#*BITES AND BITES AND SHAKES AND SOBS AND SHAKES AND SOBS*

[sentientthing]

Reader adopts a big fluffy dog that's very opinionated, when and where walks happen is entirely the dogs decision. It's a good dog, perfectly pleasant but thick headed as a bull. Demands pets with authority a dog has no business having.

They love that mutt, got it from a shelter and doesn't have the heart to take charge when being a bit bossy is the only 'misbehavior' the dog ever shows, until it's walkie time in the middle of the night, new moon and cloudy, pitch black. Resigned you get the harness, leash and treat bag and bundle up. In a hurry to get the head of the house their wish you forget any kind of light, left your phone on your bedside table when you heard the grumbles of demands.

It seems to be a night for adventure, leash pulled taught in a direction you've never even walked by daylight and nose glued to the floor. The gates to a park at least let you know where you're going, not that you recognize the name, its far out of your usual range especially in the middle of the night. You cope by clinging to the 'scary dog privilege' even though the mutt never showed an ounce of aggression towards anything.

Looking around to not get caught off guard by a malicious stranger you miss your dog perking up, fixating a direction and taking off, the "STOP" leaves your mouth the second your body is jostled but its no use. You're dragged across the park, thankfully mostly grass but it still hurts. Digging your feet in is no use, hopelessly outmatched by the dog the shelter told you was perfectly sized for you. "Manageable my ass you stupid dog stop running!", you scream no care for time of day when you come to an abrupt halt, sliding a little on the muddy ground until someone grabs the leash and is immediately crowded by the traitor. All wags and tip taps, it'd be adorable if you weren't on your ass god knows where thanks to him.

"Bad dog thief if you can't even train one.", you can't place the tone, or read the strangers face through his balaclava. Thief? You would never steal someones beloved pet. "Fuck you, I'm no thief. He's from a shelter, if I wanted a free dog I'd get a stray." The amount of awkward eye contact that followed made your skin crawl, you shivered in discomfort from your mud caked clothes to the scary stranger starring you down. Was he not going to react at all? Your attitude had always been your biggest flaw. Why couldn't the floor just open up and swallow you whole? You were going to die for mouthing off for sure, or worse. "C'mon boy, home.", he was looking at you but definitely talking to the dog, voice even as he yankes you up by the leash and herds you after the dog happily trotting the way it came. Oh no, your dog was going to YOUR home, backtracking through the park, mindful of the grooves he, or rather you, left. Caring about tripping you now, between treating you like a crash dummy and a lamb to the slaughter.

The streetlights flickered back on one by one, the silent man at your back cast eerie shadows over you every time you passed one. You could barely breath, fear clogged your throat, choking you. Running was out of the question, he would catch you, no doubt in your mind. You didn't dare think about what your- well, his dog really would do. He might even be trained to bite, maul you to bits for the crime of displeasing his master. Tears threatened to spill over your lashes at the thought, you blinked them away as hard as you could, whatever he thought of you now wouldn't be improved by turning into a sobbing mess. No crying about whatever this was, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you dissolve, if he wanted to he would crush you either way.

Your front door looked like a guillotine, the slanted window that once charmed you now made your stomach turn. You fumbled with the keys, hands shaking in helplessness. When they slipped your grasp, a gloved hand reaches out from behind you and catches them, palm up, the keys to your doom cradled in the hand of death. Slowly, you lifted your hand to take the keys back. The thought to stab him with them crossed your mind, but you had no follow-up. You stretched your fingers towards the house key. The next moment, you were crowded against the door and heard the keys jingle. The hinges protest when the door swung open. Unsteady legs carry you inside, mechanically taking off the harness and hanging the gear up in the dog corner.

The door clicks shut, and you refuse to acknowledge it in any way. Frozen in place, no useful thoughts in your head, your mind was screaming to do something anything at all. Time trickled by you in slow motion, for the first time you heard footsteps that weren't yours on your living room floor, the clicky noise of dog paws soon followed. Sounds from the kitchen startle you back into thought. That's where your knives are. He could take the damn fridge for all you cared right now, but you were not getting stabbed by knives you had picked out and paid for without a fight.

The sound of water hitting something metal had you confused, that weirdo did not follow you home to fill his dogs water bowl, that would be insane, and yet a few seconds later the water is being gobbled up loudly.

Something fills with water again, you're still looking at the slow swinging leash on the hook.

The stove beeps, the glasstop clinks quietly, something was placed on it.

Nails on the floor tell you the dog is scampering towards you, probably dripping water all the way. Soft fur brushes your fingers accompanied by the wet nose and tongue licking your hand. "You broken, pet?", leaning against the wall as nonchalant as the question he asked. The nickname had you glancing at the dog for a second before it clicked - this fucking guy dragged you around on a leash and called you pet like it was a normal thing to do.

You turned to give him a piece of your mind, freezing again when you saw him in the light. He'd been scary outside, dressed entirely in dark clothes and towering over you like a bad omen. In the light he looked downright terrifying, the skull print balaclava blending with his eye black, equally dark eyes looking at you with a bored expression, you had to guess. Good thing you hadn't tried anything, he looked perfectly able and willing to really hurt you. Not like how your bruised body ached from being dragged, real agony that would rip through you and fray every nerve you had. You were once again starring at each other, him waiting for a reply and you desperately trying to keep it together, whether you'd laugh or cry or attack him you didn't dare guess but something was boiling over.

The kettle whistles - you burst into a fit of nervous giggles.

[amie-777]

I dreamt of the TF141 and not just TF141 but linking onto the trucker Johnny AU.

TW: illegal entering of a flat, crying, a miserable attempt at accents (tell me if there is more) Reader has female pronouns in this.

They always had problems at the customs, but ever since you; Johnny seems to have none. He tells Kyle, who tells Simon and Simon tells John.

Your body moves almost methodical up the stairs, the door unlocks, with you pushing your body weight against the door. As soon as you're inside you shut the door close and lock it. There is a horrid smell coming from the staircase. Maybe you need to check on Mrs. Hughes tomorrow.

For now you turn on the light switch in your crappy apartment. The light blinks for a second and then turns off again, you hit it with the back of your hand and it switches on completely. Dropping your bag by the door, and taking off your shoes. You roll out your toes and shake out your body. Sitting in the office is not good for ageing. With soft padded feet you walk to the kitchen.

You open the fridge with a huff, more exertion needed than normally. Your face is illuminated by the bright light, you take out a container of mealprepped food. Closing the fridge and moving to the microwave. "Think we need more food than tha', swee'heart." You turn flinch and turn around. With wide eyes you stare at four humongous figures. Your breath is rapid. "I uhh.." You blink turn around. Something you should never do in the presence of predators. Simon wants to tut.

Opening the door again, you stare at the prepared ikea bowls. "I got a few portions of noodles..I could heat t.." "We got food from the place downtown." Your back shivers, because you smelled the food when you got home. The same food you get almost every Saturday.

You start shaking, holding the fridge like a lifeline. A miserable sob escapes your lips.

"I will sit down. I am sorry the light is broken in the living room." "How long?" British, like the guy before. "A few months." You wipe at your face with your whole hand, and hug yourself when you sit down. "Dinnae wanne to scare you, sugar." You know that voice. "Peppermint guy." "Yea, lass." There is a silence, broken by your small hiccups. Once more you run your hand over your face.

"Did you have problems at the customs?" "Look luv, the way you're handling yourself here. Have you had your house broken into before?" Deep gravelly voice from your left side. "I--uh yess. Some guy, he.. I'm sorry." You swallow and bite the inside of your cheek, and tap your foot on the floor. "He obviously had fake papers for the goods, I couldn't let him cross. In the evening he followed me and I.." You stutter. "..learned." Your body still shivers, the aftershocks of crying.

"Okay, love. We can all eat an' talk after, sounds good, swe'theart?" A giant paw of a hand places itself right on your temple. Gentle calluses stroke over your skin and weirdly enough the small touch calms you. You want to sink into the warmth, just for a moment you relax and close your eyes. You nod against the strong hand, he taps his thumb just above your eyebrow. "Atta girl."

Thank you for reading. I wish you a good day <33

Critic and remarks are always appreciated. English isn't my mother language.

[koyagifs]

𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻

pairing: hongjoong x reader au: non idol | friends to strangers | college genre: angst word count: 2.5k synopsis: why would you ever kiss me? i'm not even half as pretty. warning(s): angst w/ no comfort, cursing. alcohol

taglist: @vixensss @gigikubolong29 @xdannix @mrskill2 @hazeljisulatte

You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting anyone to see the pain etched across your face. The laughter between them felt deafening, even as the rest of the world seemed to blur into silence. You clutched at the strap of your bag, your nails digging into your palm as you fought back the tears threatening to fall.

Why does it hurt so much? you thought bitterly, your chest tightening with every passing second. You wanted to look away, to leave the room, but you couldn’t help but glance back, hoping—praying—that maybe it wasn’t what it seemed.

But the way Hongjoong looked at her… the way his smile lit up, carefree and genuine… it shattered whatever fragile hope you had left.

Swallowing hard, you spun on your heel and walked away, your steps quick and uneven. You needed to get away. Away from him. Away from her. Away from the weight pressing on your chest like a boulder threatening to crush you entirely.

The memory played in your mind like a cruel joke. His voice, soft and pleading, echoed in your head. “Come on, just one kiss,” he had whispered, his breath warm against your cheek. The way his eyes softened as he looked at you, the slight tilt of his lips—it felt so real, so intimate, that you let yourself believe it meant something more.

But now, standing here and watching him with her, it all felt like a lie. Your best friend. That’s all he was supposed to be, but you couldn’t deny the way he made your heart race or the way his touch lingered just a moment too long. You’d convinced yourself it was special, that you were special to him.

Now, it felt like you were nothing. Like those nights meant nothing. The laughter you’d shared, the secrets whispered between you, the kisses stolen in the dim light of your apartment—all of it felt cheap in the face of the way he held her.

You clenched your fists, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the tears. “He’s your best friend,” you reminded yourself. “He doesn’t owe you anything.” But it didn’t make the ache in your chest any easier to bear.

You kept walking, aimless and desperate to escape the weight crushing you. Your mind replayed the scene over and over: Hongjoong’s arm around her, the way he smiled at her like she was the center of his world.

It felt cruel, like the universe had decided to remind you just how small you really were to him. No matter how much you tried to shake it off, the memory of his voice—his touch, his laugh—clung to you like a ghost.

You came to a stop by a quiet corner of the street, leaning heavily against a wall. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you slid down to the ground, burying your face in your knees as the sobs wracked through you.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, the world moving on around you as you unraveled. All you knew was that it hurt. It hurt so much, and you didn’t know how to make it stop.

It had been a month, and the silence from Hongjoong was louder than anything you’d ever heard. Not a text, not a call—nothing. It was as if you didn’t exist anymore, like the bond you thought was unbreakable had dissolved into nothing but a distant memory.

Your usual spots on campus, once shared with laughter and inside jokes, were now taken over by him and her. Every time you passed by, it was like a punch to the gut. She sat there, always wrapped in his sweater—the one he used to let you borrow when you were cold.

It stung, seeing her bundled up and cozy in something that once felt like it belonged to you. You’d try to avoid those places, to carve out new spaces for yourself, but somehow you’d always find yourself glancing back. A part of you couldn’t help it, no matter how much it hurt.

You couldn’t escape the memories. They were everywhere: in the library corner where you used to study together, in the coffee shop where he’d steal sips of your drink with that playful grin, and even in the cracks of your own heart.

Every time you saw them, it felt like a cruel reminder of how easily you’d been replaced. Like all the moments you shared were nothing more than placeholders for someone else. You hated how bitter it made you feel, how it twisted your chest with jealousy and regret.

But most of all, you hated how much you still missed him.

it hurt even more because every time you make it back to your apartment. Memories of you two constantly consumes you and you hated it.

You stood frozen in the doorway of your apartment, the silence greeting you like an unwelcome guest. Your eyes darted toward the couch in the living room, and the memories came rushing in like a tidal wave. The way Hongjoong’s arms had wrapped around you as you sat on his lap, his warmth pressing against your back while his soft laughter filled the room. It was your safe space back then, a place where you felt wanted—loved.

Now, it felt like a hollow reminder of everything you'd lost.

Your chest tightened as you stepped inside, dropping your bag onto the floor. You hated how your mind clung to those moments, replaying every stolen glance, every gentle touch, every whispered promise like they were pieces of a song you couldn't stop humming. The couch used to be where you’d fall asleep tangled in each other, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. Now, it was just a piece of furniture—a ghost of what once was.

The music thumped around you, drowning out the sound of your own shaky breathing as you clutched the red cup tightly to your chest. The plastic bent slightly under your grip, a small physical manifestation of the storm brewing inside you. Your gaze was locked on her, the girl who had effortlessly stolen his attention—the one who seemed to shine in a way that made you feel invisible.

Hongjoong’s smile was radiant, the kind that used to be reserved for you. His eyes never left her, as if the entire world faded into the background when she was near. The sight of it made your stomach twist painfully, jealousy and heartbreak warring within you. It was a bitter cocktail of emotions, one you were forced to swallow as you stood there, unnoticed.

You pressed the rim of the cup to your lips, pretending to drink even though the liquid inside had long gone warm. Anything to look occupied, anything to mask the way your chest ached with every laugh that left his lips. The room around you buzzed with life, but all you could feel was the hollow emptiness where his attention used to be.

Why won’t he look at me? The question burned in your mind, louder than the music, louder than the laughter surrounding you. But deep down, you already knew the answer. You weren’t enough—not anymore.

You tore your gaze away, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. If Hongjoong didn’t care enough to see you, then you’d make yourself invisible. And you did.

Seonghwa and Mingi walked towards Hongjoong as he just finished walking the girl to her class. A love sick smile stuck on his face before he waved towards the two boys. Seonghwa held a look of concern as well as Mingi as they stopped Hongjoong. " have you heard from yn?" Hongjoong froze - as if something had finally caught up in him.

Hongjoong’s lovesick grin faltered, his hand lingering mid-wave before it dropped to his side. The question hit him like a sudden gust of wind, knocking the lightness out of his step. His gaze shifted between Seonghwa and Mingi, their expressions heavy with concern.

“Y/n?” he echoed, his voice quieter, almost hesitant, as if the name itself carried a weight he wasn’t ready to face.

Mingi nodded, his brows furrowing. “Yeah. We haven’t seen her around lately. She’s not answering her phone either. We figured you might’ve heard something.”

Hongjoong’s lips parted, but no words came out. His mind raced, trying to remember the last time he’d spoken to you—really spoken to you, not just exchanged passing pleasantries or half-hearted waves. The memories felt distant, blurry, overshadowed by the girl he’d been so caught up with lately.

“I… I haven’t,” he admitted, his voice tinged with guilt. He could feel Seonghwa’s eyes boring into him, scrutinizing his every reaction.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa began carefully, his tone low but firm, “she’s been off lately. Everyone’s noticed it, and now she’s just… disappeared. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

“I didn’t realize…” Hongjoong trailed off, his throat tightening. He hated how shallow his own words sounded, how blind he’d been. A pang of guilt clawed at his chest as the realization hit him: while he’d been wrapped up in his own world, you had slipped away, unnoticed.

Mingi looked at Seonghwa as he nudged him to say something.

" im sure yn will answer my calls, she never declines them" Hongjoong mumbled, taking his phone out his pocket.

When he clicked on your name though - he was sent to voicemail. Seonghwa and Mingi raised an eyebrow as Hongjoong let out an awkward chuckle. " her phone is probably dead.."

Hongjoong’s awkward chuckle did little to ease the tension between him and the two boys. Seonghwa crossed his arms, his piercing gaze narrowing slightly. “Or she’s ignoring you,” he said bluntly, the edge in his voice making Hongjoong flinch.

Mingi sighed, placing a hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but when’s the last time you really talked to her? Like… checked in with her?”

Hongjoong opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He looked down at his phone, the screen still on your contact name, as if it could give him an answer. A heavy silence hung between the three of them, broken only by the faint noise of students passing by in the hallway.

“She’s been distant,” Seonghwa continued, his voice softer now. “Not just from you, but from everyone. It’s not like her to just vanish like this. You must’ve noticed something, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong’s throat tightened further, guilt crashing over him like a wave. “I’ve… been distracted,” he admitted quietly, the lovesick glow in his expression now completely replaced by a shadow of regret. “I didn’t think…”

Hongjoong stood there, rooted to the spot as Seonghwa and Mingi walked away, their disappointed expressions lingering in his mind like an echo. The hallway seemed quieter now, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to confront the gnawing guilt clawing at his chest.

“When was the last time…” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

His mind raced, trying to piece together fragments of memory, but they slipped through his grasp like sand. He couldn’t remember the last real conversation he’d had with you. Sure, there had been the occasional polite exchange—a distracted “Hey, how are you?” as he rushed off to meet her, or a half-hearted wave in passing. But when had he truly stopped and seen you?

Hongjoong’s stomach churned as he realized he didn’t have an answer.

You walked up to Seonghwa who looked at you in shocked, ready to bring you into a tight hug but when you moved back something in him understood why you have been distance.

" yn.." he said softly.

Your grip on your phone tighten as it rung once again, pressing the power button twice to decline it.

" can you tell Hongjoong to stop calling me, please." you said.

Seonghwa froze, his arms falling to his sides as he took in your words. The raw pain in your voice, the way your hands trembled as you clutched your phone—it all hit him like a punch to the gut.

"Y/n…" he repeated softly, his tone laced with both concern and guilt. He wanted to pull you into that hug anyway, to tell you that everything would be okay, but the distance you kept between you made it clear that this wasn’t the moment.

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, swallowing hard as your phone buzzed again in your hand. Without even glancing at the screen, you pressed the power button twice, the familiar pang of dread settling in your chest as the call ended.

“Please, Seonghwa,” you said, your voice trembling. “Just… tell him to stop.”

Seonghwa hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He could see the hurt etched across your face, the exhaustion in your eyes. It wasn’t just anger driving your request—it was something deeper, something he wasn’t sure he could fix.

Seonghwa nodded his head, as you said a quick thanks before turning on your heel. Heading towards the library, your final safe space that Hongjoong has not taken over.

Seonghwa stood there, watching as you walked away, your figure growing smaller with each step. His heart sank deeper with every second, knowing he had only scratched the surface of whatever pain you were carrying. The way you moved—head down, shoulders tense—made it clear you weren’t just upset. You were tired, weighed down by something much heavier than he’d initially thought.

The library was quiet, just as you’d hoped. The faint scent of old books and the soft rustling of pages created a calming backdrop, a stark contrast to the chaos in your mind. You moved to the farthest corner, a secluded nook surrounded by towering shelves that seemed to shield you from the outside world.

This space, untouched by memories of him, felt like a sanctuary. No lingering traces of his presence, no echoes of his laughter, no reminders of the person you’d once trusted so deeply.

You sank into a chair by the window, pulling your knees to your chest as you rested your chin on them. Your phone buzzed in your pocket again, and you didn’t even bother looking this time. With a deep breath, you pulled it out, powered it off completely, and set it on the table beside you.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the silence didn’t feel suffocating. Instead, it was a balm, offering you a moment to think, to process, to breathe.

You pulled your laptop out, the soft click of the latch breaking the quiet. A small smile crept onto your lips as you glanced up, momentarily distracted by the figure standing before you. His tall frame cast a shadow over your nook, but it wasn’t overbearing—it felt warm, comforting.

“Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” he said, placing your favorite drink gently on the table in front of you. His voice was soft, laced with a quiet familiarity that made your chest feel lighter. He settled into the chair across from you, his presence grounding and unintrusive. He gave you a small, knowing smile - a smile that brought you comfort.

"Hey"

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumpuary 2025 7

Prompt: Choking

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Choking on food; Heimlich maneuver

It was meant to be a peaceful evening. You had prepared spaghetti and venison meatballs for dinner. You were so excited to present it to Daryl after his two day trip beyond the walls with Aaron. You had seen how eagerly he had eaten the meal without meatballs at his recruiting partner’s home, not that he ever ate a meal without gusto. 

“This, uh—wow, looks really good.” He said as he sat down across from you at the table. He was showered and in some comfortable clothes you had found for him in the last run. It had taken quite a bit of convincing to get him to actually wear them, always on alert and ready to run as he was. Regardless, he had finally given in and appeased you. 

“I’m glad you think so.” You smiled, water glass nearly at your lips. Retrieving your fork first, you watched as he did the same, twirling the pasta around the utensil before shoveling the large serving into his mouth. Though he said nothing, his eyes lit up, his fork already moving through the entrée once again. “Slow down!” You chuckled just as you took your first bite. 

Daryl huffed, popping a meatball into his mouth. Shaking your head, you took another sip of water and focused on your own meal. The spaghetti was perfect if you did say so yourself, the spices you had added to the meatballs and sauce giving it a special something. It was delicious. 

“Wow, this is great! I did good, huh?” Fork halfway to your mouth, you paused, gaze on the man across from you. There was something in his eyes that you didn’t recognize. His hands were planted on the table, the fork pressed into the wood beneath his right palm. “Daryl? Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer, but his mouth was moving. No sound passed over his lips, and after a heartbeat, you realized that included breath. 

He was choking. 

“Daryl, oh my god!” Abandoning your fork to clatter onto the floor, you leaped to your feet and ran to him, palm colliding with the area between his shoulder blades. His left hand had come up to claw at his throat, his face red with the veins and tendons bulging. “Come on, damnit!” 

When the hard strikes failed, you curled your fists into the back of his t-shirt and yanked him to his feet. He staggered, his eyes wide and lips turning a violent shade of purple. 

Did you even remember the maneuver? It had been years even before the apocalypse when you had been trained for a babysitting job. You had never actually used it. Even with the spotty recollection, you had to try. 

Curling your fingers into a fist, you placed your hand just above his navel and folded your other hand over it. With a quick upward thrust, you felt him lift onto his toes and nearly tumble back on top of you. The second thrust was when you felt his heft begin to pull you down. 

“No, no, no! Stay with me!” A third thrust and his arms went limp, swaying loosely with the fourth attempt. “Goddamnit, Daryl!” The fifth try proved fruitful, the meatball dislodging and flying from his mouth and onto the floor. You had never been so relieved to hear a wheeze of air, though he finally crumbled to the floor and took you with him. “Are you okay? Talk to me.” You pleaded, your own breathing erratic. 

There was a pause, his gaze unfocused and his hand on his chest as if he needed to feel it rise and fall to believe it himself. Daryl jerkily nodded with a weak yeah and he struggled to sit up, only succeeding with your assistance. “Yeah, m’okay.” His voice was gravely and strained. 

Dragging him into a hug, you sobbed against his neck. “You scared the hell outta me!”

“Scared—the hell outta me.” He gulped and coughed, rubbing his throat as you pulled away. “Christ.” And there the two of you sat, Daryl in a daze and you coming down from the adrenaline rush. 

“I think I’ll make broth next time.” Your eyes slid over to him, finding his wide in disbelief. After a moment, though, he smiled and shook his head as he lowered it. 

“Might drown.” 

You barked a laugh, the pair of you still sitting on the floor. “Daryl Dixon, did you just make a joke?” The corner of his mouth was still ticking upward even as he angled his head in an attempt to hide it from you. 

“Ain’t no joke.” He snorted. “Your cookin’s deadly.”

[katyawriteswhump]

So yeah, finally finished my eddie lives/steve gets powers S4 fix-it fic... going to get the ending up over the next 24 hours or sooner. Reposting the index post on the off-chance anybody is interested...

The Power of Love blurb: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

(or, lots of angst, fluff, idiots to lovers, eventual smut and happy ending)

Part 1 below cut Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Part 1/Prologue:

Prologue:

“He’s gone!” In front of the trailer, Dustin sobs, cradling Eddie’s body in his arms. “He fought like Gandalf the White then sacrificed himself like Gandalf the Grey. He was the g-greatest hero—now he’s gone.”

“No. No way.” Steve rushes to Dustin, crouches beside him. “I know CPR. I got this.”

“What?” Dustin sounds more distraught than ever, tears dripping from his nose, spattering onto all that blood. Eddie’s blood. “Steve, what’s wrong with you? He’s. Gone.”

And Robin?

She stands there like a goose. Watching as the nightmare unfolds further, beneath that evil red-lightning-cracked sky. Not only, after all they’d done, is Vecna NOT apparently dead.

Eddie blatantly IS.

Tears blur Robin’s eyes. Dustin rocks Eddie’s lifeless body to the rhythms of his sobs. Nancy Wheeler—self-contained to the point of creepiness—stands beside her, stock still. Staring. Possibly trembling, though not as bad as Robin.

Steve, however, is still in the denial phase. 

He’s gotten Dustin by the shoulders, jostling him away from Eddie. Physically dragging Dustin, then steering him toward Robin. Steve lays Eddie down flat, leans close over Eddie’s face, scrutinising for signs of life.

“Steve, you can’t help him.” Nancy sounds broken enough, reaching out. Not quite daring to touch Steve. “We’ve gotta get out of here. Let’s go.”

Robin kind of agrees with her. No way is she gonna back her up against Steve, though.

He brushes Nancy off anyhow. “I already brought two people back when I was lifeguarding. Neither were breathing. One’s heart was stopped.”

Nancy shakes her head. “The odds of even that are—”

“Christ, gimme space, Nance.”

Steve starts to administer CPR. Robin clings tight to Dustin, who clings back. She wants to close her eyes and deny any of this is happening, though… One miracle has already happened today, right?

That said, from what she’s gleaned from Dustin’s broken descriptions, Eddie’s sacrifice could’ve been the cause of said miracle. Ergo, it was not that miraculous. And possibly, all in vain. Either way, watching Steve work is killing her. He puffs into Eddie’s bloody mouth, then methodically crunches—possibly breaking—his poor ribs.

“Steve, enough!” says Nancy.

“No. I can do this.”

He squeezes Eddie’s nose, blows again into Eddie’s limp form.

“Steve, we—” Nancy gasps. Staggers back. Robin’s heart gives an actual jump.

“Eddie!” Dustin buries his fingers under his stupid little Ewok hood—was he supposed to look like an Ewok? She’s gotten no clue anymore—and throws himself forward, colliding heavily with Steve.

Robin’s witnessing her first undoubted miracle of the day.

Eddie’s eyes are open. He’s choking and spluttering blood and he’s... alive. Steve enfolds arms around him and raises him a little, tugging his collar, helping him breathe.

“I gotcha, Munson. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

The next few minutes pass in the blur. Eddie vomits out a ton of blood, which makes Robin gag too, so that’s fun. Then, shakily, with Steve’s help, Eddie rises to his feet. He’s a ghastly, greenish-white and looks… like somebody who’s just died. Which is fair enough. 

He’s still not said a word. Which is not very Eddie.

“Are we sure,” Robin whispers to Nancy, “whether Steve has actually revived Eddie or if he’s been possessed by some twisted ghoul from the Upside Down?”

Nancy replies with an exasperated glare. Steve, meanwhile, hooks Eddie’s arm over his shoulder and makes for the trailer, face set with a grim determination. Robin helps Dustin, who’s limping badly.

They struggle back through the ceiling. Back out of the Upside Down, and through the place where Chrissy was mangled to death.

“It’s astonishing I’ve not been barfing constantly the past few days,” murmurs Robin to Dustin.

Dustin sniffs, rubs his pink eyes.

They’ve just exited the trailer back home, when that earthquake shit hits the fan again. A massive, fiery fissure swallows the trailer whole.

...

Chapter 1

Eddie POV

He figures he must be in shock.

He has no clue how he got where he is—sitting on a posh couch, in some open plan fancy-pants living room. His eyes are wide open, have been for some time, yet only now is he actually beginning to really see anything, to take stuff in.

Robin is staring at him, like… 

…like I just died or something!?!

Some decidedly disturbing memories trickle back. 

Oh. Shit.

She jabs at him with an antiseptic wipe, which she’s trying to smear up and under his distressingly blood-drenched Hellfire club t-shirt. The wipe is cold and stings like a bitch.

“Uuuuh, Robin?” His throat is raw, his voice wrecked. 

“Eddie!” She springs up off the couch.

“What the heck is going on?”

 “It is you, right? You’re not possessed, or—”

“Noooo. I believe it’s lil’ old me. I… I’m goddamn confused and have a distinct memory of… choking on my own blood.” Explains the gritty gunk lining his mouth and his throat, the disgusting taste. “And then… then…” 

He’s pretty damn sure he passed.

When he tries to remember that part… Nope, his brain don’t wanna, so he’s not gonna. He sure as hell recollects the not-entirely-unpleasant memory of Steve Harrington’s mouth plastered over his, marred by yet more gargling with blood, then…

“Okay, I’m gonna take on trust you’re you.” Robin doesn’t sound convinced. “So… Henderson was adamant you were dead, but then… Uh, you weren’t. Awesome as Steve is at CPR, let's assume you never really were, or that death happens differently in the Upside Down, or you weren’t as badly hurt as it seemed, or something along those lines, because… Uh, not like I’ve looked everywhere, as I think we’ve all been violated enough today, but…” She facepalms, reddening beneath her freckles. “Sorry… prattling.  As I said, I’ve not checked you everywhere, but… Eddie, you don’t even seem that badly munched.”

“Oh,” says Eddie. “Cool?”

Robin gives him a glass of water, and he takes a sip. Wipes his mouth on a table napkin lying close then takes a glug. God, he’s never been so parched.

She settles opposite him, on another plush couch. “Does it hurt?”

Eddie puts down the empty glass and performs a brief body scan. Sticks his hand up his shirt, which comes back predictably bloody, but it’s gritty, dry blood. His wounds have pretty much knitted up. “No. Well, it’s kinda itchy. Um, Where the heck are we? This place isn’t yours.”

“No. It’s Steve’s.”

“You’re kidding?” Eddie’s voice comes out embarrassingly high pitched. “His parents see me, they’ll call the cops and—”

“Chill. His parents are out of town. They’re literally never here.”

“Where’s Steve?”

“He’s… um… He said he fancied a swim. Go figure. Hey, you hungry?”

“Maybe some cereal,” mumbles Eddie, which is bullshit, because he’s not hungry. However, he’s starting to shiver, and he’s verging on losing his shit, and… he needs something to feel normal. He might as well try chewing cereal, because right now, he’s chewing his nails like he’s back in third grade.

I died. I goddamn died. 

The glory of the Master of Puppets is way more of a distant dream than his recollections of being caught at the heart of that be-fanged whirlwind of death. That’s crystal-frickin’-clear. Those flapping fiends ripping into him, his defences faltering, his knees buckling… choking… drowning… the searing pain… and Dustin’s tears. 

Crap, Dustin!

“There you go.” Robin dumps the packet on Eddie’s lap, a bowl and milk on a nearby glass table. “They only have the boring overpriced brands.”

Eddie stares stupidly at the packet. “Dustin… Is he okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, he’s shaken. I guess we all are. Wheeler took him to get his ankle looked at. He’s… thrilled you made it. He thought you were a goner.”

Yeah. I was. I really, really was.

“Robin, how the heck am I here?”

Her mouth opens. Snaps it closed again.

The sliding doors open, and Steve steps in. Momentarily, the undiluted horror of Eddie’s recent existence evaporates. Steve looks mighty fine, dripping wet, his modesty preserved by a small-ish towel around his waist. There are scars around his throat, fresh ones piled upon the old, though really, nothing that spoils that super-hot torso…

…until he lifts the hand he’s clasped on his side, where the bats had gotten him when they went through Lover’s Lake. It’s soaked in blood. The white towel tucked beneath is slowly turning pink.

“Oh my God!” Robin launches at him, as he staggers forward, swaying slightly. “Why the hell did you think getting your wounds wet would help, dingus? There’s literally no logic there.”

“Jesus, it didn’t make anything worse. Swimming always… uh… clears my head.” She grabs him and steers him toward the seating area.

They’re almost there, when the whites of Steve’s eyes flash up. He crumples limply against Robin, who squeaks at the sudden weight, and slings him toward Eddie’s couch to break his fall.

...

Part 2

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Also now on AO3

[badasoneandonly]

𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘞𝘈𝘙𝘋𝘚 𝘉𝘌𝘊𝘒𝘖𝘕 𝘙𝘌𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘕𝘋

Summary:

Hwang In-Ho’s world shatters when he finds Y/N, the woman who tethered him to humanity, dead after jumping from their apartment building. Cradling her lifeless body, he’s consumed by grief and guilt, realizing too late the depth of her pain.

𝘎𝘌𝘕𝘙𝘌: ANGST, SUICIDAL, SAD LOVE,

A/n: this is my first time writing a fanfic so pls let me know what you guys think ^_^, and i recommend to listen to the music to get urself into the mood ^_^

The whiskey sat untouched on the table, its amber liquid reflecting the dim, flickering light of the room. Hwang In-Ho slouched in his chair, staring blankly at his phone. Y/N’s name flashed at the top of his screen—a message sent hours ago, its words haunting him.

“Goodbye, In-Ho. I hope you find peace one day.”

He should have called her. Replied. Anything. But what could he say? How could he pull her back from the same abyss he was barely surviving himself?

The sound of sirens shattered his thoughts.

Red and blue lights illuminated the room, casting eerie patterns on the walls. In-Ho’s brow furrowed as he moved to the window, peering down at the commotion below. A crowd was gathering outside the apartment complex across the street. Paramedics hurriedly unloaded a stretcher while police cordoned off the area.

Something in his chest tightened—a premonition he couldn’t shake.

He grabbed his coat and rushed out the door.

---

The air outside was cold and sharp, biting at his skin as he pushed through the crowd. Whispers reached his ears, fragmented and chilling.

“Someone jumped.”

“From the top floor…”

“She didn’t even scream.”

In-Ho’s heart pounded in his chest, a sickening dread spreading through him. He pushed forward, his breath catching when he saw the scene unfold.

A lifeless body lay on the pavement, surrounded by medics and officers. The sheet covering it was already stained with blood.

And he knew.

He knew before his eyes even registered the familiar outline of her figure, the dark hair spilling from beneath the fabric.

“Y/N.”

The word left his lips as a broken whisper. His legs moved on their own, carrying him toward her despite the voices shouting for him to stop.

He fell to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as he lifted the sheet.

Her face was pale, her eyes closed as though she were merely sleeping. But the stillness of her chest, the absence of her warmth—it struck him like a blade.

“No,” he choked, his voice cracking. “No, no, no.”

He gathered her in his arms, cradling her broken body against his chest. Tears streamed down his face, falling onto her hair as he rocked back and forth, his sobs echoing in the cold night air.

“You promised me,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “You promised you’d fight. That you wouldn’t give up.”

His grip tightened, his forehead resting against hers. “Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you let me help you?”

But he already knew the answer. He had seen the pain in her eyes, the way it had consumed her like a fire. He had felt it himself, the weight of a world that demanded too much and gave nothing in return.

“Somewhere along the line, I lost my way…”

The lyrics played in his mind, a cruel reminder of the song they had once listened to together. Her favorite song. A melody that now felt like a requiem.

The crowd around them blurred, their murmurs fading into white noise. All that remained was the broken girl in his arms and the unbearable ache in his chest.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice cracking, “both arms cradle you now". He whispers the lyrics in your ear providing comfort to your now dead body rocking it back and forth.

His tears fell freely as he held her, rocking her gently, as though he could lull her back to life. But the warmth never returned.

And in the cold, empty night, Hwang In-Ho broke completely.

Tags: @warlabels @kimeungun114 @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[remaineds]

don't bite the hand that feeds you. be careful what you wish for. both lessons her mother tried to instill at a young age, and up until this moment, ones she thought she'd learned. yet here she is, actively antagonizing the one guy with the power to get her off. doesn't fire anything back at his declaration, instead moving a hand up to dig nails into his bicep, the other still gripping at his sheets. she's powerless to do anything other than follow the pull of his hand, tongue and teeth clashing messily with his. for a moment she thinks she might have even gotten away with it, and then. the noise that escapes her at the loss of his finger is borderline inhuman, swollen lips pouting. "are you serious right — " again she's cut off, and the way her jaw drops naturally just so happens to be awfully convenient. eyes widen, juices practically dripping down her thighs, as she lets her lips wrap around the damp lace. it's unexpected and dirty and incredibly fucking erotic, and it throws her off enough that she lets him manhandle her without protest. and jesus, the way her yelp of surprise is muffled by the fabric is fucking obscene in the best way. cheek presses against the mattress as she instinctively arches her back again, presenting her ass for him like some prize for the taking. "mmph!" each spank has her writhing in both mild pain and great pleasure underneath him, mind dizzy with lust. legs shake as she lets out a broken sob, grinding needily and messily against his fingers, stomach coiling with a steadily increasing need to cum. pussy sucks his finger in like she wants it keep it there forever, and she wonders if he can tell just how close she is without any verbal warning.

for a moment he's not sure where she's going with this, pointing out the obvious like that. she could do this herself, sure. she could do it all herself, but she came to dawson and now he's made it his concern instead. pursing his lips, he cants his head to one side, nodding with a patronising smile as she elaborates. she has her own fingers, her own vibrator. it doesn't dissuade him, he continues to slide his finger in and out of her slowly, savouring the squeeze of her walls against him. it's evident she wants and needs more from him, but if this is the only way she knows how to ask, he's not going to give it the nice way. "only you can keep talking a big game while you're leaking all over my hand and stuttering through it." his voice is low as he leans towards her, reaching out with his other hand to grasp the back of her neck, pulling her towards so he can coax her into a deep, tongue heavy kiss. reluctantly this time, his finger slides out of her again as he reaches behind him and grasps her panties that lay discarded on the bed, thinking of something she said once. as he pulls back, he lifts them between them. "open." he instructs, holding her jaw as he waits for her to do it and pushes the bunched up fabric past her lips. once he's satisfied, he doesn't stop there, changing their position once again as he manoeuvres her easily, like she weighs nothing at all. he turns her over and drags her hips towards him again, her thighs sitting on top of his as he pushes her skirt up and gropes her bare ass. this want to be everything she needs has overtaken him and though he worries a little that it might be too much, he can't deny being so extremely hard over it. his hand comes down over her ass a couple times, fairly gentle slaps as he groans and for the third time begins to finger her, this time a little more roughly than before.

[the-wereraven]

Stuff I got from the CR Wedtoon in case you haven't seen it;

✨ Them ✨

BSLANSBSLWMANARREAHHDHDGAGGGHGGHGNNAAAGRRRGAGSHWGD

WO

WOMEN

[stormbreaker-290]

Goormornuig to everyone EXCEPT for @bumble-the-sun-bee what tge fuck man☹️☹️☹️/silly

[sparks-chaotic-cove]

HEY! YOU! are you sobbing over recent mer lore (specifically on Gyn's side- our poor boy. If you don't know what I'm talking about- please please go watch the vod from yesterday [8/15]!)

I couldn't be there, but while I'm sad, I'm honored to have a bit of my work within the canon of Leviathan lore!

Here's the lullaby, for anyone having trouble locating it!

[bbutterflies]

he’s just so PRETTY what did they PUT IN HIM

[hazyupset]

“… I actually feel happy.“

@gothic-mothic….. ur narrator…. i hope i did him some justice its hard coloring a man with one color and trying to make him scruffy….

[itaipava]

[elizakai]

i-

the urge was way too urge.

WAAAA THIS IS SO CUTE PLEASE-

HELP😭💗💗💫

[mushtoons]

ok seeing anon talk that bullshit about yall made me decide to talk to you guys and lemme say this.

ANON IS A COWARD WHO HAS NOTHING TO DO IN ITS LIFE, IF ITS TARGETTING YALL AND IT WONT EVEN SHOW ITSELF THAT MEANS ITS SCARED

MYCEL IM SORRY I DONT INTERACT WITH YALL POSTS AS MUCH BUT I LITERALLY START DOING FLAPPY HANDS WHEN I SEE YOU. ANON IS STUPID FOR NOT REALIZING THAT YALL ARE A HEART THAT IF IT WERE TO BE TAKEN OUT I WOULD DIE

sorry if the post has a lil bit of (maybe but its still deserved) hate to anon i have been just a lil bit mad this week.

anyways continue being annoying and make me so annoyed that I say to yall that you all are annoying (in a haha funny way) (not the bad type of way) (sorry if it seems like that) (also i might be more active on yall blog) (you wont escape me)

FIRST OFF FUCKIN SOBBING UR SO SWEET AND DHDJDJDJDJD AHHHHH

SECONDLY DONT APOLOGIZE NO ONE OWES US INTERACTS!!! AS LONG AS PEOPLE ARE ABLE TO LOOK AT OUR STUFF AND GET A SMILE THATS REALLY ALL WE AIM FOR (well a chuckle would also be nice but djdjdjd /hj lh)

[spittingspite]

Thought about the okami sequel too hard again and instantly teared up I swear I've never been so happy and emotional over a game announcement in my life