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deceptive-daydreams · 1 year

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Smoke Signals

Chapter Five - Cold Eggs

W/C: 6K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mentions of drinking

Some early morning honesty on the rocks. Eddie is fucked. In every sense other than literal.

A/N: I'm getting giddy over these two please tell me yall feel the same

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The Munson bachelor pad wasn’t as boyish and messy as you initially thought. You were sober enough to make that observation. It was cozy, much like your own home and was around the same size. The kitchen was probably the messiest part of it however you didn’t get a peek at the bedroom which you assumed could also be very disheveled. There were cereal boxes left open on the counter, Cocoa Pebbles being the one that caught your eye along with a neglected box of Rice Krispies that laid on its side.

A few too many pots and pans cluttered the stove top and some empty cans of soup and Spaghettios were left to collect dust near the sink. His refrigerator held a collection of magnets, some being letters from the alphabet, although quite a few were missing, and others were ads from a pizza place and a few fruits and vegetables with cartoony faces. Among the mess on the counters, you also noted a few empty liters of soda and some crushed beer cans. Budweiser to be specific.

Other than that, the living room you’d been sitting in was tidy. There was a clearly used checkered blanket bunched up on the corner of the couch you’d been occupying for the past several minutes and a few car catalogs littering the coffee table along with a copy of Lord of the Rings, bookmarked with a coupon for ground beef clipped from the local ads. Next to that, an ash tray nearly overflowed.

His wallpaper wasn’t as ugly as yours, which you envied. It was maroon with even darker stripes alternating, creating a dark but homey atmosphere. The wall sconces on the other hand, we’re tacky. They looked more medieval than anything, almost like torches. The light wood floors contrasted with the walls and at your feet was a frayed rug that looked like it had seen better days. Not dirty, just tattered.

In the corner sat an acoustic guitar painted with the words ‘this machine slays dragons’ and next to it was an electric guitar, red with cracks of black. You’d never seen one like it before and it seemed to be well loved from what you’d heard every day, the endless guitar solos bleeding into your eardrums daily. At least he was getting his money's worth out of it.

You continued eyeing your surroundings, taking in the habitat that was Eddie Munson’s home when your gaze lands on a particular object that piqued your interest. It sat atop a shelf near the door, a lonely Garfield mug.

Before you could further examine the mug or even think of reasons as to why it was displayed, if it was even displayed, or perhaps it was abandoned in a hurry out the door, Eddie emerges from the bathroom just off the living room. His curls are now wet ringlets toward the bottom, and instead of wearing your puke, he wears a red sweatshirt that reads ‘Indianapolis, Indiana’ on the front along with some baggy black sweats. Despite his comfy clothes, his face is still decorated with that grouchy frown you’d grown used to. Did this man ever relax his face? His eyebrows were still pinched together either in thought or in irritation.

“I-um, I’ll wash the shirt and um the–the boots.” You stutter, rapidly standing from your perch at the edge of his couch.

Though still a little tipsy, more coherent thoughts flooded your mind. Guilt plagued you as you thought about the blanket of barf that coated his shirt and boots about a half hour earlier, abandoned on the front porch. You were smart enough to avert your gaze when he lifted his shirt off of his torso just to let it wrinkle up on the wood planks to be dealt with later. It wasn’t your fault that you’d caught a glimpse of the tattoos that adorned his body, some kind of dragon if you remember correctly, wound from his waist up to his ribs. The others you didn’t have long enough to distinguish their imagery, though there were several along with what appeared to be some scarring of some kind. You couldn’t be sure, the darkness from the night not allowing you a clear picture along with your hazy mental state.

“Don’t worry about it.” He dismisses while you bashfully sit back down on the edge of the couch.

It was hard to grasp whether he was pissed at you or just at life in general. You would take full responsibility for the vomit but everything before that was on him. Yelling at you over a pile of broken plates seemed far more degrading based on his tone, the way he reprimanded you and painted you as this stupid girl, unable to stand your ground. Maybe it was better that he fired you, you wouldn’t be subject to his obnoxious mood swings where he seemed to take everything out on you when shit hit the fan.

You continued watching Eddie move about his surroundings, taking in how he interacted with his day to day environment. What did he look like fully relaxed? Lounging around, playing his guitar without a care in the world. It was difficult to picture; the image of a moody man with a tensed facial expression the only one you could seem to conjure up every time rather than the vision of him with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, enjoying coffee out of that stupid Garfield mug. You wonder if takes his coffee with cream and sugar. Maybe just cream? Or just sugar? Maybe he drinks it black, that would be the most sensible option if you were going by his grouchy nature.

“Gonna find my keys, then we’ll go back to the bar to get yours.” Eddie decides, shuffling through some items on the kitchen counter.

The irony.

Agreeing with a hum, you allow yourself to lean further into the couch while trailing your finger over the faded plaid pattern, lines of beige crossing over white that temporarily held your focus. The clinking of empty beer cans against the linoleum counter can be heard, and then footsteps into the bedroom just off the living room to your left. Two idiots with misplaced keys under the same roof.

It feels as if the couch begins to mold around you, welcoming you into its springy cushions that otherwise wouldn’t be very comfortable but considering the night you had and the state you were in, you felt like you were on a cloud. Your thoughts drift back to curious visions of Eddie. What did his hair look like first thing in the morning? Was it as wild as you imagined? Curls sticking up every which way, frizzy and matted? Or was it somehow still perfectly messy? Boyishly messy.

Did he take those chunky rings off every night, leaving them on his nightstand until the morning? How many more tattoos did he have? What movies did he watch? What did he do for fun? You suppose plucking at his guitars was a main contender with the way it would constantly invade your ears. Obviously he read, your eyes catching that copy of Lord of the Rings on the coffee table again. Maybe he worked on cars too, based on those car part catalogs.

The image of him working under the hood of a car, all sweaty in some kind of tank top occupied your brain, his usually tense face hard at work with grease smeared along his cheek. And his hands. His hands would be coated in oil and he’d pull a rag out from his back pocket to wipe them off. Then he’d smile and reveal those deep dimples framing his face so perfectly. And then you would–

“Uh, Bambi?”

Eddie’s voice doesn’t do much other than cause you to stir in your sleep, snuggling a pillow while curling into yourself. You were nearly drooling, completely content. He couldn’t help but stare a little longer than necessary before realizing what a creep he was being. Was he supposed to wake you? If he was, he felt wrong doing so with how peaceful you looked. He rolled his eyes but truthfully, he didn’t mind having a guest for the night.

Maybe he’d be able to get some sleep for once.

–

Tossing around as the springs beneath you squeak, your mouth feels like it had previously been filled with sand. Not an ounce of saliva coated your tongue, you were severely dehydrated. You flung the knitted blanket that had rested on top of you off–when did that get there? You don’t remember grabbing a blanket before drifting off into a deep slumber.

This wasn’t even your house.

Collecting your thoughts, you recall that you had been sitting on Eddie Munson’s couch before apparently falling asleep. It was still dark outside, signifying that it had to be early in the morning which meant you’d only slept for maybe two or so hours. A lamp set atop a beat up side table in the corner was the only thing illuminating the room now. Sitting up and stretching, your bones ached from the way they were piled on top of each other in the position you had been sleeping in. Your right arm had pins and needles running up and down it from being cut off from circulation for so long.

The groan that threatened to escape you was held in your throat as you scooted forward, only to find a full glass of water right there on the coffee table. This was beyond embarrassing, this was humiliating. If you could scurry out the door and across the yard back to your place you would, but you were in this predicament due to your own negligence.

With no other options available to you, you gulp down the lukewarm water, just grateful that your tongue was no longer dryer than the Sahara desert. But it still wasn’t enough. Your thirst seemed unquenchable, at this rate you’d need approximately five more glasses. So you stood yourself up, legs shaky and stomach a tiny bit queasy, and wobbled over to the kitchen. You’d have to pace yourself to avoid throwing up a bunch of water since your stomach was so sensitive right now. Food was out of the question but water was a necessity.

Twisting the sink handle with a small screech of the metal, you fill the glass with a shaky and weak arm before sipping away.

Slowly. You remind yourself.

It must have taken around eight minutes to finish that second glass of water, coaching yourself through it the entire time. You grew tired of drinking it but persisted anyway. As you reach to fill a third glass, you’re startled by a figure in the doorway to Eddie’s room, unable to make out any features in the dim lighting. With a yelp, you manage to drop the glass in the sink, it clanking around noisily but thankfully, not breaking.

“Shit, why are you awake?” Eddie asks, hands raised in surrender as he emerges from the shadows.

“Why are you awake?” You counter.

He raises a brow, clearly wide awake. He didn’t even have that gravelly, sleepy voice. Maybe he hadn’t even gone to sleep at all. There was no evidence that his hair was any frizzier than before and his face didn’t have that puffiness to it when you wake up. It’s also possible that he just looked perfect when he woke up but if you’re being honest, no one really woke up perfect.

“I, uh, I was reading.” He admits, scratching the back of his head.

“Oh.”

An awkward silence trickles in, causing you to cross your arms as a means to close in on yourself, steadily backing up until you hit the counter behind you. Eddie maintains eye contact with you as he retrieves his own cup from one of the cabinets, filling it up and chugging it down with ease. You suddenly feel so out of place, like you were supposed to leave but there was nowhere else to go.

“I, um, I’m sorry for…for the puke. A-and for falling asleep. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You tell him honestly.

He only nods.

“I can go…sit on my porch until you go into the bar. And I’ll get my keys and be out of your hair.”

A few drops of water roll down his chin as he continues drinking, the back of his hand coming up to swipe the liquid away. He appears to be lost in thought, eyes concentrated on the counter in front of him where a few rogue Rice Krispies live. You let your legs carry you a few feet away, your goal being the front door until he speaks up again.

“I’m not gonna be responsible if you get eaten out there.” He grumbles.

“Eaten?”

Eddie looks you up and down as if to say ‘are you serious?’. To be completely honest, you hadn’t taken into account the wildlife that thrived throughout the area before you moved in. Now you were looking more and more dumb by the minute.

“Bears?” He offers an anxious head tilt. “We have fucking bears here, Bambi. You can’t just wander around in the middle of the night.”

“I wouldn’t be wandering.” Why were you trying to make an argument? Out of all the things you could fight him on, why were you choosing whether or not you’d get eaten by a bear? “I would be sitting on my porch.”

You felt like the dumbest woman on the planet and you knew you should’ve stopped talking but the words just…came out.

“Bears can reach your fucking porch, you know that, right?”

His large eyes bored into you in disbelief, his mouth slightly hung open as he awaited your answer.

“Y-yeah.” You gulp.

“God.” He scoffs, turning away from you, perplexed before muttering something under his breath that you happened to also catch. “Christ, they shoulda turned you away.”

“Who?” You pipe up, feeling a bit daring.

For a moment, he turns to stare at you blankly. It’s almost as if you’re the only two people awake and if either of you happened to raise your voice in the slightest, it would awaken the town.

“The assholes that sold you that house.” He just about whines, his voice an octave higher, frustration obvious in his tone.

The refrigerator light briefly appears over the blue and green tiled floor as Eddie opens it, reaching for something before turning around toward the stove and kicking the door shut.

“What–what do you mean? Turn me away? What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask in offense.

“I mean…” He cracks an egg into a pan, followed by another. “They shouldn’t have sold it to someone so clueless.” Another egg.

The shells are discarded in the sink, further cracking into smaller pieces at the impact he’d thrown them.

“What? Were they just supposed to reject me until someone more ‘qualified’ came along?” You try to catch his gaze, ducking your head as he reaches for the salt and pepper. “And–are you seriously making eggs right now?”

You earn a scowl from him as his pan begins to sizzle, his hand quick to grab a spatula from one of the pots on the stove to flip the eggs. This had to have been some weird dream or manifestation. And there they were again, those three numbers falling from his lips in a whisper as his eyes shut temporarily while his eggs simmered.

“I was already qualified before you came along!” He raises his voice, not quite to a yell but not very quiet either.

Silence.

Your eyes must have bulged out of your head, Eddie’s features softening by the second. Regret settled in his eyes, your face the vision of pure horror and all because of him.

He got impatient.

His therapist would be disappointed in him. And so would Wayne.

“I-I just…I was going to, um…” He starts calmly. “I was gonna buy it. And, and I was—” His breathing is now shallow, his eyes wet and pleading. “It–it was–I don’t–”

“Eddie.” You whisper, trying to break through whatever trance he was in.

He seemed stuck in his own head, eyes darting back and forth while he struggled to find words. The eggs were on the verge of burning which prompted you to reach over him and turn the stove off. The spatula he previously held clung against the tile.

“I-I–um, I was–”

It’s as if he isn’t even in the room, totally removed as the same few syllables fell from his tongue.

“I’m–I-I–”

“Eddie, it’s okay.” You attempt to soothe him. “Do you wanna sit down?” You ask, trying to catch his eyes but failing as he squeezes them shut.

Again with the counting.

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

All under his shaky breath.

“I-I’m fine. ‘M fine.” His voice cracks, eyes opening timidly.

When you go to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder, he flinches, a gasp leaving his lungs. Forcing yourself a few steps backward in order to provide him the space he needs, you recognize a hint of fear within him. It’s not of you, it’s something else yanking at his thoughts.

“Sit down, let’s sit down, okay?” You instruct, gradually lower yourself, waiting for him to follow your actions.

Nodding, he slowly slides his back down the side of the counter, falling into a position where his knees were to his chest, hands resting against the floor. You join him, still keeping your distance but wanting him to know that despite the previous tension, you were being supportive through his episode. Whatever it may be.

“Breathe.” You tell him, just as he had done with you back at the bar. “In…and out.” You encourage him.

He follows, his breathing still labored but improving. Continuing for a minute or so, his shoulders finally loosen up, his face relaxing. You let him guide the situation from here, if he wanted to talk or remain mute. Either was okay.

Moments pass, the hard kitchen floor causing you discomfort that you willingly take, not daring to shift around too much as to keep the tranquility finally falling over the two of you. Instead, you take interest in the wood grain of the cabinets, eyes wandering around each curve like a maze, sometimes identifying shapes along the way. A dog’s face, a ghost, and occasionally the haunting silhouette of a human.

Sneaking a glance at Eddie, you find that his eyes are shut as he rests his head against the cabinet behind him, his hands fidgeting with the strings on his hoodie, tying little knots and then undoing them just to repeat the process. Your watch indicates that it’s 4:03 AM. You would usually be sleeping however you can’t really offer yourself much sympathy when it seems this is the norm for Eddie. He always had tired eyes though you’d never put much thought into it until now. He must not be sleeping. Which could also be a contribution to his moodiness.

“I’m gonna lose the bar.” Eddie speaks up from beside you, eyes still shut as he continues to fidget.

“Hm?” You turn your full attention to him.

There’s a pause, a moment of thinking. You can tell as he opens his eyes and side-eyes you, not with malice but more so to collect his thoughts. Lips pinched in between his teeth roughly, you could almost wince at the way blood surfaces from the poor abused skin. Not too obvious, but obvious enough as you await clarification, the tiniest bit of crimson seeping out from behind his teeth only to be left to dry out on his perfectly shaped lips. Then he breaks the silence with a heavy exhale.

“I, uh, I’m pretty close to losing it. Can barely pay the bills on the damn place. Been going downhill for a few months now.” He elaborates, spinning a ring around his finger repeatedly . “I was gonna use the rest of my savings that my grandpa left me to buy that house. Rent it out. I talked to a friend who’s really good with all that financial shit and he said I could get a steady income and most likely keep the bar running and profiting again.”

“Oh.” You whisper, a huge sensation of guilt overtaking you.

“Not your fault.” He sighs. “Guess I’ve been kinda taking it out on you.”

Now he avoids your gaze, far more interested in the cracked tile beneath him. A curse can be made out from just under his breath while he buries his head in his hands, running them up and down his face, almost as if to relieve some of his stress but having no such luck. His admission catches you off guard, not at all suspecting that this morning would turn into honesty hour.

“No.” You reply quickly. “I mean…yes. But I-I didn’t know. If I knew–”

“Don’t give yourself a stroke, Bambi.” He cuts you off, turning to look at you. “I’m not proud of how dick-ish I’ve been. It’s nothing personal though.” Eddie confesses, seemingly annoyed with himself.

Sincerity floods his eyes, a cry for help. But how were you supposed to help him? Before you can muster up some kind of response to his almost-apology, he continues.

“I-uh, I just can’t lose this bar. I inherited it from my grandpa and he had been running it for…years.” Behind his persistence, there’s hints of defeat. A bitterness that you’d come to recognize in the last few weeks. “And, uh, I didn’t know ‘im for very long but, I kinda feel like it’s my responsibility.”

“Didn’t know him for very long?” You asked before even calculating the consequences. You had no right to pry into his personal life.

His hands begin to move up and down his shins, a self-soothing gesture from what you can tell. Eddie was very fidgety, and you’d only just started noticing.

“Yeah.” He whispers. “I moved here like four years ago. Some bad shit happened back home and I–” There’s a moment of hesitation, a sudden panic lurking behind his gaze. “I can’t go back.”

You want so badly to ask him where ‘home’ used to be but decide against it. He had already willingly offered you more information than you would have originally been brave enough to ask for.

“Anyway, I never really knew my grandpa until I came here to live with him. He died last year. I’ve been trying to keep things afloat since then.” He explains, pinching the bridge of his nose with a shaky hand.

“I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t know.”

Genuine sympathy drips from your voice, the kind that felt like hot honey running down a sore throat during flu season. During the moment it feels…good. Comforting. In the way that only his mother ever was in the brief time they had together. And then the sting returns.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.” The walls are rapidly raised once again and god knows when you would get to peek through the cracks again. “We should, uh, we should get to the bar so you can get your keys. And your car.” He suggests, pulling himself up from the floor with a groan.

“Wait–what about your eggs?” You mention, gripping the edge of the counter for leverage as you stand.

The eggs were long forgotten about, now all sad and cold in the pan. Unappetizing. One of the yolks had somehow broken among the commotion of Eddie’s panic and left a disgusting coating around the gaps, that eggy-wet-dog smell nauseating you. They were trash in all honesty but Eddie didn’t seem to mind, quickly lifting the pan and grabbing a fork to shovel them into his mouth.

You can’t fight the urge to stare, cold eggs and runny yolks being tossed into his mouth without a second thought.

“What?” He glances at you in irritation.

“You could’ve at least heated them up.” You complain, nose crinkled in revolt.

He rolls his eyes but his annoyance quickly melts away, a fraction of a playful smirk pulling at his lips, eyes gleaming with something captivating.

–

The scent of tobacco and motor oil invades your nose, the smells of Eddie’s truck, much different than the little pine tree air freshener in the car he’d driven you in last night. The engine rumbles down the road, startling the birds as he drives by. Some kind of guitar riff blares through the radio, his ringed fingers tapping along against the steering wheel. Instead of his sweatshirt and sweatpants, he now wears a long sleeve covered with his leather jacket along with some ripped up blue jeans. As far as you’re concerned, he’s way underdressed for the brisk morning air, only getting colder and colder by the day. Though, he may run hot and the drop in temperature just doesn’t faze him. Even so, it’d make you feel better if he at least put on a heavier coat.

Regardless, you can’t seem to control the shivers that rattle your body, your teeth nearly chattering, jaw clenched tightly. You were mentally scolding drunk-you for forgetting your jacket at the bar and though you were on your way there now, it didn’t do you any good with the way you were practically an ice cube. It was apparent that the heater of Eddie’s truck wasn’t very efficient as the air coming out was slightly warm but not warm enough to relieve the cold nipping at the exposed skin of your arms. You could see your breath, only further reminding you of how cold you truly were.

Attention was the last thing you wanted as you subtly moved your hands that rested politely in your lap, up your arms to offer the tiniest bit of skin-on-skin warmth. Any kind of relief would do. You only hoped he wouldn’t notice as you began to move your hands back and forth as a means to create some friction, more heat.

Buy a large, fuzzy, soft coat, ASAP. You note to yourself.

As a distraction, you begin to identify objects within the truck, a solo game of ‘I spy’ if you will. At your feet, there’s a small crate of cassette tapes. An impressive collection, mainly metal and rock from what you can see. Maybe a few folksy ones behind those based on the labels, John Denver being the one that stood out to you. Then, another car parts catalog on top of the dash. An empty can of Dr. Pepper in the cup holder. Or what you assume to be empty. A definitely empty cigarette carton abandoned in the other cup holder–

“Shit, here.” Eddie says, reaching behind into the back seat only to magically pull out a denim jacket covered in several patches and pins.

Evidently, you weren’t playing it as cool as you thought, clearly somehow exposing that you were in fact freezing. He showed no emotion as he urged the jacket into your reach, eyes still focused on the road. Your hesitation only had him pushing the denim into your hand, wordlessly cautioning you that he wouldn’t have your modesty or insistence that you were fine. Clutching the rough fabric in your hand, you pause to stare at him, as if he was going to change his mind any second. He doesn’t. Only keeps his eyes forward, brows furrowed in that grumpy manner.

His nose is pink again and you were willing to bet that the tips of his ears matched if they hadn’t been hidden by his wild hair. Even his cheeks were dusted with the lightest rosy shade. Fall looked good on him. You couldn’t even imagine how amazing Summer would look on him.

Quickly, you undo your seatbelt and shrug the jacket on. It’s cold from living in the truck all night but warms you up regardless, much cozier than your bare arms out in the open. And it smells like Eddie, a smell you can’t quite pinpoint to one specific thing. A little bit like cigarettes, maybe a hint of cologne, spicy but not overpowering, and a whiff of rubber. It almost smelled like a garage.

The sun was just rising on the horizon, the lake coming into view perfectly as if to put on a show. Hues of orange painted the sky, birds chirping and squawking as they announced the arrival of a new day. An apricot dream accompanied by peachy tones.

–

The Bourbon was a shell of itself at 5:00 AM. The morning was bright and early though the bar wasn’t ready to awaken just yet, not until the evening when it thrived. Until then, it slept peacefully throughout the day, forgotten about until Happy Hour. Ribbons of light snuck in through the blinds, illuminating the smallest sections of the tables and the floorboards.

The lights quickly took over that magical early morning feel as Eddie emerged next to you, hands tucked into his pockets while you scanned the room. And there they were, your keys. Sat right on top of the bar just as you had remembered. Your jacket, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Bummer.

You could’ve sworn you grabbed it from the back lockers before you declared war on Eddie last night. It wasn’t there either, your locker devoid of your belongings other than a pad of paper and a pen.

“Have you seen my jacket?” You ask Eddie, checking the barstools just to be safe. Nothing.

He had slipped right back into work mode, even at the crack of dawn. You suppose it's fair though, the information he had shared with you in the quietest hours of the morning resonating in your mind. Work never stopped for him.

“Hm? No, I haven’t seen it.” He answers, collecting the dirty rags from their designated bin behind the bar to start them up in the wash.

With a soft pout, you trace your steps in your head but can’t seem to recall where you’d left it, your brain failing you. Maybe it would eventually pop up again, it wasn’t anything special anyway. It just happened to be one of the heaviest jackets you owned so you would have to remember to stop by one of the shops to search for something equivalent. Beginning to pull your arm out of the sleeve of the jacket you currently wore, Eddie’s voice stops you.

“Just–keep it ‘til you find yours.” He says. Like he knew.

Were you that obvious? Girl moves to a random town miles and miles away from home only to be unprepared for the weather conditions in which you would think she would be aware of before committing.

“No, it’s–”

You immediately shut up when you see his expression, something that says ‘for the love of god, just listen’ with glaring eyes and furrowed brows. Instead of fighting him on it, you offer your gratitude in the form of labor.

“Um, I could stick around…and help. If you need.”

Your words float in the air, so delicate it makes him want to vomit; not out of disgust but out of confusion for whatever feeling was swirling around in his head, making him dizzy. Each word was too sweet, cavity inducing sweetness that he wanted to lick up like icing. He wasn’t used to being presented with such regard, a candied offer delivered right from your pretty lips to his ears.

“If I still have a job.” You add. Sugary syllables pouring from your lips unintentionally. He may have a heart attack from the amount of sugar.

Eddie collects himself, clears his throat as if to also clear his conscience, not succeeding. You’re so unlike everything that he knows. He knows of friendly conversation and boyish banter, endless nights followed by endless days without sleep, he knows of his shitty attitude that comes around more often than not, but he’s never been one to know pure kindness, a certain tenderness radiating from you and seeping into him. Sure people are kind to him, especially here. But you’re something else.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course you have a job.” He affirms.

The small smile you grace him with makes him want to jump off of a bridge. Because he is such a cruel being, such a monstrous man awaiting further punishment from the universe for being much less than gentle with such a sweet-tempered, sympathetic human that may even be a gift from god himself if Eddie believed in all that.

And then Chrissy crossed his mind. He could not endure another loss. Chrissy was never even his but he used to mourn what could have been had she lived. Perhaps she was his first love. A miserable little middle schooler pining after Hawkin’s Sweetheart all the way up until highschool. And the moment he got close enough, she was gone, right in front of his poor traumatized eyes. It was enough for him to swear off love for good.

For some reason he was finding himself wanting to dial back on that promise. He had only known you for around two weeks and was going back on his own word. It was freaking him out, making him want to yank his hair out from the roots and collapse onto the floor. He felt like a teenage boy again, going through puberty and trying to work out all of his jumbled feelings and hormones.

You were staring at him expectantly and it was only then that he realized he had been lost in thought. A pool of thoughts actually. Maybe even having a revelation?

“You can uh…” He clears his throat, nearly hacking up a lung. “You haven’t…you haven’t eaten, have you?”

Internally, he’s scolding himself.

You’re gonna get hurt before you can even get close. People are not meant to love you, Munson. It’s been proven time and time again. Quit while you’re ahead.

He was too far ahead anyway. Would he ever learn his lesson?

People are not meant to love you.

“No.” You answer sheepishly. “But I-I’m fine!” You try to say convincingly. The reality was that your stomach was swallowing itself, the fact that your dinner had been four tequila shots was not favoring you.

“Bambi.” Eddie says sternly.

God she’s gorgeous.

He was fucked.

“Okay…fine. I haven’t eaten.” You admit. “But I can help out a little and then–”

“C’mon.” He demands, abandoning the bin of dirty rags to head for the kitchen.

And on the way, he reasons with himself as you follow.

Just be friendly. There’s nothing wrong with being friendly. We can be friends. Stop scaring the shit out of yourself. She wouldn’t even like you beyond that. No one would.

“So, what are you feelin’?” He asks, knocking his knuckles against the metal worktop.

“Oh, I-I don’t know. Whatever is easiest. You know what, I can just go get something from one of the shops, I’m sure that little pancake place is open by now.”

“You don’t trust my cooking?” He jokes, amusement written all over his face.

To be fair, he hadn’t given you much reason to trust him since you arrived. But somehow, layers were starting to peel back and you were getting the tiniest glimpses of his true self. And you’d be stupid not to indulge when he had practically propped the door to his mind right open. At least for the time being.

“Should I?” There’s a huge grin on your face, a stupid grin that you try to conceal but can’t. “I dunno, you kind of have me wondering if you’re gonna spit in my food or something.” You quip.

“Ouch.” Eddie feigns hurt by bringing a hand to his chest. “You think I’m that scummy?” He asks, raising his brow playfully.

“Oh, the scummiest.” You banter back.

“You’re breakin’ my heart Bambi.” He frowns before disappearing into the walk-in freezer, discarding his leather jacket on a hook on his way.

Truth be told he was breaking yours too, with his handsome face and his dumb smile, deep dimples you could think about for hours, and those eyes. They told a story, a tragic story that maybe he would never care to share. And that’s what broke your heart. Suffering in silence. You knew that feeling all too well.

“By the way…” Eddie shouts from the freezer before appearing once again. “I’m Eddie.” He sticks his hand out toward you, two eggs held in his free hand.

You look up at him, bewildered.

“I never asked for your name.” He reminds you with a shit-eating grin.

The Eddie you met weeks ago was gone as far as you were concerned. All within a few hours, he seemed to warm up to you.

The scary dog was rolling over…for you.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiemunson95 @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #eddie munson au #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things au #stranger things fic

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ghostly-penumbra · 1 year

Text

DannyMay 2023. Day Thirty-one

"Free Day"

Ao3

Warning: (Continued) captivity. Puking.

- - -

When Jason was kidnapped by the Ghost King, less than twenty-four hours ago, he didn't think he would be sleeping for a while, but maybe the stress of the kidnapping and the subsequent thrashing of Danny's —his jail-mate, it seemed— room (with Danny's enthusiastic permission and encouragement) had left him drained enough for him to doze off briefly —or maybe dissociate, which would be understandable—, and he came to himself still sitting in Danny's sofa, whilst his jail-mate sat on his bed —out of arms reach—, hands on his knees and gazing at nothing.

Jason groaned, rubbing at his eyes through his domino mask.

"Good. You're awake."

Red Hood looked sharply back at Danny, who was now looking at him with the trace of an awkward smile on his face, when just seconds ago he had looked, well, dead.

"Are you- hungry? Do you need anything? Other than freedom, that is, can't give ya something I don't have myself."

Jason snorted despite himself, and that got him a more genuine, if still small, smile from his jailmate. He stood up and wobbled on his feet, taking a hand to his head and cursing softly at the sudden dizziness. "Shit."

"You okay, man? How are ya feeling?" Danny asked him, coming warily closer.

Jason ignored him and sprinted to the door that he had deduced led to the bathroom, and soon enough he was kneeling next to the toilet, barfing his guts out with an intense, burning acidic feeling going up his throat.

"What the fuck is that?" He asked in between heaving, ragged breaths.

Whatever the fuck had been inside him was a dark green mottled with red spots of blood and smelled of decay and rot.

"Ugh; not good, is what it is." Danny, who had been hovering a couple of steps away, said. "Is that all of it, or is there more?" He asked.

Jason was about to snap that he was fine, mind your own business very much, but his words caught in his throat, and a determined expression set itself in Danny's face.

He flushed the toilet, and knelt behind Jason, placing both hands on his shoulder-blades, sending a pulse of cool energy and something else to him, and said, his voice even, "Get it all out, don't hold a thing back. I got you."

And with that little push, Jason resumed throwing up, getting rid of that putrid ooze, with Danny's hands a balm that spread to the- to the very core of him, making it bearable.

Once he finished and Jason was back in his jail-mate's couch, taking hard, open-mouthed breaths and with said jail-mate pressing a cold glass of water on him, he managed to croak again, "What the fuck was that?"

Danny put the glass in Jason's hands and made sure he wouldn't drop it before he answered, "For the looks of it, rotten ectoplasm."

"... what?"

"Think of running water, if water had life-preserving, life-giving, and resurrecting properties," Jason's eyes widened in recognition, and with Danny looking at him, he must have seen it even with his domino on, "now imagine it going stagnant for, how long?"

"... centuries." Jason answered.

Danny made a face at that and recoiled. "Crude." He said. "How long…?" He asked again, and once again, Jason knew what he meant.

First, though, he emptied his glass of water, feeling the cold liquid sooth at his sore throat. "I was fifteen back then, so, four years."

Danny whistled low. "Dude, that's like- that's just- damn! How did you survive that long with that clogged in your system?"

"With unpredictable, uncontrollable bursts of blinding green rage, of course." Red Hood snorted with annoyance.

"That's… one way your body may have tried to get rid of it…"

"Dude, what are you going on about?" Jason asked now.

"Look, man, I'm really no expert, I'm not a doctor of any kind, but my parents are, and I've been around the Zone for four years now, so I know a wee bit about us halfas and-"

"What's a halfa?"

"... sorry, what?"

"Halfa. The other guy said it too, when we summoned him. What is a halfa?" Jason said it clearly, looking Danny in the eye.

Danny opened and closed his mouth once, twice, only to end up groaning in distress and holding his head in his hand.

"Four years without clean ectoplasm, it tracks, it tracks." He said, obviously to himself. Red Hood's jail-mate breathed in deeply and looked back up at Jason. "Okay, we're gonna start from the beginning, but I need you not to flip out, yeah?"

Nodding, Jason sat up, "Lay it on me." He said, determined.

And so, Danny did.

… later, if Danny was upset that his room now sported a fist-shaped dent, he didn't show it.

#Danny Phantom #DPxDC #DannyMay 2023 #DannyMay2023 #dannymay #day thirty-one #free day #Jason Todd #Danny Fenton #Halfa Jason Todd #Ghost King Vlad Masters #ghostly-scrypts #lmao half a month late but here it is #captivity #puking

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theapangea · 1 year

Text

Hawkins High Confessions

Characters/Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader, Billy Hargrove, Robin Buckley

Summary: You accidentally confess your feelings for Steve Harrington in front of the whole school.

Warnings: None, Embarrassment??

A/N: I really really like this fic so I hope you do too!!

Request me anything in my bio <3

Hawkins High.

Home of the Tigers.

The typical middle American high school, stuck in the suburbs, decaying away as the years continue to pass. The weather stained panel ceilings and worn outer bricks hold the next generation of citizens practically begging to not be there.

The bell blares through the speakers of the hallways and courtyard, signaling to all students the beginning of the 7 minute long passing duration to get to first period. Suddenly the school becomes overwhelmed with laughing, shouting, shuffling kids trying to move their way through the cramped, long hallways.

Eyes wandering along the dozens of passing faces that you’ve known for most of your life. You and Robin maneuver your way through the herd of students. Saying your goodbyes before parting ways, counting down the minutes until you can regroup again at lunch.

Strolling your way to the front office, taking up as much of the passing period as possible before your inevitable morning with the one, the only, Billy Hargrove. Your face contorting in disgust at the sheer thought of him.

Hawkins Morning Announcements was not your first choice for extracurriculars. You would have much preferred photography or theater or literally anything else besides having to do this silly little talk with Billy every morning. But you guessed this is what you get for getting caught smoking behind the bleachers. Though the punishment could be worse. The foul taste of Billy sitting by you every morning for 180 days out of the year makes you want to barf.

Well actually has made you barf. Beginning of the semester, right after he tried to kiss you, right into the principal's trash can. Not a pretty sight.

Walking through the open double doors into the front office area, minding your own as you observe your shoelace becoming loose.

And then it hit you.

Stumbling back, your textbooks suddenly falling all over the floor.

He hit you. Your mind racing at the abrupt collision.

“Shit, sorry.” The voice says, just audible enough not to be considered a whisper.

Regaining your balance as you follow his movement to the floor, piling the textbooks and loose papers. Racking a hand through his brown locks as he straightens up, handing you the collection of school supplies.

Steve Harrington hit you.

“Y/N, right?”

Steve Harrington is talking to you.

Nodding your head in affirmation to his question, eyes immediately darting away. You haven’t had much interaction with Steve other than giving him a pencil in math class when he forgets (which is almost every other week) or a quick smile while passing in the halls.

He shoves his hands into his front pockets, rocking back on his heels. His demeanor is friendly, his lips lifting up slightly in the corners. He wasn’t as cold as you had imagined. And oh did you imagine being this close to him often . “I’ve got to go.” He utters after a couple of silent moments, flashing another sweet smile before walking past you.

“Yeah.” You breathe as he is already gone.

Pathetic .

How pathetic can you really be is all you can think. To basically have Steve Harrington standing right in front of you and barely be able to speak a single word to him. Slumping your shoulders as you continue on the way to your final destination.

The chatter filling up the space as the room is full of middle-aged women attending to students and daily duties. Your mind is still floating as Steve Harrington swirls through your thoughts. Turning the handle of the door marked Announcement Studio , flicking the lights on in the enclosed room before placing the messy stack of books in your hands on the table where two microphones and a switchboard station sit on top.

Overhearing giggling coming from the front desk area, you stick your head out to investigate, only to see Billy Hargrove, in all of his unwanted glory, flirting with the office secretary. You really can’t believe these women fall for his act.

You watch as Billy winks to the secretary before walking your way, the light giggles still follow even after he is standing right in front of you. His walk is confident and maybe, just maybe, if you were completely drunk you would give him a chance. But sober you has full control now and doesn’t want anything to do with him.

He is irritating, persistent and overall probably the most annoying person you have ever met. And for some reason he seemed as if he enjoyed sitting in the cramped room with you every morning. Shoulder to shoulder for the first 10 mins of the school day.

Leaning against the door frame as he passes you. Walking closer than he should have been, pressing your back against the cold metal that seeps through your shirt. The heat radiating from his body, your noses almost touching

“You love me.” He whispers, his breath of pure cigarettes. His mouth pulled into his annoying signature smirk.

“Let’s just get this over with before I barf… again .” Your voice follows him into the room. Plopping into his designated seat while pulling your seat open for you. His arm finding its final resting place along the back.

“ Baby ,” the words falling so easily from his lips, “how about you just stop with this whole act of you not liking me and we go take a trip out to my car after this little party.” His pointer finger waving in the air as if he is trying to cast a spell on you. You smile and then laugh. Really having to hold in any amusement that you were having at Billy trying to make advances at you again .

Sitting down in the empty seat, prepping the switch board and microphones as the seconds grow closer to morning broadcast across the school.

“You’re killing me.” His head tilts back, the subtle whine in his tone as the word drags, echoing more in the small room. “Come on, you know you want me.” His fingers play with the ends of your hair that fall down your back.

“That’s definitely a negative.” You shake your hair, wiggling out of his grasp.

“Fine then who do you like?” He crosses his arms over his chest. Puffing that his usual tricks weren’t working on you.

You straighten up at his words, side eyeing as he watches, “None of your business.” You freeze for a moment, just a moment , hoping that it wasn’t long enough for him to tell.

Oh but he did . He can tell how anxious you got over the little question. Could tell how you swallowed abruptly, your brain going a hundred miles per hour trying to think of a good answer. Any answer to get him off of your case. Leaning forward, his head resting on his knuckles as his elbow rests on his knee. Studying your face. “Tommy Hagan.”

“What?”

“The guy you like, Tommy Hagan.” He sounds almost proud of himself.

You’re now looking directly at him. “ Ew , gross. No.”

“Patrick…” He stops to think for a moment, snapping his fingers hoping that will somehow make him remember, “Patrick Wright.” His pointer finger aimed in your direction.

“No.”

Then it was as if a light bulb had switched.

“Steve Harrington.”

“Ok we’re so not doing this.” You basically snap, fixing the pieces of paper with the announcement script in front of you.

“So you do like Harrington.” He laughs. Laughs . At you for liking Steve. How could he laugh? How could he not realize that before his sorry ass got to Hawkins that literally every girl would pay anything to sleep with Steve.

“I-never-said-that.” You say right away. Barely any breath between your words.

“You didn’t have too.” The melody of his words string your lies together.

“Shut up,” was all the comeback that you could think of.

Billy leans in close, “Just admit it.” Grabbing one of the microphones to plug it in. Adjusting it to side perfection by his mouth.

“I will not,” speaking through your teeth.

“Can’t say he’s my particular taste.”

“Well no one asked you, did they?” Rolling your eyes.

The bell blares again through the now empty hallways. The hundreds of students packed neatly within the closed classrooms.

Steve finds his normal seat in the back of the full class. Sliding into his desk as he lets his backpack hit the floor. His fingers lightly tap against the wooden desk as he glances at the clock.

Another dreaded Monday morning. His tired eyes fall heavily as the conversion between the two of you fades quickly. The chattering of the students falls silent as the intercom comes to life. The static filling the classroom before Billy’s voice plays throughout the school.

Billy: Good Morning Hawkins High. It looks like it’s going to be a great day in paradise. Please stand for the Pledge of Allegiance.

The class of students stand, lazily placing hands over their hearts as they all face the flag near the door. The groggy voices follow along to yours and Billy’s voices.

You and Billy: I pledge of Allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands. One nation, under God, individual with liberty and justice for all.

You: You may now be seated.

The students shuffle back into their desk. The squeaking sound of the metal stoppers against the panel flooring sounding through the small room.

You: This is a very special week for Hawkins as the winter formal is just around the corner, do you know who you’re asking yet?

Billy: I sure know who I’m going to ask. Say, Y/N, any idea on who you’re going with.

You: I guess it’s still too far out to know yet, Billy.

Billy: I can surely think of someone who should ask you.

Kicking him instantly after his comment. The words shut up following just under your breath before you continue.

You: Principle Coleman wanted us to remind you all to remember to throw away all your trash in the yard after lunch.

You and Billy: Let’s keep this school clean!

Billy: We also want to give it up to the Tiger’s Basketball Team for a great game last Friday. Though we lost 3-7, it was still a great game.

You: I agree with Billy. Our Tigers are not ones to miss.

Billy: Especially a certain player.

The inaudible words of I am going to kill you towards Billy fall from your lips. The speakers hold the moment of silence as the hundreds of kids can hear some kind of commotion on the other end.

You: Well that’s all the news for today.

Billy: We hope you have a great day Hawkins High

You: I’m Y/N Y/L/N

Billy: And I’m Billy Hargrove,

You and Billy: Signing out. Go Tigers!

The static immediately disappears as the switch is turned off.

The teacher stands from his deck, chalk in hand as he begins to write on the board. The class settling in for another uneventful history lesson. This was definitely not going to help Steve stay awake.

But just as the words of some war were leaving the teacher’s mouth, the intercom comes to life. The static quickly fading as Billy’s voice fills the hallways and classrooms once again.

Billy: Ok, seriously just admit it.

Dozens of students are looking between each other trying to figure out what is going on.

You: Admit what?

Billy: That you like Steve Harrington and maybe I’ll leave you alone.

The class practically gasps in union as all students, including the teacher, turn to look at Steve in the back of the classroom. His face washes white, hues of soft red forming on his cheeks as he sinks lower into the plastic seat.

And as much as he was embarrassed by the whole interaction, he had to admit that he was a little bit curious. He hadn’t talked to you much in the past but he couldn’t say that he didn’t at least find you a little attractive.

You: I’m not going to admit anything if it isn’t true.

Billy: Baby, It’s just you and me here. No one's gonna know outside this room.

You: Ugh, fine.

There is a pause. The entire school on the edge of their seats as they wait for the next words to come out of your mouth

You: Yeah, I like Steve Harrington.

—

“Happy?” You question. Almost happy yourself to finally get that secret off of your chest, even if it was to someone you despise.

But before Billy could answer, the door frantically flies open to showcase a heaving Robin. Her face bright red, her body heaving from the loss of breath as she points towards the dashboard.

Following her pointer finger across the room to the small table where the dashboard sat. Realizing then that the small red light signaling that your microphones were on. The small red light signaling that the private conversation that you and Billy just had was broadcasted across the entire school.

The color in your face completely washing away at your realization that Steve just heard your confession.

“More than ecstatic.” Billy’s grin overcomes his face, his teasing laugh playing in your ears.

And all you could think about at this moment is Oh shit.

~~~

Part 2???? Let me know what you think!

#Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington fanfic #Billy Hargrove x reader #Stranger Things x reader #Reader insert #Stranger things #Robin Buckley #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x fem #Hawkins High Confessions #Theapangea

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thebottomfromhell · 10 months

Note

What the demon kids do when their parent reader when he is not feeling well ? İ really liked your parent figure reader

This one I will make it GN, you have also asked me by chat to make one of Mother reader, but that one I will leave it for later.

To keep the GN terms, the kids will be calling Reader "Oya", which means "either mother or father" or "both mother and father" depending on the context.

GN parent Human Reader get's sick and is taken care by their demon kid

Warnings: Mentioned cannibalism, Emeto (not in a kinky way, obviously), Other gross content related to bwing sick.

Daki (ft. Gyutaro):

"OOOONIIIIIIIIII-CHAAAAAAAAAN" Daki screams at the top of her lungs. Your head already hurted bad enough, to the point you keep you eyes close, the light of the district is too intense, just like the cold (but it's mid summer). You can hear Gyutaro groan as he gets out of Daki's back, the sound of flesh forming and streching being as gross as the flavor in your mouth. Your stomach contracts, you forced yourself to eat normaly before coming and now you are regreting it. You can feel the phlegm and some acid pieces of what you ate at your throat. "SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH MY OYA! HE IS RED AMD TREMBLING!" You can feel the older brother's hand in your face, feeling a pleasant cold against your skin. That is weird, Daki is the cold one, Gyutaro has always felt too hot before.

""Your aya" is sick. Ne. Piece of shit! Why are you worrying my sister, ne?! If you are sick you should have stayed in bed!" You want to say that you are fine, but the pain and content in your throat don't let you. Of course you would get sick. You were fine enough when you left home, besides the lack of appetite. Still, that is coming back to you, you throw up, making Gyutaro back down to not get himself dirty, at least not more as some barf reaches his pants as he was kneeling before you. "EEEWWWW!" Daki reacts a lot more than him, who just looks a bit disgusted before actually hiving orders to her. "Take Y/N to our room to lie down. Get tea, a lot of tea, and some incense too. I will clean myself, find things to re-stock and see if I cat get medicine or shit." She does as told, getting you into some beddings, letting yourself cover up. She knows how to boil a good tea, that is part of her job, she sometimes also uses incese when some clients just smell awful, so she can do that too.

The air is hot, also the drink, but it helps a little. Still, you are very tired, you want to sleep, but Daki stops you. "No! Onii-chan said you needed a lot of tea! You only had a cup! Drink the whole keetle!" She orders before serving you more, fully trusting her brother's choice. You obey as she keeps helping you drink, kneeling besides you, moving crawling in a rather childish way. "Will you be ok?" She asks worried, still not letting you sleep, not knowing if she is supposed to. She never took care of anyone like this, never had to since Gyutaro was the one who helped her when she got sick, not the other way around.

You use your energy to keep your eyes open and smile to her as she reach your hand and presses it against her cheek, thankfully you already finished a small keetle. "I will be fine, Daki. I promise, I just need to sleep." Even the hoarse tone in your voice is painful, but she nods, not letting your hand go, as she watches over you. She won't let anything happen to you.

Kaigaku:

Kaigaku still remembers how it feels to be sick, is a very alive memory, as if it was yesterday. But yestarday he was a demon, just like today, and so he can't get sick. He is still getting used to that idea, but you? You are a human, you can get sick. You are sick. "You are an idiot, you oya." He says as he puts a piece of cloth he just cooled down with father in your forehead as he doesn't let you get out of bed. Kaigaku has a fair idea of what to do when someone is sick, he has seen the adults on the temple take care of other children, and more often than not some were asked to help taking care of the younger kids.

As you might guess, he hates doing this, taking care of others. In his eyes it was always a waste of time, one can barely survive on their own and everyone else wants them to think about some other. Really, he never allowed anyone to see him vulnerable, unless it was what he needed to survive, but besides that... he had pride, ambitions, he wantes to rise from where he started, and so he never let anyone take care of him when he was sick. Kaigaku wonders if he would having met you before being turned into a demon. "We don't have medicine, you will have to sleep and sweat this off." He says as he rubs gently the piece of cloth, it heated up too fast for his liking, making him scoff.

"Thank you.... for taking care of me." You tell Kaigaku in a weak and tired voice, so far he has been doing a good job with it, which thank goodness. You might just pass out, your throat is irritated, your eyelids heavy, and everything is too hot and cold at the same time, fluids in your body make it hard to breath and your head just feels as if something burning was preassuring into dizziness and sting. The kid is not only showing he cares by nurturing you this time, but he is putting an effort, which you refuse to leave unnoticed. He stops himself for some seconds.

Nobody has ever thanked him before for doing this things, noticed the discomfort or effort he put, treated it as if it was "his responsibility to the others, since he is older and has been through the same situation". It's nice... to not be taken for granted. You are nice to him in general, the only adult that cared for him not because he cares about orphan children in general, but cares about Kaigaku.... "Just rest for now, I will take care of the rest." That was what it took for him to care too, and that is enough. You do as he tells you, trusting that you will neither feel better when you wake up... or feel worse but be in middle of healing, still, both are good.

Zohakuten:

Ok, Zohakuten is not panicking, of course not. He is the strongest form of Uppermoon 4, the mix of the four clones and the best protector the main body will ever have! Of course he can deal with anything! "Fu- uuuuuurgh..... I feel like I will pass out....." Except now you are throwing up, skin red and trembling violently. THE FUCK IS ZOHAKUTEN SUPPOSED TO DO?! He never took care of anything that is not the main body, and that was only killing those humans who hunted him down, taking advantage of his smaller size! The cowardice! The evil!

"Wait. Wait. Don't pass out here. Don't...." he stops talking to back off the second you start to gag, clearly wanting to throw up. Really, what is he supposed to do?! He has never been sick! He is a demon! And he has never been around anyone sick! He has no idea what to do! "Can... can you hold it up? Just for me to take you home?" He asks looking around, as if someone or something would tell him the information he needs or calm him down. You nod, feeling both stomach and throat contracting in acid and heat, already smelling the vomit. It's disgusting, but your whole body feels disgusting as it's sweaty and snotty, without adding how tired you feel.

Zohakuten uses his drums, playing in the lowest volume he can as he commands his wooden dragons to bring you both home. To your home, where you should be able to rest. Rest will heal this, right? Maybe eating something? Demons always heal faster after eating, but he feels is not the case as a sudden movement makes you ho to the edge of the dragon and throw up whatever you ate the last. Not for the first time Zohakuten wishes he could physically meet the rest of the clones, to have someone to guide him. You have taken up that rol, but now you are not in position to tell him how to take care of this. "Oya...."

He grabs you in his arms once you botth arrive, helping you into the beddings. "I will bring some tea. Please stay awake." It takes him a while as he goes back to the kitchen as he remembers to add more water, to filter the leaves and to boil the water, but he manages to bring some tea. "Tha-thank you..." damn, it hurt to speak, but you still smile at the kid. He looks at you a bit sad. "Sorry... I'm not good at this." You spend the rest of the time awake comforting him, until you do pass out because of the headache and tiredness. It seems Zohakuten got creative you did, because you woke up with a kidnapped doctor taking care of you... you'll talk to the kid once you feel better, not before, so he gets out without being scolded this time. This. Time.

#demon slayer #kny #upper moons #zohakuten #daki #kaigaku #gyutaro

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shadowqueenjude · 11 months

Text

Vassa

I see quite a few people who ship Lucien with Vassa and ask why Lucien stans want Lucien with someone who doesn't want him (Elain) so I just wanted to address this: 1. We don't actually have any confirmation Elain doesn't want Lucien. Is she avoiding him? Yes. But that's because she's running from her problems, the mating bond on the top of her list. When she was begging for Graysen to take her back (barf), she still managed to say "His name is Lucien." Am I really supposed to believe she hates him? Nesta was avoiding Cassian too but it's canon that she still wanted him. But she didn't want the mating bond. Elain is similar in this way. And going after Azriel is an easy way to avoid her problems. She has had a ton of time to reject the bond and hasn't, which is telling.

2. It may seem superficial to think about, but Vassa is a human. Lucien is immortal. There is no way for this to work unless Lucien bounds his life to hers like Lorcan, and I just don't see that happening, because Lucien is destined to play a bigger role in Prythian which would really make binding his life to a human's unfeasable. 3. Neither Lucien nor Vassa is interested. Lucien is canonically seen to be looking at Elain with longing at the end of ACOSF. "Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing." And I'm pretty sure Vassa is into Jurian (a pairing that makes sense since they're both human)

“And Jurian and Vassa?” “At each other’s throats, as they like to be,” he said, a tad sharply.

Vassa rolled her eyes, then looked to Lucien, who sank onto the sofa beside Jurian. Like the Fae male had settled similar arguments between them before. Sounds like Lucien is the middle man between Jassa. 4. Vassa is not like Jesminda. Yes, they're both described as wild, but Jesminda's was described as a carefree, joyful spirit whereas Vassa's wild is described as warriorlike. Besides, being similar to somebody you did love doesn't mean you're going to fall in love with them too. 5. I think people underestimate the depth of Lucien's love for Jesminda. In this way, Lucien's story is kind of similar to Rowan's, only Rowan was hoodwinked by a spell. Lucien, on the other hand, loved Jesminda so much he genuinely believed she was his mate. The only kind of love that could ever compare to that is his true mating bond, which in Faelore makes marriage seem insignificant. Rowan, too, could never get over Lyria until he met his true mate, Aelin. 6. I'll be the first to admit I'm disappointed with Elain thus far. But it is canon that we haven't seen all Elain has to offer yet. And I believe once she gets her head out of her ass she'll be perfect for Lucien. For one, they're both excellent speakers, despise violence, have been constantly underestimated and frankly disrespected by the IC, both lost their first loves in a painful manner (I know Elain's love isn't dead, but he might as well be), were both ripped from their homes and forced to settle in a place where they're not very comfortable. 7. Only when Lucien arrived did Elain start to eat properly. Only when Lucien was there did Elain show her powers. Only when Lucien was there did she start to come out of her shell. Lucien was the only one who actually understood what she needed. I don't give a shit if Azriel discovered her seer powers; that doesn't make him a mate in any way. Understanding her power doesn't constitute understanding her. By this same token, you could say Lucien understood that Nesta's power was a cold fire first. Mates! Actually there's more evidence in favor of this since Sarah had originally made the two of them mates lol. Nesta asked Elain what she wanted and she said Sunshine. And it was constantly said that the Spring court would be perfect for Elain. Guess who is the heir to the Day Court and has serious connections with the Spring Court. Yes! Lucien Spell-Cleaving Vanserra! 8. Have you SEEN the elucien fanart??? You expect me not to ship them after seeing it?? I'm pretty sure Vassien was created so that people could get rid of Lucien in favor of Ewriel anyway.

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #band of exiles #the band of exiles #jassa #elucien #pro elucien #lucien spell cleaver #high lord lucien #elain archeron #ewriel

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yakumtsaki · 1 year

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Welcome back, beloved readers! Things have finally calmed down for me so it’s time to inflict this update on the world. When we last left off, BATSHIT FELINA SMASHED VICTORIA’S URN

-WHY IS IT NOT BROKEN?!?

Because it turned out there’s a cheat to repair urns, HA. In your face!

-I BROKE THAT THING FAIR AND SQUARE

Felina seriously, GO TO HELL. I freaked out thinking I’d have to either quit without saving (hadn’t saved since before SUGAR DIED) or I’d have to deal with Victoria’s missing character file. You’re not allowed anywhere near the mausoleum again!

-THAT’S FINE, I’LL JUST TRAP MYSELF IN THIS WALL UNTIL I DIE AND THEN YOU’LL BE SORRY

Bruh. I’ve had enough of this house, between the walls of death..

..the eternal yard fire..

..and the fact everyone is afflicted with a gross cold they keep passing around despite the fact I gave them medicine-

-I, a retired Mayor, was clearly the right choice to make medicine.

Well I thought you might do something useful for once, Shajar, but joke’s on me. Point is, it’s time to gtfo..

..to our new gigantic house! Look at all our crap on the lawn, and yes, I’m referring to the sims.

I unpaused for 1 second to check something and Barf and Failina (Barflina?) have re-become enemies?? Did you stop being enemies at some point because I completely missed it.

-We did but new house, new us!

It’s done! I went all out on this house for no discernible reason, let me give you the grand tour:

First floor! Man this house is a nightmare.

Foyer!

Luxurious pet room!

Kitchen!

Dining room!

Gambling room Library!

And living room!

Moving on to the second floor, Cyn and Sophie/Shajar’s bedrooms I kept the basically same as in the last house. The unfinished bedroom is Sugar and Sandy’s for reasons that will be explained shortly.

I really feel I made this house too nice for the Unions but what can you do.

Felina and Barth’s rooms in their ~signature colors~

And Liz and Sophito’s bedroom which is clearly all Liz.

Finally, on the little rooms on the third floor are the music room that @microscotch decorated❤️, and a lame room where we keep all our career rewards!

The mausoleum, which is unchanged other than I moved the pet graves in it and put them under each generation..

..and this is the yard! I kept it pretty much the same except larger-

-and I added a lake! We’re all done, time to unpause and enjoy long, safe lives in our new house..

OMG WTF

-YOU CAN’T ADD A FLAMETHROWER IN THE MIDDLE OF A FOUNTAIN, MORON -EVERYONE KNOWS WATER CATCHES FIRE

BRO. When I tell you guys the entire family almost perished in a FOUNTAIN FIRE. Incredibly fitting cause of death. Thankfully the firefighter heroically saved us and all is well! Now I can’t wait to play a billion sims and pets on this gigantic cc-filled lot with no further problems whatsoever!

Alright then! I had a feeling it might come to this, Sugar take Sandy and gtfo.

-I will but be warned, our absence won’t solve anything!

Ya, it sure DIDN’T. GROSS. Finally I turned off shaders and it went away, ok Sug, you and Sandy can move back in..

..and we can begin the ENDLESS task of getting all the skill points you lost to zombiehood back. And once you’re back at the top of your career and Sandy tops hers you are OUTTA HERE, you hear me???

-Ya ya, how many times are you gonna kick me out and move me back in? Admit it already, you LOVE ME.

Ok ‘love’ is a strong word-

-YOU CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT ME.

LET’S MOVE ON

It’s our first night in the new house and this is how Sophie and Shajar sleep.

-Close enough for me. -I’d like another wall between us, actually.

#itsover

-Ah, nothing like that first sip of whiskey before school!

Ya Barth, I’m a little concerned about your aspiration bar.

-Ah, nothing like the first four glasses of whiskey after shcool!

Ya ok, we’re calling the matchmaker this weekend.

Jimbo (the puppy we adopted to mate with Veronica, I don’t remember if I introduced him) grows up and he looks ICONIC

The difference between their necks LOL

It’s Sophito’s birthday and Liz’s is in a few days, so it’s time to get started on their death portraits. What a cheerful gift, Cyn!

Family reunion! Look at everyone all together, getting along..

..even Gunther came but completely ignored the party and went straight for the ballet bar, which legit made me emo, idk if you guys remember during generation 1 how obsessed he and Daniel were with the ballet bar, awww❤️ Alright, back to the party, go on Soph, blow your candles-

OH FFS

-SCREW YOU, FAILINA, IT’S BEYOND TIME TO HAVE OUR FIRST FIGHT IN THE NEW HOUSE -AGREED, AND I CAN THINK OF NO BETTER MOMENT THAN THE ONE RIGHT BEFORE OUR FATHER BLOWS HIS CANDLES IN FRONT OF OUR ENTIRE FAMILY

Ok are you done?? Is this over?? Let’s try the cake again, Soph-

-Sorry, it’s time for me to finally reconnect with iVan, huhu!💗 -Awww, I’m so happy for you, grandma Cyn!

-DON’T BE TOO HAPPY, FAILINA -FUCKING BRAT, I HAD MY BACK TURNED

OK YOU KNOW WHAT, FORGET IT

HERE, HE’S GROWN UP. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SOPHITO

-WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS FAMILY~👻

Ya idk, Victoria, you tell me, it’s your amazing DNA at work.

-YOU’RE AN EMBARASSMENT, BARTHOLOMEW -Well that hurts, grandma!

-Thankfully nothing a drink won’t fix!

Oh my- I’d like to clarify at this point that this goddamn party is still going on-

-when this simultaneous pet and human fight occurs:

It’s Jimbo vs Shinok..

..and Barflina vs human dignity.

-Oh no, babe, I can’t look! -How could this happen, we were such involved parents!!

And at the moment where Barth throws his sister through a window, the matchmaker rewards us with a genie lamp for treading the arduous path of excellence. I don’t know about you, but what I take from this is we are perfect and should never attempt to improve ourselves in any way!

#gen 4 #ts2 #long post

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carlos-in-glasses · 1 year

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Thank you for the tag @strandnreyes and @freneticfloetry and @lemonlyman-dotcom❤️

I like this little moment between TK and Owen in Flashback Fic and wanted to share.

By 8 p.m., TK is alone in his bedroom with only the desk lamp shining. He’s over on his bed, back turned on a half-hearted effort at homework. American History. Colonies schmolonies. Blah blah snooze.

He leans with folded arms against his windowsill, chin nested in the crook of his left elbow while he watches the snow clatter and puff against the glass. It’s coming down thick. Busy days and nights await Owen. He'll be cutting open cars to extract people freezing to death inside, and coordinating ice rescues, and inevitably putting out fires started by electric heaters. TK wishes he could be with his dad on those missions – in the teeth of it, doing something practical and useful. He’s no good in school but for that weird string of As in Biology - which is mainly down to Mr. Patel for being great at his job. It’s a drain on society that he has not dropped out. Yet, he can’t bear to suggest it to his parents, who are having an amicable conversation at the kitchen table right now. They can agree on their love for him, and their disappointment in him.

The muffled sound of their voices stops abruptly. He hears footsteps tread the floorboards, heading towards his door.

A single knock. Owen opens up without being invited. “Hey – I’ve got to head off now. I need to be at the firehouse bright and early. You're sitting in the dark?”

“You don’t want to stay on the pull-out?” TK sniffs. They’ve made the spare bed up for him a few times before. “It’s a mess out there, Dad.”

“I don’t want to be caught here tomorrow. It’ll take me too long to get across town.”

TK glances at his wet window, at the snow splattering on impact. “It’s the longest night,” he says, and it does seem unusually dark beyond the white drift.

Owen wanders over to squeeze TK’s shoulders through his purple American Apparel hoodie. “You feel cold. You need to eat – there’s a plate for you in the oven. It’s still warm.”

"I'm just not hungry."

"TK."

"I'll barf."

"You won't."

"I feel nauseous.”

“Because you haven’t eaten. Come on.” Owen tugs lightly at the white drawstring of TK’s hood and then harder at the hood itself. “I’m not going to stop doing this until you come into the kitchen.”

TK tries to brush Owen’s hand away, but Owen only strengthens. “Fine,” TK grunts. He’s in enough trouble as it is.

Tagging: @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @heartstringsduet @lightningboltreader @ladytessa74 @never-blooms @wandering-night19 @theghostofashton @reyesstrand @bonheur-cafe @chaotictarlos @taralaurel @largepeachicedtea @catanisspicy @chicgeekgirl89 @mikibwrites @irispurpurea @rosedavid @liminalmemories21 @basilsunrise - if you want to share! No pressure! ❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

#wip wednesday #My Fic #Flashback Fic #Do you think I should make a banner for non Tarlos-WIP scenes? I don't know if it's like false advertising #tarlos fanfic

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lmskitty · 4 months

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Made a little ficlet about teacher au Geto getting a cold while Gojo is out on a mission! It's pure fluff and can be found on ao3 or below if you don't wanna go off-site :) (written for @uotuok my partner in crime who deserves all the love. Go look at her art its INCREDIBLE)

A/n this is sett when the kids are like 13/14 so Megumi is still in middle school and getting into fights which Gojo and Geto try v hard not to encourage. The twins and Tsumiki go to the same school. Geto left the JuJutsu world of missions when he met the twins and has only started teaching now that the kids are a lot older.

*********************

Satoru stepped into the entrance of their home and called out.

“Honey I'm home!” He was met instead with silence and a distant sound of coughing. He frowned taking his jacket off and hanging it up, changing to his slippers. Where was his honey, he was home godammit!

He noted the mess on the stairs and their entrance hallway of teenage sneakers and sighed as he put on his slippers.

It was unlike Suguru to not call back a cheerful Satoru~! Or even meet him at the front door. He turned into the living room to see a bomb site of a mess and one very tired sniffling Suguru sat under their Kotatsu.

“Hi” he croaked.

Satoru got to his knees in front of him and put his hands on his face, his cheeks were roasting. His cute nose red and sore from blowing it with tissues and his beautiful brown eyes puffy. Satoru felt a panic spike in his chest, he had been gone for a week. Had his mental health gotten bad again, why hadn't Shoko messaged him? Why hadn't the kids??

“Oh baby what happened?”

“Kids got me sick. Don't you'll catch it” Suguru sniffed before erupting into coughs. Satoru sighed relieved, a cold he could deal with, the idea of Suguru alone and drowning without him there to help pull him up haunted him after their teenage years.

“Where are the kids?”

Suguru erupted into coughs before answering “Tsumiki is at her friend's studying, Megumi is at an “after school club” but I think he's fighting again and the twins are in Harajuku shopping. They may or may not have your credit card, I'll admit I've not been on top of it. They only got this cold for like a day but Ive been sick since Tuesday” he groaned. “I'm sorry, the house is a tip”

“Why didn't you call Shoko to come fix this love?” Satoru said gently stroking his check with his thumb.

“Tried, she's too busy. It's her weekend away with Utahime” he grumbled. He laid his head on the table. “ Stupid lesbians”

Satoru stroked his hair which clung to his face limply, lacking it's usual shine and chuckled. Poorly Suguru was always a little dramatic, Satoru hadn't seen him like this since the early days of getting the kids when they had started new schools together and had brought home every sickness bug under the sun. Satoru had been unaffected with his limitless and RCT Suguru on the other hand had walled himself in their bedroom only letting Shoko in to fix him from the stomach bugs that plagued them, refusing to let Satoru see him in all his vomiting glory. Satoru had pointed out he had seen him barf after curse swallowing plenty of times but Suguru had maintained his distance nonetheless.

Satoru kissed his head gently.

“Ok baby, you stay there. I'll fix this.” He said but Suguru was already closing his eyes.

It took about 15 minutes to set the bath and make a tea but when he came back Suguru was still laying there looking almost pathetically unwell.

“Up we go sweetheart” Satoru said lifting him easily. Suguru barely fought him and wrapped his arms around his neck letting his husband carry him up to the bathroom. Steam and the smell of lavender arose from the room as Satoru gently undressed him and helped him step into the water. He sighed at the heat before swallowing the cold medicine he offered with a peppermint tea.

“How's it feeling?”

“My whole body aches but this is good” Suguru sighed as Satoru began to gently wet and wash his hair with his special shampoo.

“I'm sorry I'm not ready to go to pound town like we promised” Suguru sniffed. Satoru laughed.

“I can pound you all you want later or vice versa. For now let me take care of you my love” he said kissing his husbands forehead. Suguru nodded, coughing again as Satoru rolled his sleeves up and got his hands deep into Suguru's hair massaging out what he could of his headache.

“You shouldn't kiss me you'll get sick”

“I can't get sick but I'll happily try” Satoru smiled, giving his husband a few more kisses for good measure. Once he was satisfied with Suguru's sleepy expression and his hair shone, Satoru kissed him again and left the room promising to come back shortly.

He surveyed the living room first making short work of the mess of tissues and takeaway boxes on the side, loading the dishwasher and chucking in the clothes Suguru had been wearing to the washing machine and turning it on. He then worked his way through the hallways, picking up the twins' items; they tended to leave their stuff everywhere unlike their sister Tsumiki who always kept neat and tidy, Mimiko tended to leave stuffies and books she had been reading wherever she sat whereas Nanako’s main offenders were bobby pins, hair ties and weird variations of spicy crisps. He binned the rubbish, bundled the items together and took them to their room, making a note to remind them to tidy it up later. Sure he was messy but he still had standards, he grimaced at their shared bathroom and the hairs on the shower wall deciding this was definitely a task for them and not their parents. He checked in on Megumi and Tsumiki’s room and found them spotless as always, smiling as he left the corridor and made his way to his and Suguru's floor of the house which contained their bedroom, bathroom and home office.

He listened in for a moment to their bathroom and heard gentle snoring from his partner and smiled as he left him to rest for a moment.

Their bedroom was a bit worse, it was clear while he had been away that Suguru’s health had taken a toll, he had gotten into a habit of coming home and immediately dumping his clothes/bag on their floor and getting straight into bed which was currently in disarray. Satoru opened the window and tried not to feel too guilty, it was part of their agreement now in exchange for Suguru leaving the Jujutsu world (aside from teaching) and missions behind him Gojo had to take on more which meant sometimes he would be away for a week or longer, sure he missed going on missions but he'd rather a happy Suguru any day of the week and normally his time away allowed them to really miss each other and get all ramped up and grabby the moment they got each other alone.

He picked up the several days worth of clothes that lay stranded, changed their bedsheets and repositioned Suguru's book pile on his side of the bed, binning the tissues and replacing the glass of water with a fresh drink too. Lastly he picked a pair of soft, clean pyjamas for them both and stripped off himself.

Suguru opened his eyes a little as he entered the bathroom and Satoru gently lifted him forward as he slid in the large bath behind him. He sighed adding more hot water as Suguru’s head rested against his chest, their legs entangling in the water as he wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. Suguru settled against him as Satoru stroked along his arms and chest.

“Sorry”

“Dont be sorry for being poorly-”

“I'm sorry for not telling you” Suguru said quietly. “Its embarrassing, you and Shoko can use RCT and I get knocked out by a basic cold.”

Satoru tilted his head to kiss him.

“You don't need to be sorry, I love you, you look after everyone you're gonna have to accept that you need looking after too and I'm more than happy to do it.”

Suguru smiled gently and laid back against him, stroking his husband's arms under the water.

“How are you feeling now?” Satoru asked and Suguru hummed.

“Better, but then with you I always do”

They settled, embracing the heat of the water and each other, napping a little. Later when Gojo lifted him out and dressed him in pyjamas and gently dried his hair they would remark on the pruning of their fingers and Satoru would make them all chicken ramen for dinner and Suguru would fill him in on all the school gossip and Satoru would present him with the souvenirs he had gotten him before the kids got home and bombarded him for hugs (including begrudgingly Megumi) but for now they were sated, warm and safe in each others company. Satoru smiled, happy to be home.

#satosugu #stsg #goge #gego #satosugu teacher au #goge family #satosugu family #satosugu family au

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