#He's so freaking messed up from the lack of sleep that he's just wants it over with | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

superblysubpar · 2 months ago

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dad!steve harrington x mom!you

a How Sweet It Is story

summary: you want another baby

2,886 words

warnings: please see the How Sweet It Is and Easy Like Sunday Morning masterlists for general warnings about these AU's | SMUT (piv unprotected intercourse / steve breeding kink harrington / kitchen sex and all the messy things like licking food off of another person for example) | NSFW 18+

a blurb for the "Trick or Treat, Freak?" event - don't forget to vote for tomorrow at the bottom of the story!

Autumn, 1993:

Steve rubs at his eyes as he turns onto your street, fighting a yawn as his radio rumbles quietly, the song too soothing despite the cold air from the open window trying to keep him awake. He curses at the time blinking back at him on the dash.

Midnight.

His kids will be up in five hours, maybe less.

He groans audibly to himself and knows that you’ll wake up with them first and insist he sleep in, but he’ll hear you singing or laughing or hear the kids ask where Daddy is and he’ll feel guilty and that’ll be that.

He hadn’t meant to stay at the hospital for as long as he had, but Eddie was sort of a mess and Olivia kept thanking him and apologizing and okay, so maybe, he’s a little excited to rub it in everyone’s face that he was the first one to meet Caroline.

It’s weird seeing one of your best friends have a kid. Weird seeing this guy in a Metallica tshirt who was just leaning over a theater seat and telling him his own kid was a little freak not even five hours ago, hold his newborn and cry.

And yeah, whatever, he cried too.

Meeting Caroline was worth the lack of sleep.

The same lack of sleep making his eyes blink and connect the dots too slowly that the house he’s pulling into should be dark. Yet as he rolls to a stop in his driveway, he finds almost every single light of the house is still on. Warm gold shines from his upstairs bedroom, the downstairs living and kitchen windows. As he makes his way up to the front steps, mentally preparing himself for wide awake yet overly tired three and six year olds, he pauses.

Fleetwood Mac?

He’s sure of it, as he steps closer to his front door and hears guitars and drums, hears your voice singing louder, somehow, than the stereo blaring.

It’s the mix he made you, for your birthday, all your favorites, and Steve closes the door gently, looking around in search of you.

The kitchen is empty, well, not empty.

There’s bold and…uniquely…decorated Halloween cookies on parchment paper. A mixing bowl and utensils all covered in chocolate, frosting, caramel, and essentially anything potentially sticky and edible in his house littered across the countertops.

He makes his way to the living room and finds a blanket fort and crayons literally everywhere, ironically, as the song of the same title starts just then. He goes to nudge the stereo lower when your voice singing on the stairs makes him pause.

His chest fucking cracks open at the sight of you. One of your old band shirts hangs loosely from your frame, no pants, a laundry basket on your hip. He leans against the door frame as you do a little spin-dance sort of thing when you reach the laundry room.

He watches you flick off the light and head to the kitchen and he’s a little alarmed you haven’t screamed or said hi until you stick a spoon of chocolate frosting in your mouth and then call out around the treat:

“You gonna come dance with me or just stare all night, Harrington?”

Steve smiles and watches you twirl in the kitchen and make what you think are flirty eyes at him. He tilts his head as one particular shake of your body in a terrible dance move shows off the high cut of black lace on your ass.

You don’t wear those enough.

“I’m good with staring, it’s a nice view.”

He slowly enters the kitchen, knowing it’s a trap, but a willing prey for your hands that grab him as soon he’s close enough. Your fingers clasp together at the back of his neck as you sway, much too slow for the song and he gets the hint, his finding a home on your waist.

“You remember when we slow danced to The Way I Feel at that shitty frat party?”

Steve smiles, his hands bunch up your shirt in his fingers and his forehead rests against yours.

He remembers it well. Really well.

Remembers the girl he’d made out with a few times in high school, how he messed up his shot with her even more times. How he somehow got a seat next to that same girl on the first day of class in an actual college he still couldn’t believe he got into. Remembers asking her to study, to ice cream, to coffee. Kisses at front doors and make out sessions that lead to more. To held hands and introducing him as your boyfriend. Whispered dreams of the future amidst I love you’s. Then, dragging him along to a party.

Can still vividly recall slipping an asshole a twenty. Your smile around the rim of the plastic red cup you stole from him. Your voice singing softly to him, like you two were the only people there as you swayed a lot like you were now.

The way the song ended and your mouth was hovering over his and you asked him if he wanted to get out of there.

How one thing led to another and you were in the backseat of his car with your head thrown back and his mouth was on your neck and nine months later he was a dad.

Speaking of…

His nose traces yours as fingers scratch up your spine, smiling when you shiver. He leans his head down, just enough to brush his lips against yours as he asks, “Where are the kids?”

Your lips part around his in a barely there kiss as you murmur, “Robin and Nance took them. They made you hocus pocus cookies.”

Steve breathes in as you breathe out, fingers pushing at your spine so your lips bump again, speaking so quietly, if he weren’t pressed up against you, you’d be unable to hear him.

“Was wondering ‘bout the gummy worms. Makes sense now.”

Your head tilts back as you gasp into his mouth when his teeth graze your bottom lip. Then you hum, eyelashes fluttering as you say, “Almost every potion requires worms, according to our little witch. Who, by the way, was only encouraged by Robin who brought her a chocolate wand.”

Steve’s mouth breathes against your jaw while you talk, his tongue slips out as he kisses the hinge of it.

“Oh yeah?”

You’re not so much dancing anymore, instead simply arching your body as Steve grips your waist and leaves a warm, trailing breath down your neck. You suppose it’s like a dip of sorts.

A hum slips past your lips as your stomach flips. Maybe this won’t be as hard as you thought.

“Ye-yeah. Said she can’t be a Sanderson though…for Halloween…cause,” you whine a little when Steve’s tongue glides over your skin, his smile following right behind it.

“Cause?”

The song on the stereo changes with perfect timing to Think About Me, and Steve’s mouth presses a kiss to your neck, encouraging you with a squeeze of your hips.

“Cause,” your voice is quiet, but sure, “Cause she only has Grace. And there are three Sanderson’s.”

Steve’s lips slow their kissing as he hears what you’re saying. Hears the song that just so happened to lead to the conception of his second kid.

He pulls away and blinks at you, pink cheeks and eyes like melting honey.

“Are you…” he licks his lips, swallows, and looks down at where your body clings to his. He looks around at the kidless house, listens to the Fleetwood Mac, and then looks back at your hopeful gaze up at him.

His hands cup your cheeks as he asks, softly, “You wanna have another baby?”

“Yeah,” you laugh around some tears trying to slip out, a little more emotional than you thought you’d be. “Yeah, I really do. I think they’d be good ages apart and they’ll be so close to Caroline and Robin and Nancy are gonna get Zoe in a couple of months and-“

Steve’s kissing you, mouth passionate and hot against yours as he moans into your lips. He backs you up into the counter as you grip at his shirt collar, neither of you really caring or paying much attention to where things are landing.

Your fingers scratch down his now bare back as he lifts you, wedging himself between your spread legs. His lips are frantic in their kissing as he tugs on your thighs, your ass, until you’re flush against him, grinding down in search of friction.

Your body floods with warmth as he unzips his jeans, as he pulls and tugs at your shirt with his other hand, too impatient to wait until he has both free and refusing to admit if he stopped kissing you, it’d be a whole lot easier.

Steve groans at the sight of your bare chest and your legs tighten around his hips now free of the denim. He leans over you on the counter, kissing the corner of your mouth before he whispers, “Hold still.”

“What, why, ohmygod-“

Steve drizzles caramel over your neck, your chest, your stomach, before flinging the spoon somewhere.

His mouth follows the drizzles, carefully licking up each drop as his hands squeeze at your hips, your thighs. His tongue glides across the curve of your breasts before it dips between the two and down your stomach where he gives you a kiss.

It’s all painstakingly slow compared to the speed you were just going, adamant for you to feel every pass of his tongue, every brush of his lips as he enjoys his treat.

Your body squirms underneath him, skin warm and only growing warmer as he pulls at your underwear roughly, leaving you completely naked on your kitchen countertop.

“Steve, we-“

Propped up on your elbows, you swallow your words when he removes his boxers and steps between your legs again. One hand rests on the counter next to your head, the other grips his length and tugs, once, twice, keeping eye contact with you while he lines himself up with your entrance.

“We,” he breathes heavily, stopping to kiss you once, before he keeps going, “Are gonna make another perfect, amazing, incredible kid.”

He pushes into you, capturing your gasp from the fullness of him inside of you. He pants into you, pushing deeper as he holds your stare, mouth never lifting from yours as he groans, “You’re gonna…” he sucks in a breath unable to to finish the thought when your hips roll and you whine for him to move.

“Please, Steve,” you beg into his mouth and he can’t hold off anymore, not that he really was before.

He pulls out and thrusts forcefully, hand gripping your hip and the edge of the counter as he slams into you again, and again, and again.

Your back arches off of the countertop, his name a gasp as you meet each of his thrusts and babble into his mouth.

“More, Steve, fill me up baby, please I-“

He swallows your words, grinds against you each time he pushes as far in as he can while his hand pulls your thigh up against his hip in a bruising grip.

It’s fast and not like you two at all anymore. Sex is usually some pillow talk and soft sleepy smiles and missionary and hand holding and so so so not Steve stopping his kissing and pouring more caramel over your face and chest in the middle of sex.

So not you two being loud, yelling names and making who knows what kind of noises as he smears and licks up the mess he just made and teeth nip at your skin and soothe it all away with kisses as he pounds into you like he used to. Not you when your hands grip at his shoulders and beg him to go faster, harder.

Steve’s gasping into your neck, thrusts coming closer together and your stomach tightens, warmth threatening to burst inside of you but you don’t want it to end.

Your fingers slip on the countertop, cookies fall to the ground, his name is yelled and it sounds an awful lot like don’t stop, never stop.

Steve searches for your hand and tangles his fingers with yours while the other finds your lower back and makes you arch up into him further. Your hips grind against his as his mouth pants along your throat, your jaw, before it locks against yours in a kiss.

It’s all a little filthy and wild, the way you let go of his hand and both of yours grip the back of his head and pull when his thrusts just keep going. The way you beg into his mouth like you’re sobbing, “Baby, please, please, ohmygod-“ and Steve grips your hips and pumps harder, deeper, practically growling out a “Yeah?”

Your thighs shake, you pulse around him, your heartbeat is in your ears as he hits that spot that makes you see stars over and over and over again until your mouth falls open and you don’t know what comes over you because you’re practically shouting, “Yesyesyesyes,” until it turns into a silent gasp as your orgasm takes over. It’s like the breath is stolen from your lungs, vision lost, as he spills inside of you with a deep, tortured - like he really didn’t want it to be over either - moan.

The pair of you breathe heavily, clinging to each other still, then you both start laughing, tired and euphoric. Foreheads stuck together as your hands move over each other’s bodies restlessly as your lungs fight for air around the laughter, until it all slows down and stops again.

Eventually, Steve clears his throat as his thumbs rub soothing circles on your hips.

“Sorry, don’t know…that was um…”

Your head finds it’s favorite place in his neck, curled up under his jaw, lips finding the pair of freckles you love so much in a kiss. There’s no energy left for anything other than a hum of agreement.

His hands roam higher, soft and soothing up your spine and back down until you yawn against his neck and a low chuckle rumbles in his chest beneath where your fingers draw against his skin absently.

Steve pulls away and his lips twitch at the sound of your protesting whine, at the way your hands cling to around the back of his neck once more. But he’s just adjusting so he can find your lips, granting you a gentle and sweet kiss. The tip of his nose brushes yours as his breath fans out across your bottom lip when they part for him. His mouth moves over yours sweetly, lazily, as his hands pull you closer to him. Your stomach flutters alive, only stirring up the just satisfied feelings when his tongue meets yours. Steve kicks up inside of you when your hips shift, searching for friction again, causing your laugh to break the kiss.

He swallows the sound, his hand roams higher until it’s cupping the back of your neck, thumb brushing behind your ear as he regretfully pulls away from your lips, but only just so. Steve murmurs against them, eyes watching your eyelashes flutter at the sound of his voice.

“Can I interest you in a bubble bath to clean up, Mrs. Harrington?”

His teeth scrape against your bottom lip, a kiss to your top one, his mouth moving over yours too fleeting as your entire body shakes with a shiver, practically drooling over his question and teasing touches with a moan worthy of a bite of chocolate.

Your hands curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, lifting your hips ever so slightly to cling onto his body a little harder, a little longer. The nod of your head knocks your lips with his again, and he rewards you with a deeper and lingering kiss. His arms wrap around your back as he pulls you closer still, neither of you ready to separate any time soon.

“You better tell them you ate every single one of those horrible cookies.”

He laughs into your mouth, nodding his head as you kiss him more.

Both of you are content to take your time getting upstairs, to let your kisses linger and melt like honey. Make sure each moment is remembered, so it’s all easily recalled from the sound of a song and the way you kiss him. Each pass of your lips over each other’s, each brush of a tongue or scrape of teeth or inhale of much needed air makes sure you’re not missing any of it as you clean each other up when you finally do get there.

Steve’s got your back to his chest as he hums into your temple the last song on the tape in between whispers of if it’ll be a boy or girl, names, personality, and all of the things you’ve come to love about your other two.

His hands roam over your body, warm water and sweet smelling suds cascading over you as he kisses your neck and shakes his head no when you ask if he’s tired.

And even if he were, the lack of sleep would be worth it.

#superbly subpar's writing #trick or treat freaks 💛#steve harrington #dad!steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb

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ninyard · 7 months ago

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Heyy! You said someone should ask you about Kevin under this post about Kevin's struggles from the nest of which we don't know enough... So I'm asking you about Kevin! Please tell us your Kevin thoughts! You always make very good points and I like reading your thoughts!!

cody my friend I am so glad you asked but you might regret it. i hope you're prepared from an unorganised huge convoluted MESS of a ramble

i've been thinking for a few days about this one like... what would a kevin POV look like? what is he hiding? how does he cope? WHO IS HE?

the kevin we ""know"" is a "coward", an insufferable bitch, an asshole and a hardass. other people's opinions and view of him makes up the entirety of our impression of who he is. but that's not who he is. that's just who we're supposed to believe he is.

kevin, born and bred to have this... borderline psychopathic lack of empathy, who can look his teammates in the eye after being told seth is dead or andrew is being committed and say, "what about the game?"

but when the raven's are switching districts; his sense of danger and fear is paralysing. he's three steps ahead trying to figure out how to please riko, how to keep himself safe, willing to put himself back into the centre of his abuse just to stop riko from finding him and killing him. he has to get blackout drunk to deal with any amount of riko. he's frozen with fear by being in the same room as him.

kevin knows where jean's mind and body goes to when hes panicking, knowing his worst place is right back in the nest being drowned by riko. kevin telling neil "do you know what he'll do to you?" and "he'll break you" when neil asks for his ticket. kevin's text to him before he goes into the nest, and staring at neil like he'd seen a ghost when neil returns after the nest (when he looks like the butcher). his comforting "i know what he's like" or "i know how he sees you, i know it means he did not hold back,".

kevin nervous breakdown panic attack day vs kevin smile for the cameras one track exy mind day

im so intrigued by him. how does he cope? his mother is dead, probably killed by the mafia family he was raised by. he grew up into a cult, he was only a child watching neil's father cut a man into pieces in front of him. how many other's had he seen?

how many other injuries cover his body, in places where the cameras can't see? how many rapes and assaults was he forced to watch in the nest? how many beatings was he forced to participate in? what did he have to say to jean in french that he didn't want riko to hear?

he needs someone with him all the time because of the nest. he's a "health freak" because of the nest. his sleep schedule, his anger, his anxiety.

did he say "what about the season?" re: andrew after drake because he doesn't care, or did he think "i've seen this happen too many times. and they've always kept playing,"? did he think "andrew is the strongest person i know. andrew is stronger than me. he would never let this destroy him," knowing that it has?

nobody has protected him in his life apart from the cameras and andrew.

he's scared. he doesn't know what love is supposed to look like.

he's only been a human for a year.

his scars are healing for the first time in his life and they're not being replaced by new ones, but every day he's afraid that that's going to get ripped out from underneath him. his entire life already got flipped upside down when he left the nest. of course exy is the only thing he "cares" about.

because it's the only thing that's been certain in his life, and even for those few weeks or months where he thought he would never play again, he trained and trained, and learned how to use his non-dominant hand because he can't lose this. he can't lose exy like he's lost everything else.

kevin has never had anything stable in his life except for violence and exy. now he has people he's supposed to care about, and he has to change his priorities. he has to learn how live a life that isn't fueled by self-preservation for the first time ever.

jean was only in the nest for five years; and look at him. look at what the nest has done to his social skills, his view of himself, his self esteem. look at what it's done to him, how he expects violence and contrition, coach and always waiting and waiting and waiting for the punishment to come.

kevin might not have had the same level of physical abuse that jean had, but he was there far longer. the ravens existed before him; their mindset and their abuse and their violence and their poison.

he's been drinking the raven poison since his childhood. the only difference between him and jean other than those things above is that kevin had more pressure to hide it, because he was half of the face of the ravens, half of the face of Exy; media trained or PR trained or a master at being a fraud and faking the way he speaks when he's being recorded.

kevin knows how to hide his abuse because he has always had to, and he's had quite a lot of practice at it.

kevin has only been a human for a year. kevin has only been kevin for a year.

so who is he? does he even know?

or is he just Kevin Day, Raven Fox starting striker, number two, six foot two, left handed right handed left handed, heavy racquet, stick size five? is that all he will ever see himself as?

anyways. or something like that. maybe he is just an insufferable bitch for no reason at all. who knows!

#just thinking about him okay....#something something baby girl #oh god im so sorry once again that this got so long LMAO #kevin day #aftg #tfc

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sidekick-hero · 10 months ago

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(steddie | teen | 2.5k | tags: different first meeting, emotional hurt/comfort | summary: What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives? | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is asking, "do you want a blanket?" by @thefreakandthehair | AO3)

Steve's life was completely turned upside down (theoretically he sees the humor in this, but in practice the trauma trumps the pun) six months and six days ago when he came face-to-face with a honest-to-God inter-dimensional monster and barely survived to not tell the tale thanks to an airtight and frankly scary NDA.

He should be over it by now, right? He shouldn't be waking up screaming, drenched in his own sweat and shaking all over, his heart racing in his chest and his stomach in his throat.

Right.

Well, he's not. He doesn't get over it. The nightmares don't go away. If anything, he feels like they're getting worse, his mind adding horrible details and things that didn't happen, but could have, to keep torturing him.

He's a fucking mess.

Steve Harrington is a mess. His grades are slipping, on their way to joining his social status at rock bottom, and even his performance as co-captain of the swim team and basketball team is suffering from lack of sleep.

The only thing he has going for him is Nancy. Nancy, who doesn't understand that Steve just wants to get over the horror and the paranoia, just wants his life back, just wants to be normal again.

She doesn't say it outright, but he knows she thinks he's selfish, too self-centered to care about anything but himself. Sure, he's made amends with Jonathan and cut ties with Tommy and Carol, but deep down, Nancy doesn't think he's changed all that much. He's not Jonathan, he's not mature and monosyllabic and introspective. Just dumb little Steve, pretty to look at but not much else to offer.

These are the things he ponders during his late-night drives when another nightmare keeps him awake. It's impossible to fall asleep with terror pumping through his veins, so instead he climbs into his car and just drives. Some nights he will drive for hours, music playing softly from one of his tapes, Queen, Springsteen, Tears For Fears, Bon Jovi.

Tonight his drive takes him to the edge of town, right where a dirt road leads to the quarry. Steve has no idea why, but something makes him actually leave the main road and turn onto it. He follows it where it leads into the woods, slowing down on the bumpy road until he sees the dense cluster of trees open up to reveal a glimpse of the starry night sky. The path seems to open up into a clearing, and just there, to the right, Steve spots an old van.

He knows the car, has seen it often enough in the parking lot of Hawkins High to know that it belongs to none other than Eddie Munson, local drug dealer and freak.

At least that's what everyone keeps calling him, and sure, the guy seems a little weird, with his speeches on cafeteria tables, his dramatic antics in and out of class. He certainly doesn't look like most of the other kids, with his ripped jeans (clearly from wear and tear rather than fashion sense), long, unruly curls, and loud shirts advertising bands Steve has never heard of. People also shit on him for his father and for living in a trailer park, but none of that sounds particularly freaky to Steve.

Knowing what he does now, though, it worries him to think of Munson all alone out here where anything could happen to him. He doesn't know Munson, just about him, but Steve couldn't live with himself if he came to school on Monday and found Munson missing. One person has already died because of his carelessness, and no one deserves to suffer the same fate as Nancy's friend Barb.

Parking his car right next to Munson's, Steve climbs out and walks around the car to the trunk to pick up the nail bat that saved his life and the lives of Nancy and Jonathan. Then he makes his way to the opening of the clearing ahead.

Stepping out of the trees, Steve stops to take in the sight before him.

Above him stretches the inky expanse of the night sky, a seemingly endless void painted with a myriad of distant stars. The moonlight danced along the jagged edges of the quarry, revealing the vastness of the rocky landscape below in a silvery glow. The only sound that broke the silence of the night was the occasional soft rustle of leaves. The air was crisp and clean, carrying with it a hint of earthiness from the rocky terrain. In this secluded enclave, far from the lights of the city, the stars were front and center, and Steve felt unbelievably small.

With his shoulders hunched over his ears and his arms slung protectively around his knees, the figure sitting on the edge of the cliff looks even smaller than he feels.

It seems that Munson didn't even hear his car approaching, and that makes Steve's hair stand on end because it means that anyone, anything could have snuck up on him. It's not safe.

Steve approaches cautiously, trying his best not to startle the other boy and cause him to fall to his certain death.

"Munson?" He asks softly, quietly, but to no avail. It still causes Munson to flail in surprise, and only Steve's quick reflexes keep him from falling over the edge. With his knees still smarting from the sudden drop to the ground, Steve has his arm wrapped around the other boy, and both of them are panting from the shock.

"Fuck, man, are you trying to kill me?" Munson's voice quavers too much to be truly biting.

Steve carefully loosens his grip on Munson and leans back to sit on his haunches. Running a slightly trembling hand through his hair, he can't help but bite back. "If you paid more attention to what was going on around you, you would have heard me coming. I wasn't really trying to be subtle. It's like you want to get killed."

Munson scoots away from the edge of the cliff and climbs to his feet to look down at Steve and the nail bat he dropped when he made a grab for the other boy. He raises a judgmental eyebrow, causing Steve's defenses to go up in an instant.

They look at each other, brown meeting hazel, until Munson breaks the silence. "By someone walking around with a nail-studded bat, you mean?"

"I wasn't going to hit you with it!" And crap, abort Harrington, abort.

Now both eyebrows look at him questioningly. "And who, pray tell, pissed off King Steve enough to deserve this kind of treatment?"

"No one! For God's sake, I thought you might be in danger and wanted to be prepared in case you were." Then he adds, "After what happened to Will Byers and Barbara Holland, you'd think people in this town would be more careful instead of hanging out in the woods in the middle of the night."

Ed-No, Munson's eyes soften at his explanation. "Shit, sorry man. You're right, I guess." Shuffling his feet, he offers his own explanation for his harsh reaction. "Just had a shitty day, I guess. I shouldn't have bitten your head off for trying to look out for me. Although I never thought King Steve would ride in on his white horse to save the school freak from unimaginable evil."

"White horse? What, like a knight? Does that make you the damsel in distress, Munson?"

Munson gets a strange look on his face at Steve's words, and before he knows what's happening, the guy pretends to faint right into his arms. He catches him just before he hits the ground and feels how cold the boy's body is in his thin t-shirt. "My savior," Munson croons, and Steve rolls his eyes at his antics. Still not a freak, but definitely weird.

Instead of dignifying this with an answer, Steve says, "You're freezing, man. What are you doing out here in the middle of the night anyway?"

Dark brown eyes search his, and Steve thinks he's never seen such expressive eyes. He can read a myriad of emotions in them and he doesn't even know the guy. Sadness, caution, defeat, and something he's seen in the mirror a lot in the last few months: fear.

"I bet you have better things to do than listen to my sad little problems. Can't imagine you're just running around town rescuing damsels in distress now, I'm sure you have places to be, a kingdom to rule..."

"Could you just drop the whole 'King Steve' crap, man? I'm not him. Not anymore. Even if nobody seems to have gotten the memo."

"Okay, woah, sorry, man. I didn't know this was such a touchy subject."

"Do you want me to call you a freak and make assumptions about you based solely on high school gossip?"

"I don't know, don't you?"

"I'm trying not to. You don't have to tell me what's going on if you don't want to. I'm just saying... I know what it's like when you can't stand lying in your bed staring at the ceiling any longer. Wanting to get out and leave whatever it is that's bothering you behind, but no matter how fast you drive, it keeps catching up with you."

He's rambling, he knows he is, he didn't plan on unburdening his heart to Eddie Munson of all people, but here they are.

"I failed senior year." Eddie finally admits in a small voice, not meeting Steve's eyes.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Fuck, man. That sucks. Can you repeat it?"

"Sure. But I... God, everyone was right all along. I'm a failure, a fuckup. Just like my dad. A good-for-nothing waste of space. I haven't even told Wayne, I can't stand the look in his eyes when I tell him". There are tears in Eddie's eyes and Steve's heart breaks for him.

"Fuck!" Eddie shouts across the quarry and a flock of birds takes flight somewhere in the nearby woods. He's shaking again, and this time it's not from the adrenaline. Steve can't really take away any of the things that are weighing on Eddie, but he can offer him something else.

"Do you want a blanket?"

Eddie's doe eyes blink at him slowly, as if he's not sure he heard him right.

"You're only wearing a T-shirt, you must be cold." Eddie doesn't deny it. "Let me get you a blanket, then."

Another slow blink, and then, "If you're...sure?"

Steve gives him a smile that he hopes is warm and reassuring. "I'm sure." He walks over to his BMW and takes the nail bat with him, exchanging it for the blanket that he keeps in the trunk of his car at all times. Tommy H. calls it the "baby maker blanket," which is so typical of Tommy that Steve wonders why he was hanging out with him at all. Maybe because he was a friend to Steve when no one else would be.

But maybe he won't tell Eddie about the blanket's history. Anyway, it's freshly washed and smells only of his detergent.

Handing it to the boy, Steve says, "There you go," before turning to walk back to his car.

"Where are you going?"

When Steve turns back, Eddie is sitting on the ground with the blanket around his shoulder, one end held open as if inviting Steve to join him.

"Back home?" It's not supposed to sound like a question, but some of his reluctance to leave seeps into it anyway. He doesn't want to go home to his empty house and bed, afraid to close his eyes in case the nightmares come back.

"Look, you don't have to, of course, but if you want, you can stay and tell me what brought you here in the middle of the night. Or not. We could just sit here in silence, totally fine with me."

Steve snorts, because even though this is the first time he's had a conversation with Eddie, he can already tell that silence doesn't come easy to him.

"If you're sure," he repeats Eddie's words back to him as he makes his way over to him.

"I'm sure," Eddie says firmly, wrapping the blanket around Steve as soon as he sits down next to him.

Many things surprised Steve that night, but most of all how comfortable the silence between him and Eddie had felt as they watched the stars until they gave way to the rising sun.

They never talked about that night again, the polite nods in the halls all the acknowledgment they allowed for what had happened.

But when Steve walks across the stage to receive his diploma in 1985, he notices Eddie's absence and his heart aches for him. He had been looking forward to seeing Eddie walk across the stage next to him, to give him a smile, a wink. Maybe even ask him out for a celebratory beer, if he's being completely honest with himself.

The sad truth is: Steve had no one to spend his graduation with, no girlfriend, no friends, just a 13-year-old know-it-all whose bedtime didn't really allow for any kind of grown-up celebration. Eddie was his only hope of not being alone tonight.

That's probably why he's heading out to the quarry again that night, bat and blanket in tow.

It's a shot in the dark, and at the same time it's not. Because there Eddie is, sitting on the edge again, small and defeated, and just as alone as Steve. Without a word, Steve joins him on the ground and wraps the blanket around them both.

"I'm sorry."

Eddie's warm weight settles against him. "Me too." Silence falls between them, and Steve thinks that's all they'll say, but then Eddie nudges his shoulder with his own and says, "I'm sorry, too. About Wheeler."

"Me too."

Steve thinks that even if he's not a poet, there's something symbolic in the way they both watch the sun rise again over the quarry.

The next time he wrapped the blanket around Eddie, it was again in the middle of the night. Only this time, Eddie is unconscious in the back of his car while Steve races to the hospital, praying to any God who will listen that this will not be the last time.

It isn't. Not by a long shot. Getting the blood out is not easy, but with Joyce's help he manages. The blanket is there when physical therapy is especially grueling, when they both sit on the porch of Eddie's new trailer, Steve holding Eddie under the blanket's protective cover.

It's there when Steve moves in with the Munsons and gets a special place on Eddie's bed, though they never make love on it. The blood was hard enough to get out, and the material doesn't look like it can take much more deep cleaning.

They take it with them when they move to their apartment in Chicago, and it's there for every bad day either of them has.

Their blanket finds its final purpose, however, with the arrival of their daughter, April. From the day their little bundle of joy moves in with them, she sleeps wrapped in the foundation of Steve and Eddie's love.

Steve may not be a poet, that's Eddie's job, but he appreciates the symbolism all the same.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 25 #love is asking “do you want a blanket?”#my writing

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decentwritings · 8 days ago

Text

Chapter 3

Summary: At twenty-six, you never expected your life to look like this: a veteran, a college dropout, now running drugs to cover your late father’s debts. The military took you away for a brief moment, but now you're back in your hometown, keeping family at a distance to keep them safe. Your simple plan to clear the debt, one job at a time, unravels the moment Mabel steps into your life.

previous part <--> next part

You check your mailbox again, sighing at the lack of mail. Nothing but advertising which is beginning to upset you. All this wasted paper–oh look, a new Chinese buffet is opening this weekend.

Your stomach growls of the thought of the restaurant, but you stuff it back into the mailbox with a groan. You don't plan on leaving your place for the rest of your life. You shut the mailbox shut and enter back into your place, the dark room a stark contrast to the bustling world outside. You flick the light on, illuminating the cluttered but cozy space. Your shoes squeak on the hardwood floor as you step inside, kicking them off in a corner. The familiar scent of takeout containers from last night still lingers, but you ignore it, sinking into the couch with a heavy sigh.

The silence feels oppressive, a constant reminder of the choices you've made to keep to yourself, avoid getting caught up in things outside your control. But lately, that isolation has been harder to bear. As you stare at the blank TV screen, your mind drifts back to the mailbox. Even a stupid coupon for a Chinese buffet feels like a reminder that the world keeps moving, even if you don't.

It's times like this when you wish you had given in when you saw those puppies for sale at the nearest grocery store. You'd have a dog that would force you to go out during times like these. You just want to crawl into your bed and sleep your life away.

You pause.

"That's death," you mumble, throwing your head back with a loud groan.

The realization hits you harder than expected. You've been avoiding the world for so long, sinking deeper into isolation, that it feels like you've hit a wall. The emptiness isn't just in your apartment—it's creeping into your life, seeping into the corners you thought you could ignore.

It's been three days since that swim for that shipment and you have managed to avoid having to go out. No sale has been made for those weapons and you, shamefully, lied to your sister about being sick so you didn't have to pick up your nephew at school. Mabel even texted you, apparently Rudy gave her your number. You were too busy freaking out about her having your number to be pissed he gave your number out. In the end, you told her the same lie you told your sister.

You sit up, staring at the clutter around you. Takeout containers, unwashed dishes, laundry half-done. It feels like a reflection of how you've been living—putting things off, hiding from the inevitable, from the people and choices you know you need to face.

With a frustrated sigh, you push yourself up from the couch. "Alright," you mutter to yourself. "I'm not doing this anymore."

You walk over to the kitchen, grabbing a trash bag and starting to clean up the remnants of your quiet retreat. As you toss old containers and forgotten leftovers, you feel a small sense of relief. It's not much, but it's a step.

Your phone buzzes on the counter, pulling your attention away. You unlock it to see a message from Mabel.

Hey, your uncle sent me to bring you some soup.

You freeze, the bag in your hand dropping, spilling all the contents in it on the floor. "Oh fuck."

Your heart races as you stare at the message, trying to process what's happening. Your uncle sent Mabel? You weren't prepared for this. The lie you spun to avoid facing everyone has come back to bite you—and now Mabel is about to show up at your door with soup, of all things.

You quickly glance around your apartment. It's a mess—takeout boxes everywhere, laundry half-finished, dishes piled up. There's no way you can let her see this, let alone face her with the lie hanging between you.

"Shit, shit, shit," you mumble, scrambling to pick up the trash you just spilled on the floor. Your mind races with excuses—maybe you can pretend you're asleep, maybe you can text her back and tell her not to come—but it's too late.

A knock on your door echoes through the apartment, sending your anxiety into overdrive.

It can't be Mabel. That was too quick.

"Who is it?" You call out, waiting for a response.

There's silence before, "Mabel?" she sounds confused. "Did you not get my message?"

You grit your teeth. You should have pretended you weren't home. Now its too late for that.

"Uhh," you clear your throat. "Just leave it at the door. I don't want to get you...sick," you grimace, your words coming out too slow and hesitant.

"Open the door."

She figured you out. The pound she hits on your door just serves as proof.

Your heart races as you stare at the door, the weight of the lie pressing harder with each second of silence. Mabel knows. There's no hiding it now.

You can almost hear the impatience in her voice. "Come on, I'm not leaving until I see you."

You let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through your hair. There's no escaping this. You pick up the trash you dropped early then move to open the door.

Mabel stands there, arms crossed, her brow furrowed in concern. "Seriously? Sick?" she says, her voice softer than you expected. She steps closer, peering into your eyes like she's searching for the real reason behind your avoidance.

You shift uncomfortably, looking away. "It's... complicated," you mutter, trying to dodge her gaze. "And you lied too. Where's my soup?" you shoot back.

Her eyebrow raises. "Seriously?" She huffs and you step aside, allowing her entrance. She walks in and her eyes examines your place. "I knew you were faking. I asked your uncle where you lived since he told me you were most likely hiding like the natural hermit you are–his words, not mine," she adds quickly, raising her hands up in defense.

You huff, shutting your door then leading her to your kitchen. You pick up as much as you can in your kitchen as you do, glancing over your shoulder at Mabel. "Well, he's not wrong," you mumble, tossing a takeout box into the trash. "But it's not like I wanted to be this way."

Mabel leans against the counter, watching you clean up with a knowing look. "So, why are you?" she asks, her voice steady but gentle, like she's trying to pry without pushing too hard.

You pause, hands gripping the edge of the sink, the weight of everything threatening to spill out. The weapons. The lies. The guilt gnawing at you. But you swallow it down, just like you've been doing since that swim. "I'm just... dealing with a lot," you admit. "And when things get too overwhelming, I shut down. Or go for a swim but..." you trail off, frowning because your past time has been ruined.

A silence fills the space between you two and when you look at her, really look at her, you remember Charlie's words. I'm not risking her getting hurt again. Again.

You don't want Mabel getting hurt at all.

"Makes sense why I haven't seen you at your usual spot," Mabel breaks you away from your thoughts. You lean against your kitchen counter, crossing your arms as you avoid her eyes. "You said you would teach me how to swim, remember?"

Right. That's backfired on you.

You feel a pang of regret at her words, the memory surfacing like a distant wave. "Yeah, I remember," you reply, your voice low. "I just... I haven't felt up to it lately."

"That's fine," Mabel shrugs, taking a seat at your kitchen table. You rub your temples, missing the way she looks at you.

The way she's waiting for you to confess. She went out to look for answers on how you managed to stay under the town's radar, avoiding the rumor mill this town always has spinning. She found little because she knew if she wanted to find out more, she had to go to some people she swore she would never interact with again.

You can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers fidget with the edge of the table. It's like she's waiting for a confession to slip from your lips, but all you can muster is silence. The truth hangs between you, heavy and unyielding, but you can't bring yourself to share it—not yet.

"Look, I get it," she says finally, her voice softer but firm. "You don't want to talk about it, and that's okay. But I want you to know that I'm here for you. You don't have to handle this alone."

You have a feeling her offering help to people she barely knows got her into whatever mess Charlie was mentioning before. That thought lingers in your mind, making you hesitate. Mabel's willingness to help people, to care for them no matter what, could be what got her tangled up in a dangerous situation before. And now, here she is, offering the same to you.

You search her eyes, the guilt already creeping in as you think about how to push her away. If she won't leave on her own, maybe you can hurt her enough to make her back off. It's cruel, but if it keeps her safe, then it's worth it.

"What are you doing?" You ask, your tone switching to a much firmer one. She's stunned, the sudden raise of volume catching her by surprise. "You talk about knowing what real mess is, so what are you doing? Offering help to strangers–is that the same way you met Charlie?"

Mabel's eyes widen at your sudden change in tone, and she flinches slightly, but quickly recovers, her gaze hardening as she processes your words. "What does Charlie have to do with this?" she asks, her voice steady but edged with tension.

"You said it yourself," you continue, pushing forward despite the guilt creeping up your spine. "You're always getting mixed up in other people's messes, trying to fix things that aren't your problem. It got you into trouble before, didn't it? So what's stopping it from happening again? What's stopping me from being the next one to drag you down?"

Mabel's jaw tightens, her arms folding defensively across her chest. "That's not fair," she says quietly. "You don't get to make assumptions about my life, about the things I've been through. And you definitely don't get to use Charlie to push me away. You don't even know the half of it."

You feel the sting of her words, but you press on, hoping she'll see the danger before it's too late. You scoff, rolling your eyes. "The half of it, please," you shake your head, "fine, maybe I don't, but I know enough. You get involved, you get hurt. Why can't you just walk away from this?"

Mabel stares at you, her eyes searching yours for a moment before she speaks again, her voice trembling just slightly. "Because I care about you. And I'm not going to walk away just because things are messy. You might think you're protecting me, but shutting me out isn't going to help us either."

Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, you're torn between pushing her away and pulling her closer.

That word lingers in your mind—us. It feels foreign, like it doesn't belong in the mess you've created. But hearing it from Mabel... there's a part of you that aches for it to be true.

You want to believe there could be an "us," but you know better than anyone that dragging her into your chaos would destroy whatever hope there is for that. You can't risk it, not when she's already been through enough.

If she's been hurt once, you don't want her to get hurt again. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself.

But she's stubborn, you don't need to be a genius to figure that out. Not when you turn your back to her, to avoid her eyes because you felt yourself wanting to give in.

Mabel steps closer, her voice firm but filled with that same stubborn determination that both frustrates and captivates you. "I'm not trying to save you. I just want to be there. If you push me away now, you're making that choice, not me."

"Maybe it's the right choice," you whisper, gripping the sink, knuckles turning white.

Mabel lets out a quiet chuckle. "Then it's time I make the wrong one," you glance at her, eyebrow raising, and she shrugs. "I've chosen what I think are the right choices–what I believe was the right thing to do. Maybe it's time I do the wrong thing." She finishes, her voice soft but unwavering.

You're out of fight, at least when it comes to her. You want to be selfish for once. Pick yourself–by choosing her. Fuck the consequences. You'll worry about it later.

So in one swift move, you turn and grip her waist, bringing your lips to her, connecting them. Mabel freezes for a moment, caught off guard by the suddenness of your kiss, but then she melts into it, her hands finding their way to your shoulders. The tension that had been building between you two seems to shatter in that instant, replaced by something raw and undeniable.

You don't know what's going to happen next—if this is a mistake, or if it's the right kind of wrong. All you know is that in this moment, being with her feels like the only thing that makes sense.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, her eyes wide as they search yours. Neither of you speak, but the silence says everything. You've made your choice, and so has she.

Mabel smiles softly, her forehead resting against yours. "Guess we're both making bad decisions now," she whispers, and despite everything, you find yourself smiling back.

"You're going to regret it," you tell her, some teasing in your voice but she can hear how serious you are.

She shrugs, her fingers brushing your hair gently. You practically melt, haven't experienced something like this in a long time.

"I'll take my chances," she murmurs, pulling on the back of your neck to bring your foreheads together. You shut your eyes at the connection, feeling her fingers continue to play with your hair. "Quit with the mystery. I'm not going anywhere. You can't scare me away."

You open your eyes to meet her eyes, and just the thought of her getting hurt because you infuriates you. You make a promise with yourself to make sure she stays safe, no matter what. Even if it means keeping her closer than you'd originally planned. She's not going anywhere, like she said, and you find yourself grateful for that.

You nod wordlessly, lifting your hand to her cheek. You run your thumb over her cheek, inscribing every detail of her face in your memory. Not like it's difficult. This photographic memory thing really comes in handy.

I won't let anything happen to you, is what you want to say but instead you connect your lips with her again, but in a slow, deliberate kiss. It's not just about the desire anymore—it's about the promise you're making, even if it's one you'll never speak aloud. She deserves to know, deserves to feel that you're not just pulling her closer to push her away later.

When you finally pull back, you linger there, foreheads still touching, both of you breathing the same air. Mabel opens her eyes, her lips curving into a small smile, like she understands what you're trying to tell her without words.

"You don't have to say it," she whispers, reading you better than you thought possible. "I already know."

That's the thing about Mabel—she always knows. And maybe, just maybe, that's why you can't seem to push her away, no matter how hard you try.

"Wanna go for a swim?" Mabel asks, dimple on her cheek appearing. You chuckle, but nod, brushing your thumb over her dimple. She bites her lip then takes your hand, dragging you into your room to get your stuff ready.

\\\\\

"Think you can go in a few more steps?" you ask, a hint of teasing in your voice as you stand a few feet away, watching her carefully. She eyes you, a mix of determination and hesitance crossing her face, and you can't help but chuckle.

It's not just the apprehension that you find amusing; it's the sight of her in your old high school gym shorts and that tattered soccer jersey hanging loosely on her frame. It makes her look small, almost adorable, but definitely small.

"Come on, this was your idea," you say, splashing her lightly. She jumps back slightly, her glare shooting daggers at you. "At least let the water hit your waist," you encourage, standing tall as the waves lap at your chest.

Mabel hesitates, her determination flickering, but you can see her resolve slowly building again. You bend your knee, letting the water hide half your face, and you wait patiently for her to take the leap. Another wave crashes against you, and you duck under, mentally laughing as you hear her call out for you.

"Mabel! Come on, you can do it!" you shout, surfacing to see her still standing at the edge, glancing back and forth between you and the water.

"You scared the shit out of me," she exclaims, once again, glaring. You wipe your face, laughing gently. "The waves are bigger than last time. Are you sure it's safe?"

You forget the teasing and joking, noticing the genuine worry behind her words. You walk over to her and take her hand, pulling her into you carefully. Her arms go around your waist, like a habit, naturally, and you feel a sense of warmth radiate between you.

"It's safe," you say softly, meeting her gaze. "I won't let anything happen to you."

You finally say the words out loud to her. A smile is on her lips, probably figuring out you mean it more than just right now in this moment. She pecks your lips and you wish she had kissed you longer. But she turns and looks at the water with determination, and you don't want to break her concentration.

"Okay, I can do this," she mumbles, mostly to herself but you hear her loud and clear. She tugs on your hand and you take it as your cue to walk further into the water, hoping she follows.

You wade deeper, the cool water rising to your chest, glancing back to see Mabel right behind you, her expression a mix of excitement and resolve. The gentle waves lap against you, and you feel the rhythm of the ocean pulse around you.

Soon, she's in front of you, shivering slightly but still grinning ear to ear. You take her in your arms and kick your feet to have you both floating. She stills, but only for a moment, relaxing as the waves appear to settle around you.

Her arms wrap around your neck, practically clinging onto you like a lifeline. For a few minutes, she just rests her chin on your shoulder, the sound of the ocean filling the silence between you two.

You admire the sun in the distance, still hanging high, giving you a positive outlook for the rest of the day. How your day started is completely different from how it's going. You didn't expect for it to go like this at all.

"Who taught you how to swim?" Mabel ends the silence, but her voice is above a whisper. In the distance, you can see some fishing boats and some teenagers who most likely skipped school since the school year is almost over.

You turn your head slightly to catch a glimpse of the fishing boats bobbing on the waves, their silhouettes framed by the sun's golden glow. You smile, the warmth of the moment wrapping around you like the gentle waves.

"My dad," you reply, your voice barely above the sound of the water. You watch the boat disappear, sort of like you did whenever your father went away on a job. "He took me out here every summer. Said it was important to know how to swim, especially around the ocean."

Mabel nods, her fingers playing with the ends of your hair. "I wish I had someone like that. I just...never really learned. Was always too scared, I guess."

You smile sadly, tucking your face into her neck. You hide your face for a moment before you decide to share a little more.

"I was terrified," you admit it, chuckling at the memory of your first swimming lesson. "My dad bought those above ground pools, and as soon as it was full of water; he tossed me in there–no warning."

Mabel pulls back slightly, an amused smile on her lips. "Seriously?"

You shrug. "Forced me to learn," you say, as if it's no big deal. And it wasn't. Because it was a great first lesson. "I knew how to doggy paddle which saved me from drowning but then he further advanced my skills. Once I learned, they had to drag me out of the pool."

Mabel laughs, the sound bright and infectious, echoing against the backdrop of the gentle waves.

You chuckle, the memory warm and nostalgic. "Yeah, my mom hated it, because I wouldn't come out until my hands and feet were pruny. I went from being terrified of the water to begging to swim every chance I got. By the end of the summer, I was diving off the side of the pool and having battles with my water type Pokémons." You nod proudly, unashamed.

"Water type...Pokémons?" Mabel raises an eyebrow, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement.

"Well, yeah, I'm not going to use my fire type Pokémons in the pool," you say, like it's obvious.

You don't see the amusement until you hear her laugh again. You raise a brow, unsure what's so funny.

"Oh, my god," she covers her mouth, laughing in between apologies. "You're secretly a dork." She says and your jaw drops.

You splash her gently and she splashes you right back, giggling.

"I'll take that as a compliment," you shrug, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.

"Well, Sergeant Dork," you tilt your head, deadpan at the joke. She cracks up even more before continuing. "I hope you know our fingers are pruny, so..."

You look at your fingers and hum. "Not pruny enough," you say, pulling her into you. She laughs but doesn't argue, returning her chin back to rest on your shoulder.

Time appears to slow down, and you find yourself lost in the warmth of her presence, the gentle sway of the water cradling you both. The sun shines down, casting golden rays that dance on the surface, illuminating the moment.

Mabel's laughter fades into a comfortable silence, and you breathe in the salty air, the sound of the ocean providing a soothing backdrop. It feels as though nothing else matters—no worries, no past mistakes, just the two of you suspended in this perfect moment.

That's why you love the ocean. It made you forget about what was happening on land. So what you did a few nights ago? It was like your two worlds colliding. The only way they collided before was when the waves crashed into the sand, so it hurt that it was you crashing into the ocean.

"Hey," she whispers, breaking the stillness. "What if we just stayed out here forever?"

You wish. No, literally. You wished for that as a kid.

"I think we're better off leaving the city than staying in the ocean," you say with a huff, your words coming out tiredly. That was another one of your wishes—to leave the city without having any guilt.

Mabel pulls back slightly, studying your face. "What do you mean?"

You take a deep breath, the salty air filling your lungs as you weigh your words. "When I was little, I used to imagine running away to live on a beach somewhere. No responsibilities, just the sound of the waves and the warmth of the sun. I thought if I could just escape my reality, everything would be different. But then I grew up, and... well, life happened."

You laugh gently, recalling a specific moment in your childhood. "I actually packed a bag and took some pillows and blankets from the closet to build myself a fort out here," you say, turning your head to look for the spot where you planned to make the fort.

"What happened?" Mabel asks, watching you search the shore.

"My parents caught me," you mutter, frowning as Mabel laughs at your expression. "I mean, I couldn't exactly sneak off. I had a giant suitcase with the blankets and pillows; it was just easier to carry. Plus, I think my sister snitched on me. That's what I get for inviting her," you huff at yourself.

Mabel laughs again, her fingers returning to play with the ends of your hair. Her mouth opens to say something, most likely to tease you, but then you hear a pop in the distance. To anyone, it could just be some random noise. But with your knowledge of what was picked up a few nights ago and your training, you're on edge.

"You okay?" Mabel asks, feeling how stiff you are. You look to where the sound came from, your jaw tightening; you hope Nick's friends aren't dumb enough to sell in broad daylight.

You hum, Mabel's question processing in your mind. "Oh, yeah," you answer, but the unease lingers. You were trained to trust yourself and your instincts, and right now, they're screaming.

In the Army, you had your team with you, who looked out for you while you looked out for them. But here, you just have Mabel to protect, and she doesn't have your training.

"Let's head back," you say, placing your hands under her thighs to pick her up. She gasps in surprise but quickly wraps her arms around your neck, her laughter fading into concern as you carry her back toward the shore.

As you wade through the water, you can feel the tension coiling in your chest. You scan the beach, looking for any signs of trouble, your senses heightened. Mabel notices your demeanor and leans closer, her voice low. "What's wrong?"

"Just... a noise I heard," you reply, keeping your tone casual but focused. "Let's not stick around to find out what it was." You push through the waves, feeling the cool water lapping at your legs, but your mind is elsewhere, concentrating on getting both of you back to safety.

As you reach the sandy shore, you set her down gently, scanning the beach once more. Everything seems normal, but that unsettling feeling still lingers. "Stay close to me," you say, taking her hand and leading her further away from the water's edge.

Mabel squeezes your hand, her eyes darting around as if sensing your unease. "Was it that popping sound?" You glance at her, closing in to where you left your towels. "I know you were at war and all that, but...this is still America. People shoot their guns randomly when they're bored."

"Near the beach?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light despite the tension in the air. You don't want to scare her, but the instinct to protect kicks in fiercely.

She shrugs. "People are idiots," she says as she reaches for your towel, then hers. She hands you yours, then uses her own to dry herself. However, she looks at you, not even acknowledging the towel in your hand, scanning your surroundings. "Hey—"

You flinch, her touch surprising you. A mix of regret and guilt crosses your face when you see her stunned expression.

"Sorry," you stutter out, exhaling a breath. "I didn't mean to... You just caught me off guard."

Mabel's brow furrows, her expression softening as she studies you. "It's okay," she says gently, placing a hand on your arm. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

You take a moment to breathe, the warmth of her hand grounding you. "I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile. "Just... instinct, I guess. I'll let my guard down in a second."

Mabel nods, then reaches for your bag and hers. "Let's grab a bite to eat," she points down the street, and you already know where she wants to go. "Your uncle's place is actually pretty good. Come on," she squeezes your hand.

She gives your hand an extra squeeze, and it's like someone lowered the volume of your surroundings. You still feel the need to protect her, but it isn't as over-heightened as before. You're on the lookout while you walk to your uncle's diner, keeping her at arm's length as you scan everything and everyone around you.

Despite your vigilance, you manage to listen to her as she talks. You can tell she's trying to settle your nerves, sharing little anecdotes about her day and making jokes about random things she's seen around town. It isn't until she mentions her classes for the fall do you decide to join in.

"And it's my third semester, still no major declared," Mabel sounds resigned, almost disappointed in herself. "I'm on my last two prerequisites, and I've taken random intro classes like psychology, business administration, and music appreciation, but I just don't—"

"Hold on," you plant your feet, stopping both of you from moving. Mabel looks at you, probably surprised you were paying attention. "You do understand it's totally okay not to have it figured out yet, right? I mean, that's what college is all about."

Mabel nods, but there's still a frown on her lips. "Yeah, but," she sighs, "all the people I've had classes with all have their majors declared or know what they're working toward, but I'm just... taking it one class at a time." She shrugs.

"So what?" you say back with a shrug. "You got financial aid, right?" She nods, and you nod in return. "Good. I mean, they usually have a timeline for you, but they also can't control if you have a major declared or not. You could decide on... marketing today, but you could always change your mind and switch to... law—I don't know," you add when you see her facial expression.

Mabel laughs, but you can tell she's taking your words seriously.

"Look at me," you say, gesturing to yourself. "I had my major declared, but I dropped out a semester later. Figure out what you want to do on your own time, and if financial aid or the world has a problem with that, tell me; I'll deal with them."

A small smile begins to form on her face. "You really would?"

"Absolutely," you reply, feeling more confident now. "I'll even call them up and say, 'Hey, Mabel's doing just fine figuring things out. Back off!'"

She chuckles softly, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe," you admit, "but I'm serious about this. You don't have to rush into anything. Everyone's path is different, and just because they seem ahead doesn't mean they have it all figured out."

Mabel's eyes soften as she considers your words. "You know, I think I needed to hear that. Thanks," she replies, her voice sincere.

You shake your head, realizing you've settle down from earlier. Your heart rate has slowed down and that disturbing feeling in your gut is gone. It's a dangerous world but you know and feel that Mabel is safe right now.

"Thank you," you say, and she only nods, pulling on your hand to lead you both to your uncle's diner.

As you walk, the familiar scent of your uncle's diner begins to fill the air, a comforting reminder of home. The noise of the street fades as you focus on Mabel, her laughter echoing in your mind like a soothing balm. You feel a sense of ease settle over you, grateful for her presence.

When you finally reach the diner, you hold the door open for her, and she walks in with a smile. As you follow her inside, you can't shake the feeling of being grateful for this moment—of being here with her, where laughter feels lighter and worries seem a bit further away.

Rudy and Jodie greet you both, loud as always; so loud, you miss more gun shots pop off in the distance.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #finestkind #mabel (finestkind) x reader #mabel (finestkind)#lighthouse

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steviesbicrisis · 2 years ago

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I was hallucinating a few hours ago due to lack of sleep bUT-

Thinking about Steve who's confident in his bisexuality, told the kids that he likes both and that's okay because he knows they need, trying to flirt with Eddie who is in denial bc it has to be a joke, right? Harrington, the straightest man alive? Steve lady's man Harrington? Nah, it's only on his mind. Meanwhile Steve is getting more and more sad thinking he's being rejected.

Now, think about the Hellfire members knowing that Eddie's a crush on Steve because he talks about it CONSTANTLY and be sad because "he doesn't have a fat chance in hell". They're also very protective of him so if anyone new in the club is being homophobic, they just throw them out.

So one day Steve is in the Hellfire to wait for the kids and flirt a little, telling himself that "this is the last time, you'll get a GRIP and MOVE THE FUCK ON!" is what he tells to himself. He tries a little and drops after a while, so in the break time the old members tell him that he needs to leave, because they won't allow anyone doing that to Eddie, as in: they think Steve knows that Eddie's gay and likes him so he's flirting with him in a mocking way.

So he leaves.

And when everyone (Eddie + the kids) is asking where is Steve, they say that he was being homophobic, an automat answer and they quickly try to cover up because they don't want to do that to Eddie, but Dustin immediately response was:

"how can Steve be homophobic if he's bi?"

And the world freaking EXPLOSES!

not the steddie hallucinations LMAO

Thank you for sending me this ask because I'm president of "Steve is a confident disaster Bisexual" and I'm making t-shirts for club members as we speak.

Anyways, I think Steve would be extremely confident in his sexuality to the point where he just likes whoever and goes for it (with the right precautions of course). When Eddie comes out to him and the rest of their group, Steve doesn't even think about coming out to him as well because he's been out to the group for so long he just assumes that everyone close to him knows.

So when he realizes he likes Eddie and flirts with him, he doesn't know what to take from his reactions: he doesn't look annoyed or uninterested (think about the girls he would flirt with at Scoops) but he doesn't respond either, which is weird for someone like Eddie, who engages flirty banters even with plants.

Let's add to the mix that Steve's love life has been a mess recently, how many times can you be rejected before you think there's something wrong with you?

That's why he decides to go all in one last time and then leave Eddie alone, but even the worst scenarios in his head did not prepare him for Eddie's friends telling him off on his behalf.

Steve's head is a mess but most of it all, he's ashamed. He thinks he must've been so annoying and oblivious to Eddie's disinterest that the guy had to ask his friends to put Steve in his place for him.

So he finds himself in the school's parking lot, sitting on the hood of his car and mentally counting how much money he and Robin will need to move to another country (because not even the most embarrassing moment of his life will make him go anywhere without her), completely unaware of the chaos inside the Hellfire room.

Eddie isn't in a better mental state than Steve, so he's letting the kids and the band do the talk for him.

"What do you mean he's bisexual? of course he isn't, he's Steve Harrington!" Gareth exclaims, voicing out one of Eddie's many thoughts.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? do you need a special license for that?" Mike huffs, crossing his arms.

Jeff steps in to defend his friend "Of course not! But he's king Steve! And he's constantly picking on Eddie, you heard him!"

"Picking on him? Even a child could see that he has been throwing hints at Eddie for weeks now! What are you, five?"

Erica's words put an end to the discussion, silence falls down abruptly.

Eddie jumps up off his throne and follows wherever Steve had disappeared before, distantly hearing his friends muttered apologies.

He sighs in relief when he sees Steve hasn't left yet.

The car is parked the opposite way of the entrance, so Eddie can only see Steve's back, but he can tell he's gesturing and, when he's close enough, he can hear him talk.

"You can never take a hint, can you? This is so stupid, how can you go around saying you got game when you can't even tell if someone's interested in you? Harrington charm my ass" Steve's hands are all up in the air and Eddie realizes he's gesturing similar to how Eddie does on a daily basis.

It's cute.

"Please leave the Harrington charm out of this" Eddie interjects, making Steve jump in surprise.

He looks like a deer caught by car lights, but he hides it quickly behind a smirk that Eddie refers to - at least in his head - as bitchy Steve "so, no more sending your gang after me? are you worried they didn't do a good job? or am I forbidden to stay even in the parking lot? I'll let you know that I-"

Eddie loves mean girl Steve, but he has no time for him now, so he interrupts "Go on a date with me."

Steve's raised eyebrow and incredulous look tell him that he doesn't take him seriously in the slightest.

"I said, go on a date with me" he repeats.

"I heard you the first time" Steve's voice is close to a whisper "I just think you must've hit your head on your way here."

"You're the one always taking hits on the head, not me" Eddie takes a step closer to him.

Steve steps back "well, there's a first time for everyone" he says, looking away.

Eddie moves close again, his face only a few inches from Steve's "I don't hear an answer."

Steve's eyes flicker on Eddie's lips for half a second, "I didn't hear a question" he bites back.

Eddie smirks and, under Steve's shocked look, jumps on his car.

"Eddie, what the fuck? get down of my car!" he's trying to maintain a firm tone but Eddie can tell he's amused by his antics. Eddie couldn't ask for anything better.

He looks around the parking lot to make sure they're alone, then loudly enounces "Steve Fucking Harrington-"

"Don't say it like it's my middle name!"

Eddie ignores him "- king of the school grounds, best Scoops Ahoy model-"

"what does that even mean-"

"Worst employee that family video has ever had, Faberge Organics favorite costumer-"

"I told you that in confidence."

"Would you do this humble commoner kneeling at your presence" he kneels down theatrically as he says so "the honor of accompanying him for an evening of frivolous romantic shit that society expects you to do when you find a respectable partner?"

“If I say yes will you get down?”

Eddie moves his weight from one foot to the other, making the car under him bounce “I might consider it.”

Steve lifts his arms, apprehensively “Okay, yes fine! Now please get down-”

Eddie jumps down, right into Steve’s arms.

———

All the hellfire club members decide to stop spying on them and get back inside when Eddie’s highly entertaining antics turn into a gross make out session.

“So” Dustin elbows Gareth’s side “does that look homophobic to you?”

#sorry for any mistakes #I’m falling asleep as I’m writing this lmao #and for making you wait #but I had fun writing it!!#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and eddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #bi steve harrington #ask me anything #steddie ficlet #ficlets #sbc writes

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trashmouth-richie · 11 months ago

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Hi! What about a blurb on Eddie taking care of Tooty post Partum

i love this, hope you enjoy it anon

masterlist

a small kiss sweeps against your neck, soft and sweet, followed by a sleepy little moan.

“good morning, baby.”

you roll over and face him, still adjusting to the pull of the stitches in your abdomen wincing as it feels like your muscles are literally being ripped in half.

you grumble and yawn, “no way the sun is out right now, i just laid her back down.”

he loves your sleepy voice, loves the way your hair is tangled into a mess on top of your head, the way your sleep shirt is twisted under you.

motherhood was his favorite look on you. it fit you perfectly and you wore it well. whenever Eddie seemed to be losing his mind not knowing what was going on when both the babies were crying, you were gentle in explaining to him what they needed.

he chuckles into your neck and you find his lips with eyes still closed, kissing him deep, sighing into his open mouth when his fingers cup your cheek.

Six weeks of late nights and spit up stained shirts— you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Eddie had morphed into the biggest softie, nearly crying himself when you trimmed the babies finger nails, never wanting to lay them down when they were sleeping. Wayne was right, he was the best dad.

“you’re so beautiful,” eddie whispers running his thumb over your cheek bone, “my sweet tooty.”

the butterflies for eddie never stopped fluttering and you never wanted them to, he was perfect. you open your eyes and smile up at him.

he’s completely dressed, keys stuffed into his pocket.

“going to the shop this morning?”

“ ‘m taking the babies to go see grandpa and grandma—” you sit up but large hands put pressure on your arms and lay you back down, “nah uh sweetheart, this is daddy’s day out, you just stay put, rest.”

tears well in your eyes and you aren’t sure if it’s from being so tired and drained from lack of sleep or from pure happiness and the thought of sleeping uninterrupted.

“wh—what if they n-need me?” you sob, tears rolling down your cheeks in an uncontrollable flood.

Eddie’s calm voice shushes you, “baby, I packed everything we might need—bottles, formula, diapers, wipes, socks, extra onesies, burp rags.. we will be more than fine.”

you didn’t think they wouldn’t be, but you sobbed even harder. “—i’m go, ugh Eddie! i’m gonna m-miss them.”

the bed dips where eddie sits next to you, rubbing your back, kissing your temple, “you need sleep, honey. it’s the only way you’ll heal.”

it took some more convincing from eddie, but when the front door shut and tires crunched on the gravel, your tears dried, and you hiccuped yourself to sleep— waking in the late afternoon to the smell of fried food and the smoky scent of eddie’s cologne.

“brought some food home,” he said kissing your lips and holding two large drinks and a bag of food in his arms, “wayne and karen wanted to watch the kids for the night…said I looked like hell and should go home and sleep— can you believe that?”

you smirk and his dimples display in his shit eating grin, “diet coke for the lady, and a regular coke for daddy.”

eddie unravels the slick wrappers from each hamburger, handing you a carton of fries as you sit up in bed, joining you with a burger in his mouth like a dog holding its favorite toy.

“regular coke, huh?” you say taking a small bite from your burger, “damn livin’ life on the edge.”

eddie snorts and swallows his food, “right, might even get real crazy and finish the whole thing.”

“eddie the freak munson still has it, ladies and gentleman.”

Eddie’s eyes cloud dark, a smirk on his lips as he walks his fingers under the sheets, towards your inner thigh— knowing full well that you slept in just panties and that oversized shirt these days.

your breath shifts and you swallow hard when his finger tips graze over your clit, a small little hitch catches in your throat and he grins devilishly, leaning down into you, eyes ripping holes into you, swallowing your bated breath as he moves his fingers underneath your panties, and you welcome him with knees pulled apart.

“oh baby… i never lost it.”

#honey i'm home #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #fic recs #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things

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ysmtttty · 4 months ago

Text

Neris week: headcanons

@nerisweek

• Nesta has cold hands. She loves getting her hands under Eris’s shirt since his body is a live heater. He doesn’t mind, he likes to hold her hands and warm them up, always saying she needs a better coat. And he does buy her a new coat.

• They both are clueless on how to express their love. So they both are like… ‘unfuck you??? I guess???’ at first. Eris’s display of affection is also buying her everything he thinks she will like. Jewelry, dresses, flowers. He can winnow throughout all Prythian, visit every court just to find the best things. Nesta’s one is that she joins Elain’s baking lessons with Nuala and Cerridwen, making him sweets.

• They both were surprised about each other’s sweet tooth. Eris now hires the best bakers in Prythian so Nesta will always have the best chocolate cake. Even though he will always say that anything she bakes will be ten times better. Nesta doesn’t bake often, it’s not her thing, but once in a while she does enjoy doing that for her and Eris.

• Once Eris tried to bake a chocolate cake himself. He was embarrassingly bad at that. He prefers not to recall that evening

• Nesta is clueless about most of fae stuff. So Eris always has something to explain. He explains very patiently and never shames her for lack of knowledge about anything.

• Eris takes her on a tour around Prythian to introduce her to different courts’ cultures. Nesta buys small souvenirs from every court to remember about the visits.

• His hounds LOVE Nesta. From the first time they saw her, they’d been charmed! Eris was kinda perplexed because never once his hounds were THAT friendly to a stranger. Nesta says it was others’ skill issue. She loves to spoil his hounds. Eris grumbles that she makes them too soft for hunting hounds.

• Whenever they argue the hounds are like children of divorce. Because they have to take sides. There are some who vary their side from time to time, and there are some hounds that always go to Nesta and some that always go to Eris. Because sometimes when they argue they sleep separately and hounds go to their beds, keeping them company.

• Whenever they argue too badly, hounds do not like that at all and tug on their clothes, pulling them closer to each other and barking at them as if saying go apologize!!

• They both freak out when Nesta gets pregnant. Not because they don’t want a child. They do. Very much so. But they both are very worried about possible mirroring their abusive parents’ behavior. Nesta reminds Eris he is not his father; Eris reminds Nesta she is not her mother. They both become the most loving parents.

• LoA adores Nesta, they often have tea parties. Eris is offended he never invited to one. They say it’s girls only. Soon it becomes tea party with LoA, Nesta and Elain where LoA always tell some embarrassing stories about Eris and Lucien — they both are mortified.

• Eris learned how to dance because it was a good training for his body, and it was a good skill for political events. He never dislike it, but never truly loved it either. Then he danced with Nesta and started liking dancing more.

• Nesta arranges girls nights very often. Eris always gives her the full manor in her access and leaves for the night to a different estate, not wanting to interrupt her personal time with friends. They both need their time separate from each other, they are also mature enough to talk about it, so they have a schedule.

• Eris likes making schedules. For everything. Nesta says he’s weird, often messing with his physical schedules, writing there something silly or drawing something on them. Eris secretly likes that.

• Eris teaches her how to light the sword with fire. He thinks he might create a monster by that. Because Nesta with silver flamed sword? Unhinged!! The first thing she does is she goes to scare big bats. She giggles evilly when she does.

• Nesta once left her book open on the nightstand. Saying Eris was flabbergasted would be understatement. He asks about that directly and Nesta blushes. He then offers to recreate a few certain scenes that he oh so accidentally already read. Nesta blushes more. Nesta agrees.

• Once in a while they recommend books to each other.

• Nesta gets a cat. And if they both were worried hounds will scare the poor thing off, they didn’t. Instead, the little kitten became their leader. And as she turned into a big cat, the hounds are kinda scared of her. Nesta always laughs about that. Eris says it’s because she and the cat share the same eyes.

• Eris is touch starved at first. He clings to her as much as even possible. Cuddles in bed, hugging her from behind whenever she stands her back to him, holding hands whenever they can.

• Sometimes Feyre asks Nesta to look after Nyx, so the boy stays in their manor. Eris calls him ‘it’ and refuses to even acknowledge that little pest at first. He has constant beef with him for Nesta’s attention bc apparently Nesta is Nyx’s favorite auntie. Eris secretly likes Nyx but will never admit that. Instead he will just silently give the boy the most expensive chocolate he has and shoo him away. Nyx once calls him his favorite uncle in front of everyone. Cassian has heart attack.

#eris vanserra #acotar #nesta archeron x eris vanserra #nesta archeron #nerisweek #neris #neris headcanons #acotar headcanons #pro neris

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 1 year ago

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PLEASE HEAR ME OUT….. okay fainting while rehearsing with tokio hotel

basically the reader has been lacking sleep and is over working herself and when the band were rehearsing she fainted

(Hello! Sure I can! Enjoy!) Taglist

Fainting with Tokio Hotel

Obviously, everyone is concerned for you

You seemed fine for a moment, then, BAM

you were down for the count

It happened so fast everyone couldn't react as quickly as they would have

Gustav was standing closest to you, and somehow managed to catch you before you fell and hit your head and died

He was freaked and almost actually let you go, but was smart enough to sit down with your head in his lap

Bill noticed quickly yelling in surprise before he rushed over to help

He dropped his mic, just as Tom noticed and came to help, tripping on it and almost dragging Georg down with him

Everyone was stumbling over to you, everyone almost dying in the process as hands backstage and they all came running

They're your closest friends, so obviously they're all concerned

Bill is yelling for someone to get a medic at least, and Tom is almost shaking you to wake you up

"(Name)! I swear, don't be fucking dead!"

"Stop shaking them!"

"It'll wake them up!"

"No, it won't! It'll give them shaken baby syndrome!"

"What the hell is that?!"

"It's where if you shake a baby they'll be messed up in the head!"

"...oh, shit!"

Georg and Tom don't know what to do that's their whole conversation, making absolutely no sense at goddamn all

Gustav and Bill are the only ones actually helping, making sure your head is okay and answering the medics questions

But Georg and Tom help eventually, letting nobody else carry you except the two of them because they wanted to make sure you were okay

They somehow got you to the dressing room, laying you on the couch

Somehow a story was pieces together from the medic

You were extremely tired, malnourished as he noticed as well

It finally clicked for the guys as they had barely seen you even sleep, drink or eat in the past few days

Bill noticed when it started, telling you it's okay and to stop overworking yourself

Tom was the one to make you eat, giving you food and watching you eat, even if it was something small hen he would let you work on whatever you wanted

Gustav was worried for your health, seeing how tired and stressed you were as he offered to help take a load of your shoulders, but you refused

Georg was one to stay out your way, but had to step in and take your stuff, making you get at least a little sleep before it all

But it all seemed worthless now as you laid passed out on the couch

Tired, hungry and overworked

They all felt bad for you, as a friend they all felt guilty and like they failed

The second you woke up they were all over you again

Hounding you in mixed scoldings and relief that you were okay

Bill was letting you know to never do that again and that you worried them

Tom was just glad you were awake, saying stuff to not do that again

Georg was the one telling you that you scared the shit out of everyone

While Gustav was making sure you were okay, and telling you to stop overworking yourself again

They all felt guilty and then suddenly had a little agreement to stop this from happening

From then on, they made sure you ate, slept and drank at least something

It may seem a bit drastic and weird, but they're your closest friends

And they would feel like shit if this happened again

So mark their words, they have the best intentions, and a way to have this never happen again

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@billsjum6ie @bigbootahjudy @dead-tapes @ilovebill-and-gustav @r3dheadedw0rld @kiwitsune @V4mpyboyy @novaaisstupid @billybabeskaulitz @yas-v @iischafer @dilfverz @ahswhore0

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz imagines #tokio hotel georg #gustav tokio hotel #gustav schäfer x reader #gustav schäfer #gustav schafer #georg #georg listing x reader #georg listing

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icallhimjoey · 2 years ago

Note

idk why but I think it would be funny reader stuck in the elevator with joe and reader freaking out bc the elevator stopped while joe is all soft and trying to calm her down

YES excellent – i merged this idea with another request from anon who asked for a story that starts on the tube, so, here we go... a new five-part series! here's part one! thanks for the request, you're well sexy and the best, love ya for life xo Wordcount: 2.6K

---

Between Floors and Feelings

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“Rough night?”

You knew what this looked like.

You understood why the person who you'd sat down next to immediately got up and moved a few seats down. Why they avoided the drama of it all.

You understood why the lady opposite you stared at the floor and nothing but the floor, pretending that she hadn't seen you, probably because that would just be easiest for everyone involved, the politest thing to do.

You understood why the handsome stranger at the end of the carriage kept looking over, his big round eyes overflowing with pity for the runaway bride in the dirty dress, mascara stains all down her face and her hair a tangled up mess.

You got it.

You probably would’ve felt the same had you witnessed a girl in a wedding dress sit down in an empty seat, sort of dazed and empty-looking, numb to the stares and whispers – if people even whispered at all; the tube was notoriously quiet, always and forever.

“Rough night?” a boy from a group of four, maybe five, called over, and the rest of them all tried to hide their laughs.

Badly.

It was obvious they’d been drinking and you guessed they were on their way to the next party. Off to find another bar or a club that still let people in after the last tube had gone.

You made direct eye-contact with the kid, and you looked exhausted the way people can only look exhausted after they’ve cried for a good while.

Made sense, since, you know, you’d cried for a good while.

You just looked at this boy, who thought maybe he’d get a reaction out of you, but your lack of expression and unwavering stare quickly made him grow uncomfortable. Made his buddies shove his shoulders as they told him to leave her alone man, suddenly all respectful and well-mannered.

They felt the vibe. None of this was fucking funny.

It was enough to get him to back off, and thank fuck they all got off at Leicester Square – of course they did – and when the doors closed again, you noticed the carriage was mostly empty now.

A glance sideways told you the handsome stranger who’d been sneaking looks at you was still there.

Watching you.

What an outfit to be seen in by someone who had looks that would usually make you sit up a little straighter. Would make you faff with your hair a bit. Would make you stick your chin out and push your shoulders back, just in case he looked at you again.

You absolutely didn’t give a single shit about it now.

Couldn't care less about what you currently looked like.

You knew your face was a mess of streaky foundation with black mascara marks all the way down to your chin and, fuck it, you weren’t even planning on washing it off tonight. You’d wallow in bed and probably would cry some more before you’d fall asleep.

Tomorrow could be the day on which you’d care.

Maybe.

Right now all you’d wanted to do was murder someone, then sleep, and also, empty the rest of your bladder.

Perhaps that was the only thing about tonight that brought you secret joy; the memory of squatting over your boss’s handbag to piss right into it. You had to stop in a scurry when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs and didn’t want to be caught, but, if you had been, ultimately, it wouldn't have mattered.

You had resigned with immediate effect when you'd seen them.

Finding her unguarded handbag on your way out was exactly what she fucking deserved. You knew you'd probably regret it later, but for right now, it was all you fucking had.

The train stopped at Covent Garden, and it took a second for your body to get up to get out. Like the signals your eyes and ears picked up took longer to travel to the right parts of your brain, that then following signals took longer to travel from your brain to the right parts of your body.

You had to lift up your skirt, two fists grabbing at the tulle, to make sure your feet didn't get caught up as you stepped onto the platform.

With the increasingly annoying See It, Say It, Sorted repeating itself for the millionth time within the fourteen minutes you'd been on the tube, the doors beeped behind you before you heard them roll shut.

The platform felt empty, just a couple other people making their way towards the exit, and with your zest for life currently non-existent, the sensation of the wind from the tube leaving felt nice. So, you took a second, just stood there and thought to yourself how long it would take for it to become weird that you weren't moving.

There were just too many things to freak out over, far too much to completely overwhelm you, but it was almost like none of it was real. As if every single survival mechanism your body held within itself had switched on. They all made sure that the only thing you had going inside your brain was a low, constant hum. Nothing else.

It was almost like you weren't even there.

Like the whole evening had been a dream.

Like you didn't even really exist in this moment right now.

Yea. You were definitely dissociating.

You felt like a ghost a little.

One that had to pee, still. That motivated you enough to turn your head, tired heavy-lidded eyes reading the signs to follow them out.

Exit. To the lifts and stairs.

You were nearly home.

Home, where you were definitely 100 per cent going to beeline it straight from your front door right into bed.

Just that thought alone brought you back into yourself a little more, but it was just so you could tear up again. You felt the hot pinpricks behind your eyes and quickly shoved yourself out again.

No more crying, please.

You could just... float down the underground tunnels behind yourself. Follow your own footsteps out of the station. You knew were you lived. You would find yourself there later.

It was fine.

It was after the last theater rush, so for Covent Garden standards, it felt eerily quiet. Not that you were complaining. Waiting for the lifts whilst crushed between a bunch of tourists was the last thing you wanted right now.

But stepping into an empty lift with just one other person stepping in behind you, seeing just a few people step out on the other side, felt weird too.

Especially when you looked, and you saw that the one other person was the handsome stranger from your carriage. He'd apparently gotten off too, and suddenly, you felt embarrassed.

You were wearing a dirty wedding dress. Had black marks all over your face, all over your hands.

He looked fucking stunning. All prim and proper. Vintage-looking tweed green suit. Olive-y green. Gorgeous and well put together, the literal exact opposite from you in your current state. Like, sure, his curls were a little messy, but it seemed part of his look.

As the lift doors closed behind you, the stranger gave you a polite nod accompanied by a tight lipped smile. And you would have returned it, would've made it a kind, well-mannered exchange of acknowledgement, but, you weren't really inside of your body, remember?

All you did was look at him a second, face all blank, and you only slightly noticed that the empathy in his eyes doubled right in front of you before you turned away. You turned and slumped against the side, head resting back, eyes scanning the ads but not really reading anything, and you wondered if these lifts ever got cleaned. If someone ever took a rag and some cleaning solution and wiped down all the panels. By the look of things, probably not.

What if that was your job?

Clean the Covent Garden tube station lifts every day. There were four of them, and you imagined they all could use a good scrub.

You honestly wouldn't mind a job like it. You needed a new job anyway, 't was close to home and you liked the sense of accomplishment cleaning something incredibly dirty gave you. Where you could really see the difference.

You were doing a stellar job at distracting yourself from the current situation you were in. Made sure to stay all the way out of your body. Made sure that this veil that separated you from the real world, that blurred the boundaries between what was real and what was not, made sure that it stayed in place.

You were so close to home.

Wanted to be there right this second.

Fuck, you were so tired.

Maybe your new job could be figuring out this whole teleportation thing. See if you could make that work for yourself.

You didn't realise that your eyes were staring at the man who stood near where the doors were meant to open when you reached ground floor. Just, comfortably locked at the shoulder seam of his jacket.

Even when he turned his head a little for a quick look before he took a small sip from a half empty water bottle, surely because he could sense your two bulging wet eyeballs burn into his back, you didn't move your eyes.

Felt too nice to keep them there.

But then, without warning, there was a sudden jolt. It shocked you right back into your body and you couldn't help the small gasp that escaped you. The lift had come to an abrupt halt, and the lights flickered for a moment before they settled into a dim glow.

Oh no.

“Oh no,” the barely audible sound of your voice surprised you. Your throat still felt thick from crying, and hearing it out loud just reminded you of it more.

“Is it stuck?”

For a second, you thought that maybe, you were wrong.

You made a mistake.

Clearly you weren't really with it right now, so you didn't really trust your senses currently. You didn't really know what was real and what wasn't and found it difficult to differentiate.

But then the guy who was in there with you looked around, and then lowered his head. By the way his eyes moved, you could tell he was trying to listen for something.

“Are we stuck?” you tried again, and his eyes shot up to look at you.

No answer.

Fuck.

A mix of emotions washed over you; disbelief, annoyance, a new good dose of self-pity along with a strong healthy pang of sheer panic.

Cute.

It was kind of exactly how you felt about an hour ago.

If only there was a handbag of someone you really hated to piss into to elevate the situation a little. It helped a lot before.

“I think we're stuck.”

That was exactly the wrong thing to hear and it immediately threw you for a loop.

A panic attack.

The whole ordeal.

Your heart quickened its pace, an unsettling sensation tightened your whole chest and your breathing picked up, became all shallow at a rapid rate. Before you knew it, the box you were now trapped in felt like it was shrinking around you and suddenly you were in a place of imminent danger.

You were inside a mortal trap, a tragedy waiting to happen.

You had to sit down.

But your knees were locked.

You didn't know if the moisture you felt on your face were tears or sweat.

Oh man, it was hot in there. Did this guy feel hot in there too? Jesus Christ, why were wedding gowns so fucking restricting?

You saw how the emergency button was pressed, just once. Sensible. And then this guy waited patiently as he listened to static coming from the little intercom below it.

Well, fuck that.

In your panic you kind of threw yourself at this emergency button and with frantic hands and shaking fingers, you pressed it over and over and over, until two big hands took hold of you and guided your arms down.

“It's OK, don't worry. Help will come,”

Those words meant nothing to you, no matter how kindly they were said.

“Hello?!�� you shouted like anyone would hear you, eyes big and darting, and you scanned the rest of the lift for more buttons.

Your phone!

Of course.

You fished your phone out, panicked movements making you nearly drop it.

No service.

Why?!

“Hey, breathe,” the far-too-good-looking-for-his-own-good stranger tried, but you had already slung both arms over your head and got the jitters in your legs, desperately needing to move and so you started pacing.

Two small steps towards the back, two small steps back to where this guy was stood.

“This is just perfect, what the fuck, this is just–” the loud and sudden sob that escaped you made you slap a hand over your mouth.

“Calm down, we're safe, you need to–” he huffed a humourless laugh through his nostrils, all obvious nerves and tense uncomfortability. “You need to breathe,”

And he was right. You did need to breathe. You started feeling light-headed a little, felt your cheeks start to tingle, so you covered your face with both hands and squatted down, making the tulle skirt of your dress take up half the floorspace.

He joined you down there and held out his opened water bottle to you.

“Do you need some water?”

You didn't move your hands as you shook your head no.

“Okay, let me try that again. My name's Joe, I think you're having an anxiety attack, and I think you need some water. Here, have some water,”

“I don't want water.”

It was definitely sweat and tears. You felt clammy and cold but somehow uncomfortably hot at the same time.

“Breathe in, hey,” a finger got snapped in front of your face several times. That didn't do shit. “You're just breathing out, you've got to let air in too.”

And just for a second, the smallest fraction of a teeny tiny moment, everything suddenly cleared up in your mind. Comfort and ease took over and you felt... well, nothing.

Felt like drifting.

You felt everything flush down your body, all the way from your face right into your toes until it was all gone.

Just for a mere second, though.

“I'm fine,” you croaked before everything went slack. You lost your balance, your eyes rolled back and just like that, everything went dark.

“Oh, shit, oh shit,” Joe muttered, moving forward from sitting on his haunches to pressing his knees into the fabric of your dress as he tried to reach for you in a flash.

He got you by the arm, his open water bottle terribly in the way, and his other hand managed to reach around your neck. He got to slowly lower you down, ease you towards the floor entirely unsure of what to do next.

What did he need to do next?!

He was trapped in a tube station lift, on a stop he didn't even need to get out of, with an unconscious runaway bride who'd quite clearly was having the absolutely worst day of her life ever.

What the fuck was he going to do?

Then, behind him, from the corner of the elevator, the intercom static picked up again and was followed by a crackly voice.

“Emergency services, how can we assist you?”

---

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @freckledjoes @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellyxo1 @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @ohmeg @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @roosterisdaddy36 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @jnnyrd @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsmunson @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl @emma77645 @tlclick73

(taglist currently full, sorry)

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #rpf #icallhimjoey #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #between floors and feelings

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literallyjusttoa · 1 year ago

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Could you tell us more abt ur au where Apollo doesn’t come back exactly right after surviving being so close to chaos 👀

Yes!! Actually I had a fic that I really wanted to write about this, and I am planning on still doing that but I will tell y'all the gist of it bc I cannot contain myself. (Also this is a bit different from some of the things I've said before about this so I hope you still like it lol)

Ok so, the fic was gonna be a 5 + 1 fic, where Meg and Apollo both realize that something's ... off about him after the trials. His powers and abilities are fluctuating for seemingly no reason. Sometimes he's just a normal god, but sometimes it's like he's still a mortal. And he's also having times where he's way stronger than a god should be, like, near primordial levels. It's causing him a lot of issues, for example:

Gods don't need to eat or sleep, but mortals do. If Apollo doesn't realize his energy levels are going down, he will just end up crashing from lack of food/sleep. This leaves him perpetually exhausted and shaky.

His blood is now all kinds of crazy colors, and it changes based off of where he is on the mortal/immortal scale.

When he's in a "mortal" state of being, he's pretty similar to a demigod. Meg and Apollo learned this when Apollo accidentally did some lightning bending one day. This is not something Apollo has ever wanted to be able to do, and he freaks out appropriately.

One day, Apollo woke up sick and tired of this whole situation. He jokingly wished that someone else could just take over the sun for the day. However, Apollo hadn't realized that he had just gotten a huge power boost overnight, and his harmless little wish just created a second sun. Haha whoops.

Eventually, Apollo ends up breaking his father's rules and visiting Asclepius just so he can get some answers about this, so here's a little rough comic based on the scene I wanted to write explaining this whole mess.

#Is this whole thing an excuse to write whump? ... maybe #Also I imagine Asclepius describes illnesses to his patients with odd metaphors #because he's still his father's son at the end of the day #trials of apollo #toa apollo #lester papadopoulos #sunny speaks #apollart #ask #This isn't exactly related to my whole “Apollo becomes more chaotic after chaos” thing i've written about a couple times #but I hope it's similar enough that you still like it #also I will try to answer the rest of my asks today bc y'all have sent me some really nice stuff

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merp0515 · 2 months ago

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Healing Past Scars Chapter 4 Coffee Shop Of Horrors

Summary: After the dealing with so many traumatic incidents, our beloved meme guardain boys have to come into terms with both past and present scars. Will they be able to conquer them with an iron fist or will those same wounds destroy them both?

Tags: Suicidal Thoughts,PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Healing , Developing Relationship

Link to chapter 3’s Tumblr version is here, Ao3 link is here, and Wattpad link is here

TW: The following story contains dark themes such as PTSD, and disturbing imagery.

If there was one thing Three had wished for, it would have been over 1,000 cups of coffee to keep him awake.

The tired male sighs as he was getting everything ready to open up his coffee shop for the day. Last night definitely wasn't exactly the best sleep he's gotten and after waking up from that nightmare, he wasn't able to go back to sleep. Eggdog was at one of the tables, helping his Dad get the shop ready but at the same time keeping a close eye on him in case he had a similar freak out from last night.

SMG3 was getting all the coffee beans out, ready to be used for the day. The small whiff of the grounds helped him relax a little. He closed his eyes for a moment to smell the fresh coffee beans he was going to use very soon. The bell to 3’s Coffee N' Bombs rang, making the guardian open his red eyes and see who appeared so early in the morning.

If Three could laugh at the person that just walked in he would one hundred percent. Especially by how tired they looked and definitely was about to pass out on his cafe floor.

“So I take it that the storm also had you go through a sleepless night?” He asked tiredly, not even bothering to try to tease the other male that sat on his counter and put his down exhausted as fuck.

“Says the one who hasn't realized he spilled his own coffee beans on himself.” His guardian companion and friend SMG4 mumbled under his breath.

The tired purple goth looks back at his opened coffee bag already half empty with most of the beans already on the floor. Three cursed under his breath as he put the bag on the counter where Four sat. He turns around and heads to the back to grab a broom, grumbling angrily as to how he's already done with the day and wants to go knock out on his bed again.

SMG4’s half lidded eyes observed his meme guardian partner from a far. A yawn escaped his lips as he raised his upper half from the counter to rub his blue eyes from exhaustion. He sits up a bit, stretching his upper body a bit to help wake himself up a bit and have that energy boost he's been needing since he got here.

SMG3 lazed his way to the backroom, getting the broom to clean up the mess he accidentally made earlier. A sigh escapes the man's lips as he grabs the cleaning item he needed to get it done and over it. His mind pondered back to the nightmare he had the night before. He groaned, annoyed wondering where the hell did that kind of vision even come from and how on earth did it even happen in the first place. He looks to a corner of the backroom and leaves the broom he previously grabbed and sets it at the corner so it doesn't fall. Three leans back at the wall, letting himself slide down to the floor. His red eyes drained from the lack of sleep. He closes his eyes for a moment wanting to take a mini nap before his work at the coffee shop begins.

Just a little nap couldn't hurt. That scrub will be fine with staying on the main floor alone for a bit without me, he thought to himself as he slowly drifted to sleep. The purple guardian hopes that with the nap he's getting, it'll be enough to help him regain his energy and go on with his day.

A soft windy breeze echoes around the male who is currently laying down in the field of grass at the Internet Graveyard. He sits up and stretches his arms, feeling refreshed from his nap in the outdoors. Three looks up to the clear sky blankly, his mind not fully processing what was going on. All of a sudden, his son with a cute little top hat appears from the wild to greet his Dad. He bounced on his lap and clicked happily, gaining the attention of the graveyard lord.

Three looks down to see his first child. A mixture of shock and confusion spreads across his face as he gently touches its face.

“Terrance?”he began, “My boy where have you been?” He asks the little creature staring at him blankly briefly before responding in its language. “You've been at home? As in back at the coffee shop?” The ex villain asks once more earning a single click. The little Uganda knuckles gets off his lap and tries to direct him to where the meme once appeared.

The purple lad gets up from where he was once resting to see where his top hat son will lead him at. Once Terrance saw his father get up, the meme led the way to their old home. The ruby eyed male made sure to be up to speed with his child as he found it strange that he was walking a little quicker than usual.

As he was distracted on catching up to his deceased son, the air around him started to become colder, clouds started to form together as if it wanted to rain. Three senses something wrong in the air the minute he was seeing the sky get darker than usual.

Terrance clicks with glee as he charges full speed towards the thing that was waiting for them at the coffee shop. SMG3 gasps and he runs behind the speedy meme to stop him from accidentally hurting another being there. Out of breath Three managed to catch up to the little derpy knuckles and saw a familiar egg shaped meme. It was his other son, Eggdog. The little egg shaped dog looked at them both and barked happily at them. Terrance happily clicks to his dad signaling that his other brother was here waiting for the two of them.

“Eggdog! I'm so glad your her-”

Thunder roars loudly causing all three of them to jump in fear from the sudden noise. Eggdog whimpers, fearing the loud thunder and runs to his father to seek comfort. The Uganda knuckles followed his brother as well, startled by the noise as well. Three hugs both boys close comforting them so they don't feel scared anymore. Rain started to pour down rapidly as Three and his children were getting wet.

“Let's go inside. I don't want you two or myself getting sick from this weather.” SMG3 said as he walked to the front door of his old home and opened it carefully. Once inside, both meme children hopped away from Three and entered deep into the dark coffee shop.

“Terrance! Eggdog! Wait, I need to turn the lights on first! Don't run in the dark!” He shouted concern for his children as he followed the boys further into the dark building.

The further he was walking into the void, the more his anxiety was building up. The ex villain cursed under his breath as he was walking into the sea of nothingness. All he wants is to make sure BOTH of his children are safe from harm.

Clicks and barking are heard in the distance, Three takes the chance to run as fast as his legs could carry him to the sound of their voices. He didn't care that his legs were on fire and his breath was starting to sting his lungs, all he wanted was to see his kids. Small dots of red and white were spotted and the goth lad couldn't be anymore happier to have found them.The dark void slowly turned into the current home he was living in. Colors of dark blue and yellow illuminated his new home. Three looked around aimlessly as he was trying to stop himself from having a panic attack from pure worry.

He looks down, finally seeing his beloved boys. Both children had their backs turned on him which confused the meme guardian. Three reaches out to both sons in hopes of them noticing his presence. A gasp of horror was heard once both children turned around to face Three at the same time.

What once was the happy go lucky Eggdog turned into an egg shaped eldritch goope that he had fought with his friends back at Peach's castle. Eyes forming all around the little creature terrified the purple guardian. As for what was once Terrance, the Uganda knuckles had turned its own creepy eldritch version, with one eye with a big zero covering almost his entire face. The older meme child was a bit bigger than Eggdog's form as the red meme only had half of its body, its ribcage and a bit of its left arm showing his bones while the right arm had SMG0’s arm.

Three looked at the duo terrified. Ruby red eyes filled with fear and sadness seeing the horrified forms of both of his meme children. He backed away slowly, trying to get away from the nightmare in front of him. Little did the guardian know, that something was already awaiting him as he ran towards the front of the cafe.

Something had taken ahold of SMG3 and dragged him back towards the backroom of his cafe. Three tried with all his might to get away from the thing that grabbed him. It was surprisingly strong yet it wasn't doing any harm to him.

“LET ME GO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!” SMG3 shouted loudly as he felt his entire body shaking from fear. He didn't dare to open his eyes until he felt something hugs him tightly.

A gentle, yet strong warm embrace of something trying to bring him comfort. Three stopped resisting and gasped for air. He looked around his surroundings and saw that he was back at the corner where he was resting earlier. He looked at the corner of his eyes to his worried son and his pal beeg SMG4 staring at him concerned.

“Thank the memes you're awake! Your shouts startled us all and we went to check in on you to see if you were alright!” a familiar concerned voice spoke to Three. He looked at the source of the voice and it was none other than his meme guardian companion. His ocean eyes staring into his very soul. Three sighed in relief seeing the other male and smiled softly to him. Four smiled back, more awake than what he was earlier.

The two were like this for a while until Four’s alarm rang from his phone. Both snapped out of the trance they had and composed themselves.

“Damn it Three, don't scare us like that again!” Four stated, upset about the whole thing.

“Shut up Baka! I should be the one telling you that!” Three retaliated, a slight shade of pink forming on his checks. A bark from eggdog caught the attention of the two guardians. Three was shocked at eggdog’s comment.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I NEED REST?! I'm fine enough to function and work at my shop today!” SMG3 glares at his son. Eggdog growls in response knowing that his Dad is in dire need of rest. A little “ugh” from beeg SMG4 was heard. SMG4 crossed his arms, rolling his eyes.

“Beeg we've been over this. I'm already used to being up late at night working on my videos. I'll be alright. If it helps, I can help cover for SMG3 so he can get some rest.” SMG4 suggested earning a groan from SMG3.

“Oh no! You are NOT working at my cafe today! You were just as bad as I was earlier and almost looked like you were about to pass out on my floor!” Three exclaimed. Four glared at Three pouting at his response.

“As if you are any better! I can still smell the spilled coffee beans you left on the floor!” Four shot back, annoyed by Three's stubbornness.

“Listen here D tier scrub, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and my business so just go back to circus tent and go the fuck to sleep.”

“Fuck you Snitchy, I am not going anywhere! You need help running your shop! You literally look like shit! Did you even shower recently?!”

“Why the fuck do I need to answer that?! When the hell was the last time you actually drank water and ate something properly?! Have you actually touched grass aside from coming here every damn morning?!”

A loud siren alarm was heard, stopping both guardians from their tracks. A big hand grabbed the duo and dragged them down to Three's evil lair. Both males where struggling to break free from hand’s grasp.

Ding!

Both stopped trying to break free upon hearing the ding and were thrown to SMG3’s bed. Beeg SMG4 appears from the shadows with angry brows. Seconds later another ding of the elevator was heard and eggdog made his entrance not long after. Both meme parents glared at the duo before them. Eggdog was the first to break the silence. Three's eyes widened at his son's words and sighs sadly. Four looks at his sad friend. His once annoyed expression turned into a more concerned one. He turns back to his own kid. His short little “ugh!” was more than enough for him to give in and smiled at his son sadly.

“Alright you two. You guys win. We'll take a break from work today and try to catch up on sleep.” SMG4 gently spoke to the memechildren. Both boys made noises of glee, finally convincing their parents to rest. Three looks at Four, seeing the bags from his eyes really had him questioning how Four really has been doing as of recent. He flops down at his pillow, staring at the ceiling lost in thought. Eggdog and Beeg both jump to the bed to join the guardian duo to make sure they actually rest and bring them both comfort.

Both males smiled at their children. All they wanted was to give them some comfort and have them relax considering how stressful both must have appeared. Four flops to the other pillow and turns to face his son. He hugs the little guy close, feeling himself relax as he holds onto him. Eggdog snuggled closely to Three, the egg shaped dog wanted to make sure that his Dad knew he had someone here for him and loves him a lot. He could feel his Dad's stache tickle his fur earning a happy soft bark from the good noodle.

I'm so sorry for worrying you so much little one. I promise I'll do better for your sake. Both males internally spoke in their minds to their respective children as they slowly drifted to sleep once more in hopes of a better dream.

#smg4 #smg3 #smg34 #smg34fanart #smg4 fanart #smg3 fanart #smg4 fanfic #Healing Past Scars #merp #Smg4 fanfiction #tw dark themes #tw disturbing imagery #smg34 fanfiction #smg43

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 4 months ago

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Don't know if this has been requested before but skeletons kid got sick to the point where there too weak to move for long periods of time, always tired, and have a different time breathing and S/O is the main one taking care of them and giving them medicine.there kid makes a quick recovery after a few days of rest but how do each skeleton take care of there sick kid?

Undertale Sans - He is really not okay. Sans is best friends with Toriel, and over the years, they grew really close, to the point that Toriel told him about how Chara died. And now that his kid can't move and looks exhausted, he freaks out??? He's absolutely terrified but he doesn't want to alarm his S/O or his child so he bottles up all of his feelings and just tries to be there. He is so relieved when his child starts to get better, he hates the whole experience. He kinda camps in the room the entire time, to an unhealthy point.

Undertale Papyrus - He's taking his post when his S/O needs to go to work and does basically the same thing as them: watching, feeding, and making sure it doesn't get worse. Papyrus is a little stressed out, he doesn't like to see his child so down, but when he searched for what to do with his life, he studied how to be a nurse for a year, so he tries to apply what he knows to help for the best. He's as exhausted as his kid by the time they start to get a little better.

Underswap Sans - He doesn't really like the atmosphere at home and prefers to let his S/O deal with that. He goes to see his kid when he comes back from home to distract them a bit, but that's all. He's still a bit uncomfortable with sick kids, especially since his negligence almost killed his brother Underground when he was younger. He's scared to mess up.

Underswap Papyrus - He struggles a lot with the situation as, being extremely empathic, Honey kinda feels like he's sick as well with his child. He's stressed, he doesn't sleep a lot and he stays with his child for long hours, scared to let them alone. He's not doing well, and S/O has to actually drag him out of the room once in a while so he goes eat something. That still did not prevent him from passing out from exhaustion twice, and actually falling sick for real after his kid was healed because he got infected being too close to them for so long.

Underfell Sans - Habits are hard to forget. Sickness was considered a weakness Underground that could get you killed easily so Red is extremely anxious. He roams the house aimlessly, jumps at the slightest sound, and you get a heart attack twice after finding out the bed is empty because Red hid the kid in the closet. Just... Just in case you know. He knows he's overreacting and it's frustrating him, but he has no idea how to deal with this another way.

Underfell Papyrus - Like his brother, Edge is very stressed and nervous while the kid is sick. He's standing guard in the room, refusing that anyone except his S/O come in to check on them. He bought a ridiculously small mattress to sleep next to his child, and you're bringing him food because you swear he would not feed himself otherwise. He's exhausted at the end of the week, but his kid survived so it's ok. He's relieved.

Horrortale Sans - You find him sitting next to his child, his big head on their chest. Just to make sure they're still breathing. Oak is strangely silent. He saw so many people die from little colds Underground because of the lack of doctors and medicine that he's kinda traumatized. He doesn't want his kid to stay alone, not even for a few seconds. You never know what could happen. He just wants to be there and support them until, hopefully, things get better.

Horrortale Papyrus - It's not a peaceful time. Willow is already a bit nervous because of how bad sick people used to turn Underground, even though he knows it should be fine on the Surface, but added to that, he's very concerned about Toriel. She's part of the family, but since his kid is sick, she's not well either, sometimes crying for hours or randomly calling them Chara. He gets burned out pretty quickly and starts to stress cook to compensate for his anxiety.

Swapfell Sans - He reads books to his child to help them sleep better. He's nervous about their sickness, but not that much as he has good knowledge on healthcare. He just tries to be there and makes sure his kid doesn't need anything. He's still standing guard, old habit, but he knows that stressing out would just stress out his baby, so he tries to stay as relaxed as he can so his child doesn't worry too much and heal quickly.

Swapfell Papyrus - He tries to distract his kid the best he can with some pranks and jokes so they don't worry too much and focus less on their sickness. He's doing a pretty good job. He lets the cooking to his S/O and the medicine. He's not too good with these things anyway. He's a jokester, not a nurse.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He sleeps with his child. This way if someone breaks through the window to kill them, he's near and ready to jump into action. Ok, maybe he shouldn't have told that to his child as they are now terrified someone might break in to hurt them and won't accept to sleep. At least they know the outside world is a dangerous place that can kill them at any second. You ask Wine to please stop traumatizing the kid for Asgore's sake.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He has an excuse to stay in bed with his child and cuddle all day now! Coffee likes having some alone time with his child, even though he wishes it was not because they were sick. At least he's good at playing moral support for them.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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ferry-man-sam · 1 month ago

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[Crawling into your inbox like a messed up little gremlin frothing at the mouth-]

Can you tell us more about the au of Gordon injecting himself with alien dna?? Food please?? 👀

Omggg yes I CANNNNN

I was originally gonna write a fic for it to get it all down on paper but I’m having a lot of trouble finding a good starting point and perspective, so I guess I’ll ramble about it here.

Ok so Gordon’s kind of a mess of a mad scientist in this au, he kinda goes off the deep end after the divorce and losing custody of Joshua and takes interest in an abandoned project he comes across at Black Mesa.

The project was an attempt to replicate whatever the hell happened with Benrey, which was some kind of fucked up accidental alien fusion with one of the guards. Benrey still exists at Black Mesa, as a traumatic event outside it’s walls has lead him to believe it’s the only place he belongs, and works as security for anomalous entities in exchange for video games and shit. He exists as more of a myth to most of the scientists, but Tommy knows all about him, and was on the team that initially handled Benrey’s containment. Considering Benrey’s expansive abilities and considerable strength the government sought to create some kind of super solider using his DNA, but all of the experiments failed and all the test animals died. They tried just about everything but gave up, deciding it was more trouble than it was worth.

Enter GORDON, baked out of his mind on caffeine and lack of sleep, desperate to better himself and to make himself a bit stronger, reading all this and getting a very bad idea. He takes some time off work and steals some shit from the lab to tinker with old samples and formulas, and on the last day before he goes back to work he has a bit of a mental breakdown and injects himself with something he made and passes tf out.

He wakes up the next day and doesn’t remember doing it so he goes to work, where he’s confronted for stealing old test samples and notes for the forbidden project, and he kinda freaks out and transforms into an alien killing machine and kills all the scientists who could have possible known what the hell he did. Less experienced with alien superpowers, Gordon is subdued by Benrey, who is incredibly intrigued to meet something even remotely similar to himself.

Gordon turns back into a human after passing out, but is placed under heavy containment (hence the chains) and a group of scientists is recruited to try and get some answers out of him. Dr Coomer, because he already knew Gordon prior to the incident and they wanted a familiar face to put him at ease (lest he transform and wreck more havoc) Bubby because he’s the perfect life form, a more human version of the experiment that gordon somehow managed to pull off, and Tommy because he’s already familiar with Benrey and has experience dealing with this kind of thing. Benrey is there too but he’s just there to make sure Gordon doesn’t get out of hand again, because they literally have no idea what he’s capable of.

Phew! I think that’s about everything I thought of. I just really like monster Gordon, I think he should be able to go apeshit, as a treat <3

#hlvrai #hlvrai benrey #hlvrai au #hlvrai dr coomer #hlvrai tommy #hlvrai bubby #hlvrai gordos feetman #hlvrai gordon #fic idea??? Ig??#If someone wants to make something for this be my GUEST #half life vr but the ai is self aware #half live vr ai #half life but the ai are self aware

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dominiquethevampire · 3 months ago

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Every Cirque Du Freak Character Ranked By Their Likelihood of Having An Affair With My Wife

Hello everyone. I have reason to believe that my wife Susan is participating in a sexual affair with one of the characters from Darren Shan’s Saga of Darren Shan. She’s starting keeping IV bags of blood in the fridge, won’t stop talking about when the next Festival of the Undead is, and I found a ticket for the Cirque Du Freak hidden in the bottom of her underwear drawer.

It’s been tough to narrow down the suspect but I think I’ve finally got the definitive list here, ranked from least to most likely to be having an affair with my wife.

26. Madam Octa

Pretty self-explanatory. She’s a spider. And very faithful to her spider boyfriend, if what Seba tells me is true.

25. Sam Grest

He’s like, 12, so that would be pretty messed up. Plus, my wife always says she wishes I wasn’t so childish and immature, so I can’t see how she’d find any appeal in Sam.

24. R.V.

The hook hands might make things difficult. I haven’t noticed any cuts on my wife’s body, but to be fair I haven’t seen her undressed in about five years so I can’t be completely sure.

23. Harkat

My beautiful sweet angel Harkat would NEVER do that to me. He’s also completely lacking genitals, which makes it pretty hard to fuck my wife, I think.

22. Kurda Smahlt

Come on. We all know what team he plays for.

21. Seba Nile

I think Seba’s years of having sex are long over. I can’t even imagine it. It’s like imagining your grandfather having sex. Ew. Get that thought out of my head NOW!

20. Darren Shan

I don’t think Darren’s got that dog in him. Besides, he’s pretty busy saving the entire vampire clan and also being a Prince at 30 years old. When would he even have the time?

19. Paris Skyle

He’s pretty old like Seba, but he does have that spry young energy in him. He might want one last romp in the hay before he kicks the bucket, so I can’t completely rule him out.

18. Evra Von

I don’t fully trust the snake. He gives the vibe that he and Merla might like a third in their bed sometimes. Which is funny because when I asked my wife if we could have a threesome with her hot 22-year-old coworker she said no and didn’t speak to me for a week. Seems kind of hypocritical, Susan.

17. Debbie Hemlock

Since Debbie’s an English teacher her and my wife would probably bond over reading books or something boring like that. I don’t mind Debbie fucking my wife if it means I get to stop hearing about whatever shitty new book Colleen Hoover has released.

16. Arrow

I can definitely imagine Arrow and my wife having a beautiful and brief “Bridges of Madison County” type affair while I’m away on a work trip. He’s such a good guy that I can’t even be too mad about it.

15. Hibernius Tall

It’s always the tall skinny guys that are packing the baseball bats.

14. Gavner Purl

I don’t think Gavner’s morals would allow him to sleep with my wife. However, I fully believe they would have an emotional affair over the course of a few years. He’d tell her she reminded him of his ex-girlfriend, talk about his tragic backstory, and she’d fall in love with how “vulnerable” and “sensitive” he is. News flash!He’s never getting over Liz! You’re just a placeholder!

13. Annie Shan

Annie’s a single mother and emotionally unstable from a lifetime of trauma. Prime candidate for having an affair.

12. Alice Burgess

How could I possibly compete against a lesbian in a police uniform? This might be pretty hot, actually. I wonder if they’d let me watch.

11. Desmond Tiny

They wouldn’t outright sleep together, but just look at what happened with Darren and Steve’s moms. If my wife ends up pregnant, I’m definitely getting a paternity test.

10. Tanish Eul

I know he’s disgustingly unattractive and a cowardly asshole, but I can’t rule him out. She married me after all, so it’s possible she has a type. She also came home last week with a Dior bag and some Louboutins that we definitely can’t afford, so it’s possible they have some sort of sugar daddy/sugar baby arrangement.

9. Vanez Blane

My wife passed her Trials a few years ago and yet she still goes to “training sessions” with Vanez every Tuesday and Thursday. Seems suspicious.

8. Vancha March

Yeah, he’s disgusting and ill-mannered. But he’s also jacked and can spit some pretty serious game. And my wife currently has a UTI, and if anyone’s gonna be responsible for that it’s Vancha.

7. Evanna

She’s got the whole rope bondage outfit AND can transform her appearance. All she needs to do is change herself into Dr. House and my wife is as good as hers.

6. Wester Flack

I mean, we all know what he did to Larten. Cough, Alicia, cough. Do I really think he would respect the sanctity of my marriage?

5. Gannen Harst

He’s hot as hell and has that quiet stocism that women love. I suppose since the vampaneze can’t tell lies I could just ask him, but I don’t know if I’m ready to hear the truth.

4. Mika Ver Leth

Mika would definitely fuck my wife and not even think twice about it. I guess I’m not really allowed to complain about it because he’s a Prince and could easily have me thrown on the stakes in the Hall of Death. You win this time, Sire Mika.

3. Larten Crepsley

He’s dashingly handsome and has that timeless Quicksilver charm that the ladies all fall for. But my wife is still alive, unlike every other woman Larten’s been involved with.

2. Arra Sails

Arra would have zero qualms about cheating. We know for a fact she’s all about being “passionate in the coffin” and she quite literally asked Larten when Alicia was going to die so she could fuck him. The only reason she’s second on the list and not first is because I can’t imagine her having a positive interaction with another woman.

1. Steve Leonard

Is this even a question? Obviously it’s Steve. He got his best friend’s teenage sister pregnant and took off. He’s probably inside my wife right now, telling her what a loser I am and they’re both laughing about it. Fuck you, Steve.

#cirque du freak #cdf #cirque du freak memes

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