," you encouraged. "I trust you. Drink my blood. Feed on me."
You held your hand out and nodded to your wrist; your neck was already bitten and healing. You both would probably have a better...uh...experience if he fed from there instead.
Eddie released a long breath and rolled his head backwards, hands coming up to his eyes as though it was the most difficult decision in the world. The only decision that mattered.
But, faster than your eyes could see, he was on you, lips and tongue caressing your wrist, lavishing over your pulse. You closed your eyes for a second...until it felt like his tongue elongated and wrapped around your wrist entirely...and they shot open again.
He was too quick though. Another blur of movement, and your underwear had simply vanished and Eddie was nuzzling the softness of your thigh with his nose, smelling the path your arteries, smelling the musk of your sex. You strained your neck to watch him--settled on his stomach, half off the mattress, with one of your legs thrown over his shoulder--but you couldn't hold it for long as he caressed your slit. As he stroked his fingers through your wetness and found your clit, slowly and torturously, as his nose followed the path upwards.
A delicate caress was all it took for the pleasure to invade your senses, ready as you were from all of the foreplay. Your body was primed for more after being starved for so long and only given a taste of salvation from him and his puppets previously. He rolled his fingers over and over, bringing you higher; he was mindful of his claws with each touch and caress, still you felt the cold huff of his breath chuckling when you bore down on nothingness as he rasped the sharp edges over the softness of you just so.
It had always been a game with you, pushing each other further to see who could hold out longer and who would break first--a delicious give and take--but it seemed he was focused on one thing now: a delicious prize for the both of you.
And needed to get there as quickly as possible.
You whined as your body tingled; your pleasure climbed and he hummed, his ministrations getting quicker. Sensing you were close to the edge, he pushed a finger into your heat, then a second, and your hips bucked. If the rasp of his claws outside had created a mix of pleasure and pain, inside it made you question everything. And as he pistoned his fingers once...twice...and pressed on your clit, you found euphoria.
You found Heaven.
And so did he.
You barely registered him biting into you at first, such pleasure raced through your body, but the sting of the first mouthful of blood being pulled from you brought you back to reality.
You rapidly came down from your high, so pleasantly numb, to the sounds of his lewd slurping and gulping of one mouthful then the next. If you had the capability of higher thought, you might wonder if you'd built some sort of tolerance to being feasted on like this, but your focus was on the remnants of your pleasure...and on him.
Eddie let out a delicious groan with a particularly painful pull, and you winced. He mouth released from your thigh with a satisfying pop, and, like a predator, he turned his gaze to meet yours.
Half hidden by the slopes of your body, you could still see the way his nose and lips were stained red. He bared his teeth at you--in a smile or a warning, you couldn't tell for sure--then set his sights back on your center.
Blood made an interesting addition to your own slickness, as he lowered his mouth onto your pussy; you twitched as he licked your essence away, one hunger sated and replaced by another. Gone were his fingers, as he moved your leg off his shoulder and spread you open to feast once more. You bucked against him as he stoked the fires within you again, tried to fight him so you could grind against his mouth, but he didn't let up.
"E-Eddie," you whined and he moaned, tongue thrumming against your clit and then sliding to your entrance to collect the ambrosia that you blessed him with.
You didn't want to beg, especially when you would gladly take every ounce of attention he bestowed upon you, but you wanted him. Wanted all of him. Wanted to see him.
Wanted to be with him, as one.
And the fucker hadn't even taken his clothes off yet.
"E-eddie, please," you cried, unable to convey exactly what you wanted. "I need you."
He clearly took that to mean more and more is exactly what he gave you, enough that should have made you surrender, made you melt for him.
He rolled his tongue against your sensitive nub, let his fangs rasp over you, before he began to suckle your clit and you had to grab his head and tug to try and get him to stop.
This was everything you wanted. But maybe not everything you wanted right now. The denial would be delicious.
Your nails scraped his scalp and pulled at the long strands of his hair until he finally finally released his focus from your quivering cunt.
Both of you heaved and gasped heavily.
He cuffed a hand against his chin to try and wipe off the mix of your blood and slick and you groaned; he didn't have to look so enticing doing something like that.
"So bossy," he grinned naughtily.
He didn't have to look so enticing saying something like that either.
"I am," you told him. "Because I need you--"
"And I was about to let you come right there, sweetheart."
"I need you...I need to feel you," you told him.
"Hmmm, tempting," he inched his way up your body, pressing bloody kisses to your mound, then your stomach. He stopped and rested his chin there.
There was some spike of unidentified emotion inside of you. Wrath, maybe. Annoyance, definitely.
"Don't tell me," you hissed at him. "That you're not looking for your own release."
"I am," he nodded and kissed up. Further and further. Your ribs, your breasts, laying his head there now. You couldn't help but caress his forehead, push his bangs out of his eyes as he stared up at you like you hung the stars.
You could feel him shift, feel the hardness of him straining against his jeans as he squirmed against you.
"Don't tell me that you don't want to fuck me," you whispered. "Don't tell me that you aren't just itching to come inside of me Eddie."
He kissed once against your clavicle, once on the hickey he left on your jaw and then hovered over your lips...
"Please," he whispered. "Let me fuck you."
You grabbed him and pulled him to you, lips crashing and hungry as you took what you craved from him.
Frantic movement on shaky limbs as you both knelt on the mattress and stripped him of his clothes between the clashing of your mouths in desperation.
It wasn't until you needed to part so you could pull his shirt over his head that you paused.
Tension.
It was sudden and suffocating as you finally saw all of him. Your hungry eyes found his cock first, lengthy and hard and fisted in his hand as he rolled his head back on his shoulders with relief for the first time all night. Which was funny because he was not shy about humping a bed once upon a time; had he learned some kind of virtuous patience in the years you'd been away? It was almost impossible to fathom.
But then, your eyes were drawn to the rest of his body.
Your hand went to your mouth in horror as you finally witnessed all of him. Witnessed what came out of the other side after he'd been chewed up and spit out by Vecna and his minions. By the Upside Down.
It was the bite scars that caught your eyes first. Maybe because you had felt the ephemeral echo of the assault for yourself, maybe because they were wide swaths of mangled flesh. Layers and layers and wrinkles and valleys. A piece of his torso practically gouged out on one side, his pectoral muscle shredded on the other, nipple missing.
When he had been attacked, he had been Eddie; when the attack was over he was just...meat. And this was the evidence of that. Some parts had healed to silver or pink, both others were left angry and red. If you didn't know better, you might think he was still hurt; that they were still bleeding.
He had kissed your scars and apologized; he was truly the one who deserved the apology.
The seams were next. Down his limbs, at each of his joints; like he'd been ripped apart and put back together again. Strange lines that carved into him like a dissection. Vivisection, if the screams that you'd heard through his memories were true. There were two prominent ones along his ribs that looked...particularly vulnerable. Then again, it could have been because he bulged strangely there.
He didn't look like your Eddie anymore. Maybe it was because he wasn't.
Well, he was...all of him was. All of him...belonged to your heart. Or, more accurately, your heart belonged to all of him. Been through Hell, and survived.
You'd always thought--and you'd told him once and he'd laughed in your face--that he looked like one of the statues that you loved at your favorite cemetery back home. Carefully carved through time and patience, flaws intentional, but made to be witnessed and celebrated and have people kneel before them.
Yes he made a cocksucking joke.
Now though...he was like stained glass in the chapel. Overall whole, one beautiful piece of art that was made to let the resplendent light shine through. But so obviously complex, evidenced by the thousands of little pieces that made it up. Each one so important to the greater whole.
Different, but still beautiful.
Eddie finally noticed the state of you and he paused; you could feel the waves of doubt come off him as he looked down at himself in shame.
"I'm sorry, I should have wa--"
"No," you closed the distance between you. "Stop. It's...I just...I..."
"It's horrible," he told you. "And there's so much more that you...that you don't know."
"It isn't horrible," you replied. "We have plenty of time; all the time in the world. I'll find out the rest eventually, Eddie. But no matter what...I love you."
His eyes shifted between yours, that unsettling red tinge still there but made less intense by his feast; you knew he was looking to see if you were lying to him.
You hoped he knew that you could never lie to him. Especially about something like that.
If there was something that didn't change about Eddie, it was his smile. Sure his teeth might have been comprised of fangs, and his cheeks stretched in a slightly tense way...but the way his eyes crinkled, the way--even in the darkness--he seemed to light up from the inside. That would always stay the same.
You pulled him to you and kissed him again, soft and full of intense devotion. His hands found you and he guided you back down to the mattress, sweeping away the extra blankets and pillows and remnants of previous carnage, and he settled onto you.
Into you.
He guided himself to your center and with one last glance to make sure you wanted this--you always would, always--he slid into you, and found himself where he truly belonged.
Home. With you.
One hand held him above you and the other roamed, caressing over the slopes and curves of your body, running over your cheek and over your heart for a moment, until it settled at the crux where your bodies met. Your hands searched him as well, determined to commit all of his scars to memory--if not tonight, then one day--when they finally landed on a set of scars along his shoulder blades. Thick and deep, he closed his eyes and you could feel his body twitch with pleasure as you lavished them with attention, your delicate touch dancing over the raised skin.
His pace quickened and he grit his teeth; his fingers danced over your clit to carry you to the peaks of pleasure, caressing your cunt worshipfully as you caressed him within.
As you accepted him--all of him--over and over.
It was a marathon that tested your stamina and willpower but neither of you would let up or stop; you needed this. You both needed this, together; finally with each other.
You could feel it rising within you, your limbs tingled and you began to see stars. You refused to close your eyes, even as Eddie got desperate and ducked his head into your shoulder, hips stuttering as they chased his release, fingers relentless as they chased yours.
You couldn't blame him when he bit your throat, when his fangs slid through the already-abused flesh as you inevitably came. You couldn't be too sure that you didn't pull him into you yourself. The bite, the sting, and the pull of your blood took your rapture to an intensity you'd never experienced before.
You saw the strings of fate, floating around him in that moment, connecting him to you; sparkling lines that shifted and tangled over his skin and onto yours. It was blinding and brilliant, and it made you finally close your eyes to bask in it all.
There was some old story, that humans used to have 4 arms, 4 legs and two heads. And some God thought them too powerful, so They demanded them split for the rest of eternity; those humans spent the rest of their days searching...searching for their other half until they could be one again.
And as Eddie's hips stuttered into yours, as he lost his stamina and finally spilled his release inside of you, as he finally made you his--fully and completely for the first time in what felt like an eternity--that search was finally complete.
Tumblr media
“I love you. Even if the Fates unraveled our destiny, I would find a way back to you.”  - Scarlett St. Clair, A Touch of Ruin
Next Chapter: Revelation
34 notes · View notes
cerealbishh · 15 days
Text
does it ever hurt you that zack's parting words to cloud were "you've gotta live for the both us", sonon's parting words to yuffie were "you gotta keep going for us" and dyne's last words to barret were "you carry that guilt, that weight " and yuffie, cloud, and barret let out the most pained scream after they pass?
31 notes · View notes
lestappenforever · 8 months
Note
I feel like a lestappen 26 and 35 can work together quite nicely 😊
I must say I agree with you. 😉
Also, I will add a trigger warning for dark dreams with mentions of death here. I promise it's only a dream, though.
---
26. "Just breathe. Like that. That's it.", and 35. "I don't know who I am without you." "That's easy. You're the best person I've ever met."
Max always dreams.
Every night, he dreams. But he can count the amount of times he has woken up actually remembering a dream on one hand. And the few times he does, it's never good.
The touch of a front wheel to a back wheel on a slowly drying track.
A red Ferrari spinning out in Eau Rogue at Spa and being hit by another car coming up behind it, sending it flying, the car turning upside down and crashing against the barriers at high speed
A radio message going unanswered, again and again and again.
A red flag being waved almost immediately.
"Who is it?" Max demands into his radio.
"It's Leclerc, Max," Gianpiero tells him.
Max's blood runs cold.
"Is he okay? Is he out of the car?"
"Standby, waiting for a visual."
Gianpiero doesn't speak again until Max is turning into the pitlane.
"He's unresponsive, Max. They're working on getting him out of the car."
Max parks the car and as soon as he's brought into the garage, he climbs out, throws off his helmet and takes off running.
A myriad of people try to stop him, but none of them suceed.
He runs and runs and runs, not caring about his own safety, not caring about the race. All he cares about is getting to Charles and making sure he's okay.
He reaches Eau Rogue just in time to see stewards putting Charles' lifeless body on a stretcher and loading him into the ambulance. He meets the gaze of one of the paramedics and he just knows.
Max wakes up with a scream.
"Jesus Christ," Charles gasps next to him, startled awake and blinking rapidly.
He looks at Max, sitting upright and gasping for breath, and it springs Charles into action.
"Hey, Max, it's okay. You're okay," the Monégasque tells him, as he moves to position himself behind Max on the bed, his legs on either side of Max, running his hands gently over the Dutchman's shoulders, down his arms.
"It was just a nightmare."
Max's body is trembling, cold sweat coating his face, his neck, his chest.
Charles wraps his arms around him, pulling Max back against his chest and kissing his shoulder.
"Shhh, it's okay. Feel my breathing," he instructs, as he takes a deep breath in. "In, two, three, four."
Max tries to mirror him as best he can.
Charles exhales. "Out, two, three, four."
It takes him quite a few tries but eventually, Max manages to calm his breathing enough to match Charles' steady breaths, aided by the solid warmth behind him and the way he can feel Charles' chest rise and fall against his back.
He can feel Charles' heartbeat against the back of his shoulder, reminding him that it was just a dream. A horrible, terrible dream.
But a dream nevertheless.
Charles' arms tighten around him, and Max closes his eyes.
"Just breathe. Like that. That's it."
In, two, three, four.
Out, two, three, four.
"You're okay, mon chéri," Charles murmurs against his shoulder, pressing another kiss there.
"You were gone," Max eventually finds his voice and when he lifts a hand to feel his cheek, it's wet with tears. "You crashed and you weren't responding on the radio, and then you were just gone."
Charles makes a sympathetic noise against his shoulder.
"But I'm not. I'm right here."
"You were gone, Charles."
"It was a nightmare, chéri. Just a nightmare."
Max takes another deep breath.
In, two, three, four.
Out, two, three, four.
Leaning his head back against Charles' shoulder, Max looks up at the other man.
"I don't know who I am without you," he admits, voice small and quiet. Charles meets his gaze in the darkness of the bedroom.
"That's easy," Charles counters, a small smile on his lips. "You're the best person I've ever met"
A surprised chuckle escapes Max at that, and some of the tightness in his chest finally eases.
"But, lucky for you —," the Monégasque begins, trailing one hand gently up and down Max's stomach and chest. "— you'll never have to be without me. Not if I have anything to say about it."
Relief washes over Max, and he nuzzles his face against the side of Charles' neck, letting his eyes slide shut again.
"I'm going to hold you to that," Max mumbles, and he feels Charles smile against his hair.
"I would expect nothing less."
A while later, they fall asleep in that exact position; Charles leaning back against the headboard with Max between his legs, resting back against Charles' front.
And if Max dreams this time, he thankfully doesn't remember it.
114 notes · View notes
hlcyxnfilms · 3 months
Text
death's game, 이재, 곧 죽습니다 (2023) : is happy ending possible?
41 notes · View notes
ohnoitsjetster · 2 months
Text
TW: mention of like blood and death and suffering and nasty shit like that
Yall ever think about how actually fully horrific Richies death was? Like I think about it a lot, and I don’t mean because he thought he was finally safe from Max or cause he was starting to love his life or cause what happened to max wasn’t even his fault. I mean because he got his nipples ripped off his body and then drowned in toilet water. What the fuck. Like I get the joke of it but also if I had to pick the most painful way to die that would be up there. Like ik these are horror stories but sometimes they catch me off guard for how abruptly brutal they can be. I would call it about on-par with Hey Melissa! for how much the violence disturbed me. This is probably just due to my vivid imagination combined with the way I empathize, but uh yeah. What the fuck
38 notes · View notes
Moonlit Confessions - part 1
Read on AO3
This story was sitting on my drive for many years. Finally, I gathered the courage to publish it. I’d like to give a huge thank you to the wonderful @nena-96 who has tirelessly supported me in the past few weeks. It meant the world to me. You‘re amazing ❤️
In the silent depths of the night, guided by his sister’s steadfast support, Ron finally finds the courage to open up to Hermione, sparking a conversation they should have had years ago.
It was a quiet moonlit night and Ron found himself drawn to the cozy warmth of the Burrow’s kitchen, unable to sleep because of all the thoughts swarming through his mind. The house was silent, except for the soft ticking of an old grandfather clock in the corner of the living room. Clad in pajama bottoms and an old grey shirt, his too long fiery hair a dishevelled mess, he entered the kitchen and noticed his sister seated at the table, absentmindedly twirling a stray of her hair in between her fingers. Her appearance mirrored his own, her fiery hair reflecting the soft moonlight streaming through the window. The dim, silvery glow of the room accentuated the shadows under her tired eyes.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” Ron asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Ginny jumped at the sound of his voice, gripping her wand, until she realized she wasn’t in any danger. She answered with a small nod, her eyes heavy with exhaustion and some remnants of tears still glistening in the dim light.
“No, too much on my mind. It’s just...”
Ron nodded in understanding, “Everything…I know. It’s like my brain won’t shut off.”
“Tea?” Ron nodded again and Ginny pushed a chair out with her foot, inviting him to sit. He joined her, and they sat there in silence for a moment, the weight of the last days hanging heavily in the air. Amidst the shared silence, Ron’s thoughts wandered to Hermione, asleep in his sister’s room upstairs, unaware of the turmoil in his heart.
“I miss him so much,” Ginny finally whispered, her voice breaking. “It doesn’t feel real.”
Ron jumped at the sudden sound of her quiet voice, it was unnerving hearing her sound so broken. His gaze turned to his little sister, willing to comfort her, yet painfully aware that he lacked any effective means to do so. Instead, he reached out and clasped her cold hand, a silent gesture of understanding and support. Words, they both knew, were insufficient to mend this wound, but maybe a simple touch could provide some solace.
“He’d kill us if he saw how fucked up we are,” Ron admitted after a few moments of silent hand-holding, his voice quivering.
Ginny nodded in agreement, her tears glimmering in the dim light as she clung tightly to her brother’s hand.
After what felt like hours of silence, when in reality it was only a few minutes, Ginny spoke, “You’re not considering joining the Aurors, are you?” She sniffled.
“Gin, this isn’t the right time...”
“I won’t let you.”
Ron stayed silent, fully comprehending her fear, but making clear that now wasn’t the moment to discuss his future. Instead, he brushed away a tear from her cheek and drew her into an one-armed hug, holding her close as if to silently promise her that he would do whatever it took to stay alive. Ginny, obviously feeling overwhelmed by her emotions, started crying into his shoulder, her heartbreaking sobs muffled by his shirt.
“It’s just not fair!” She hiccuped, gasping for air. “I want this nightmare to stop!”
He felt his heart shatter into even more pieces when he heard the raw despair in her voice. Lost for words he simply held her tighter, as her sobs wracked her shoulders and reverberated through his own body. Battling the hot burning in his eyes he struggled desperately to remain strong for her. He ached to absorb her grief but the overwhelming helplessness only added to his own pain. After a few almost unbearable minutes her heart-wrenching sobs gradually subsided into sniffles. Eventually she lifted her head and mumbled an apology, her eyes still glistening with tears.
“It’s okay. No need to apologize.” Ron gave her a reassuring smile.
He couldn’t deny the deep concern he had for his sister. Seeing her break down like this was a stark departure from the strong, resilient girl she had always been. Ginny, having grown up surrounded by brothers, was known for her toughness, and her desperate tears were a proof of the immense grief they were all feeling.
Ron’s thoughts once again turned to Fred. He imagined him sitting somewhere up there, perched on a cloud, likely growing quite annoyed by the thick blanket of grief that had settled over the Burrow. But in addition to the grief over his brother and the constant worry for his family, there was something else that had been weighing heavily on his mind, something he needed to share very desperately before it became too much. As they sat there in silence he wrestled with the idea of opening up to his sister. Just as he was about to dismiss the thought, reluctant to add even more to her burden after her heart-wrenching breakdown, Ginny beat him to it as she turned to him, her voice still hushed. “You know, Ron,” she began, her brown eyes fixed on him with intensity, “I can tell that something else is bothering you besides Fred.”
Ron’s heart started racing at her words, wondering if she had suddenly become a professional in Legilimency. His cheeks turned a shade of red that was even visible in the dim light.
“What do you mean?” He asked, while swirling his lukewarm tea, before placing it back down on the table in front of him, hoping his sister couldn’t see right through him.
“I’ve noticed something’s different between you and Hermione.” Ginny gently placed a hand on his arm. “Come on, Ron. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, something has changed. As soon as you’re in the same room, there’s so much tension you could cut the air with a knife. I can sense that you’re both uncomfortable. All these furtive side glances. Something’s obviously different.”
Ron knew that he couldn’t evade the truth any longer and let out a weary sigh, slumping back in his chair. “Well, yeah, we’ve been through a lot together. It’s hard not to…feel...something.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Come off it, don’t take me for a fool. It’s painfully obvious that you’re head over heels in love with her. You’ve been for ages. It’s about bloody time you two sort it out.”
He stared at his hands, noticing how his scars wove their way through hundreds of tiny freckles, before closing his eyes and admitting the painful truth, “I’m afraid of screwing things up.”
His sister let out a weary sigh and reached for his chin, gently lifting it up to meet her gaze. “Ron, I say this from the bottom of my heart, don’t be such an idiot! Life’s too short! You’ve seen that firsthand in recent years. You love her, so stop wasting time.”
Her words hung in the air, a silent plea for him to recognize the truth that had been staring him in the face. After a brief pause, Ron found the courage to share what really bothered him so much.
“She kissed me. During the battle. She kissed me…in the midst of everything...she just threw herself at me and kissed me.” Ron whispered as he briefly closed his eyes, remembering the moment he shared with Hermione in the Room of Requirement.
Ginny’s eyes widened in genuine surprise, as she tried to process Ron’s words. “She kissed you? Like…on the cheek?”
Now it was Ron’s turn to roll his eyes, as he heard the shocked disbelief in Ginny’s voice.
“With her mouth on your mouth and her tongue against your tongue kind of kiss?”
“Stop it!” Ron’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, and he shifted uncomfortably under her intense scrutiny.
Ginny couldn’t help but chuckle, her teasing nature surfacing. “Wow, I wouldn’t have expected that from her.”
He sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. “That’s what confuses me the most.”
“So, what was it that made her bold enough to jump on you? What did you do?”
Ron chuckled softly, recalling the moment. “I think it was me trying to save the house elves trapped in the kitchen.”
“I see,” Ginny grinned, suppressing a laugh. “And what happened next? Did you kiss her back?”
“Yeah, of course I did!” The memory of that moment replayed in Ron’s mind, his cheeks reddening even more as he recalled the intensity of the moment.
“About bloody time!”
Ron rolled his eyes again. “Come on, now. Give it a rest!”
Sensing the seriousness of the situation she stopped grinning. “Sorry, it’s just so unexpected. I thought you two would never figure it out.”
“We haven’t figured out anything. That’s what’s bothering me. We were kind of in the heat of the moment, and, well, nothing’s happened since. We haven’t had a chance to talk about it yet, and it’s eating me up.”
Ginny laughed softly, shaking her head. “You two are so bloody hopeless. Honestly, Ron, it’s crystal clear that you love her, and she feels the same way about you. Everyone knows. Even Charlie, who has no friggin’ clue about love mentioned it! Just tell her.”
Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his teacup. “This all sounds so much easier than it actually is.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t already told her how you felt when you were at Bill’s place. Bill told me you stayed at her bedside for three days and refused to leave her side.”
His shoulders tensed slightly at the memory. “Well, we had other things to worry about. I was more concerned about getting her back on her feet. It didn’t really matter what I felt. She and Harry were more important.”
Ginny leaned back in her chair, and Ron sensed her eyes on him, the weight of her gaze heavy on his exhausted body. He was aware that she was observing the exhaustion etched on his face, recognizing the sleepless nights he endured due to his tormenting thoughts.
“But this is exactly what I mean,” she insisted, her eyes locking onto his eyes with determination. “You’ve been through hell together, unless you’re waiting for another battle to happen so you can make a move?”
His eyes met hers with a serious, almost desperate expression, silently pleading for guidance. He knew that her words held a truth he couldn’t deny, yet his uncertainty still held him back.
“What’s the problem, Ron?” Ginny asked with sincerity, all traces of humour gone from her voice, as she waited tentatively.
“I don’t know.” Ron mumbled, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his own indecision. His gaze dropped to the table briefly before returning to meet Ginny’s determined eyes.
“Why?” Ginny demanded, her frustration evident in the way she exaggeratedly slapped her hand against her face, a theatrical expression of disbelief. “You love her, she loves you. End of story. What’s holding you back?”
He sighed, the tension in his posture softening as he allowed himself to open up a bit more. “I don’t wanna lose her,” he confessed.
Ginny fixed her gaze on him, her expression growing more serious. “Really, Ron, you have to stop being an idiot about this. The way you’re handling this makes the risk of losing her a thousand times higher.”
“I don’t -” Ron began to protest, but Ginny cut him off harshly.
“Pull yourself together, Ron!” Her words were sharp, almost like a wake-up call. “It’s not like Hermione’s going to wait forever! She made her move, she put the bloody quaffle squarely in your court. It’s your turn now. Tell me, can you bear the thought of her marrying some cool Quidditch bloke, like Krum for example - someone she doesn’t truly love? Because if that happens you’ll wish you had gotten your pathetic arse up and come out into the open!”
“No, of course not! I can’t stand the idea of her being with someone else,” Ron huffed out in frustration as he ran his hands over his face.
Ginny, observing his turmoil, crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, a knowing look in her eyes. With a subtle raise of her eyebrows, she gave him a small nod. “See?”
“But I still hope that maybe she’ll bring it up herself.”
“What if she doesn’t? Do you plan to keep waiting until you’re one foot into the grave?”
Ron’s anxiety was palpable, and he could feel the weight of his emotions pressing down on him, similar to the suffocating grasp of the locket. “I’m just so afraid of messing it up,” he admitted again, rubbing his tired face again, his voice filled with self-doubt. “I’m not good with words.”
Ginny’s expression softened a bit, her brown eyes seemed to bore into him. “Hermione loves you, Ron. She kissed you, for Merlin’s sake. Are you really that daft? This is Hermione Granger we’re talking about!”
He swallowed and nervously fidgeted with the fringes of the tablecloth. “I’m so terrified of messing up our friendship and making things awkward.”
Ginny shook her head, her voice firm. “Ron, things are already awkward between the two of you! Life’s too short. You both deserve to be happy. If you don’t talk to her, if you keep avoiding your feelings - and her feelings - you’re not only hurting yourself but her as well.”
He nodded slowly, the weight of his sister’s words sinking in.
“Go talk to her!” She urged. “Now!” Ginny gestured for him to leave his stone-cold tea and go to the bushy-haired witch, who was sleeping upstairs.
Taking a deep breath, Ron tried to steady his nerves.
“What are you waiting for? Talk to her. Now! And don’t be an idiot this time.”
“It’s the middle of the night, Gin. She’s asleep,” Ron pointed out, seeking a rational excuse.
“Then wake her,” Ginny told him firmly, pulling him to his feet. “Now go.”
He hesitated, considering waiting until the morning. Ginny’s determined gaze, however, told him otherwise. She raised an eyebrow and threatened, “Don’t make me wake her myself.”
Now Ron was convinced that his sister had practiced Legilimency, during the time he had been on the run with Harry and Hermione.
“She’s asleep. It can wait till the morning. I’ll talk to her after breakfast.” he protested again as he tried desperately to make his excuse sound genuine.
Ron felt a strong urge to wait until the morning. He knew that barging into her room in the middle of the night might not be the most considerate approach. He didn’t want to start their conversation half-asleep and disoriented, potentially making it harder for them to communicate effectively. On the other hand, he knew that his hesitation had deeper reasons. He was afraid that if he confronted her with his feelings now, he might not be able to find the right words or handle her potential reactions. He needed time to gather his thoughts, to ensure he could express himself clearly and be prepared for a potential rejection.
Yet, Ginny’s resolve was unshaken, “No, Ron, that’s completely out of the question. You will talk to her now cause otherwise you will lose your nerve and back out. I know you.”
Ron couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her persistence, muttering under his breath, “You’re an insufferable pain in the arse.” Despite his grumbling, he couldn’t help but feel grateful for her interference, because deep down he knew she was right.
Ginny smirked at his remark. “You’ll thank me later,” she said, giving him a reassuring smile, while placing her hand on his shoulder in support.
He ruffled her hair affectionately, and in response, she tried to playfully hit him on the head, but couldn’t reach up, causing them both to laugh.
“You better not mess this up, or I’ll give you a piece of my mind,” Ginny warned, her playful tone hiding the genuine concern she had for her brother.
“Trust me, I don’t want to mess this up either,” Ron said with certainty in his blue eyes as he looked back at Ginny before glancing at the table. Noticing the teacups that were left, practically untouched on the wooden table, he looked back at his sister, “Erm, will you need help cleaning-”
“Don’t worry, I got it from here,” Ginny cut him off as she turned to clear the table the muggle way. “Go talk to Hermione, and please for Merlin’s sake, tell her how you feel!” Ginny added, and he nodded his head.
Before he left the kitchen, he turned to her again, “Erm, Gin?”
“No, you will talk-”
“I just…you know, thanks, I guess, for listening. Really, I appreciate the arse-kicking.” He said, shrugging. Ron gave her a soft smile, then winked at her. “Don’t tell the others, but that’s why you’re my favorite sister.”
Ginny swiftly grabbed a tea towel from the counter and flung it towards Ron’s retreating figure. However, he had already hurried out of the kitchen, leaving the green piece of fabric to land on the tile floor.
Part 2 coming soon.
41 notes · View notes
lunaglitchercc · 3 months
Text
...I sometimes forget, I am mostly callous when it comes to things that are creepy as hell or disturbing, Only specific things disturb me.
(TW: Disturbing images, Mentions of disturbing scenes and gore.)
I can be creeped out by big or small ass soul taking eyes or creepy smiles like in these image examples I found,
Tumblr media Tumblr media
And then I can just cassually watch anatomy videos WITH REAL PICKLED CADAVERS-
(For those who don't know, Cadavers are dead human bodies used for anatomy classes in places like college.)
-AND FEEL ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, I can watch horror of characters disfiguring and contorting into an abomination of nightmare fuel, I can watch a character's skin get ripped off the flesh, Jaw get ripped off, Organs be taken out- I've even watched somebody drop a cow's eyeball down a stairwell to see how durable it was and I felt nothing.
I sometimes watch people react to Happy Tree Friends to this day and just here and there stuff in those episodes make me cringe, Like Petunia slicing her own skin and fur off with a potato peeler...I don't like self harm.
I'm not sure if I should be proud of myself or concerned-
@kn1ghtr1dersthings @breemationfun @thebekashow @rapidbrychange @uzumakiramen1987 @leaf-and-jud @jaxsonthefirefly @1mono2-2possum1 @trasho-pando2011 @cringiestcroissant @ethanpig101 @fireofdoom17 @gokublacks-blog @silveradoboii @zedthevoidman @painnsuffering123 @jaydenblade64
20 notes · View notes
litsetaure · 7 months
Text
So…one of my favourite headcanons is that the Potter family are Indian. (Those of you who’ve read my Grindeldore/Wolfstar dancer fic might recall that Fleamont Potter, James’ father and the UK Prime Minister, is Indian in that. Funnily enough, our real life Prime Minister is a British Indian Hindu who became PM last year. On Diwali. Yeah, that was an…interesting day in the family. Still not entirely sure how I feel about it.)
Anyway - here are some headcanons about James Potter being Indian, some of which are based around how I actually grew up. (Note: there will probably be more as I think of them!):
When Holi comes around, James wakes the others up by pelting them with coloured powder. He does it every year and every year they fall for it. They also pelt everyone with coloured powder throughout the holiday. It took weeks for the paint to be cleaned fully. (Some people suspected Dumbledore deliberately let it stay like that because he liked the colours.)
Sirius got really angry the first time he heard someone call James a Paki. He doesn’t know what it means, but he never wants to see that look on James’ face again. He absolutely lost it when James told him what it meant. (For those of you who don’t know what it means, it’s an incredibly racist slur towards south Asians; along similar lines of using the n-word to a black person. This is also why James gets so angry whenever anyone uses the word Mudblood - because he knows how that shit feels.)
Sirius helps James create magical rangoli patterns during Diwali. They also take over the kitchen for an evening trying to make Indian sweets. The results are mixed-looking, but they all taste good, and the house elves get some great new dishes.
Every time a festival falls on a full moon, they always celebrate a few days after so Remus can join in. (He hugely appreciates the sweets.)
James initially wasn’t thrilled that his Animagus form is a stag, since a deer is the form one of the bad guys took in the Ramayana when he triggered the events that led to Rama’s wife being kidnapped.
When James’ father died, he had a traditional Hindu funeral. Traditionally, the eldest son leads the proceedings, but when James broke down, Sirius stepped in to continue. In that moment, James loved Sirius more than he could put into words.
James also taught the Marauders some Hindi so they could talk privately, as well as some Indian magic.
James, Lily and Sirius actually go to india for their wedding outfits. Lily also has magical mendhi patterns done by James’ aunts and cousins. James also had to gently explain to Lily that wearing white is associated with funerals.
Petunia showed up to James and Lily’s wedding in a white dress to try and upstage the bride. She’s very confused to realise a) Lily is not wearing white, and b) a lot of James’ relatives are looking at her weirdly, because she’s wearing a funeral colour.
At James and Lily’s engagement party, James’ aunties kept trying to set Sirius up with their daughters and teasing him about getting married. They shut up when Sirius snogged Remus in front of everyone. James wasn’t even mad that his engagement was briefly upstaged.
James has a book of Indian tales and legends passed down from his father. He read them to Harry at bedtime. Lily would smile and watch from the doorway. He also taught his friends some classic Indian songs to sing to Harry.
Every year on Raksha Bandhan, James ties a rakhi on Sirius’ wrist and charms them so they’ll never come undone. One night, Sirius noticed the threads of one of them coming loose. That night was October 31st, 1981.
49 notes · View notes
cannibalizedyke · 2 years
Text
My Girl
Tumblr media
Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 248
Warnings: Mentions of migraines, ibuprofen, and reader says once that she feels like dying. Really just hurt/comfort fluff tho
Summary: Steve comforts you after a bad day.
A/N: This is written for my dearest @decadentpaperduck, I hope you like it TJ!
General Taglist: @gg-is-a-loser @yesshewrites1
Moots: @iheardarumorthings @thewritingbabe @scandalous-chaos @ddejavvu @winterwisteria @abibliophobiaa @roxetteblack @plumes-de-nuit @sapphireplums
You stared at the wall, blinking, trying to feel a little less like your head was going to explode. You groaned, falling back on the couch and covering your face with your hand.
"Hey, baby, are you okay?" Steve plopped down beside you and pulled your head into his lap.
"No," you said weakly, laughing a bit. "Got a migraine and I feel like dying."
"Well we can't have that happening." Steve grinned, ruffling your hair. "Have you taken anything? Ibuprofen, Tylenol, anything?"
You shook your head. "Haven't been able to get up off the couch."
"I'm gonna get you some medicine. Make you some tea and some soup too, all right? We can put on whatever movie you want, baby, and cuddle while we watch it." He leaned down and kissed your forehead. "I'm gonna get you feeling a-okay."
You laughed as he gently set your head down and walked into the kitchen. "Could you make me the tomato soup, please? And passionfruit tea, it's in the purple bags. If it's not too much trouble."
"Nothing's too much trouble for my girl," Steve insisted, grabbing a can of your favorite soup and reaching up for the box of tea bags. He quickly whipped up the food and drink and brought it over to you with two ibuprofen pills. "There you go, honey, you'll feel much better after you take that stuff."
You smiled. "Thanks, Steve."
He leaned over and kissed your temple. "Again, anything for my girl."
596 notes · View notes
Note
Could I request Hades from Record of Ragnarok with a plant goddess reader?
Tumblr media
He straightened the lapel of his jacket and brushed an imaginary speck of lint off the sleeve in the mirror as he got ready for the meeting.
“You look very handsome.”
Hades looked over his shoulder through the mirror at his love as she came into the room. “And you look radiant, my darling.”
She smiled at him and came up to wrap her arm around his shoulder. Straightening one button on his jacket. “These meetings are so tedious.” He bemoaned. “Must we all come together to vote on this thing? Don’t they know I’m a busy man?”
“A half hour once every 1000 years is not going to kill you my love.”
The god of the underworld chuckled once at his bemusing beauty’s little quip. “Have you thought more on your vote?” He asked as he turned away from the mirror. “I know you were thinking about it.”
“My answer is still no.” She answered. Wandering over to her favorite fig tree in their room. “You won’t change my mind.”
“I would never dream of changing your mind, if that is what you wish.” He told her. “Humans are no friend of mine. But I’m surprised to hear you’ve given up on them.” She, who was always so kind and forgiving towards others.
“They’ve given up on me.” Her hand waved over the small tree, and it shuttered in her presence. Growing a delicate flower blossom before forming into a bud, then a full ripe fig, as she spoke. “They destroy the land. Poison the seas. Their avarice knows no bounds as they continue to strip and rape that which was given to them, and I was once happy to provide, but it never ends. Their torment of my children knows no bounds.” The fig fell out of the tree into her hand, and immediately rodded. The warm, wet, festering clump of fruit spilling over into her hand. “They have to be stopped. For the sake of what’s more important.”
“You’ve grown more bitter in your old age, my darling.” The god swayed slightly, more the humor her, when she punched him in the arm at her slight. “I can’t say that I don’t agree though. It was one thing before, when they were just monkeys with their little walls and rocks. But now? Seems more of a kindness to end them now than watch them destroy themselves.”
“We can all always try again later.” She agreed. Her warm smile some how off-setting in this context. “But, let’s get going. We don’t want to be late.”
“Yes of course,” Hades agreed as he offered her his arm. “We’re not animals after all.” To which she laughed.
128 notes · View notes