#afraid to main tag still rip

[soulnotseer]

I’ve been stuck thinking about how the confirmation of c!Dream’s motives and reasonings shines a light on Why ew!Ranboo would choose to work with him(because I stand by the idea it Was a choice, one they both stuck to even to the bitter end), and how their apparent closeness in their work displays exactly what c!Dream meant by not wanting to be alone. Plus, the lengths he went to to make sure ew!Ranboo was out of the line of fire in their plans(much like c!Punz, if not more), which is why he was visibly frustrated and angered over c!Sam’s “logic” about killing them.

[narrycherries]

✰ baby honey ✰ #1 (dom!harry)

Harry’s favorite thing to do is to take care of you and give you as many orgasms as you can take, even if you’re being a brat.. dom!Harry concepts

a/n: this pairing does not have a set/strict plot, but there will be many different situations/writings for them! Lots of smut! ;) some may carry over multiple parts!

masterlist / part 2 — join the tag list!

word count: 5.3k

warnings/tags: dom!harry, daddy kink, praise kink, soft-sub reader, oral f receiving, Harry x reader, smut, mature situations, punishment, mean!dom, some fluff :) pet names

Your mind was dizzy as you slowly walked down the grand staircase while sliding your hand down the cool railing. Soft hums were coming from your throat, and your stomach was filled with butterflies. Carefully, you stepped your sock clad feet on the hardwood floor and turned to go in the direction of the office. There wasn’t a worry in your mind or a slight bit of fear in your chest as you made your way to the big wooden door.

You run your fingertips over the cold knob before turning it and pushing the heavy door open. The room that was just filled with mixed voices becomes silent. Your eyes were cloudy, but they immediately focused on the thing you were looking for. A smile spread over your pink lips as you locked your sight on his pretty emerald eyes. Harry was so beautiful, so perfect.

He sighed heavily as he gave you a hard stare. It made your stomach churn, but you ignored it. You wanted him - needed to feel his touch and hear his voice. Before you could even get two feet inside the room, he was standing from the big wood desk and walking towards you. He wasn’t paying the three men sitting in the chairs any mind, you were his main focus. Per usual.

His big, heavy hands landed on your waist and he guided you out of the room and away from the door. He moved you against the wall and immediately grabbed your chin.

“What have I told you about interrupting my meetings?” His voice was low and deep.

“I-“

“Shut up.” He snapped, his grip on your chin got tighter. “You’re acting bad. You know I don’t like it when you’re bad.”

“I need you.” You whined softly, hands fisting into his white button down.

“You’re gonna wrinkle my fuckin’ shirt.” He said through gritted teeth as he ripped your hands away.

“No, please! Just wanna touch you!” Tears were building in your eyes as you saw the anger come over his face.

“You were told to stay in the bedroom. You’ve disobeyed me.” Harry put his hand on your throat, but he didn’t squeeze you. He was gentle, for now. “You’re being a bad kitten.. and bad kittens get punished.”

You began to shake your head from side to side, tears streaming down your face. You coiled your hand around his wrist and dug your nails deep in his skin. Upsetting him was always your biggest fear. It was your intention to always be good for him, always be on your best behavior. Despite not doing anything wrong, you feel horrible.

“You’re gonna get my hand on your ass, and my cock’s gonna destroy that little hole of yours, missy.” He was harsh and cold, and that made things worse for you. “Not gonna let you cum. Gonna make those spanks hurt and you cry those pretty eyes out. I’ll make sure you remember the rules.”

“Not tryna be a b-bad kitten!” You cried out, eyes burning holes through his. “I need you, Daddy, need to touch you, please.”

As soon as he heard the word come out of your mouth he softened completely. His hand slid to the small of your back and the other gently covered your warm cheek. His thumb messed with the corner of your mouth as you spoke in broken sobs.

“M’not.. not a bad girl.. promise I.. I just needed.. needed something.. Da-daddy.. I.. I can’t stop it.. y’know I can’t..”

He felt terrible for treating you so bad, his heart was aching as he watched all the tears fall. “Hey, shh. Kitten, calm down.”

Despite his efforts, you were still breaking down. Worry filled your mind as you thought about all the consequences. You were so afraid that you were doing something wrong, that you had upset him. It was making you feel nauseous and like you were running out of air.

“Feel so-so little, Daddy.. wanna be.. be safe with you.. s’all.. just wanna see you..”

He shushed you again, and this time let his thumb cover your lips to stop you from rambling. “Relax for me, angel baby.”

You nodded softly and carefully placed your hands on his torso. His defined muscles felt comforting, even through the fabric of his shirt. You didn’t care about wrinkling it, so you closed your hands into fists again - holding as tight as you could.

“Now.. shhh..” he softly pecked your forehead before leaning back to look into your puffy eyes. “Tell Daddy what you need.. so I can help my girl.”

Your lips quivered as you tried to say something, but no words were coming out. He noticed the struggle and the pout on your lips. His hand moved down to your hip and he tilted your head further back to get a good look at you.

“Tell me, kitten, tell Daddy what’s got you all soft.” He made sure to give you a gentle smile. He knew you appreciated it when he was kind and caring, especially during these times. “Why’s my girl feeling little?”

Answering him was your intention, but you said the wrong words. You replied with what was on your mind, what was worrying you so much.

“I’m a bad girl.. I.. I didn’t listen to Daddy.. m’a bad kitty.”

“Tsk tsk, stop it, darling.” He gave you a stern lift of his brows. “You’re not a bad girl. Daddy isn’t mad, sugar plum.”

“But you said.. said I was being bad.” You sucked in your bottom lip as you looked at him through your lashes. Your eyes were hardly opened, the crying wore you out.

“That was before I knew you were feeling little, my angel.” He swiped your hair away from your face and held onto the back of your neck. “You’re Daddy’s good girl.. such a sweet kitten.”

“M’sorry I.. came in the office.” The words you whispered were barely audible.

He sighed and moved his hand down to your waist. “Daddy’s the one who should be saying sorry. I saw how happy you were to see me, kitten, how big your pretty lips smiled.. and I was so mean to you, wasn’t I? Didn’t give my girl any loves.. that’s all my baby wanted, yeah? Wanted Daddy’s attention for a minute.”

You nod lightly, arms snaking around him. He pulled you into his chest and you gladly hid your face in his shirt. He petted the back of your head, running his fingers through your long hair. His comforting words made you feel relieved and relaxed. He wasn’t mad at you anymore, and he just misunderstood the situation. Being in his arms made you feel safe and secure.

“Do y’wanna sit in the office with me, baby love? Daddy can pull up a chair for you.”

You sucked up the snot in your throat, the idea making you feel tingly. “Can I be by you, Daddy? Wanna be close.”

“Right beside me, my love. Just have to behave and be quiet for me, alright? Let Daddy finish his meeting and then I’ll make you feel better, baby.” He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you so tight.

You smiled against his shirt. “Wan’ loves and cuddles and kisses.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “All the loves and cuddles and kisses you want, kitten. Whatever you want Daddy to do.. my girl, always so sweet for me.”

“Woke up from m’ nap.. felt really little.. felt soft and scared, Daddy.”

He grunted as he leaned back, hands gently moving you so he could see you properly. “M’sorry i wasn't there for you, baby girl.”

“Here now.. don’t wanna leave you.”

“You don’t have to, honey bun. Daddy’s right here.”

You splayed your hands on his back, feeling his muscles tense as he gently rocked you from side to side. His hands held your hips so tight, so safely.

“Need t’ feel full.. Daddy can you.. fill me after your meeting?”

“Does my girl wan’ her Daddy’s cock, hm? Wan’ Daddy to fill you up with his thick cum?”

The filthy words caused ripples down your spine. You whimpered at the thought of being full. It was too hard to try to speak, so you nodded once again for him.

He smirked gently and kissed your swollen lips. “Daddy will give you what you want soon, kitten. Give you all my cum.. make sure your pretty pussy is filled to the brim.. wanna watch it drip out of you, baby love. Gonna fill my girl up.. make her feel so good, yeah?”

“Wanna have it all, Daddy, please..” Your whisper made his crotch twitch.

“No more talking about it, sweetheart, don’t wanna get Daddy hard just yet.”

The thought made your eyes sparkle, and it didn’t go unnoticed. He smiled sweetly and kissed you for a long moment before finally grabbing your hand and leading you to the office.

When you walked in together, the three men turned their heads to watch Harry walk through the room. Nobody said anything at first, so he broke the ice himself.

“Sorry about that, gentlemen. My fiancé isn’t feeling the best.”

“S’alright. Understandable.” One of them replied with a fake smile.

Harry glanced around but realized that the only other available chair in the room was his big leather one. He sighed and gestured to the chair.

“Just sit there, honey. We’re almost finished anyways.”

You hesitated, but eventually sat down in the chair. Harry sat one leg on the edge of the desk, eyes on the men as he picked up wherever he left off. They weren’t bothered by her presence, but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel embarrassed. You were sure the tear streams were still evident and you could feel the warmth of her skin. You probably looked like a mess.

The business talk didn’t interest you at all. You kept your eyes on Harry’s shiny black shoes. The longer you looked at them, the more you noticed his trousers. They fit him well and hugged his thighs. The dark grey color matched the blazer that was draped over the back of the chair. He looked so professional and handsome. His hair was perfectly sculpted. Even the expensive watch on his wrist was in a perfect spot. You were still annoyed by the men being here. Normally, meetings took place at his real office, not at your home. Apparently things happen at times, that’s what he told you at least, and arrangements have to be made.

You were growing impatient with each minute. All you wanted was him, and you wanted him all to yourself. Having to share his attention with these men was driving you mad. You tapped your fingertips against the arm of the chair as you stared at the floor.

Before you even realized it, Harry got off the desk and escorted the men to the front entrance. He was only gone for a minute. When he came back through the door you jumped up from his chair and began to rock on your heels. He chuckled as he reached you and took hold of your waist.

“Thank you for being patient, baby.”

“You’re all mine now, right?” You batted your thick lashes at him and he gladly squeezed each side of your butt.

“All yours, kitten.”

He sat down in the chair and gently grabbed your wrist. He pulled you onto his lap, greedily holding your waist. You smiled as you wrapped an arm around his head and began to softly peck your lips along his hairline. He chuckled as he slipped both hands under your shirt.

“You seem upset, Daddy.. don’t like it when you’re upset.”

He grunted, hating that you noticed things so easily. “Just stress from business, baby love, s’all.”

“Do you want me to make it go away?” Your words made his crotch tingle.

“No, baby. S’all about you right now. You still want Daddy to make you full?”

“Yes, please.. wan’ you to fill me, Daddy.”

When you leaned back to look at him, your tongue came out and swiped over your lips. A smirk covered his mouth as he slid a hand into your leggings, groping your butt cheek.

“No panties?” He lifted a brow. “Someone’s being a little tease.”

You giggled softly and started kissing his forehead. “Just wanna make it easier.”

“Hm.. m’sure you do.” He patted your thigh, a silent indication for you to stand up.

You didn’t want to move away with him, but you knew you had to. You stood in front of him, waiting patiently for him to do something. He stood up, too, and walked around you. When you hear papers shuffling, you spin around and grab his elbow gently.

“Let me clear the desk, kitten.”

“Daddy..” you were curious as to why he was doing that. “Are you gonna take me on your desk?”

He chuckled a few times before looking over at you. “M’gonna put you on the desk so I can eat up your little pussy, baby doll. Daddy will take you to the bedroom after.”

You groaned and squeezed his elbow. “Wan’ you to take me here.”

He watched your other hand reach to tap the desk. He smirked and gave you a quick nod. “Alright.”

Harry made sure everything was pushed to the edges of the wood, and out of your way. He adjusted the monitor so it was also out of your way. The desk was big, so it was easy to make adjustments. When he dropped the final stack of papers into the bottom drawer, you smiled happily and grabbed his shirt where it was tucked in on the side.

“Patience, my baby.” He pulled away from you with a smile, but grabbed you instead. “Let Daddy take care of you, kitten.”

Out of nervousness, you popped your index finger into your mouth. You didn’t want to upset him, so you kept quiet as you waited. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your leggings on either hip and he yanked them down. He kneeled as he did so, making sure to get a good look at your womanhood.

“Mm, baby girl. Daddy missed you so much.” He pressed a kiss to your pubic mound, savoring the feeling of your soft, bare skin. “Can’t wait to have this pretty pussy all in my mouth.”

“Daddy.. please.. need you.” You whined while you curled your fingers in his scalp.

Harry gripped your thick hips and gave your butt a slap before standing up. You smirked softly, still shocked that he loved your body so much. It was something you struggled with - but he adored you, every inch and every pound. Your full ass and perky breasts, he could never get enough. It bothered you that your breasts weren’t big, but he loved them anyways. That’s all that really mattered.. that he loves you.

“Daddy.” You mumbled softly as he picked you up and sat you on the desk.

“What is it, angel?” He pressed his palm against your warm cheek, forcing your eyes to stay on his.

“Wan’ you so bad, please.”

“Honey, be a little patient. Daddy’s gonna give you everything you want.” He kissed you for a moment. “Now.. shh.”

He didn’t hesitate to drop down between your legs and push them apart. His tongue immediately swiped up your slit.

“Daddy.” You gasped as he did it over and over.

He made sure you were wet from his spit and your own natural release before he began to suck on your clit. He hallowed his cheeks, applying a hard pressure on your little nub.

“Wan’ a finger.” You muttered as you closed your eyes and held your breath.

Harry pulled away from your clit to spit on his finger. He watched your hole as he carefully wiggled his finger inside of you. Once he was sure you were comfortable, he began to move it in and out slowly. His tongue returned to your nub and he didn’t let up again. Normally he wouldn’t give you a finger until he’s made you orgasm, but he promised he’d do whatever you wanted. He doesn’t break his promises to you.

“More.” You mumbled while raking your fingers through his scalp. He liked it when you touched him, so you didn’t hesitate to tug at his roots. “M’gonna cum.”

He grunted against your clit, his tongue working in quick motions. You were so sensitive from being needy, so the orgasm rushed on you before you even realized. A heavy groan came from you as your thighs shook a little and your eyes fell back into your head.

Harry did his best to hold your hips down, but you were thrashing a tad as he kept sucking through the orgasm. You whined suddenly and pushed his head away. He let up, just to make sure you were okay.

“Kitten.. S’alright, baby.” He whispered as he stood up and took hold of your face.

When you opened your eyes you saw his, and a wave of comfort came over you. “Daddy.. felt so good.”

He chuckled softly, thumbs rubbing your lips. “Felt good, baby doll? Did Daddy make you cum?”

You smiled sweetly. “Came really hard for you.”

“Mhm, sure did, kitten.” He gave you a kiss and you couldn’t help but taste yourself on his mouth. “Got so wet for me.”

A gentle giggle fell from your lips. You wrapped your arms around his torso and pulled yourself forward. He dropped a hand to your waist to steady you, but made sure to keep a warm palm against your jaw.

“Feel better, baby love?” His voice was soft, it made you feel safe.

“Mhm.”

“Daddy loves to make you feel good, babe. Love to make my girl cum.. always tastes so good.. got such a sweet little cunt, don’t you?” You nodded. “All for you, Daddy.”

“Hm, I know.” He kissed you for a couple of seconds. “All mine.”

“Daddy..”

He furrowed his brows at the tone of your voice. You seemed sad all of a sudden and he didn’t like that.

“What’s the matter, baby?”

You shook your head, trying to ignore what you wanted to tell him. Of course he didn’t let that slide. He huffed and gave you that look.

“Tell me, sugar plum.”

“Just..” You paused, feeling suddenly nauseous.

He didn’t rush you into talking, he knew sometimes it took you a few minutes to gain some courage. Your eyes fell from his and you stared at the undone top button of his shirt. You felt the need to touch him, so you began to undo the rest of the buttons. He watched you carefully, trying to figure out what was going on. Your fingertips skimmed his skin, making goosebumps rose on his.

“You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything, y/n.”

When he said your name, you shot your eyes at him for just one second. He rarely said your name, only when he was serious or if he was introducing you to someone. You rarely heard him say it. That never bothered you that he didn’t say it, but it did grab your attention.

“M’just..” you sighed heavily. “.. I changed my mind.”

His brows dropped even further. “About what, darling?”

Finally, the shirt was opened in the front and you could see his body. You reached up and grabbed either side of the shirt, pulling it down his arms as best as you could. He took over and yanked the shirt off. He was about to drop it on the ground when you grabbed onto the expensive material. Harry let you take it, and he watched as you brought it to your chest to clutch it.

You locked your legs around his hips. “I.. want something different.”

“Don’t want me to fill you, baby?”

A grunt left your throat and you grabbed his elbows. “I do.”

“Then what do you want differently, angel?”

You didn’t answer him right away. Your hands moved to his chest and you took your time as you touched all over his front. He was warm and his muscles were hard - yet, his skin so soft.

“Baby girl, you have to tell me.” He wasn’t getting frustrated or anything, he was just very concerned.

“Daddy.. I..” You were still in a small mindset, and he knew that.

“Baby, listen to Daddy.” He moved your head up so your eyes were locked with his again. “Daddy wants to make you feel good.. and make you feel safe. You’re feeling little still, baby doll, and Daddy knows you need t’ feel safe.”

“Wan’ you, Daddy.” You mumbled gently.

His eyes were so soft and full of concern. “Then what’s the matter, my love?”

You finally huffed and caved in. “Don’t wan’ you to take me in here.. wanna be comfy.”

He smiled. “Want Daddy to take you in the bed, baby? Wanna be on the soft sheets?”

You nod a few times. “Please..”

“Anything you want, baby.”

You kept hold of his shirt as you hopped off the desk and grabbed his hand. He guided you out of the office and toward the staircase. You were quiet the whole way up, only because you were thinking about him. You wanted him so badly, wanted him to sink his length into you and never pull it out. You couldn’t wait to feel his weight on top of you, to experience the feeling of your nipples pressed against his skin as he took you nice and slow.

When you reached the bedroom, your heart started to race. He pulled your shirt off and unhooked your bra, then gestured for you to lie down.

“No.” You groaned as she sat on the foot of the bed. “Wanna touch you.”

“S’not about me, honey.” He chuckled as you grabbed his belt and undone it.

“Just wanna see you, then.” You shrugged, smiling as you pulled down his zipper.

The bulge was extremely visible, and that made your core tingle with excitement. Soon, his pants were pooled around his feet and he kicked them away. He smirked as he watched you stick your hand into his boxers and pull his member out.

“So big.” You whispered as his hard length stood proudly in front of you. “Wan’ it, Daddy, please.”

“You always get what you want, don’t you kitten?” He chuckled as you crawled up the bed and laid down on your back. “Want it this way, babe?”

Harry spread your legs opened and kneeled between them. You thought for a moment as he squeezed the backs of your knees. It was intriguing to think about another position, so you decided you might as well try something else. It wasn’t like he’d never do it that way again.

“Wanna turn over.” You smiled.

He made a weird face at you. “What? My kitten doesn’t want me this way? Her Daddy?”

You giggled at him as you pulled your legs free and turned over onto your stomach. You shoved your arms under your chest and arched your ass up. He gave you a playful smack before leaning over your back. His hands fell into the mattress, keeping his body flush with yours.

“Wanna feel you this way, Daddy. Promise m’still your kitten.” You didn’t want him to think your head had cleared up, because it hadn’t. “Please.”

“Okay, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna give you exactly what you want.”

He started by pressing open mouthed kisses across the top of your back. He swept your hair over one shoulder so he could have access to the side of your neck. He grunted as his teeth sunk into your soft skin.

“Please.. wanna feel you deep.” You muttered as you reached behind you and grabbed his forearm.

He chuckled. “Patience, kitten. Daddy likes to love on his baby, y’know that.”

“Daddy doesn’t bite me.. Harry bites me.”

You felt his smile press against your skin. “M’sorry.. just missed you, baby love.”

“Harry can have me later.. I want my Daddy now.”

The pout on your lips made him smirk. He kissed it as you turned your head to look at him. It made you giggle and the pout turned into a smile.

“Daddy’s girl.” His voice was like a rumble of thunder. “Always my good girl.”

A weighted moan fell from your lips as he rubbed spit onto your entrance and slowly pushed his tip in. He let his length go once it was secure, and pressed a hand to your hip. Harry leaned back down, his front brushing your back as he began to move.

“S’good, baby doll? Don’t let me hurt you.” He took a deep breath as he went in about half way, then pulled out to check on you.

“Good, Daddy.. gimme more, please.”

He smirked at your eagerness. “Daddy’s gonna give you his cock, baby, just how you want it.”

You sighed in relief as he pushed back in, his elbow falling into the mattress beside your shoulder to support his weight.

“Tell Daddy how you want it, sweetheart.” He moved his hand to your throat and you gladly wrapped yours around his wrist to keep it there.

“Want you deep.. hard and fast, Daddy.”

His tongue swiped over your shoulder. “Want Daddy’s cock deep in your tight pussy, my angel? Want Daddy to fill you?”

“Mhm.” You moaned with your lips shut, eyes doing the same as the pleasure rushed through you. “Please.”

He didn’t say anything else as he began to fully insert himself - balls deep in you. Your mixed groans and breathes were intimate and it made you feel good - made your chest warm. Each snap of his hips got harder than the previous.

“Uh, Daddy, more.”

He chuckled softly and picked up his pace, his weight pinning you to the mattress while he fucked his length deep inside of you. You could feel the thick veins that ran along the length of his cock rubbing against your walls. You clenched around him every now and then, pulling deep moans from his throat.

“Baby love, squeezing Daddy’s cock so good, hm? Wanna feel Daddy’s cum in your tummy, baby? Wan’ me to fill you up?”

“Yes, Daddy. Wan’ it all. Please give me your cum, Daddy.”

His eyes rolled back in pure pleasure as the filthy words filled his ears. He began to fuck you harder and quicker, the sloshing sounds of your wet pussy made his balls swell. He needed to put his seed in you, plant it deep in your body.

“Oh, baby girl, takin’ m’cock so fuckin’ good.” He groaned into your shoulder as he reached down to grasp your hips tight, fingers burning your skin from the pressure. “Such a tight little cunt.”

Your back arched into the mattress, your ass pushing up against his pelvis. He grunted as he gave your hip a hard smack. You whimpered at the sudden and unexpected pain. Daddy never hit you hard - he barely would oblige if you begged him to.

“Too hard.” You choked out, tears pricking your eyes. “Da-Daddy.. hit me too hard.”

He huffed at himself and started to rub and massage the area he unknowingly left a red hand print on. “Sorry, baby, m’sorry.” He attacked your neck with his lips, hoping the affection would make up for his mistake. “Didn’t mean to hit you, doll. Daddy got.. distracted, m’sorry.”

You nodded a little, your hand reaching back to wrap around his wrist. He was still rubbing deep circles into your bruised skin, wishing he could erase the pain.

“Can.. can I cum.. please? Daddy can I cum on your cock?” Drool was slipping down your chin as our mouth hung open - the pleasure causing you to become numb.

“You can, baby, cum for Daddy.. cum on my cock, baby love. Let Daddy feel your wet pussy spill on him.”

He’s pounding you hard and fast, carrying you closer to the edge as the seconds fly by. You were moaning his name and digging your nails into his wrist, your walls squeezing him so tight.

“C’mon, cum for me. So close, yeah? Daddy can feel that tight pussy, babe. So tight for me.”

His filthy words made your eyes roll back and your lips fell apart - a loud moan full of strings of his name filled the air. He groaned heavily, verbally encouraging you to cum hard. You did jsut that, your pussy suffocating his cock as it held on to it hard - milking him of his warm, thick cum.

“Baby, fuck, yes. Take Daddy’s cum in your tummy. Such a good thing you are. My baby.” He praised you as you kept gushing out your release. He slowed his motions, keeping his cock buried in your hole. “Takin’ Daddy so good.”

“So warm.. so full.” You uttered as the side of your face hit the pillow.

He gave you a chuckle as he softly pecked your cheek over and over. “Daddy’s pretty girl, yeah? Full of my cum. So, so full and warm.”

“Daddy.. so good.. feels so good.” Your eyes shut and you release a deep breath, tiredness washing over you.

Harry noticed your behavior, and he assumed he would tire you out anyways, so he kissed your temple and slowly pulled out of you. He moved onto his knees after nudging your legs apart. He grabbed your ass on either side and pulled your cheeks further apart, just playing with the thickness as he watched his cum drip out of your hole.

“You’re such a pretty thing.. so full of Daddy’s cum.” He squeezed each cheek before let them go, hands sliding down to your thighs. “Do you want to be cleaned up, baby?”

You shook your head. “No.. wan’ it in.”

He smirked to himself as he climbed over you to get off the bed. You didn’t have to worry or question about where he was going - he was getting a fresh pair of panties for you. As you laid there patiently, your stomach was full of butterflies. The sticky cum rolling out of your cunt covered your clit, making you shiver. You could still feel him inside of you, the fullness hadn’t disappeared yet.

“Alright, roll over, princess.”

You did as he asked and fell into your back. He smiled sweetly as your sleepy eyes looked his way. He saw your eyelids falling as you struggled to keep them open.

“Oh, baby.” He huffed as he slid the panties up your legs. He stopped before he covered your hips. “M’so, so sorry. Daddy didn’t mean to hit you.”

“S’okay.. feels okay now.” You mumbled back, reaching over to touch his wrist.

He let you take his hand for a moment and you squeezed it. “You should be mad at me.. should be, babe, but you’re such a sweetheart, yeah? My sweet baby doll.”

His lips smeared on yours for a long moment before he leaned up, dropping your hand to pull the panties up. Once he knew his cum was secured in place where you wanted it stay, he nudged you and rolled on to your side. He got behind you, arms snaking around your limp body to drag you closer. You hum, satisfied as you feel his now covered and softened cock against your butt. It didn’t matter if it was hard, you just liked to feel it there.

“Take a nap, m’love.” He kissed your ear softly, whispering his words carefully.

You nodded, pulling one of his hands up your body. You forced it to rest under your boob and he gave you a small chuckle.

“Cuddle bunny.” He uttered. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

He smirked to himself. “I dunno about that, baby love.”

(Part 2..)

[lincolndjarin]

Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 3

chapter three : we're all mad here

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : thank you to everyone who has waited patiently for this ily all. not much to say here other than that this chapter gets a lil buck wild so read the warnings. also this chapter is just a shitty whirlwind of things whoops

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 11.9k

summary : bunny and joel are in a tough spot but hey couple fight, i'm sure everythings super chill and normal

warnings, etc. : angst, language, smut, dubcon (reader and joels relationship is relatively unhealthy and mostly just sex at this point. basically sex is reluctant or angry most of the time), oral m!receiving, crying after sex, toxic relationship, these two aren't doing well, readers mental health isn't in a great place, gaslighting, grave digging, typical oh honey description of corpses, general sense of dread, fear, feelings of despair, violence, gore, body horror, just in general a lot of bad shit happens in this chapter and i definitely missed tags so proceed with caution. this is a monster fucker fic - proceed accordingly

“It’s okay, it’s just me.”

Joel, Joel, Joel. 

The only thing that consumes your thoughts. 

The nightmare that’s still there after you wake up. 

Neither one of you moves, he just watches you as your chest heaves, your hands shaking as the dam finally breaks and you crumble entirely. The overwhelming fear that has plagued you for weeks now finally consumes you entirely. 

And you cry.

Not just a few stray tears, or some sniffling.

You cry. 

Big, salty tears and full body sobs because you are just so fucking afraid. 

Afraid of the woods, of the monster, and of Joel. 

And despite that fact, you let him hold you because you aren’t just afraid, you’re tired. You stop putting up a fight when he pulls you into his arms, and you let him soothe you because there is no one else.

You don’t have anyone here. 

(You don’t really have anyone anywhere else either.)

Except Joel. 

So you press your face into his chest and you let him lay down with you. 

You let him hold your ear against his sternum until your heartbeat matches his.

You let him kiss your forehead. 

And you let him rock you back and forth until you fall asleep once more. 

You don’t remember any more dreams that come your way but you know that you don’t sleep well after that, at least two more times you wake with a jolt. And you’re rocked back to sleep every time a fresh flood of tears threatens to rush from your eyes. 

“Can we talk about last night?” Your eyes are still shut when you feel the heat of the sunrise against your face, his chest rumbles against your cheek when he whispers. “I know you’re awake.” 

“I don’t wanna talk about it Joel.” You mumble, your eyebrows furrow, eyes still shut as he rubs your back. 

“Please?” He sits up on his elbows, holding you to his chest still, the blanket sliding down his stomach and you’re suddenly reminded of the lack of clothing between the two of you.

You sit up with a groan, stretching your arms above your head before holding your comforter up to cover yourself, as you stare at the scene before you. The morning light is seeping in through the windows, turning his dark curls almost copper. Your eyes trail across the sheets until they settle on the large rips exposing your mattress. 

“I said no.” You grumble.

“Bunny-”

You grab the blanket covering him, yanking it down as you yawn. You crawl between his legs letting your own blanket drop as you take his soft cock in your hand, watching him swell against your palm. He gasps at the suddenness of it all but when he doesn’t push you away you keep going.

“Sugar, I’m beggin’, let’s just take a second to talk.” He puts his hand over yours, trying to slow you but you just slide down onto your stomach, pulling him between your lips, wasting no time to drag your tongue along his tip. A long, unbroken groan falls from his lips. You take him deeper, savoring the way your eyes water and your jaw aches. It keeps you grounded. It keeps you here. 

“Mmm.” You moan around him, god, why can’t he just be a normal man? If he was just a man he wouldn’t feel like velvet in your mouth, and he wouldn’t taste like sweet coffee first thing in the morning. 

You know that now. 

He isn’t just a man. 

You don’t actually know what he is, but you have a few theories. A lot of theories that don’t work because the monster you saw in the woods wasn’t Joel. 

His hips involuntarily rock forward and you groan as he hits the back of your throat. You smooth your hands over his bare thighs to push him back down as you relax your throat. 

“Bunny- ah-” He stammers out as you work yourself back down his length, trying to ease him in at your own pace. “Slow down gorgeous, m’gonna come too fast if you keep this up.” He runs his knuckle across your jaw but you just hollow your cheeks and push on, pulling a strained groan from him. 

You swallow around him, it’s on the verge of painful as you struggle a bit to breathe but you have no desire to stop. No amount of fear is going to change the fact that he soothes you. With his cock in your mouth it’s easy to forget about everything that’s happened to you this past week. It’s easy to just drink him in, and taste the warm caramel of his skin. You let one of your hands slip between your own legs, your fingers drag through the slick there before focusing on your aching clit. 

You concentrate on syncing up the movements. Running your tongue along the underside of his cock as you swipe your fingers against your bud, practically humping your own hand after a few minutes. You keep it up for a bit until you feel his balls tensing and you pop yourself off of him. 

You pull yourself into his lap, straddling his thigh as you wrap your hand around his twitching prick, both of you panting as you grind yourself against him. He grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls your lips to his as you groan into his mouth, he grunts against you until you feel him pulsing against your palm, streaking his stomach with his cum. After another moment you feel yourself clenching around nothing, finishing against your other hand.

You collapse against him, resting your head on his shoulder as you catch your breath. You take a moment to briefly run your fingers through his spend before sucking them into your mouth. 

Just like frosting, a sweet vanilla taste coating your tongue. 

He watches you like he’s about to pick up where he left off before you distracted him but he shakes it off when you give him a desperate look. He pulls you into an embrace. 

“If you won’t let me talk about it, at least let me redress your wounds.” He murmurs before kissing the top of your head. You give him a small nod, too tired, and too afraid to object as he peels back the bloody gauze, carefully cleaning every cut before wrapping them once more. 

When he’s finished he goes through and gives each one a small kiss, as if that could erase the terror around their origins. 

“I gotta go to work, are you gonna be okay today?” He whispers as he leans forward to give you one last kiss on the cheek. 

“I’ll be fine.” You give him a weak smile, content to act as if everything really is fine for just a few more moments. 

“I’ll stop by for a few minutes after work, then I gotta go get Ellie.” He starts collecting his scattered clothing, dressing himself as you lay back down. “I’ll see you tonight.” He murmurs, giving you one one last sympathetic smile before he’s gone. Just like that.

And you’re alone with your thoughts.

What the fuck are you gonna do? 

There’s a monster loose in the woods and Joel is clearly going to be no help. And of course there’s the issue of not being able to break up with him, for several reasons, one of them being that you simply don’t want to. Anything that happened last night doesn’t matter because at the end of the day you really like Joel, but more importantly you don’t think you can break up with Joel. It doesn’t really seem like your body will let you, whatever the invisible, inexplicable force is that drives you two together might not allow such a separation to happen. 

So you’ll stay with him.  

And you’ll use him to your advantage, it’s clear he knows something about what you saw, why else would he have gotten so defensive about it? He can’t be perfect forever, eventually he’ll slip up. You just have to wait for it. 

You can wait. 

Turns out you’re not as okay as you thought you were. 

You spend the rest of your day cleaning up around the camper, just sort of taking care of things and everything seems fine. Joel texts you a few times, mostly just asking if you’re okay. And he comes to check on you after work, you’re just getting out of the shower when it happens, you had just stepped out of the bathroom in your robe, drying your hair with a towel.

His truck is old, he keeps it in good condition and he takes care of it but the engine is still pretty loud. 

That was all it took to send you under the table. 

Something about the roar of the engine just as it was turning off set you off. You closed your eyes, just for a moment and all you could see was the thing from the woods and you were curled up in on yourself, tucked away under the table with your hands over your ears. You didn’t hear Joel bust down the door and you screamed when he pulled you out from your hiding spot, thrashing and kicking at him. It took a while but eventually he calmed you down, sitting on the edge of your bed with you wrapped around him, trembling in absolute terror. 

When you finally calmed down enough to quiet down he continued to hold you close, humming a song softly as he rubbed your back until you decided to break the silence. 

“You have to go get Ellie.” Your voice was raw from screaming and he sighed. 

“I can stay.”

“Go get her, I’ll be fine.” It took a lot of insisting but eventually he relented, but not before making sure you ate the take out he had brought you. The two of you sat in silence until he couldn’t stall anymore and had to go. 

“Text me before you go to bed.” He mumbled, giving your hand a soft squeeze before he left. 

You did as you were told. 

That was when you became vaguely aware of just how bad things are right now. 

You thought you were up for this, monster hunting, mystery solving business. But you’re terribly afraid, almost to the point of being useless. You can’t just let innocent people die though, no one believes you, so you have to be the one to do this. The thought makes you sick but what else can you do? 

So you endure. 

You wake up from restless sleeps, haunted by monsters you cannot escape from even in your dreams, and you go to work. You let Joel pick you up each morning and you let him kiss your cheek and put his hand on your thigh as you drive. You work as if everything is normal, and you only work on bodies that have died of natural causes for the rest of the week. 

Night time is when things get tricky. 

Joel wants to talk.

He wants to ask if you’re okay and he wants to talk about what happened that night you saw the beast but you know that if you do that you’re going to fall apart all over again and you’re starting to worry that one of these times you aren’t going to be able to put yourself back together. 

So you do the one thing you know will distract him. 

You fuck him. 

He comes over after work each night, bringing food as if he knows you won’t eat unless he makes sure of it. He’ll ask you how work is and you’ll tell him the truth. That you’re busy and Maria’s busy with all the funerals. 

And every night he tries to talk about it, usually starting by reaching out to you and holding your face in his hands. But you know better than to let him get more than a sentence out, so once he starts you drag him to bed.

The first time you executed this plan you were a little worried about what was going to happen after the sex. You couldn’t fuck him again. (Actually you probably could, but that’s beside the point.) So you needed to formulate a plan for afterwards, but once you’d started you got a little lost in your efforts and by the time you were done you had nothing. 

It’s a good thing you solved your own problem when he pulled you against his chest and you suddenly burst into tears. 

So yeah, you aren’t really all that okay. 

You’ve developed a habit of crying after sex and you haven’t gotten any new information out of Joel. But at least you aren’t getting worse, at least it feels like you aren’t. For a week and a half the routine doesn’t change until finally on Wednesday he comes to pick you up after work. 

“Should we go to dinner?” He wraps an arm around your waist as he pulls you closer.

“Let’s just get takeout.” You rest your head against his shoulder as he walks the two of you out to the truck. 

“You don’t wanna go out?”

“I just wanna stay in tonight.” He hesitates for a moment, giving you a troubled look as he helps you into the passenger side. Once the engine hums to life you punch the number into your phone, ordering for the both of you, having it delivered to the camper. 

And you ride in silence.

For a brief moment you wonder if he’s mad at you. 

You can’t really find the will to care, it’s not like he isn’t gonna stay. He’s just as stuck as you are. You aren’t sure you can keep this up for much longer though, he knows what you’re doing at this point and he’s starting to use it against you. 

You want him to snap again. 

That’s sort of the goal right now.

To have him lift you as if it’s nothing. To tear something to shreds. You’ve been trying to make it happen all week, you’d think that with all the sex he’d lose control at some point. 

But he’s careful now. 

Somehow you always end up flat on your back and before you can gain any sort of semblance of control over the situation he’s got you coming your brains out. It’s clever really. Fighting sex with sex. 

You get him to stop talking by starting it and he keeps you from doing any real investigative work by playing you like a fiddle each and every time.

No one wins. And no one loses.  

You know you can’t do this forever but for now it works. 

Work, sex, cry, sleep. 

You decide you need to search his house, maybe find some evidence. You’re getting nowhere with your investigation and even though there haven’t been any mutilated bodies you know it’s only a matter of time. You need to take preventative measures. 

The only problem is you don’t know where it is, you’ve always stayed in the camper and you’re struggling to think of a way to invite yourself over without raising suspicion, after a few days it comes to you. 

“Can we talk?” You stammer out the moment you hear him pick up the phone, he doesn’t even bother hiding his sigh of relief.

“Of course we can, right now? Or should I just come over tonight?” 

“I was thinking maybe we could go to your house, I’m hoping a change of scenery might help me open up.” It’s a bullshit excuse but you know he’d do anything to have a conversation with you right now. 

“That’s more than fine, I’ll pick you up around six? We can have dinner and then we’ll talk.” He sounds so happy you almost wish this was real. That you could give him this thing he wants so desperately but you know that he won’t admit to anything he knows, so you just need to find proof, something he can’t brush off or ignore. 

“Sounds perfect, I’ll see you then.” You hang up before he can respond, staring at the wall in silence, barely noticing when the sun sets outside the window. You don’t snap out of it until headlights flood the interior of the camper and you stand, grabbing your bag before rushing out to meet him. He jogs around the front of the truck to wrap an arm around your waist and kiss your forehead before opening the passenger door.

“I hope you don’t mind, we’ve got a little company tonight.” He raises his eyebrows at you, closing the door before you can ask any questions, when he pulls himself up into the driver's seat you open your mouth to ask what he means but he speaks first, turning to stare into the backseat. “Do you know who this is, little monster?” He turns the cab light on and you see Ellie strapped into her car seat. She appraises you for a moment before all of her limbs straighten out as she yells.

“Girlfriend!” She shrieks and you can’t help but smile for the first time in a while as Joel gives you a lopsided grin. 

“We worked on that the whole way over, she was supposed to say your name but that’s close enough.” He gives her a mock look of disappointment that has her bursting into a fit of laughter as he turns the light off, pulling away from the camper and back onto the road. Joel turns up the radio, both of you sit quietly as Ellie sings along behind you, making up her own words to a pop song you vaguely recognize. “Hope you don’t mind.” He reaches over, taking your hand while the other stays on the wheel. “I haven’t been able to spend a lot of time with her recently.” He nods towards the back as you smile politely. 

“I don’t mind at all.” It’s more than true. You’re rather fond of Ellie. He gives your hand a small squeeze and when you look his dimple is prominently visible on his face. 

It’s about a ten minute drive to his house. 

It doesn’t even look like he has neighbors. He pulls into a driveway between the trees and tucked away is a small ranch style house. You don’t know what you were expecting. Maybe something a little more sinister? But this is quite lovely, lots of space in an outcropping in the trees, a pretty cream colored house with dark oak accents and a tire swing hanging from a nearby tree. 

Secluded. 

You step out, staring at the pretty little place as he unbuckles Ellie, who immediately breaks into a sprint when he sets her on the ground, running up onto the porch and jumping to grab at the door knob. 

“S’locked, honey.” He yells as he takes your hand, chuckling while he retrieves the key from his pocket. “She’s been excited since I told her we were gonna have you over, she loves showin’ people the house.” You both step up onto the porch as Ellie stares at him impatiently. 

“What a lovely house you have, miss Ellie.” You crouch down in front of her as she gives you a grin, she’s clearly much less reserved around her father. 

“Thank you.” She smiles proudly, when Joel opens the door she grabs your hand, pulling you inside as he flips on the lights. “We’re home!” She yells into the empty house. You give Joel a nervous look but he just laughs. 

“She does that everytime we walk through the door, it’s just us here tonight.” He whispers reassuringly as Ellie immediately drags you deeper into the room. 

It’s startlingly average. 

It’s simply a house. No claw marks or blood on the wall. Just a surprisingly well kept little place, a well lived in family home. The walls are lined with photos of Ellie and a girl you assume to be Sarah, the fridge is completely covered in drawings similar to the ones you’ve seen Ellie do before. It’s just a house, nothing more. 

Ellie pulls you into the living room before tugging your hand and pointing up at the wall until you scoop her up. Joel’s already working in the kitchen on dinner as you walk Ellie around the room. She’s more talkative then you’ve ever heard her be now that she’s got a clear line of sight to Joel, clearly more comfortable as she points out each framed photo, having a seemingly infinite number of things to say about each. 

She babbles on endlessly, you don’t understand her well, you can really only make out names in her mess of gibberish but it sounds like she’s telling jokes. She points at each photo, looking at you as she says something incoherent before pausing, when she speaks again it comes off like a punchline, a single short burst of words before a shriek of giggles. You feel truly happy for the first time since that night. You feel normal. 

You carry her over to where Joel seems to be putting toppings on a pizza. 

“I thought you didn’t know how to cook?” You set Ellie down on the counter.

“I don’t know if buying pre-made dough and putting things on top of it is cooking.” He chuckles, handing her a piece of pepperoni. You feel painfully normal. This feels normal. It feels good, holding Ellie, and sneaking her another piece of pepperoni. It feels good to listen to the music softly filling the kitchen from the radio in the corner as Joel puts the tray in the oven before turning to smile at the two of you. “Did you show her your room yet El’s?” He grins at you and Ellie urgently grabs the sleeve of your sweater. 

You pick her back up and she directs you towards the first door on the left once you turn down the hall. You set her down and she runs in, jumping up to turn the lights on as she scrambles to the toybox. 

“Oh wow…” You can’t hide your surprise as you look around. The walls and ceiling are painted a navy blue with constellations drawn onto them, each one is outlined and labeled. Her bedframe is a wildly detailed miniature spaceship, hollowed out to hold her mattress. You walk forward, running your hand along its outline. “You have a beautiful room Ellie.” She turns and looks between you and her bed. 

“Thanks, daddy did it.”

“Your father did all this?” You tilt your head as you carefully poke the solar system mobile hanging from the ceiling fan.

“Mhmm.” She’s still busy digging through her things until she produces a few plastic dinosaurs, seemingly forgetting your presence entirely as she begins smashing them together, growling and snarling. You watch her until Joel calls you back and she scrambles to her feet, running back out. You take a moment, looking at the other three doors in the hall. You can hear Joel talking to Ellie in the other room so you take the opportunity to look around. You try the door across from Ellies, pushing it open. It's a completely average bathroom, when you check the other two you find them both locked. 

You don’t get a chance to make any attempts to get into them before Joel is calling you. 

When you walk back into the kitchen they’re already sitting at the table, the seat next to Joel is pulled out and you take a seat. 

And you get to be normal for just a few more minutes. This is what you wish it was with Joel. You wish you didn’t have to shut him up with sex every time he came over. You want dinners with Ellie. You want to watch her scramble to pick out a movie and you want to relive the look of content on Joel's face when his daughter chooses to sit between you two instead of just beside him. You want to hear Joel laugh at shitty jokes in a Disney movie and you want to watch Ellie struggle to keep her head up, alternating between leaning against you and leaning against her father. 

But you can’t have this. 

At least not after tonight. 

Ellie yawns, her head slowly tilting to rest in the crook of Joel’s arm as she struggles to keep her eyes open. Joel taps you on the shoulder, nodding down at the sleeping toddler.

“I’m gonna put her to bed.” He mouths before scooping her up and carrying her down the hall. You sit by yourself for a moment, soaking in the quiet ambiance of the movie when you suddenly hear a tiny pair of footprints as Ellie runs up to you. She’s in her pajamas now, a pair of striped pants and what looks to be one of Joel's old shirts. You think for a moment that she might hug you as you give her a soft smile but she just pats your knee a few times.

 “Good night.” She mumbles before running back to her room. 

“Good night Ellie.” You call after her. After another moment you stand, curiosity getting the better of you as you walk down the hall as quietly as possible, leaning in the cracked open doorway. Ellie is in her bed with Joel sitting on the edge of it, he’s bent down to properly fit into the spaceship as he tucks her blankets in around her. 

“What can I get for you tonight, little monster, story or song?” He whispers as he hands her a stuffed dinosaur. 

“Song please.” She yawns, rubbing her eyes. 

“Comin’ right up.” He reaches outside of her bed, grabbing the guitar you hadn’t paid much attention to earlier, you had been enraptured by everything else at that point. He tunes it for a moment as she gets comfortable, pulling her blankets up to her chin as she stares at him, her eyes already struggling to stay open. “What song do you wanna hear tonight?”

“Hmm… the rabbit song?” 

“That’s a very good choice, Eleanor.” He nods as he slowly begins strumming a series of chords. 

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run run run.

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run run run.

Bang bang bang bang goes the farmer's gun.

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run run run.

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run run run.

You rest your head on the doorframe as he strums softly, looking up every once in a while to see if she’s sleeping yet, he repeats the song about two times until he finally looks up and her eyes are shut. You rush back to the couch when he stands. 

“Took her a while to calm down, sorry about that.” He rubs the back of his neck as he walks back into the room.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s more than fine.” He sits beside you, your thighs touching as he puts an arm around you.

“You’re really good with ‘er.” He whispers, turning to rest his forehead on your temple. 

“She makes it easy.” You run your hand along his thigh, trailing it up until he gently grabs your wrist. 

“We gotta talk first, bunny.” 

Absolutely not. You didn’t find anything so the next course of action is to fuck or leave. 

“Why don’t we go talk in your bedroom?” You roll yourself into his lap, straddling his waist and he frowns. 

“Let’s just talk for a few minutes.” You start trying to tug open his shirt as he sighs. You lean forward, kissing him but he doesn’t reciprocate, keeping his hands at his sides, when you pull back he’s scowling. 

“Come on…” You whine softly. 

“You can’t keep doin’ this.” His southern accent thickens as he starts becoming visibly upset. 

“Doing what?” You mumble. 

“Shuttin’ yerself away. Pushin’ me away. You can’t keep using sex to end conversations you don’t want to have.” You continue fumbling with the buttons on his shirt as he purses his lips, finally just grabbing your wrists, pinning them down. “Would’ja stop for one damn minute?” You can feel him glaring at you but you just keep staring at the buttons on his flannel, silent. 

“I don’t want to talk.” You exhale, pulling your wrists free. 

“Bullshit.” He grabs you by your jaw, no forcefulness behind the action but he makes you look at him. “I’m worried about you.” His tone softens immensely as he gives you a pleading look. 

“I’m fine.” You push his hand away but maintain eye contact.

“You aren’t. We haven’t had a conversation in weeks, and you cry everytime I see you, I don’t even know why you keep askin’ me to come around, at this point I’m allowed to be worried.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” You start to get out of his lap but he grabs you by your waist and pulls you back down. 

“Well I do. I’m serious, somethin’ is wrong with you, this isn’t normal.” When you try to get up again he doesn’t stop you, just putting his head in his hands as he groans. “There’s something seriously wrong with you bunny, we need to get you help.”

“I don’t need ‘help,’ I’m fine, now drop it.” He can’t do this, he can’t just call you crazy when he’s the one who drove you to this point. 

“You aren’t fine, you’re the furthest thing from it. You’re a mess, you’ve become a mad woman.” You’re about to just grab your bag and leave when he leans back. “Does it run in the family or something?” He mutters into his hand and you freeze in place.

“Excuse me?” You don’t conceal the hurt or the venom in your tone. 

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-” He gets to his feet but you put a hand up when he takes a step forward.  

“Don’t.”

“Please bunny. I’m just so frustrated I didn’t mean it, please.” His expression is full of desperation but it’s too late, the damage is done. 

“Fine Joel, you know what, let’s talk. Let’s talk about how you think I’ve got whatever ‘Ditsy Darlene’ had.” You raise your eyebrows at him, taunting him as you sneer. “Let’s talk about what’s wrong with your batty little bunny.” You hiss the end of the sentence and his eyes grow sad. 

He stares at you, silence ringing through the living room for a moment before you finally just grab your bag and make a beeline for the door, unfortunately he beats you to it just as the angry tears start pooling in your eyes. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going home.”

“Like hell you are, it’s miles away, and it’s the middle of the night, I’ll give you a ride.” He grabs his coat but you just shake your head. 

“I’m not getting in the truck with you. Besides, Ellie's already asleep.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath once more before reaching into his pocket, scrolling through his phone for a moment, you’re about to just push past him and leave when he brings it to his ear. 

“Can you come over? I need a favor.” He grumbles into the phone, you hear a rather irritated voice on the other end until Joel stops them. “You owe me.” There’s a beat of silence before he gets a response that has him nodding and hanging up, looking back at you. “Tommy’l be here in a few minutes, he’ll take you home.” He mumbles before leaning against the counter, you take the opportunity to sit at the table near the door. 

Neither one of you so much as moves until headlights illuminate the dim kitchen. When Tommy walks in he’s rather disheveled. His hair is pulled back but most of it still falls around his face, from the looks of it he’s only wearing sweatpants and a jacket. 

“This better be important, I haven’t seen Maria in days. So help me god if this is your way of getting back at me for-“ He immediately points an accusatory finger at Joel, sounding extremely irritated. 

“She needs a ride home.” Joel interrupts him quickly, nodding over to you before making his way over to Tommy rather quickly, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and yanking him back out the door. “We need a second.” He yells back in your direction and before you can object he slams the front door leaving you alone. 

Almost immediately you watch the blinds shudder as something slams against the kitchen window. You don’t hesitate to stand, rushing over and pressing your ear up against the wall, you don’t even have time to feel bad about eavesdropping. You haven’t found anything damning yet and this might be your only chance. They’re a bit hushed but you can hear them pretty clearly. 

“She’s perfectly fine, unlike some people I can control myself.” 

Tommy. 

“Perfectly fine? She’s a fuckin’ mess Tom. You’d have my head if it had been Maria.”

Joel.

“Maria never woulda found herself in that situation because she knows better, maybe it’s time for you to take care of that.”

“You say that like it’s easy.” 

“It is. I told Maria on our second date, you know why? Because it doesn’t matter. There isn’t a damn thing you could tell that girl that would make her leave you, I know it, you know it, hell, she probably knows it.”

Does Tommy know what the thing that plagues you is? The thing that keeps you from staying away from Joel? 

“She doesn’t know anything and it’s gonna stay that way.”

“She knows enough. You’re doing more harm by keepin’ her in the dark. What happens when you finally lose that famous self control a’yours?” Another slam against the window has you jolting backwards but you quickly lean back in when you hear Joel snarl. 

“I would never do anything to hurt her.”

You want so badly to believe that. 

“We both know I’m a hundred times more calm than you and Maria doesn’t even let me stay in the house most days. She needs to know so she can protect herself. What’s gonna happen when you don’t get outta town fast enough one of these days? You’ve been getting dangerously close these last couple of times, you’re gonna break her if she doesn’t know.” There’s a moment of silence and you worry they’re about to come back inside when Tommy speaks again, softer now. “What happens when she goes back into those woods? If she’s in the wrong place at the wrong time?” Another beat of silence. “I’ve seen the two of you, you can barely keep your hands off of her as is, what happens when you catch a whiff of her in the forest and can’t help yourself?”

“I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“I didn’t say you’d hurt her. I said you’d break her. You can’t keep lying to her and telling her she’s crazy, if she finds out on her own she’ll lose it Joel. You want her to end up like our old man?” 

You already feel broken. 

“This is different.”

“I think it’s exactly the same.” There’s another beat of silence before Tommy speaks again, angrier than before. “If you don’t tell her I will.”

“You have no right-“

“Would’ja quit shovin’ me. She’s gonna come out here if you don’t stop. She has every right to know. I’ll give you a few more weeks but I won’t leave her in the dark forever.”

Maybe you should just ask Tommy to go get coffee or something. From the sounds of it he’ll sort it all out for you. 

“Fine.”

“Fine, I'm gonna have to deal with this?”

“Fine, I’ll deal with this.” You barely have enough time to run back to the table and sit before the door swings open again, only Joel comes back in, his expression goes from furious to apologetic when he looks at you. “Tom’s out in the truck, he’ll get you home safe.” The tone he speaks to his brother with is unrecognizable compared to the tone he uses with you. You nod before grabbing your bag keeping your head down as you rush out the door, he catches your arm as you cross the threshold. “What can I do to fix this?” His voice cracks on the word fix and you turn to stare into those brown eyes that threaten to swallow you whole. 

You take a moment just to fight the urge to forgive him all together, to act as if all of this is perfectly fine just so you can stay with him.

“You can stop lying.” You whisper before yanking your arm free and running to the passenger side of the truck. You strap yourself in swiftly, not so much as glancing at Tommy. 

“Ready to go?” He sounds chipper as ever as you nod, giving one last look to Joel, standing in the doorway watching you depart. 

A soft country love song plays on the radio as he heads back towards your camper, a part of you longs to ask him for answers, wondering if he’d actually give them to you. It sounded like he wanted to, a lot of that conversation left you more confused than ever but also rather worried.

You decide it’s better not to let him know you were listening. At least for now.

“You have fun with the little monster?” He breaks the silence, making you jump a bit. 

“Ellie? She’s a delight.” 

“She’s the cutest, I’m glad Joel has her. He was pretty broken up when Sarah went to college.”

“She still visits, right?” You do your best to not stare at the trees, focusing on the dashboard instead. 

“Oh yeah, on holidays and special occasions, she’s only a state away. But you know how it is when you’re in college. She loves her dad but she needed some space to find herself and Joel just got lonely.” He flips on his blinker, turning down your road. “Ellie’s good for him. She keeps him busy.”

“Do you and Maria get to watch her much?” You’re hoping to catch him in a lie.

“Quite a bit yeah.” Damnit. “Joel’s always busy doing Joel stuff and it’s good practice for us, we haven’t decided on kids yet so we settle on just watching Ellie.”

Well this is going nowhere.

You sit in a mostly comfortable silence for a moment. 

“She called me girlfriend today, Joel was trying to teach her my name.” You both laugh a bit until he speaks again. 

“I’ve been trying to get her to say ‘Uncle Tommy’ for months now, damn kids not sayin’ it just to spite me. She’ll say ‘Auntie Maria’ clear as day.”

You genuinely like Tommy. 

Outside of the fact that he wanted to tell you whatever truth everyone seems hellbent on keeping from you. 

He’s easy to be around.

“Then what does she call you?” You say with one last laugh as he pulls up towards the camper. 

“Most of the time she just calls me Tío.” He gives you a grin as your mouth goes dry, when he gives you a hug goodbye you’re acutely aware of the fact that he smells like cinnamon. 

You feel relatively sick the rest of the night. 

Tío.

You had almost laughed; it had shocked you so deeply. 

It had been Tommy in the woods that day. 

You’re sure of it now. It explains everything and fills in all the gaps. The Miller brothers are both haunting these woods. You’re left to stew with that the rest of the night.

You aren’t crazy. 

Joel isn’t just a man.

And according to your book that’s why you can’t get away from him. You’re mates. Something about finally knowing you’re right helps you sleep soundly for the first time in ages. You don’t even dream. 

You’ve got several notifications from Joel when you wake, a slew of apologies and missed calls which you ignore as you step into the shower. You manage to keep it together long enough to wash yourself, rinsing your hair out, tugging your fingers through the tangles. 

You pat yourself dry, wrapping a towel around yourself as you step out of the bathroom, pouring yourself a glass of water as you take a seat at the table, scrolling through your texts.

[ can i come over tomorrow night? ] 

[ i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it. ]

[ we can do whatever you wanna do. ] 

[ bunny please. ]

You’re already feeling your Joel withdrawal, you should text him, does your body somehow know you plan on depriving it of him? You’ve only been without him for a few hours and you’re exhausted after a full night's sleep. You sit with your head in your hands for a moment, massaging your temples as a headache settles there. After another moment you pinch the bridge of your nose, standing up abruptly. 

“Fuck! Ah-” You catch your foot on the uneven board under the table, slicing your heel open on an exposed nail. “Dammit…” You mutter under your breath as you lift your leg, examining the cut. It's small, barely even bleeding but it irritates you wildly, your mood growing more and more sour. You sit on the floor, turning on your phone flashlight as you examine the floor, hoping to fix whatever the problem is, you realize quickly that the entire board is loose. “What the hell?” You pull it back completely, staring confused at the cubby. There’s a small space under the table, when you reach in you find a tote bag in surprisingly good condition. When you free it from its confines your eyes go wide when you see a laptop case. 

Darlenes. 

Everything’s in the bag, case, laptop, and charger. You set everything on the table, covering the floorboard and making sure nothing sharp is still exposed before taking a seat. You plug the charger in quickly, giving it a moment before opening the laptop and turning it on. You’re delighted when the screen illuminates, a small startup chime playing. Hopefully learning a bit more about your aunt will help you take your mind off things. 

Shit.

Password. 

You think to yourself for a moment, pondering and trying to come up with a few guesses before you start typing. 

Honey

West Virginia

ABC

Darlene Wilson

Ditzy Darlene 

You try your own name and your birthday and nothing happens, you stare for a moment, seemingly there’s no limit on guesses so you just keep going. Eventually you just start typing whatever you see, it’s better than nothing. 

fridge

shower 

laptop 

You glance down at your phone. 

Joel 

Nothing. 

You sigh for a moment, running your fingers across your scalp. 

Fuck it. 

bunny 

Your eyes go wide as you stare at her desktop. 

Fucking, bunny. 

You don’t dwell on that too much, too captivated by the mess of folders in front of you, you start clicking through things, confused by everything you’re seeing until you finally realize what it all is. 

It’s everyone in town, and from the looks of it, every adjacent town. 

She was keeping profiles on the townsfolk. 

It takes a bit of searching but after a few more minutes you find a folder within a folder, within a folder labeled Millers. 

Five documents are inside. 

Joel M. 

Thomas M.

Maria M. 

Sarah M.

Eleanor M. 

You open Sarah and Ellies first, both are pretty scarce, mostly just schools and such, a few dates in Sarah’s file are highlighted. Maria’s is the same except for a small section noting the increase in unexplained deaths when she officially changed her residence to Honey. 

Tommy and Joel are where it gets complicated. 

Endless pages of information, enough to fill a book. Most of it seems to be mundane information, more a diary than anything else. Notes on things she found out through the internet, a lot about how they moved around a lot as kids and kept up with that lifestyle up until Sarah, there’s no information on her mother but from the looks of it, the Miller clan settled in Honey six months before Sarah was born. 

There’s just too much on them, even simple things like how Darlene saw them in the grocery store, detailed calendars of their whereabouts were being kept by your aunt. You try to skim through a lot of it but there doesn’t seem to be anything highlighted until the last page. 

Not to be overlooked. 

Did she fucking know? 

Darlene may have been ditzy in some ways but this was clearly not one of them. A second highlighted sentence underneath that one catches your eye.

To be investigated in case of my untimely passing. 

Your stomach drops.

There’s no way. 

You close the files, trying to push away the implications of what you’ve read. But you can’t seem to keep it down. 

You never asked anyone how she passed. 

Work after the laptop incident is uneventful at best. 

With no bodies there isn’t much for you to do. 

You clean and you take care of the occasional elderly person you get but that’s about it, you spend a lot of time with Maria, sitting in silence and doing paperwork. It’s as if she knows that you aren’t exactly doing great and just doesn’t want to stir the pot. 

You haven’t texted Joel back.

And you feel like shit. 

Just in general things haven’t been all that great since you and Joel fought. Being away from him makes you feel shitty and it’s made your mood shitty, you’re irritable and impatient and by the time Maria finally breaks the silence two weeks later you’re ready to explode. 

“Are you feeling okay? You seem a little down, you know you can talk to me whenever you want.” It sounds genuine enough but you know better by now than to trust any member of this family. 

“I’m fine.” You can’t find it in you to care if it comes off as rude.

“Are you sure?” She’s filing papers on her desk, freezing in place when you speak again. 

“Did you do my aunt's service?” You look up at Maria.

It’s a terrible question.

You probably shouldn’t even be asking it but you need to know. 

She sits in stunned silence for a moment before clearing her throat. 

“I did.” 

“How did she die?” 

Somehow an even worse question, this is a terrible example of mortician etiquette. 

“They told me it was old age.” 

“Who told you?”

She swallows loudly.

“The police.”

“Why did the police declare the cause of death? Isn’t that your job?” This might cost you yours but what have you got to lose at this point?

“The police found her.” 

“Why were the police even at her house?”

“Christ, I don’t know! You sound just like her, with the questions and the accusations!”

“Accusations? I wasn’t accusing you of anything, what did you think I was accusing you of?”

“I think you should go home, take the rest of the day off.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re acting crazy.”

You aren’t crazy. 

Fine. You’ll take the night off. You’ve got some things to take care of anyway. You can’t keep doing nothing, you owe it to Darlene. 

“I’ll see you on Monday.” You stand, hastily grabbing your things. 

She calls your name as you’re leaving.

“Take care of yourself, please.” 

You don’t respond, closing the door as you step into the misty afternoon air. 

You aren’t crazy.

And you’re pretty sure Darlene wasn’t either. Something about Maria’s story isn’t adding up, maybe you should have started by interrogating her, she isn’t as good at lying as Tommy and Joel are. Nonetheless, you need to do your own research now. 

That’s what you tell yourself to justify what you’re doing as you walk into the police station. It’s tiny, as expected, there’s no secretary so you just let yourself in, approaching a woman with a name plate reading Sheriff.

“Hi, I’m Darlene’s niece.” You don’t bother giving a last name, everyone knows everyone in this damn town. 

“Oh! I’ve been meanin’ to stop by and introduce m’self.” She gives you a toothy grin as you nod. “I knew yer aunt pretty well, we used ta joke that I should give er a punch card fer the station.” You thought Joel had a thick southern accent but this woman is on a whole different level. 

“She was here often?”

“Nearly twice a week. She would come in ‘ere, poor thing, spewin’ about monsters in the woods. But she was harmless, I didn’t have anything better to do so I’d listen, y’know, ‘take ‘er statement.’” She does air quotes with her fingers and you fight the urge to frown. “Hell of a storyteller that one.” 

“Could you help me out with some information regarding her passing?” No sense in being coy about it, seems like this woman will talk for hours if you don’t interrupt. “Maybe I could talk to the officer who found her…” You look around the room at the empty desks before looking back at her, she has a sympathetic look on her face now.

“That would be me. I was first on the scene after we got the call.”

“Call?”

“Well yeah, it was the Miller brothers that found ‘er.”

What the fuck. 

“Joel and Tommy?”

“You’ve met ‘em? Who am I kiddin’ of course you’ve met ‘em, they probably knew her better than anyone else, real saints those two.”

“Darlene? You probably know her better than I do.”

That’s what he had said. 

“I didn’t realize they spent so much time together.” How much has Joel lied to you about?

“Oh yeah, they were over there several times a week, Joel even named his daughter after her, Darlene’s middle name was Eleanor.” There’s a sour taste in your mouth as you let that sink in.

“So… Tommy and Joel found her?” 

“Unfortunately, they had come over like they normally did on Sundays to help her with any house work and they found her in her camper, said she went in ‘er sleep.”

“Wait, they said she went in her sleep? You never saw the body?”

“I- I couldn’t bring myself to look… I cared a lot for Darlene, I considered her a very good friend. Joel and Tommy wrapped her up for me, I escorted them to the home and Maria took care of the rest. Declared cause of death and all that.”

That’s all you need to hear. 

Now you have to check, it’ll eat you up inside until there’s nothing left if you don’t. You mumble a goodbye before making a hasty exit. 

Tonight you’re going to the cemetery.  

Dig or leave. 

You need to make up your mind, you can only stand in a graveyard with a shovel for so long before you’re arrested. It’s already ten at night and you need to start as early as possible. 

There’s just a lot going on here. 

Darlene Eleanor Wilson

More important than the Eleanor of it all is the fact that you’re faced with two tombstones, Darlene’s clearly being a lot fresher than the one beside it. 

Benita Isabella Wilson 

Both tombstones are labeled the same, beloved wife, and friend 

Wife. You’d been told she’d never married.

There was no indication in the camper of such a thing yet here it is, clear as day. From the looks of it Benita passed nearly eight years ago. When you look closer you can see how well kept her tombstones have been. You make a note to pick up where Darlene left off and come back to clean both. 

After you do what needs to be done. 

You take a deep breath before finally driving the shovel down into the dirt. There’s no time to be squeamish about this, you know better than anyone how long this is going to realistically take to get done so you need to work fast if you want to be out of here before the sun’s coming up. 

So you dig. 

And you sweat, and you ache but you don’t dare stop. 

You dig, and you dig, and you dig. 

Until finally the sun is coming up, the sky is dimly lit when you finally hit something other than dirt. You work as quickly as possible to unearth the top half of the coffin and just as daylight breaks you manage to do it. You’re actually a bit thankful for the sun's rising, because you have no time to hesitate, you have to do it and you have to do it now before someone finds you.

So you grit your teeth and open the coffin. 

And you meet Darlene. 

Your poor, poor aunt Darlene.

Aunt Darlene, who’s cause of death was deemed ‘multiple organ failure, natural causes.’

She’s only been in the ground a few months. A normal person might blame her state on that fact but this isn’t decomposition. Decomposition doesn’t tear half of a person's face off. 

When she died she was missing over half of her face, from the looks of it her nose was torn clean off before she got anywhere near a casket. 

You swallow your vomit, not wanting to further desecrate her grave. 

Your brain is moving at a million miles an hour yet you’re also struggling to form a single coherent thought as you take in the sight of her until finally something just snaps. 

Staring at the corpse makes something shift inside of you. As if you’ve been pulled taut for weeks and you’ve finally split in two. Something deep inside of you that you’d never felt before, you sort of wonder if this is how normal people feel when they see a corpse. 

You don’t even laugh. 

There isn’t fear, or anger, or hate, threatening to burst from you, forcing that all too familiar laugh from your chest.

There’s nothing.

Just you and a corpse. 

A mangled corpse, with no one to mourn her, and no one to realize something was horribly wrong until long after she was dead. 

You don’t remember much after that. You don’t remember closing the casket, or covering it with dirt, but you know you did. You don’t remember walking to the hardware store, open surprisingly early, you don’t remember making any purchases, and you don’t remember going home. 

Yet you’re there when you come to your senses. 

You feel terribly hollow and suddenly you’d give anything to fill the camper with one of your nervous laughs but it never comes. You shake your head a bit, trying to focus. 

You’re in the camper.

The sun is up.

And you’ve got two rather heavy plastic bags in front of you. You  pour the contents out onto the table before methodically grabbing each one, tucking them into your empty backpack, making yourself a mental list of everything while trying to remember why you bought them in the first place.  

Several armfuls of rope, and chain, several rolls of duct tape, a new first aid kit, more padlocks than you could ever possibly need, paper towels, bleach, and a rather gaudy souvenir mug, scribbled on the bottom is some print telling you that it’s microwave and dishwasher safe, and shatterproof, it’s obnoxious and absurdly heavy, a decal on the front says ‘Sweet as Honey, West Virginia!’ 

You stare at your now full bag, blurry memories of your train of thought coming into focus as you slowly but surely remember your intentions. 

You were going to visit Joel. 

And sort out this whole mess. 

Finally have that talk he’s been wanting to have so badly.

If everyone is gonna keep treating you like you’re gone mad then you’re going to act mad. 

You wait two days to go visit Joel.

You’ve started to track your cycle so you know exactly when to go see him. When the day comes you tuck yourself into the trees adjacent to the funeral home. Deep enough in the woods that no one can see you but not so deep that you’re filled with the familiar dread the woods typically give you. 

It is tempting though. 

The concept of getting to feel something again.

Ever since you saw that corpse you’ve just been empty, there isn’t anything left of you. 

Joel's truck pulls in as you tilt your head to the side. 

You watch as he lifts Ellie out of her car seat, letting her run the distance to the house where Maria waits for her. They talk for a bit before Joel kisses the top of Ellie’s head, making his way back to the truck. The moment he begins backing out of the driveway you begin your walk towards his home. 

It’s about a three hour walk but you don’t get bored. 

You’d have to be able to feel something to feel boredom. 

So you walk, because there’s nothing else for you to do. You walk until you see the tire swing swaying in the cool night air. You walk around the house to the sliding door in the back, and you peer inside through the blinds to find the living room and kitchen empty, when you push the door it gives way immediately. 

No reason to lock a door when you’re the scariest thing in the woods. 

When you step in you hear the faint sounds of the shower running and you quietly make your way across the room once the door is closed behind you. You take your bag off one arm so you can reach inside, retrieving the novelty mug before zipping it shut and putting it back on. 

You don’t even feel nervous. 

Your skin buzzes as if you’re anxious and you tap your foot but the wave of anxiety never comes. You fill the mug with water, sipping slowly until you hear the shower turn off and you dump out the contents, tucking yourself behind the fridge and holding your breath. 

He moves around for a bit, you hear him moving throughout the house until finally the sound of his footsteps travel down the hall and into the kitchen, when you peek around he’s leaning against the counter, staring into the living room while drying his hair with a towel, dressed in only flannel pajama bottoms.

It’s now or never. 

“Could’a swore I shut those…” He grumbles as he tosses the towel onto the back of a chair, you know he’s about to close the blinds so you step out before he can even get off the tile, standing directly behind him as you inhale sharply. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, shutting your eyes tight just as he turns around and you slam the ceramic mug against his temple. 

Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.

You pray silently to yourself as you finally kneel beside his crumpled form. After the initial strike you’d turned around with a small squeak, terrified of your own actions, hearing the sound of his body hitting the floor. It took you five whole minutes to finally turn and look. 

Still breathing.

That’s all that matters. 

You throw your backpack down on the counter before crouching down, rolling him onto his back. His chest rises and falls as if he were asleep but a small amount of blood is pooling from where you hit him, the skin split just below his hairline. You brush a curl away from his forehead to look closer, it’s a superficial wound, not too deep but still bleeding profusely. It could be worse, you tell yourself as you stand again, searching through your pack, eventually just grabbing it by the bottom and dumping the contents onto the counter. First things first you need to bandage his wound, this will all be easier if he isn’t bleeding everywhere. 

You grab the bandages you bought for this very purpose, along with the paper towels, dabbing up the blood now streaking through his hair.

This is fine.

Everything’s fine. 

It takes a bit of effort but once he’s all cleaned up you manage to get him into a chair and it’s easy from there. You know how strong he is so you’re rather generous in your use of each restraint. Using most of everything you’ve got securing him, rope, tape and chain. When you’re finished you take a step back. 

He won’t be able to get out of it. 

You’re certain. 

You aren’t sure what’s next honestly. There isn’t really anything for you to do until he wakes up so you find yourself just staring down the hallway. 

He was just in his room, it probably isn’t locked anymore. 

Curiosity gets the better of you as you make your way down the hall, Joel’s bedroom door beckoning you. You twist the knob, slowly pushing the door in as your hand fumbles with the wall beside it, trying to find the lightswitch. You stare into the darkness before finally finding it, flinching a bit as a single light fixture hanging in the center of the room flickers on. 

Huh.

This is what you were expecting to find the first time you came over. No wonder he always wants to sleep in the camper. 

It looks like a room you’d only see in a horror movie. The walls are mostly bare, the wallpaper is torn off in large chunks and against the far wall you can see a few polaroids taped up. The only furniture is a mattress on the floor in the center of the room. Your breath hitches as you walk to the closet, pulling open the door. It looks like he keeps all of his belongings in here, shoved into the small space, clothes, personal items, and boxes fill it entirely. You shut the door, you don’t have nearly enough time to go through all of it so you go to investigate the photos instead. 

Five polaroids are pinned up.

One is a photo of Joel holding a tiny baby with a shocking mess of brunette curls atop her head. Her big brown eyes are identical to Joels.

The second is a pretty recent photo of Ellie. A slightly blurry photo of the little girl holding the camera in front of a mirror, Joel is barely visible in the background, you can see his signature dimple as he holds her up. 

The third photo is of two people you don’t recognize. A man with a vacant stare sitting in a rocking chair with a woman perched beside him, kissing his cheek. Both look to be in their sixties, the man bares a striking resemblance to Tommy, the woman has the same frenzied curls as Sarah. 

The fourth was taken in front of the funeral home, Tommy and Maria are pictured standing underneath a ‘Grand Opening!’ banner.

The fifth, and clearly most recent photo is of you. You have no memory of it being taken, how could you, your eyes are shut. You look peaceful though. Happy. The morning light shimmers against your lashes, you’re tangled in the sheets with your arms wrapped tightly around his abdomen, from the angle he’s holding the camera at you can see his head turned down, giving you an infatuated look. 

You run a finger along the edge of the photo, lost in thought until you hear him coughing, you turn the light off, rushing back out into the kitchen, his eyes are glued to you immediately. 

“Bunny…” His tone is low and cautious. 

“Don’t do that, don’t talk to me like I’m crazy.” You make your way across the kitchen, pulling up a chair and sitting across from him. 

You know how this looks but that doesn’t give him an excuse to be condescending. 

“Of course you aren’t crazy, I know that, I just need you to let me go.” His voice goes soft, as if he were speaking to a cornered animal. 

“Stop it.” You frown at him. “I’m completely coherent right now.”

“Okay.” He nods slowly. “Look, I know things haven’t been easy for you recently, just let me go and we can forget any of this ever happened, okay? We can just go to bed and deal with it in the morning.” The funny part is that you know he’s telling the truth, if you untie him right now he’d carry you to bed as if nothing happened and he’d hold you until you forgot about the whole thing. “Please don’t do this.” He speaks softer now. “Think about Ellie. Don’t leave her without a father.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, I’m not a monster.” The offense is apparent in your tone. 

“Then what’s the plan here, bunny.”

“We’re going to wait.” You sit back in your chair, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I should be getting my period tomorrow.” You tilt your head to the side a tiny bit as the color leaves his face. “We will wait here for forty eight hours, if nothing happens I’ll untie you.” 

His face suddenly turns to an expression of concentration, you’ve got plenty of time to grill him over the next forty eight hours, you decide to let him be for now. Neither one of you says so much as a word for well over an hour when suddenly his hand spasms. A nervous tick of sorts, his fingers flexing outward before his knuckles go white as his hand forms into a fist. 

“Let me go.” He whispers.

“In forty eight hours.”

“Now.”

You shake your head no.

Almost simultaneously you watch his jaw twitch in an almost inhuman way. 

“Then you need to get out of here.” His voice is strained now as he gives you a look of pure desperation.

“I’m staying right here.” You raise your eyebrows at him definitely but lose any of your bravado when he snarls, his muscles rippling briefly as you watch the tape tear, some of the ropes split in different places as he flexes. You tumble out of your own chair as you recoil.

“Iron?” He growls out, when he looks up at you now his eyes are bloodshot, you’re incapable of doing anything other than staring in horror as you hear the screech of metal as one of the chain links bursts. “Are these- are they iron?” His voice shifts down an octave halfway through the sentence and you shake your head frantically. 

How were you supposed to know they needed to be iron? You aren’t exactly experienced in holding eldritch horrors hostage. 

“You- fuck, you need to get out of here.” When he stares up at you there’s another groan from the strain against the metal but you can’t move. You’ve fallen flat on your ass as you stare at him with wide confused eyes, your legs splayed out uselessly in front of you while your arms prop you up just enough to watch the nightmare before you unfold. “Now.” You recognize the voice that speaks now as Joel’s, despite the fact that it isn’t his at all, it’s just a low bellowing sound now that shouldn’t be possible for a human to make. Your breath is starting to quicken as you tremble. 

You’re nearly hyperventilating when the chains all simultaneously break, the metal shrieking as it rips. But it isn’t anywhere near loud enough to cover up the horrific sound that echoes throughout the house. 

Bones, breaking. 

A sickening crunching and snapping as Joel's flesh ripples as if the ocean is just beneath his skin. Joel is big, he’s always been broad, sturdy, but this is something completely different. He isn’t just big, he’s hulking. His body twists and tears and it hurts to even look at but you can’t turn away. He’s falling apart, his flesh and bones tear and bleed as they reshape themselves into something beyond your comprehension. 

This isn’t what you came across in the woods. 

This looks like the kind of thing that eats what you came across in the woods. 

His body curls in on itself, crouching down onto all fours and he’s still taller than you. If he had been wearing a shirt you assume it would have torn when his spine realigned itself. Each vertebrae popping itself out, separating and lengthening until his body shudders, the skin pulled taut over his stretched out form. The entire process probably takes less than a minute but it feels like hours pass as you watch, your eyes wide. 

Until finally he stills, panting, staring at the ground before tilting his head up a bit. 

“Little… rabbit.” 

It speaks.

He looks at you like a meal and your breath hitches at the sight, there’s a burning in your abdomen as you stare into his eyes, he’s searching your gaze for something but he doesn’t find it. Almost as if you can read his mind a word comes to mind.

Repulsion. 

He’s searching for disgust, or loathing, but he won’t find it, after all this is what you wanted. You don’t hate him for this, you won’t look at him like he’s ugly because he isn’t, even if you’re afraid. There is something horrifyingly gorgeous about him, even if every one of your base instincts tell you to get as far away from him as you possibly can. 

He’s beautiful like this. 

The deep brown of his eyes takes over the whites as his eyelids pull back, his eyes must be the size of baseballs now. Enormous and dark, sparking with intrigue. The hook of his nose now stretches to fit his new face, halfway down it bends and breaks a bit. His hair looks a little longer, more appropriately framing his face now.

Does it hurt?

Is the question that comes to mind the more you take him in. Despite how large his maw is it still tears a bit at the cheeks, holes where it looks like the skin was pulled too tight, revealing the jagged teeth within.

A growl bubbles in his throat, pouring out and snapping you out of your assessment as he crawls forward a bit until he’s practically hovering above you, his head turns, shifting from side to side as he gives you several small sniffs, almost like a dog assessing a stranger in it’s home. 

It makes the hair on your arms stand straight. 

Run rabbit, run. 

“Bunny.” He rumbles out, almost as if he’s acknowledging recognition. 

And you fucking laugh.

With your entire chest. 

It’s the first time you’ve felt anything in days, it’s almost a relief. Everything comes bubbling to the surface as you burst into a fit of hysterical, nervous laughter. 

You have never been this afraid in your entire life. 

He exhales sharply, the force of it has your hair rustling a bit, your senses suddenly overwhelmed with the smell of peppermint. You don’t dare move, freezing in place when he leans down, only a few inches away from you now, his arms pinning you in. God, he smells so fucking good right now and you hate yourself for noticing. 

Curiosity killed the rabbit.

Is that a saying? It will be after tonight. 

You swallow loudly, and try to close your legs as subtly as possible but his gaze follows the movement immediately and you freeze once more. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your stomach burns so hot it’s painful as you stare up at him. 

His head tilts almost knowingly as he inhales deeply and his eyes darken.

Fuck.

Can he smell how turned on you are?

i no longer have a tag list !! if you want updates for this fic follow @lincolndjarinnotifs !!

a/n : have a love hate relationship with this chapter bc i hate that i love it. but like straight up lemmie know if this chapter was a bit scattered bc that's my big worry rn. i jumped around a lot but also these chapters are so long sometime i feel it's best to just expedite some scenes yknow? idk.

[blackreaderfics]

My Little Mermaid | Clark Kent x Black!Reader

↳ Pairing : MoS!Clark Kent x Black!AFAB!Reader

↳ Rating :  M (18+)

↳ Summary : a lone fisherman rescues a girl from the water

↳ W.C : ~1.6K

↳ Tags + Warnings: little mermaid motifs, comfortfic, reader is mute, slight dumbification, caretaker!clark, clark bathes her, slight implied age gap (reader is younger but over 18!!), size difference, non-sexual sexual touches, dubious consent, eye contact, ambiguous relationship, no smut

Clark wiped the mist of ocean water from his face as he surveyed the horizon. The sky was dull and gray; the same as it had been for the past three days. He had already gotten his catch for the week; choppy waters before a storm always stirred the life below right into his net. He decided to turn in for the day after his last reel-in.

Boats above a certain size usually required a crew to operate efficiently, but Clark preferred to work by himself. If any of his previous crewmates could see him hefting burdens meant for ten men with ease, they’d probably be afraid of him. He'd never forget the look on his classmate’s face when he’d been seen using his powers. His bully, ironically enough, had been the only one to witness his pushing their sinking bus from out of the river. The mocking and derision he’d gotten so used to seeing was replaced with terror, and Clark realized he’d been the sole cause of that fear.

The incident brought unwanted attention to the Kents and reporters at their front door. Since then, his parents had quietly taken him out of school where he would earn his diploma from home. He was used to being alone now. 

Clark secured the net to the metal rig and lowered it into the water. Tiny droplets of rain dripped from his hood one by one until a steady drizzle began to fall. He tugged at his hood, though it didn't help him much now that he'd already been dampened from the humidity in the air and the sweat on his back. He circled back around the boat, checking for any stray buoys or untied ropes while he waited for the signal to bring his haul back up. 

A heavy clang at the side of the boat called his attention. He hadn’t brought the rig down very deep and he was far from the coast. Did he misalign something when he was setting up? He mentally went over his loading checklist from that morning, but couldn’t come up with anything out of the norm—Clark was a man of routine, and he rarely strayed from it. He frowned up at the clouds, now rolling in, and back down at the roiling waters. It was too early to bring the net back up but even he knew not to tempt fate. 

Clark went back to the helm of the boat and raised a lever to signal the rig’s movement upward. As the steel arm rose, however, it made a creaking noise he’d heard only once before back when he bought the old fisher boat. The guy who had sold it to him ensured he would take care of it, but maybe Clark had been naïve to trust his words.

He set the lever back to its place and stalked out of the cockpit. So much for not using any strength, he thought wryly. He wrapped the rope connected to a pulley once around his hand. A strong pull shot the net through the surface of the water; It hung a few feet above where he stood, filled with silvery bass and something else he couldn’t quite make out in the rain.

“What the—“ That something else looked very… human. Alarmed, he secured the rope he was holding onto the deck and manually worked on the metal arm that held the netted bundle. The faulty rig was already broken, and he had no problem bending the steel back to fold it closer to the main deck. The net ripped apart with a yank of his fingers and he swiftly pulled the human body from the catch.

It was…a girl. It was you. Alive, somehow, but completely bare. He shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it carefully around your body. Though your eyes were still closed, you had instinctively curled into his arms. He held you, carefully, as though you would break at any moment, and made his way to the shelter of the captain’s pit. The nearest hospital wasn’t too far from the shore. As long as you were still breathing, they’d be able to help you.

Clark laid you down on a cushioned ledge next to the control panels of the cockpit. He started the journey back to shore, but from the corner of his eye, he could see that you had awakened. When he turned to face you, however, your eyes had already squinted shut. 

“You’re awake.” He left the helm to come closer, kneeling by your side to take a closer look at you. He hadn’t taken a proper look at your face yet. He wasn’t a doctor but he knew a bit of first aid; he could check for any head injuries and vital signs that way. When he noticed your body tense up, he thought better of touching you and brought his hand back down. 

“Miss?” He tried again and you peeked out from underneath his jacket. Large doe-like brown eyes stared at him unblinkingly. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He promised, but Clark was beginning to wonder if you could even understand him at all. 

“I want to move your hair.” He spoke slowly, miming the actions with his hands at his own wetted curls. You looked at him as if understanding and slowly sat up. Clark froze as the jacket he’d draped over you shifted to reveal the brown peaks of your nipples. He quickly averted his eyes, only returning them back to yours when you moved suddenly in his periphery. 

You were.. touching him? Or more accurately, touching his hair, copying his movements from earlier. 

“N-no, not my hair.” Clark didn’t know why he was suddenly flustered but he moved now, with purpose, to cover you back up. You sat up, following his eyes as he brushed your long locs back and away from your face. You decided you liked his eyes very much.

Clark sat back on his heels and studied you. Your face looked unmarred, ethereal even, brown skin shimmering faintly as if you generated your own sunlight. You touched him again, this time at an area under his bearded jaw. When your fingers lightly grazed the knob at his neck, he swallowed involuntarily. 

At that moment he saw it. It was imperceptible at first; hard to catch if you weren’t looking hard enough. On the sides of your neck, three thin slashes pulsated like heartbeats, like…gills? He had to get you back into the water. 

Clark sat on the closed lid of the toilet, deep in thought at the strange situation before him. He had pulled you out from the middle of the ocean and you were now sitting in his bathtub, resting your chin on the lip of the tub as he brooded. 

After seeing your gills (at least that was what they looked like) there was no way he could take you to the hospital. And throwing you back into the water just to get caught by another fisherman didn’t seem like the best idea either. 

Finally, as if making up his mind, he rolled up his sleeves and kneeled beside you with a washcloth. Pulling your arm gently towards him, he began to rub small circles of lather into your skin. 

He was always so serious when he looked at you but now he refused to meet your eyes, as if avoiding the glare of the sun. Had you done something wrong? He told you he wouldn’t hurt you. You didn’t understand the exact words, but you understood it from his eyes and you believed him. 

He took your other arm and your eyes followed his movements, but he hesitated for a moment at your chest. After a beat, Clark placed the washcloth in your hands and covered it with his own, guiding your clothed hand across your breasts.

You looked down in awe. His hands looked a lot different than yours; a lot bigger. And behind his hand, yours had completely disappeared. A soft nudge at your shoulder prompted you to turn around, breaking you out of your thoughts of the man in front of you.

Your back was to him now, and you could feel the warmth of his body heat, but you couldn’t see his eyes anymore. It made you uneasy when you couldn’t see them. You turned to face him again and he sat back, startled at your sudden movement. This time, Clark had given up on avoiding looking directly at you, searching your eyes for a hint of what you wanted. 

Before he could retract his hand from you, you clasped another hand over his willing it to stay. He obliged and continued, across your stomach, around your thighs, and down to your feet. After some time cleaning you, Clark wrung out the cloth and stood, pulling you to stand with him. You wondered why he seemed to ignore the area between your legs. You reached for the cloth but he took a step back. 

“N-no! That’s not—,” He looked away again, the tips of his ears tinged in pink. Clark looked around his bathroom for any kind of method of escape but found none. You weren't completely clean yet, but he knew he wouldn't get anywhere trying to explain to you why. He resigned himself to his fate and moved to find a basin.

You gazed up from under him. He was much bigger than you were. Just like with his hands, you noted his body could wholly cover yours; perhaps he could make you disappear under him just the same.

Not too long after, he presented you with a basin of fresh water and cupped his hand under yours. You let the water pool and leak through the gaps in your fingers. After a few tries you were able to hold a good amount of water in the crater of your palm. 

He demonstrated with you first, bringing your joined hands in between your thighs. Up from underneath your hand he helped you gently press apart your folds. He guided your fingers each time you’d collected your water, bringing it to your mound again and languidly rubbing until you felt his hand drift away. 

Clark watched you copy the movements he’d had taught you earlier. He could tell you were searching his eyes for confirmation, so he made sure to nod in assurance each time you looked at him.

When you stepped out of the bath he draped a warm towel around your shoulders, making sure to avoid the slits at your neck. He was staring intently at you now. The look in his eyes told you that he would keep you safe, and you believed him.

©️ blackreaderfics // credit to cafekitsune for the dividers

[hellfire--cult]

fic authors self rec game

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞

thank you for tagging me @thecreelhouse 💜

okay, i'll give a little lore for each fic

Do I wanna Know? - Stripper!Eddie x Shy!Fem!Reader

I wrote this fic thinking it was going to be a two piece. I had it all figured out in my head, and then when I wrote it the words kept flowing. I also didn't think it would really catch people's attention, I just needed to write that idea in my head. I put a lot of self indulgent things in it, thoughts and mannerisms, so it was also a bit healing to write. It also brought me a lot of joy that people felt identified and that it helped them understand themselves or they felt seen through my fic and it felt like a warm hug.

2. Hooked on you - Hook!Eddie x Fem!Reader

This came to me in a vision after watching Peter Pan from 2001. But I am also a big fan of hidden messages through fantasy, or through fiction, like little riddles of hidden meanings behind the whole world one creates. For example, in my story, Neverland is a place of self acceptance, of saving, to those who are ready to leave way too early because of grief or a broken heart. I do have backstories for each character and if you read the story you know reader's, but safe to say, all of them, including the kids, suffered gravely. I also loved the mixture of fantasy and wanting to live in ignorance to one's depression and anxiety cause I think we can all kind of relate to that, even to this day. I started writing to escape reality, and reader here slipped into neverland in order to escape it.

3. The White Rabbit series, including Bunny, Bunny, Bunny and Run, Rabbit, Run. - Mafia!Eddie x Fem!Reader - Steddie x Fem!Reader

I wanted to expand my boundaries a bit. I always wanted to write a fic that didn't consist of love, only pure lust and desire, as well as dark romance features. This was literally all self indulgent, with things I've wanted to experiment writing, filled with explicit scenes and using words I never used before. It is just literal sex, but I am pretty proud of my detailing of scenes, of my smut scenes. I was always afraid of making smut scenes bland, the need for realism too great in my body lmao.

4. Please, Trust me. - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Oof. I really don't know how to word this right so bare with me. I wanted to show that some people that feel like suicide is the only way to be free, some embrace this possibility with open arms and with relief in their faces. Reader was ready to go. Through and through. She wasn't sad about it. She was excited for it. And it wasn't because she was 'crazy' or 'unstable'. She was perfectly conscious of her decision. I wanted people to see though, that there's always a purpose. That you just need to wait. And maybe that purpose comes with a person, and sometimes it doesn't. I wanted people to know that there's also hope. But my main purpose was to show that suicide doesn't always mean bad.

5. Baring Teeth - Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

My baby. Even if it's still on going, and my updates have stopped, I am still writing it. I am proud of this fic in particular because of the plot twists that I have in mind for the future of the fic. I am also proud to like, write something that people, that are not into Omegaverse, can read cause I slowly give hints of what it is, and descriptions as we go further into the story. It's not like I hit people with it without them knowing what it is. People that have never read any of the sort can easily read this and slowly get accustomed to what Omegaverse is.

This was hard. I honestly took a lot of time to think of what I was proud of LMAO

no pressure tags and sorry if you were already tagged: @andvys @munson-mjstan @loveshotzz @pastel-pillows @ghost-proofbaby @lokis-army-77 @munson-blurbs @rip-quizilla

[crybaby-bkg]

sᴄᴏʀɴᴇᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1

Bakugou x f!reader Warnings/Tags: threats of violence, fear, graphic imagination of violence, chasing, guns, gun violence, blood, gunshot wounds, mention of sexism, PTSD flashbacks, unmentioned men harming reader in the past (not graphic), sexist language, mentions of you bleeding Word Count: 3.2k Notes: first chapter already woooo!! this is more of an intro to how everyone gets to meet each other. I hope you all enjoy!! <3 Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI

Main Masterlist AO3

Medusa [meh-doo-za] noun - guardian; protectress; an evil meant to protect others from evil; a threat; a victim

***

Your heart races as your feet pound against the rough pavement, cutting sharp corners with every quick turn. You’re too afraid to look over your shoulder, afraid that you’ll find faces that will haunt your every dream for years to come, sneering at you. Afraid you’ll lose your footing, that you’ll stumble, fall prey to the monsters hunting you for sport. 

You can’t breathe. Your chest hurts, tight, your lungs squeezing with every shaking gasp you inhale. They’re getting closer—they’re right on your heels—they’re gonna get you—you’ll be dead come morning, unrecognizable. 

There’s a sudden whooshing sound not too far off, and you think that it must be one of their quirks, that its truly the end for you. Instead, you hear the sounds of scuffling, of punched out breaths, of bodies hitting the pavement, of pained groans. 

You still don’t slow down, don’t stop, not until you’re safe, until you know that they can’t catch you anymore. But you’re stopped suddenly, by a burly chest too wide for any normal human. 

Your feet come skidding to a halt, barely managing to stop yourself before running into this wall of a person. Your eyes frantically search their face, and you’re even more afraid now. Is he with them? Is he apart of all of this? He’s no better than the men chasing you, after the videos of his son proclaiming abuse went viral all those years ago. 

“There’s no need to run now, the Pro’s are here.” Endeavor’s voice is booming in the echoing alleyway, and it only unnerves you even more. You can feel your knees wobbling, knocking against each other. You hadn’t even realized that there were tears until they muddled your vision, hadn’t realized you were shaking until the chatter of your teeth is audible. 

“Please, let me go.” You whisper, meek, voice barely understandable from the clacking of your jaw. Endeavor looks down at you confused, eyebrows furrowing as his lip grits. He reaches a hand out, and you jerk yourself back so hard that you stumble, tripping over a bottle left in the alleyway. 

You land hard on your back, but you never take your eyes off of the man in front of you. He tries to reassure you, tries to help you but—but his hands are too big, and those hands have hurt those closest to him, and they’re too wide, too familiar, remind you too much of the men behind you. 

Where are the men, anyway? Have they hidden somewhere, ready to plot their attack with the number one hero? Are they all in on this? Are they all going to hurt you, maim you, assault you? 

Your panicked breaths echo loudly, your hands shielding you from the too large form that still stands above you. He doesn’t try to reach out for you anymore, only glances off to the side as he speaks seemingly to nobody before his eyes dart behind you. You’re too afraid to look, think it might be a trick for you to lower your guard so he can rip out your trachea with his bare hands. 

You scream when someone gently touches your shoulder, feels like they’ve dropped hot coal onto your skin, feels like the flesh drips down your tattered clothing. But as you whip your head around, you come face to face with something—someone, softer. It’s the bunny hero, and she smiles gentler than you have ever seen her do on TV. She’s saying something to you, but your ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. All you focus on is the fact that, finally, you might be safe now. 

Her knuckles are bloody, and you see her nudge her head back behind her, get a glimpse of a stack of bodies trailing oh so fuckin’ close to you. It makes you flinch at the sight, at the leader with his hands still outstretched toward you, nails barely skimming your ratty shirt. You gasp, sobbing, inching and inching away from him, find yourself comforted in muscular but such soft arms. 

Miruko holds you gently, shushing you and cradling you under her chin. She sits on her knees, dragging you closer to her, shielding you from the men who were so close to ruining you, from hurting your further. Your own voice doesn’t even sound familiar once the fuzziness in your head clears as it bounces off the grimy walls with every hallowed sob that racks your entire body. She tries to get you to breathe, to calm down, but you’ve checked out since you crawled into the safety of her arms. 

As the ambulance arrives and more pro heroes show up, you sit in Miruko’s lap, shaking, thinking to yourself, promising, that this will be the last time you ever need saving. 

…

It takes months to rebuild yourself. Months of healing, of therapy appointments, of physical rehab, of integrating yourself back into society again. 

And even then—its not enough to heal you. 

Your therapist tells you that you need to move on, and you tell her that she must be a fucking quack. The next one tells you that you need to forgive the men that hurt you, and you tell him that he must’ve faked his shitty degree. And the next one is the same, and so is the one after that, until they all just start running together with the same advice. 

Do not give power to the men who hurt you. Its bullshit, you think. They don’t have any fuckin power because they were smashed to fuckin smithereens by Miruko’s heel. But apparently, your “kill all men who hurt others” ideology is “dangerous” and “directed at the wrong people.” You think you’re justified, and you don’t need anyone with a stupid fucking degree to be a yes man and agree with you. 

You don’t need anyone to agree with you—well, except for your fans online who praise you. 

Almost a year after being attacked, you became a hero for the people in your community who were oftentimes overlooked by pro heroes—male pro’s, especially. If women weren’t doling out their bodies in exchange for saving, then they might not be saved at all. 

That’s where you come in at. You trained your body to become stronger, more flexible, more agile, pushed yourself in such little time you’re surprised your body hasn’t clonked out on you yet. But its not your time to give up, to roll belly up and let the cruelness of the world swallow you whole. It almost did once—you weren’t letting that happen again. 

The public dubbed you as “The Red Medusa” because of your crimson stained outfits and the medusa tattoo visible on the center of your chest you always wore proudly. It was fitting, especially since you always seemed to exclusively fight men who were witnessed hurting a woman, or child. You didn’t have a quirk, but it wasn’t needed when you had a multitude of guns and the ability to lay someone out cold. 

Many men had tried to retaliate against you, especially the pro heroes whose egos were shattered whenever you publicly called them out online for their gross negligence and misogyny. But none had ever managed to catch up with you or leave without at least two extra holes in their body. 

Dynamight was one of them. 

…

He was cocky at first, with his too big grin and flashy quirk. You couldn’t stand the up and coming hero, with his shitty sexist comments made a couple months ago. He tried to backpedal, claim that his words were taken out of context, that it was all to just make him look bad. 

You didn’t believe it. You didn’t believe any of them, ever. 

“Getting tired, aren’t cha?” Dynamight calls out to you, aims another explosion where you stood only seconds ago. You can see the frustration in his face when he realizes that he missed you, that you’re quicker than you should be to just be a quirkless vigilante, as the media likes to call you. 

“Looks like you’re the one slowing down, shit head.” You shout back at him, sneering at his scowl. You two have been at it for only a few minutes now, and you know that in any second, more heroes are going to arrive and that they’ll outnumber you. You don’t work well with multiple attacks at once, and you’re damn sure not gonna go down yet. You’ll have to make this quick. 

As Dynamight soars through the air again, he aims another explosion at you, and you hold your breath as you wait for the right moment to strike. One second too late and he’ll have blasted your entire right side straight off of your body. You refuse to die by this sexist pigs hands. 

You inhale when you feel the heat of the blast, launching your body back just in time, don’t even wait for the smoke to clear from his explosion as you fire off two rounds into the orange hued air. Its silent for a split second before you hear it—a pained holler. But, you don’t expect for him to aim another blast at you. 

That one sends you reeling back, gasping sharply, as you dodge the brunt of it, but still feel the bottom half of your mask and neck catch licks of flame. You sit up quickly, ripping the mask off, eyes darting all around you in the isolated parking lot, wonder where his body has landed. You catch a glimpse of his boot retracting behind a blue sedan slowly, and you wonder how badly you must’ve hurt him. 

You hope its fatal. 

You should leave. You know you should leave, especially since gunshots were fired, the pro’s are definitely on their way now, and you’re face is exposed. But Dynamight just can’t let you bow out gracefully. 

“That was a cheap fuckin’ shot, you know.” He calls out to you from behind the car, taunting you. You know you shouldn’t fall for it, but you’re not gonna let this asshat discredit the move you had been honing in on for him specifically. 

“Nah, you’re just predictable.” You answer him, hissing at the sting of your jaw and chin from where his explosion grazed you. You pat at your face, finding specks of blood on your fingertips, eyes widening at the sight. None of the other men you had faced had made you bleed, never had enough close contact to let them. And yet—and yet your fingertips are stained crimson and you’re taken back to them. 

A group of faceless men stand around you, laughing at the pained moans emitting from your throat…one slaps you across the face…your hair is being tugged in every which way…you’re worthless, they keep repeating…condemned to rot away like the worthless bitch you are…

Before you know it, your legs are carrying you behind the blue sedan, and in hindsight, its a terrible fucking thing to do, exposing your identity like this. But Dynamight has become those faceless men to torture you all over again, and you think…you think he needs to pay the price for making you bleed. 

“Apologize.” You whisper, standing above him, barrel pointed right in the middle of his forehead. He looks like shit, with dust in his ash blond hair, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, a hole in his shoulder, another in his abdomen. His eyes cross to look at the gun before focusing his gaze on you, eyebrows pulled taut in confusion. He’s never seen you before without your mask, but you can’t focus on that right now. Its not like he’ll live to tell everyone who you are and what you look like after this. 

“Whaddya say?” He grunts, hissing through his teeth when he puts more pressure on his shoulder. It doesn’t phase you, his pain, no. The only thing you can focus on is the familiar throbbing in your jaw that has ached one too many times at the hands of…of…

“You heard me.” You snap, voice shaking. You wipe away the onslaught of tears with a quick swipe on your shoulder, sniffing quickly, as if he wouldn’t be able to see the pain muddying your face. 

“I got bad hearing ‘cause of my quirk. Ya gotta speak up, sweetheart.” Dynamight mutters, eyes fluttering shut as the pain gets to him. But its not enough, makes your teeth grit at his nonchalance. He doesn’t even fuckin’ respect you as a vigilante, the only protector of women in this society. You scream through your teeth in frustration, pressing the muzzle of the gun against his forehead directly until the cool metal stings, cocking it quickly. 

“Don’t fuckin’ call me sweetheart, you sexist piece of shit.” You snap at him, opening your mouth to tell him to apologize again, before he cuts you off with a confused grunt. 

“Sexist?” Dynamight asks, looking around the gun at you. “I’m a lotta things, but sexist ain’t one of ‘em.” He scoffs, gritting his teeth when you press the gun harder until the back of his head rests on the car behind him. 

“Don’t try to pull that shit with me. I heard your gross fuckin’ comments about Creati.” You snap at him, hands shaking, finger ready to pull the trigger. But Dynamight stops you again, with a dramatic groan as he rolls his eyes into his head. 

“I dunno how many times I gotta fuckin’ explain that that was taken out of context.” He says it like you’re the bother, the nuisance that annoys him, like a fly that just won’t go away. “That video was edited, I would never say some pig shit like that. ’S fuckin’ gross and shitty, and that ain’t me.” 

Most of the times, whenever you’ve confronted men for the shitty things that they had done, they either bragged about it to your face before having their teeth kicked in. Or, they denied it, up until your gun was cocked and aimed on their forehead—then they confessed. 

So why isn’t Dynamight confessing? You stare at him for a long while, at his paling face, how he coughs and groans every few seconds. He stares back at you, like he’s trying to get a good look at you, remember every detail that is the Red Medusa. He breaks the mutual silence with his stupid big mouth. 

“What, ya got cold feet? Nervous about your first Pro Hero kill, huh?” He smiles at you, teeth bloody, grin sharp. It makes you sneer at him, closing one eye as you focus your aim, trying to figure out why the fuck you’re hesitating—you never hesitate. 

“Get it the fuck over with already!” Dynamight roars at you, pressing his head against the gun, using his good arm to hold the barrel of it, jabbing himself with it. You clench your teeth, trying to fight off his hold, when there’s a sudden cracking sound in the distance. 

Instantly, your head snaps over to the sound, find big blocks of ice heading your way, a green flash quick beside it. Your heart drops to your ass—you won’t be able to fight both of them at the same time, and you needed more bullets. You look over to Dynamight, whose eyes are still locked on yours, ripping your gun out of his hands. 

“This isn’t over, asshole.” You bite at him. You dart off without another second, ducking to avoid the ice thrown at you, jumping over the cold obstacle thrown at your feet. You disappear into the woods behind the parking lot, staying low to the ground, as you hear the sounds of shouting bellow out behind you. 

Nobody chases you, though, and the thought of that both calms you and unnerves you. Being chased brings back a torrid of memories, but it feels good being able to cleanly escape without having to shoot someone from over your shoulder. 

***

“What do you mean we shouldn’t go after her?” Deku asks frantically, pulling out gauze from his utility belt as he tries pressing it to Dynamight’s shoulder. But the explosion hero only snatches it away from him with a grunt, holding it to his stomach, grumbling. He lets Deku hold the gauze to his shoulder, but not without a petty snarl. 

“Kacchan!” Deku shouts at him when his eyes close for too long. 

“What?” Dynamight shouts back, lids fluttering open and inflamed, but they don’t carry the same heat they usually do. Deku thinks he might be hurt—bad. 

“Why did you tell Todoroki to not follow her? That was the vigilante who’s been attacking people lately.”

“Men.” Dynamight corrects, hissing through his teeth when the bleeding won’t stop. “She’s been attacking men.” 

“As if that makes it any better.” Shouto replies back sullenly, eyes darting into the woods you disappeared into, but holds himself in place. He doesn’t know why he’s following Bakugou’s barked directions, but something about the urgency in his friends tone makes him stay rooted in his spot. 

“It explains why she’s doing what she’s doing. Just let her go, for now—I’ll catch her later.” Dynamight dismisses, head lolling back against the car as Shouto dials in for the paramedics to put a rush on the ambulance. 

“When?” Deku barks at him, eyebrows furrowed in worry as he holds his friends injured shoulder. “When will that be, Kacchan? When she kills another man?”

“Another rapist.” Dynamight spits. He doesn’t know why he’s going to bats for you when you just put a goddamn hole in his shoulder and stomach. But, it was something about the look on your face, the horror, when you held your bleeding fingertips inches away from your jaw. The empty look in your eyes, like he wasn’t the one you were talking to, like he was only a ghastly figure of every person that’s ever hurt you. 

“No matter a persons crime, it doesn’t give her the right to kill them. It’s against the law.” Deku states matter of factly, his voice low, eyes zeroed in on the blood now seeping out onto his own fingers. Dynamight is quiet for a long while, jaw tight, before he spits out,

“Well maybe the law should change.”

“And then what?” Deku answers him with a snap, eyes set ablaze. “We have civilians killing each other in the streets, create their own judicial system right in the comfort of their own homes?” Deku asks exasperatedly, nose scrunching in irritation when Dynamight leans forward, despite the hissed groan emitting from his throat. 

“It’s better than letting those fuckers—”

“Guys!” Todoroki snaps, looking over his shoulder as the two heroes bicker. “We can hash this out later. The ambulance is here.” Sure enough, there’s red and white lights flashing in the near distance, the sound off to keep from tipping off the press and scaring the civilians in the area. 

At that, Dynamight finally relaxes, body slumping against the car. Deku calls out his name, but he’s too tired to answer the broccoli looking fucker. He just wants to take a long nap before he can find the energy to contact a sketch artist when he awakes. He wonders if the artist in the precinct near his agency would be able to capture the likeness of you on paper. He wonders.

Chapter two — found here

please do not repost anywhere or rec on tik tok!

tag list: @endlessfreaky

[grandma-susan]

Good? GOOD AFTERNOON!? What's there to be good, Lambkin?!

Oh! Come to Grandma Susan~! And I'll rip off ya meat hook if you know what's good fer ya!

What!? You wanna know who's takin' care of me? Well they ain't! They ain't NOTHING like Rosie! Now, she's a sweetheart! But here's what you gotta know about this sorry ass!

:: INFO / RULES::

Main: @ahhvernin

This is a secondary blog.

INDIE/ CANON & CANON- DIVERGENT / Nonselective RP / Ask Blog / RP Blog / 18+ / Multi Verse / Alternate and OC friendly

Hello and welcome. My name is Vernin. I'm an on again off again rper, I've been rping for about a decade.

I prefer paragraph line rps

If your rp blog is a side blog, please me send me a DM with your side blog to tell me what your main is. That way I don't accidentally block you. Thanks.

Single line rping limited to ASKS.

Racism and sexism is not tolerated.

18+ only, minor rpers DNI.

I recently aged into the social "auntie" title, not the familial title and I hate it.

I work full time therefore replies will not be instantaneous.

PM / Send ASK if you have any questions regarding RPing with me.

A welcome post will be sometimes be made for RP blogs. Feel free to answer them or not, its just my way of saying Hello....or for Susan to "greet" you. Please do not feel pressured to answer.

Children characters are only accepted between well acquainted mutuals.

If you put users in your tags I'll be following: grandma susan

::This blog will contain::

Foul and Cankerous language

NSFW material

Talk or acts violence and cannibalism

Descriptive Anatomy

An ornery old bitch Grandma

Edwardian and 1920s Slang that may or not be correctly be used

:: What you can expect from Susan::

She is not the hugs, tea, cookies and blanket grandma.

She is not kindly or pleasant to most people upon the first or even second meeting, sometimes ever.

She has no tolerance for young children if you plan to leave a random child on her doorstep, 99% of the time it will become a "Free Curb Alert". Its Cannibal Town, I'll leave it to your imagination.

She will shout, yell, and insult you.

She is not afraid to raise her hand or cane or...flower pot at you.

Susan has sway in Cannibal Town. Even Rosie the Overlord, canonically recognizes the people in town do not move unless Susan is on board.

Susan in this verse was once the matriarch of Cannibal Town. Never an official overlord because she never wanted such a title.

Susan has a ledger of deals, agreements and promises struck between demons. She was the overseer or notary for these and helped determine the consequences for beaches of contact. She technically does not "own" souls, but she holds them contractually to their word.

Susan can be won over, you either have to work for it or be clever about it.

If you read carefully, you will notice her sharp and bitter words, are sometimes laced with hidden respect or care. She does not coddle or mince words.

Susan knows she's an old woman and milks it for all that its worth.

Susan has had many careers in her life that she will reference.

Susan has a nursing background.

She no longer participates in typical feeding frenzies and she is not a strict cannibal.

She frequents many places in Pride, such as parks, gardens, indoor and outdoor theater, store fronts, cafes and restaurants.

She is not a helpless, frail or weak woman. She can hold her own. As she says " Angels still haven't done their ONE job"

She dislikes the Elite with a heated passion.

She doesn't want to be redeemed. She doesn't want to go to Heaven. It's full of cheaters and palm warmers in her opinion.

:: Frequent visiting characters & relations::

@keenie-bopper - half pint lamb jelly with desserts. Giant lamb eyes with a flare for laughter and pranks, stays for some reason even after getting a flower pot thrown at her. She's got spirit, not bad for a heaven drop.

@helluvaoutlaw -a boy after her own heart. 10 years ago she decided not to eat him, nursed this gravely injured beanpole back to health, got him to fix her fence, calls him her great grand nephew. She's got a soft spot for him. She likes his stupid swashbuckling snappy cowboy attitude, and his boyish side that slips in on occasion. :: Susan's Garden :: ::Relevant Tags For New Followers::

Drabble //Headcanon // Susans notes

[ahsokathegray]

Who We Are Without Our Armor

Pairing: Rexsoka

Prompt: Rexsoka Monthly Mar. ‘23 - I Do Want That Back, You Know

Summary: Alone and drenched in a dark abandoned shop, Rex and Ahsoka see one another more clearly than they ever have, yet somehow still managing to have their affections interrupted.

Tags: unresolved sexual tension, spoilers for bad batch s2

Word Count: 6,197

A/N: If you haven’t already, go give @rexsoka-monthly a follow and join us in supporting and creating prompt-based Rexsoka content! 🫶

read on ao3! / masterlist

Rex was hot on her heels as they ran through the alleyway, splashing up water as they put distance between them and the footsteps thundering close behind. 

Through her peripheral vision, Ahsoka could see him lower his rangefinder, ensuring that his eyes weren’t deceiving him in the night’s downpour. The way his breathing changed told her that they’d managed to lose the squad of Imperials pursuing them.

They let up after a few more paces and made some additional turns before pressing against a wall in a concealed alcove. Their chests heaved as they recovered from the pursuit. Ahsoka placed a hand over her heart and looked over at her companion. Rex’s visor was streaked with rain. She was envious of his armor in that moment. Her own clothes were drenched, leaving her soaked to the bone. The dark blue material looked almost black when wet. 

Ahsoka wiped the rain from her brow and kept her hand up to shield the water from finding its way into her eyes. Rex was looking back at her, still trying to catch his breath.

“In there!” Ahsoka shouted over the weather, pointing to a door left ajar at the end of the alcove. Rex gave a curt nod in understanding and put himself in front of her, leading the way with his twin pistols outstretched. He’d given Ahsoka two vibro-blades before the mission, but they were almost as useless in her hands as one of his deecees had been. 

He was glad that Bail kept her away from more life-threatening situations. She could only do so much with Force abilities she couldn’t publicly use. It had only been a year since the rise of the Empire. It wasn’t safe for her to be out so much. 

The patter of rain continued, bouncing off of the roof now rather than off of their skin. As they passed over the threshold, Ahsoka wicked the beads of water away from her arms, still keeping close behind Rex. She found the door panel and pressed the button to close it, sealing them inside and erasing their trail. She continued to follow Rex, watching his six as they made their way through the vacant building. It looked to be a clothing store, or what used to be one anyway. The shop had evidently been long abandoned and Ahsoka had the sinking feeling that it, like so many other establishments across the galaxy, had gone out of business due to the rise of their new government. 

People were afraid and rightfully so. Not even a year into the Galactic Empire, and the Emperor had already shown favor in utilizing fear to control the galaxy and its inhabitants. She supposed she should’ve expected such filth from the disguised Sith.

They then found themselves in what appeared to have been the main portion of the store. The windows were boarded up and toppled racks of clothing were lying on the floor. Ahsoka stayed in the center of the room while her Captain ripped back several sets of curtains. The old changing rooms were stacked high with empty crates. Most of them had already been rifled through — their contents piled high on the floors and not leaving much space for them to maneuver around in. 

Rex kicked aside some loose articles of clothing and lowered his blasters, his shoulders falling with his decided state of safety. “We’re alone,” he concluded, his voice crackling through his helmet’s vocoder. He then took it off and set it down on a nearby surface, “And safe. For now.” 

Ahsoka never got tired of hearing the shift in his voice after he removed his helmet. 

In its absence, she could see that his body glove had not been able to evade the torrential downpour they’d just hurtled through. The parts that were left exposed in small sections through his armor were drenched. He set his helmet down on a nearby surface and beckoned her with two fingers to come closer. Ahsoka’s feet carried her over to him before she could even process the action. 

His eyes softened, roaming over her features. He’d been vocal about his contempt over her lack of armor from the time she’d been assigned to Anakin. Rex didn’t say so now, but she knew well that he was thinking it. She had some armor, the beskar Bo-Katan had gifted her, but it still didn’t suffice. Rex’s standards for safety were high. He’d cover her in the beskar if he could.

Ahsoka gazed up at him as he did his routine inspection, making sure she’d not been grazed, scraped, or bruised in any way. More often than not, she managed to collect a few bruises that he’d always worry over.

In the aftermath of the Tribunal, Rex had acted as her medic, using the minimal supplies in the kit they’d found to tend to her injuries. Even though they’d been apart for a few months now, their dynamic never changed. Ahsoka loved that about him… about them. 

She shivered as Rex placed a gloved hand to her shoulder, the soaked material making her that much colder. He spun her around to get a good look from all angles, ensuring she had not sustained even the most minor of injuries. 

“I’m fine, Rex. Those troopers weren’t very good shots,” she assured, spinning back to face him. 

Her worried Captain seemed content with her lack of injury and reluctantly removed his hand from her shoulder, bringing it to the back of his neck. “You know why I have to make sure,” he spoke lowly, voice still gravelly from the shouting they’d been doing. 

“I know,” she responded, offering him a kind smile and shivering. 

Rex noticed the action and began looking around him in the dark. He bent down and grabbed the nearest article of clothing and handed it to her, “Here. To dry off with.”

She took the fabric and gave him a quiet laugh, “Rex.”

He arched an eyebrow. 

Ahsoka gestured to the entirety of the room. It was filled to the brim with clothing. She didn’t have to just dry off with an old shirt. She could finally trade in her Mandalorian garb for something new, clean, and not soaking wet. Rex could do so as well, though she knew he would be partial to his armor. 

“What do you say we get out of these clothes?” Ahsoka suggested, gesturing to the dry clothes around them.

A flush crept up Rex’s neck and his ears suddenly felt hot. Ahsoka was intoxicatingly close, and soaked, and looking up at him with water-beaded lashes. He swallowed in an attempt to clear the lump in his throat. The small amount of moonlight coming in from the boarded windows danced in her eyes and across her skin. Rex knew the intended meaning of her words, but couldn’t help the way his heart leapt against the underside of his chestplate. 

He swallowed again, “I — I’m not sure that’s a good idea. They could still be out there.”

“We can block the door if it gives you some peace of mind, but you’re still coming out of that armor. Really Rex, when’s the last time you washed that body glove?” she tossed, laughing quietly and walking towards one of the dressing rooms.

Rex’s eyes narrowed in amusement and he stammered, “No you can’t. It’s the stale air in this room. No telling the amount of fungus that’s probably grown in here.”

Ahsoka flashed him a smirk, “Relax. I’m just messing with you. Help me move a few of these crates.”

The Captain shook his head and laughed under his breath, grabbing as many as he could carry and following Ahsoka back to the door they’d entered through. Together, they blocked it with the crates from an entire dressing room, obstructing one area and clearing another. The crates were still empty, but would act as a bit of insurance if the Imperials came back around in an attempt to be thorough. 

“There. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing,” Ahsoka concluded and placed her hands on her hips.

Rex seemed content and nodded in agreement, extending his arm, “Well, what do you say we go shopping, Lady Tano?” 

Her nose scrunched and her face contorted in a delighted smile, “Lady Tano?”

“My bad. I forgot. It’s Ashla now,” he corrected, shooting her a wink and flashing his teeth.

She rolled her eyes in response and gave him a teasing punch to the bicep, leaving his side in search of some Togruta-friendly clothing. Rex shook his head and smiled to himself, watching as she bent at the knees to search through the clothes. He walked in the opposite direction and found the men’s clothing. They each sifted through the mess, digging out miscellaneous items and trying to determine how they would accommodate their weapons and lifestyles.

He had picked up a gray shirt with matching bottoms when Ahsoka came up behind him, her own picks in hand. “That’s not what you’re going with is it?” she asked, pointing at what he was holding. Rex’s brows knit together and Ahsoka laughed, “Come on. Put those back. I think I can do better.”

“It’s just clothes, Ahsoka,” he retorted, but obliged anyway. He fiddled with a chipped piece of his hand gauntlet while she rummaged through the other options. Her lekku swung as she dug through a half empty crate and Rex found himself in awe of her. Being with her now felt like it had back when they’d first been on the run together, holed up in countless abandoned shelters with an odd sleep schedule and lingering looks that lasted longer than they should’ve. Somewhere in the midst of all the loss, the hurt, the desperate need for security, and a piece of the past… his professional admiration for Ahsoka had… expanded.

She was kind-hearted, and tender, and didn’t deserve a thing that had happened to her. If he could give her the galaxy, he would, but it wasn’t his to give. He told himself that strides he was making against the Empire weren’t just for himself and his brothers, but for her as well. 

Rex knew she blamed herself for much of what had taken place, falsely under the impression that she somehow could’ve prevented any of it. He thought that, if he were to save enough of his brothers, that it might rid her of the guilt she carried about the men who died in the crash that day. 

His heart had broken for her — for the love of her — and it broke all over again when she suggested that they part ways. He’d inwardly scolded himself for allowing his personal feelings to get in the way. His small habit for letting them slip through and drive him was something the General had known about him. He wondered if Ahsoka had noticed it as well. A bit of Anakin rubbed off on each of them, it seemed. 

“Oh I think this is the winner,” came Ahsoka’s voice from the floor, breaking him from his thoughts. She held up the pieces for him to see.

Rex opened his mouth and closed it, at a loss for words. He tried again, “It’s uh…”

“You don’t like it?” she asked, her expression falling.

His cheek muscle twitched, “It’s very… colorful.”

Ahsoka gave him a playful scoff, “That’s the problem? I thought you liked a bit of color.”

“I like blue.”

“This has blue,” she argued, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth and a sparkle lighting her eyes, “And purple and white and… whatever this other color is called.”

Rex blinked a few times before taking the fabric from her, “I wouldn’t call that blue.”

She gathered up her own items again and laughed, “Do it to amuse me at least. If my vision doesn’t translate, then you can come back for the all gray outfit.” Ahsoka made a move for the changing room they’d emptied and stopped short. “Rex?” she whispered, turning to face him. He was still standing in the same spot, his eyes having never left her. “Could I maybe ask a big favor of you?”

“Anything, Ahsoka,” he answered without hesitating.

“I want you to be in there with me,” she revealed, looking up at him hopefully and with a twinge of embarrassment darkening her lekku. 

A breath hitched in Rex’s throat and he momentarily forgot how to use his lungs. He knew better than to read between the lines, both where his heart was concerned and where her’s was.

The mere implication of what she was asking reminded him of a situation they’d found themselves in only a month after the crash. They’d been presented with the opportunity to take showers — to wash off the grime and the exhaustion that had accumulated for nearly a week at that point. Neither one of them was willing to pass up on such a luxury. Ahsoka had been halfway reclothed when Imperials began going door-to-door in the town they’d been hunkered down in. She had to grab her clothes and redress on the run, consequently providing Rex with an eyeful of her bare back. 

As a clone, he was bred for staying focused in compromising, distracting situations, but he didn’t miss the way her flawless sienna skin peeked out from behind the length of her rear lek.

That night had been one of many that caused him to acknowledge how his view of her had shifted. However, in the urgency of needing to flee the area, Rex could only be concerned with keeping her safe. The skin he’d seen wasn’t for him to appreciate, but to defend and protect. 

“Rex?”

“Of course,” he rushed, inhaling sharply and following her to the small room they’d cleared. Ahsoka fingered the thick curtain briefly, an action that he knew to be the result of her nerves. Ahsoka bit her lip and then disappeared into the changing room, backing into a corner to give Rex some space to fit inside. He followed her and pulled the curtain closed enough to conceal them, but still allowing for some outside light to trickle in. 

He turned around, his neck still hot as he finally made eye contact with her. It suddenly felt as if all the air in the room had vacated. 

Ahsoka looked beside him, noticing she’d put him on the side with the mirror. Rex observed this too and spoke up quickly, “Here. Switch places with me.” Ahsoka nodded and the tension lifted for a brief moment as they shifted around. The sound of wet gear and clothes sounded in the room for several seconds before disappearing entirely and creating a gap for the tension to return.

“Back to back?” she asked, pressing her lips into a thin line. 

Rex’s chest felt tight, but he was able to repeat her words, “Back to back.”

They turned and Ahsoka suddenly felt senseless. Each of them had armor and gadgets to remove first, not really warranting any privacy just yet, but Rex had already begun removing pieces. She bit her tongue and began unclasping her beskar gauntlets, letting the armor gather at her feet. The process was a slow one as the sound of Rex’s plastoid being removed and stacked filled her montrals.

Her own mind began to betray her, crafting mental images of Rex in various states of undress. She was reminded of the first time she’d seen him in just the lower half of his armor. They’d been newly on the run and he had been losing sleep for days on end. She’d finally convinced him to take some of it off — to actually get comfortable for once. He argued that he’d slept with it on for years, that he was accustomed to the feel, that staying awake for extended periods of time was second nature. Eventually, he’d caved, but only with the promise that she would keep watch as he slept.

Ahsoka knew he’d never admit it, but Rex had been wary about removing his protective shell… both literally and figuratively. He fell asleep sitting against a wall with her that night, his head falling to rest on her shoulder. 

She smiled at the memory. Seeing the men in half their armor or even just in their fatigues was a part of life for so long. For some reason, it had struck her differently when it had been Rex. It had been more intimate somehow. She knew then that her presence had the same effect on him that his had on her. In all the pain they’d just endured, Rex was able to find security in her. Her heart had been beating furiously that entire night, but not as hard as it had when she’d seen him solely in his blacks the first time just a few nights after. 

Screwing her eyes shut, Ahsoka tried to keep her mind from wandering, from the temptation of looking into the mirror beside her and seeing him in that state again. 

Despite having been apart for a few months, her feelings were still just as strong for him, but being here with him now she realized they’d grown even stronger. It had hit a nerve when she’d first felt it, striking a fear within her that she didn’t recognize. The feelings alone were enough to frighten her, but her fear over those feelings caused her to make the rash decision.

There wasn’t a day that passed that Ahsoka didn’t regret suggesting that they part ways. 

Her heart had grown tender for him. She didn’t know if it was Anakin’s teachings or his personal interpretation of the Jedi Code that had influenced her… or her decision to walk away from the Order that had given her a new perspective. Either way, it was very real and it demanded her to acknowledge it. She’d just needed time to assess it all and without Rex’s distracting presence, as reassuring and comforting as he was. 

She threw her head back in exasperation, standing uncomfortable in her thoughts and her wet clothes. Once more, her chest beat furiously against her ribcage. What she’d decided in their time apart — the peace she’d found in not being a Jedi — led her right back to him.

“Rex?” she called over her shoulder, getting the words out before they got lodged in her throat.

Her Captain stacked another piece of his armor on the floor and hummed in response.

“Are you still decent?”

“I’m still decent. What do you need?”

Ahsoka turned around and was presented with a full view of his back. She’d never seen it before. It was tanned and muscular, rising and falling as he breathed. Ahsoka had imagined it many times over, but it still wasn’t what she expected. He had several scars and physical evidence of being one of the Republic’s best soldiers. The discoloration and mangled skin clawed at her heart, but it also made her love him that much more. He wouldn’t be Rex without them.

Rex seemed to feel her gaze and carefully glanced behind him before he decided it was safe to face her. Sighing, he expressed his concern, “You’re going to catch something if you don’t hurry up and change.”

Anxiously, Ahsoka toyed with the hem of her battle dress, squeezing a bit of water from the fabric with her fingers. Rex’s blacks were slung across his hips in a way that made her lose her breath and she fought not to shift her gaze downwards. He’d removed nearly all of his armor and his body glove was just as wet as her clothes were. He was completely alluring, and strong, and just as scarred on his front as he was on his back. There was a large scar near his heart and her brow markings dipped, but she quickly caught herself and met his eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” she rushed, “I’m sorry for leaving.”

There was a thick silence between them. Rex was quick to reassure her, “You didn’t leave, Ahsoka. We chose to separate. It was the smartest course of action at the time. I’m putting myself more at risk with what I’m doing for my brothers. We were a danger to one another being so close,” he reasoned, crossing his arms. 

It took a bantha’s strength for Ahsoka to keep her eyes at an appropriate level, but it didn’t go lost on her the way his muscles flexed with the action. “Just hear me out, Rex. I left. We’d grown so close — closer than we’d ever been during the war. I…” she took a step in his direction, “I struggled for such a long time. Force it’s been so many months now… and transmissions only do so much. Rex, I had something to work out with myself, with not being a Jedi, with letting them go all over again because now it’s really gone, with—”

“‘Soka,” Rex interjected, reaching a hand out to take hold of her arm. His fingers curled gently around her bicep and he took a step forward, minimizing the distance that still separated them. “Just say it already,” he encouraged, the half smile that she adored tugging at one corner of his mouth.

It took more bravery than she’d been prepared for, but Ahsoka no longer felt the frenzy of nerves in her body. She took him in, all of him — his warm eyes, the faint line in his cheek from his crooked smile, the slight pink tint in his lips, the healing scar on the right side of his head. Ahsoka reached out and placed a hand to the center of his midriff. Rex’s muscles flinched under her hand and he looked down before back to her. Instead of removing her hand, like she anticipated, he covered it with his own and pressed, splaying her fingers.

A shaky hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, leaning inward as well. The soft skin of his lips ghosted over her left montral, pulling a gasp from her. 

“It’s just me, ‘Soka. You can say it,” he whispered, his voice melting into the skin of her montral. 

His words left her breathless and she took full advantage of their proximity, shooting her hands around his neck and pulling him down to her. She met his eyes briefly before pressing her lips against his in a graceless manner. Rex cradled her cheek in his hand, his fingertips grazing her lekku and causing her shudder. The sudden action caused her lips to part in a whimper and the lips of her Captain fit perfectly in between. Their mouths moved awkwardly at first before they fell in sync. Ahsoka found herself backing into the wall behind her and they both let out breathy laughs as she nearly tripped over the mess of beskar she’d made.

“Stay here with me tonight,” she rasped in between kisses, unable to satisfy her need for the taste of him. “We can leave before sunrise, but I want you with me tonight.”

Rex’s mouth moved against hers and then shifted into a toothy grin, “That’s the plan.”

The thud of their combined heartbeat sent electricity through Ahsoka’s veins as she momentarily pulled away, catching her breath. The desire between them was irrefutable… finally tangible. Ahsoka’s hands drifted downwards over Rex’s hot skin, grazing the waistband of his blacks when comms chatter echoed throughout the room. She froze and her grip on Rex’s hips tightened. He hissed and bit his lip, a vulnerability still lingering in his eyes. He’d heard it too.

The distinct sound of Imperial troops could be heard outside of the abandoned establishment. Ahsoka held her breath and started to peek out from behind the dressing room curtain, when the minimal light that trickled into the store suddenly disappeared. She pressed her mouth into a thin line. Their pursuers were outside, thankfully not by the door, but rather by the windows that had been boarded up. 

Rex’s hands settled on either side of her head, pressing hard into the wall and acting as her shield. His eyes flicked downwards in search of his pistols and he caught sight of where Ahsoka’s hands still rested on his hips, causing his mouth to go dry. Looking past her fingers, Rex found where his blasters lay next to his stacked armor. He needed to get Ahsoka’s attention, but her gaze was fixed on their unwelcome guests outside. 

Rex pressed his hips forward a few inches, putting him almost flush with Ahsoka and causing her hands to move and a pitchy gasp to escape her throat. Her worried blue irises finally met his. 

With a tilt of the head, he indicated to where his blasters were behind him. 

Ahsoka understood immediately. Her grip on him loosened and, with both hands, she used the Force to gently lift them. The act was effortless as the weapons floated to either side of Rex. He carefully removed his hands from the wall and grabbed the grips of each. Ahsoka could hear her heartbeat in her montrals, it was high from the possibility of being found, but higher from what she and Rex had just been engaged in. 

Her Captain swallowed and set his jaw, hardly dressed but in his battle-ready stance despite the fact. His neck was taut and his eyes narrowed, feet apart... She took a selfish moment to soak him in, memorizing it all — the clothes on the floor, his natural protectiveness of her, the reality of what they’d been about to do if troops hadn’t passed by outside. 

The shadows of their pursuers still covered her face, even the smallest of their movements reflecting on her skin. Ahsoka lowered her head, her body tensed, and her fingers curled into fists, ready to retaliate. 

But the attack never came. The comms chatter died along with the footsteps and the street lights shone through the boards again. Ahsoka eased up before Rex did, releasing the suffocating breath she’d been holding. She leaned further into the wall and let her head fall back. Rex pushed the curtain aside and crept near the windows, making sure they’d all left. The same was done by the door. 

“They’re gone,” he said, returning inside their small dressing room. 

“That was close,” Ahsoka replied, placing a hand over her chest, “Can you imagine if we had been…” She stopped herself before she could finish asking the question. He’s already imagined it. 

Rex set his twin blasters back down and sighed, “Yeah. That would not have been good.”

Ahsoka pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. He’d just acknowledged what they’d been about to do. It wasn’t just her imagination. It had been reciprocated. They evaded each other’s eyes, looking at the floor rather than breaching the topic of the situation they now found themselves wrapped up in. 

“‘Soka,” Rex rasped, repeating the nickname that made her weak in the knees. An ungloved hand reached out to cup her shoulder. His lips were still swollen from their kiss. She didn’t let her gaze linger there long, and instead prepared for the inevitable mention of an unfortunate lapse in judgment. Rex’s hand retracted and he took a step back, “We should probably get dressed.”

Her heart dropped, “Yeah. Good call.” She backed away as well and squared her shoulders, determined not to show him her disappointment. If he viewed it as a mistake, then she couldn’t argue against that. Ahsoka turned around and waited for the sound of Rex to do the same before reaching for the tab at the nape of her neck. She pulled down, focusing on the sounds of her own clothes rather than the sound of Rex’s blacks hitting the floor. 

Curiosity got the better of her and she carefully lifted her eyes to the mirror, shielding the full view of Rex with her lashes. His thighs were tan and impossibly toned and his… Her still breathless Captain discreetly adjusted himself. A blush settled into her cheeks from the action and her stomach flipped as he pulled on the pants she picked out for him. Ahsoka averted her eyes just as quickly as she’d lifted them and inhaled deeply.

Her wet clothes were discarded with a bit of struggle and then she rejoiced in the feel of dry undergarments. The shirt she’d picked out was soft, and the jumpsuit was snug on top. It was almost as comfortable as the one she’d had a few months back. She then began fitting her rear lek into the headdress she’d found when Rex began to grunt in frustration.

Ahsoka stopped what she was doing and listened. He was having an issue with one of the pieces. “Need some assistance back there?” she chanced.

The rustle of fabric suddenly ceased. “If you don’t mind. What you’ve picked out is almost as difficult as decoding Seppie encrypted data.”

At that, Ahsoka turned around. Rex had the pants and the shirt on, but was holding the vest at an awkward angle. She stifled a giggle and moved to help him. He sighed and offered the fabric up to her, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“For starters, you have it inside out,” Ahsoka observed, allowing her amusement to peek through. She turned it back right side in and began fooling with it until it opened correctly. She then held it up to where Rex could clearly see the arm holes. He pulled on and rolled his shoulders, making sure it was the correct size. Still, something didn’t look right. He craned his neck to look for the utility belt when Ahsoka finally pinpointed it. “Rex,” she said, “It’s your collar.”

His brows furrowed and he tugged at the vest again, unable to decipher her meaning. Ahsoka shook her head and stepped closer, lifting her hands, “Here. Let me.”She pulled the vest away from his neck to access the shirt underneath. The collar was flipped, tucked uncomfortably inside. 

Rex swallowed and became very still. He watched her face as slender, orange fingers dipped inside the neck of his shirt and made contact with his skin again. Ahsoka pulled it free and began adjusting it, pulling the uneven lengths to sit the correct way and nesting them inside the collar of his vest. His heartbeat was erratic and she was just as close as she’d been earlier. He felt her hands begin to slip away and seized the chance while he still had it. Rex gently wrapped his hand around her forearm, keeping her where she was and then stroked the soft skin with his thumb. 

“Rex,” Ahsoka spoke his name, her voice smaller than it had been just moments ago. 

He looked up from his hand was to face her, unable to stop himself from whispering, “Mesh’la.”

“What?” she asked, her brow markings dipping. 

“It means…” he started, “It means that you look… good.”

Ahsoka felt her lekku darken, convinced there was a truer meaning to the word. She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to say something, anything, but Rex bent down to reach for his belt. Turning to the mirror, he put it on, adjusting it to his waist size. He turned and made sure everything was situated correctly, tugging and pulling on what he wanted to fix. Ahsoka stood beside him, observing them both in the small mirror. 

“I like it, actually,” he decided, messing with his collar once more. “I don’t mind this at all. May not be blue, but looks decent,” he teased, shooting her a wink. 

Her stomach flipped again and she crossed her arms, “Yeah, I hate to pat myself on the back, but I think I did alright. I…” Ahsoka trailed, not finishing her thought. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him in the dressing room, the image of them together in civvies, and the sting of what they’d done still vibrating on her lips, caused Ahsoka to see them for what they were. They weren’t anything that they’d ever been before. She saw a retired soldier, a civilian of the galaxy, a man, a friend. Rex. He was every star in her galaxy. He was no longer her Captain, no longer a part of the Grand Army of the Republic. He was who he wanted to be now, as was she. She wasn’t a soldier, a Jedi, or even his Commander anymore. 

For the first time, she could clearly see who they were without their armor, and she was still in love with him all the same. 

He had been looking in the mirror as well, only now, she noticed that he was turned towards her. Ahsoka tore her longing gaze from their reflections and found his comforting eyes. “You what?” he asked, his voice low and smooth. 

“Am unconditionally in love with you it seems,” she whispered, her bottom lip quivering. 

Rex smiled that half-smile she adored and gave a breathy laugh, “Is it the new outfit? I can always take it off.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes and leaned in closer, “I’d love you even in that gray tragedy of an outfit you had first.”

“I’ve loved you from afar for too long now,” he revealed, leaning in to kiss her when his comlink began going off. His jaw tightened and he pulled it out of the pocket on his belt, pressing the button. “This is Rex. Who do I have?”

The voice was that of a frantic clone on the other end. He sounded out of breath, “Captain Rex? My name is Slip. Another trooper gave me your frequency. I’m gonna need a pick-up as soon as you’re able. Things are getting covered up over here, men are disappearing.”

“Where’s ‘here’, Slip?” Rex questioned. 

“You’re not gonna like it, Captain. I’m on Coruscant.”

Silence filled the small room for a beat before Rex responded, “I’ll be there in one rotation trooper. Hang tight, I’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you. Thank you, Captain!”

The comm light went dark and Rex held the device loosely in his fist, looking at her apologetically. She already knew what that look meant. He sighed, “Not that I want to delay this any further, because believe me, I don’t. I’ve been dreaming of this moment, but is it possible for us to postpone it until after I get back?”

Rex’s eyes were turned down in defeat, his heart yearning for her but unable to resist his brother’s cry for help. Duty came first.

“You’ll know where to find me,” she smiled, placing a gentle hand to his face before stepping out from the curtain and back into the main portion of the store. 

They managed to find a few more items in the mess. Rex was neatly packing away his armor into a bag and fitting each piece snugly into one another while Ahsoka pulled on a pair of boots. Rex had just fastened a single holster to his belt when she looked up. “Won’t you need a double? I’m pretty sure I just saw one somewhere around here.”

He merely shook his head and placed one of his pistols into the accessory, picking up the other and offering it up for her to take. 

“Rex—”

“I want you to take it and use it for target practice. I’ll be wanting to see how your skills have improved once I arrive on the Tantive. This shouldn’t take more than a few rotations. We… have some unfinished business to tend to, that I’d very much like to resume as soon as possible,” he said, a pink flush creeping up his neck and ears. 

She accepted the blaster and placed it into her own holster, giving him a soft smile.

He moved to grab his bag before stopping to add, “And I do want that back, you know.”

“Yes, Captain,” she playfully saluted.

Rex slung his bag over his back and together, they removed the crates from the door and emerged from the abandoned shop. The sky was lighter now, but not quite sunrise, and the rain had finally let up. She and Rex walked in silence back through the city and past its borders until their ships came into view. They were exactly how they’d left them the day before, just a little bit cleaner. 

Ahsoka cleared her throat, “You remember how to get to the Martez’s garage, right?”

“I do,” he confirmed, placing his packed armor into the lower compartment of his Y-wing and turning back to her, “Be careful heading back.”

She shook her head and playfully rolled her eyes, “Just come here.”

Rex strode to her and enveloped her into a hug — one tight enough to lift her a few inches from the ground. He cradled her rear lek and placed a chaste kiss to her forehead. They stood that way for several moments, relaxed in each other's arms, encased in comfort and the promise of seeing one another again in a few day’s time. Neither one of them was rushing to let go, but the embrace still ended all too soon.

“Alright. Go,” Ahsoka whispered, “Hurry back. I’ll be holding you to that rain check.”

Rex laughed as they strode towards their ships, “Yes ma’am.”

[nabtime]

Our Empty Graves III

Fandom: Danny Phantom / Batman: Under the Red Hood

Pairings: Danny Fenton/Jason Todd (Dead on Main)

Rating: Mature

Tags: batfamily, hazmat AU, Nobody Knows AU, Mute!Phantom, potential ghost king danny, slow burn?, DC means Disregard Canon, AU means AU nothing is exactly the same, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, more than canon typical violence, danny is a Halfa and also a Fetch, no beta we die like basically everyone

Summary: They say that Red Hood has a loyal mutt. The man rules his territory in Crime Alley with an iron fist and a guard dog at his side. They say that Hood calls him Fetch, sometimes Fetcher. No one's ever heard him speak. Anyone who's ever seen him says he looks like an experiment gone wrong, that Hood picked him up somewhere unspeakable. They say he'll do anything Red Hood asks of him and he'll do it well. That he's strong and fast and probably inhuman. The girls say he's sweet; quiet but charming in his own way. Rival gangs say he's vicious; that he'd sooner rip your throat out than let you go.

Jason just wants to help him.

Chapter 3: afraid of coming back (to find that everything is the same)

Chapter Summary: Jason questions the scrungly little lab rat he picked up and maybe even makes a friend along the way! The lab rat reject in question seems to be having a good time at least.

Chapter Notes: title from Kingdom of Cards by Bad Omens Links: AO3 // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 4

“Just who the fuck are you?”

Jason held the gun steadily at the person’s head, waiting for an answer. He’d never seen a rogue like them around, clad head to toe in some altered version of a Level B Hazmat suit- black with white trim, a baggy outline obscuring their form, and glowing. And the blood they were leaking- at least he assumed it was their version of blood seeing as it was seeping from gashes in their suit- was a bright violent green. His grip tightened on the gun, green like Lazarus Water.

The neon green dots that blinked like eyes behind the tinted visor just watched him. He couldn’t say how he knew Walking OSHA Violation looked tired, but they did. Probably all their injuries catching up to them, but Jason had questions he needed answers to. Like why the fuck whatever noise they made in the street had tripped some sort alarm within him. The kind of reaction you’d have to someone crying for help but times a thousand. Jason may not have come back from the dead exactly right in the head but that impulse he’d felt still didn’t sit right with him. He already didn’t feel in control of himself enough, he didn’t need Glow-Stick fucking that up even more.

“C’mon, kid. Need an answer,” he said, waving the gun a bit to hurry them up. The safety was still on but they didn’t need to know that. He had appearances to keep.

They looked offended before silently pointing to themselves and then holding up two fingers and then making a zero. They did it with one hand, the other limp on their chest.

A twenty-year old kid, then. Couldn’t blame him for thinking the guy was younger considering how short they were. Five foot two and a half, three at best and while the suit hid their frame they still seemed small. Thin. It had looked like Batman was beating up a child in the streets. And even if they hadn’t pulled off that weird scream thing Jason still would have gotten them out of there. Their answer brought up another problem though.

“Do you not want your voice recognized or can you just not speak? One finger for the first one and two for the second.”

They tilted their head to the side curiously and something told Jason the kid was also relieved, probably the way they relaxed into the couch a bit. Jason still had the gun on them though, so he didn’t know what the broken night-light was thinking there.

They held up two fingers.

Alright, he could work with that. The Chernobyl Roleplayer could be lying and still not want their voice recognized, meaning that their voice could be recognized and they were someone of note, but Jason doubted that with the way they hadn’t made an actual sound when B had kicked them in the ribs. He was going to kick Bruce’s ass for that, more than he had already. Or better yet, he’d find a way to make sure Alfred found out. Alfie would make sure he learned his lesson.

Next order of business; he was tired of using ‘they’ without knowing if those were the correct pronouns. He fucked up anyone who misgendered the girls and guys under his protection, he knew the rundown. They went by the pronouns they wanted no matter what parts they were working with and anyone who didn’t respect that got a sucker punch from Red Hood.

He held up a finger for each pronoun he listed off, “He, she, they, it, or something else?”

Discount Rave Costume sank further into the couch, getting comfortable. Again, the gun was still there and pointed at them. Had they noticed the safety was off? Whatever. His couch had been a lost cause before all this but it was definitely a bio-hazard now with all the blood the kid smeared on it.

They held up a single finger.

Alright. At least that proved he was cooperative and understood what Jason was asking. He sighed and holstered his gun. No point in using it if it wasn’t even working to intimidate the guy.

“Stay there,” he ordered.

Mister Irradiation Personified looked unimpressed and waved down at his body, which was still bleeding sluggishly and looked battered to all hell. Jason huffed and turned down the hall towards the bathroom. Sassy little shit. Lava lamp lookin’ ass.

This wasn’t one of his more well stocked safe-houses. Not that he had many of those or many supplies in the better stocked ones. He was still building his empire and most of his money and attention went to cleaning up the streets and protecting his own. Stuff for himself was secondary. He crouched down in front of the sink and started rummaging. Thankfully he had a ton of gauze and some saline. No antibiotics though. Probably for the best considered the leaky science experiment on his couch likely wasn’t human anyway; antibiotics might not work or might make it worse. He gathered it all up and then set out for something to write on and to write with. Needed to get a name so he could stop calling him shit like Angler Fish Impersonator. There were only so many nicknames he could come up with.

He dropped off the gauze and saline in front of the Zack from Sky High Kinnie and moved on. Kid gave him a lazy salute and heaved himself up to grab at the gauze. Jason turned and smacked his little irradiated hands away.

“I don’t know if you can even get septic but I ain’t having you die on my couch from an infection, you walking highlighter. Wash your fuckin’ hands first.”

He collapsed back and pouted. At least, Jason thought he was pouting. He couldn’t see it, but that was the general vibe. Fucking “This Is Not A Place Of Honor” type guy could communicate via vibes alone now. Mr. I-Look-Like-The-Thing-That-Crawled-Out-Of-The-Sewer-And-Ate-A-Mini-Van-Last-Week tilted his head back against the couch and gave Jason the wettest most pathetic looking puppy dog eyes he’d ever seen. He didn’t even have actual eyes! They were sparkling and teary like a fucking anime magical girl with slime powers or some shit. Unbelievable.

“Don’t make me bring the gun out again. Lizzie's been itching to let loose and she's got a mean streak in her.”

An incredulous look before Sklodowska-Curie’s poorest little meow meow turned and hunched over, shoulders shaking. Jason was sure if the brat could make noise he’d hear giggling. Broken ass squeaky toy motherfucker. He rolled his eyes, not like the kid could see it under the helmet but he made sure to emulate as much annoyance in his aura or whatever as he could. If jellyfish genes could communicate with vibes alone, so could he.

He stalked off to the kitchen to rummage through the drawers. God help him he did not want to resort to charades. He had a feeling Professor Utonium over there would just use it to mess with him. But, hey, at least the guy was in good spirits.

He found an old newspaper and a red crayon. Good enough. Why either of those things were there in the first place would remain a mystery he did not care enough to solve. He dropped the items on the couch beside the World’s Smallest Nuclear Reactor, who gave him an inquisitive look that he ignored before stalking back over to the sink, removing his gloves, and washing his hands. Like a decent fucking person that knew how to do first aid.

“Alright, scooch,” he grunted, dropping onto the dusty ass cushions and reaching for the gauze and saline. “Let’s get you patched up and you answer my damn questions already. You’re gonna use those,” he said, pointing to the newspaper and crayon, “to tell me what I need to know.”

The blank stare he got in return made him pause. “Wait, shit. Can you even write?”

An exasperated look and a roll of those glowing eyes answered him. Lime-flavored Mr. Mime nodded, gestured to the hand that was limp and likely attached to a broken arm from the weird angle, and then shook his head. Ah.

“I don’t care how messy it is, just figure it out with your other hand. Ambidexterity is a choice. Make it quick.”

Kid slumped his whole body back into the couch, just exuding annoyance before picking up the newspaper and balancing it on his lap and then grabbing the crayon. He tilted his head with a little wave that Jason took to mean to ask his questions.

“First off, Ghostbusters Reject, what are you?”

His eyes squished and Jason could have sworn he was grinning. Something about that last nickname must have really amused him. Jason really didn’t want to know why. He looked away for a long moment before putting crayon to paper and slowly wrote something down.

Fetch said the messy scrawl. Jason hummed, soaked the gauze in saline and pressed it against the biggest gash on the kid’s thigh. Stupid fucking Bat-a-rang. To his credit the James Cameron Movie Extra barely flinched at the touch.

“You gonna tell me what that is?”

A shake of the head. A one-shoulder shrug. Well, whatever. Luminescent Swamp Thing could keep his secrets.

“You got a name at least?”

Another look away. Probably coming up with something on the spot. He focused on the newspaper and wrote as neatly as he could, which still looked like drunk chicken scratch mixed with cursive doctor shorthand. Jason got the feeling that if he had a discernible mouth he’d have his tongue sticking out in concentration. Cute.

He held up the paper. Fetcher.

“Fucking really? That’s like a wolf guy named Wolfer or something. Or a dude named Human. What are you, fucking Moon Moon?”

Fetcher (ugh, could he really not have come up with a better name?) put an offended hand to his chest before tilting his head in a way that distinctly read as sassy and wrote a reply that took almost an eon to write out.

A guy named Guy?

Jason snorted. Guess he had a point there. Whatever. Fetcher it was then. Good. He’d run out of good nicknames. Now he had new material.

“Alright, Fetcher in the Rye, let’s get you patched up so you can get out of my hair. I don’t want any more nuclear waste on my couch.”

Fetcher nodded, shoulders sagging as Jason got to work on setting his arm and wrapping it up. He paused in the movement and looked up, asking something he probably should have before taking his gloves off and getting all up in the kid’s business.

“This shit ain’t gonna kill me, is it?” he asked, gesturing to the green goo all over the place.

A shrug. Fucking fantastic.

Then there was shaking and Fetcher’s eyes were squinted again. Bastard. He was laughing. He saw Jason’s flat look, heaved a sigh with his body, then shook his head. He tilted it, considering, moved his hand in a so-so motion and then shook his head again.

Jason huffed and just took that to mean, probably not but maybe. Great. Well, he’d already taken a dip in a Lazarus Pit, how bad could knock-off ectoplasm be?

He snapped the arm back and Fetcher inhaled a sharp breath, forcing a shuddering exhale as Jason poured saline over exposed skin (it looked white? Like vampire white. Maybe Fetch meant half-vampire?). He secured it with gauze and moved on.

He moved closer to wrap more bandaging around Fetcher’s chest. He smelled like limeade and the moment before lightning struck in a thunderstorm. Like power and death. They made eye-contact and Jason was close enough to the tinted face shield that he could almost make out the features of a face hiding under it. Slender and young, forehead covered in (white?) ragged bangs. He tied the wrap and pulled away. Interesting.

Fetcher shook himself before picking up the newspaper. He pointed to where he’d written his own name, gestured to himself and then pointed at Jason.

“You want my name?”

A nod.

“Red Hood.”

No reaction besides another bobbing nod. Kid didn’t know who he was then. Hm.

“You know where you are, Fetcher?”

A shake.

“You’re in my territory. In Gotham. Crime Alley. It’s not a pleasant place to be, kid. Found Batman beating the shit out of you just on the edge of my turf. What the fuck was up with that, anyway?”

A small shrug answered him. Fetcher looked away and seemed to shrink in on himself. Jason would have none of that now.

“Look. I’ll be the first person to say that Goth Furry Man is an asshole. I’m just trying to figure out what, exactly, crawled up his ass and died, alright? Make sure he doesn’t come after you again.”

Fetcher side-eyed him before moving the newspaper and writing again.

Accident.

Kid dropped the crayon and ran his fingers in the air in an upside down wiggle and then pointed to himself.

“You were running away?”

A nod. He made a circular motion in the air, pointed to himself, and then made a motion like something falling. God, fuck, of course they’d resorted to charades.

“You fell through a hole?”

He got a so-so motion before Fetcher paused and thought better of trying to mime out whatever he was getting at. Good. He picked up the crayon and wrote, handwriting still messy as all hell.

Portal.

“You fell through a portal?” he questioned. How the fuck? You know what, no, actually, he’d seen weirder. Gotham was fucked up, weird glowing radioactive dudes falling through portals was not the worst that’d ever happened.

Mr. Radioactive in question nodded enthusiastically. He went back to miming. He made a rounded motion, like an arch in the air, and then wiggled his fingers in a forward motion out in front of the arch. Jason squinted. What the fuck was he trying to say here. He made the portal motion again above where he’d made the arch and finger-wiggle and dropped his hand down.

“You fell from the portal onto…?”

Kid threw his hand up and tried again. He drew lines in the air, up long slanted left, short to the right, flat across, short to the left, long slanted right down, and flat across again. Then he laid his arm across his chest, closed his eyes, and laid back. Like a corpse. Oh!

“A fucking coffin?”

He pointed excitedly before making the so-so motion again. Then the arch and wiggle motion.

“A grave?”

More enthusiastic pointing and nodding. Fetcher was practically bouncing on the couch, which was probably not good for his wounds, but whatever. He wasn’t his mom.

Damn maybe Jason was good at charades, actually. He wondered if it would ruin his image too much to suggest to his guys to have a game night. Maybe just his closest lieutenants. Who said being a crime lord couldn’t mean kicking someone’s ass at monopoly?

“What about that would piss off Mr. Dark and Stormy Night, though?” he mused. Bats wouldn’t fly off the handle like that just for accidentally trespassing. He had that stupid moral code that Jason hated.

Fetcher gave a shrug, seeming to genuinely not know.

Jason thought back to where he’d found them. Fetcher couldn’t have gone far with his condition and an angry Bat chasing after him. The closest place a grave could be was-

Ah. The cemetery with his empty grave.

He clenched his jaw to control himself. Maybe not. Can’t jump to conclusions.

“Was it the specific grave you were on?” he asked through gritted teeth. Not that the tone translated much through the modulator on his mask.

A thoughtful tilt of the head and a reluctant nod. A hand wave. Maybe, then.

He kept in a sigh. “What were the initials on the headstone?”

Flat line down then curve. Straight line down and then an outward curve at the top. Straight line down and then a flat line across the top. J.P.T. Jason Peter Todd. Of fucking course. Of course that absolute bastard could rage and assault some random kid that’d landed on his grave on accident but would stubbornly refuse to actually avenge him. To do something meaningful about his death and change how he took down his villains. To do something about that fucking clown’s kill count. No. Had to beat some rando within an inch of his life for doing nothing instead. Fucking hypocrite.

He was so going to tip off Alfred later. It was the best he could do with his plans at the moment. But if Bruce came anywhere near his territory again he’d get a bullet to the kneecap for sure. Maybe both for good measure. Couldn’t harm him too much, yet. Jason had plans for the bastard. For now he gathered himself with the placation of later. The Batman would get what was due to him. Shittiest not-dad of the year award included. Brucie would pay for his inaction. For not being there in time. For letting Jason die.

He had hoped. He had hoped so goddamn much that Bruce or Dick had done something about his death. That the clown had been made to pay for what he did. That maybe Bruce had learned his lesson about taking kids that weren’t trained enough out into the field. Letting them into the field at all. But lo and behold not a single fucking thing was different. Bruce had a new Robin. The Joker was still up to no good with nothing more than a slap on the wrist to stop him. Jason had been buried, tucked away in a Park Row two-bit cemetery (out of sight, out of mind) with Wayne stripped from his name. He had never accepted it before he died, but it still hurt. All of it did. He shoved it all deep down, folding that anger down within himself like he’d learned, ready to bring it back out when he needed it. Right now he had other things to focus on.

He dropped his gaze back to Fetcher, who was watching him intently. That bright green gaze was only a little bit disconcerting but whatever, he could deal.

“I won’t let him come after you again. You’re safe here so long as you follow my rules. Comprende?”

A serious nod and then a questioning motion.

“The rules?”

Another nod.

“Everybody looks out for everybody. Don’t mess with kids. Don’t deal to kids. Just don’t touch kids in general. Play nice with the sex workers or get wrecked. No murder or maiming unless its in self-defense or on my orders. Don’t fuck with the homeless or get curb-stomped. If you’re gonna deal it’s gotta be pure and if you’re gonna use do it safely. Snitches get stitches and never talk to cops.”

Fetcher blinked at the long list but nodded along and gave a peppy thumbs up at the end.

“Good. Now get some rest,” he said, swinging himself up from the couch and stretching. He caught the other ogling before Glow-Stick looked away. He’d save that for processing later.“I don’t have any food here so I’m gonna grab some. Do you eat? Got allergies?”

Fetcher shrugged and shook his head.

“What the fuck, little dude,” he asked before shaking his head. “Never mind. Just catch some sleep. If you sleep. Whatever. You can stay here for now. I’ll be back with food in a bit.”

Kid looked at him for a bit, blank green gaze a little unnerving. Jason felt like he was being assessed. Whatever Fetcher was looking for, he seemed to find it. He nodded decisively and then settled back into the couch, relaxing and sinking into the decrepit cushions.

Just what the hell had he gotten himself into now?

[shiranami-ren]

Ask Box is Currently: OPEN

Hey! Welcome to Shiranami-Ren, a Tokyo Debunker ask blog for the character of the same name. I'm currently caught up on the story but if I miss little details please forgive me <3 This blog is NOT spoiler free so please read at your own discretion. I will try and keep main plot points to a minimum so all can enjoy as they please.

Notes/Rules

1. Admin is 20+ but in order to keep this blog safe for everyone I will not be engaging in explicit NSFW content, some jokes and subtext is fine but it will/must be tagged appropriately.

2. Tags so far include but are not limited to: OOC Posting, Mun Yaps, Ren Yaps (RPs and continuations of asks), Ren Answers, Anon and blog specific tags so you can find other muses easily!

3. If you'd like to be a regular anon and claim an emoji/tag feel free!

4. This is a side blog off of my main so any likes and follows will not be under this blog. Ifykyk, I'm still on the fence about sharing my personal info here.

5. Please do not DM spam, I am not currently available for private RP sessions.

6. Ren is a tsundere stinker but I swear I'm nice, please be respectful to both myself and others when OOC. RP drama and fictional beef is fair game for me. Rip my boy to shreds if you must.

7. I will answer all asks either in order or when I have inspiration to draw, if I haven't gotten to you yet I PROMISE I'm cooking. (either figuratively or literally at work.) If I miss an interact, I'm super sorry! It's either in the queue or I simply forgot.

8. Feel free to ask Mun/Admin/OOC asks if you'd like! They'll be tagged as OOC.

9. You're more than welcome to tag Ren in RP starters and random fun little posts at any given time! It's all part of the fun here.

10. Have fun with it! We're all here to enjoy the game and our silly little men. Don't be afraid to ask questions or DM OOC!

[namelessmoons-corner]

☆.｡.:° Moon's Daily Fic Rec #14 °:.｡.☆

More information here.

Fandom: Teen Wolf Name: The Future's So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades Author: Bittah_Wizard | @thebittahwizard Rating: Explicit Pairing: Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski Tags: Post-Season/Series 02, Time Travel Fix-It, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Blood and Gore Word Count: 65k

"It’s funny. It is. It’s abso-fucking-lutely hilarious because this is the seventh time in a calendar year that Stiles has been on the run from a bloodthirsty monster and the thing that still trips him up—quite literally—is that he still hasn’t gotten any better at running through the woods." An AU where everything he loves gets buried in the dirt, so Stiles rips apart the space-time continuum.

Personal thoughts:

You should know by now, I'm a sucker for time travel fics, and I do love a Stiles who's not afraid to get his end dirty.

The story is super well rounded, with some blood and gore, but also accompanied by some humour, so it was a great read!

I really like that while there is romance, it's still not the main point of the fic :)

Anyways, loved this and u should too!

☽ Moon ☾

[tomodchis]

Hi there! Just wondering if any dachi members had other faceclaims, groups, or personalities at one point? They are pretty interesting so far!

hello anon!! this question is literally tailored to me since i will forever be indecisive so they have definitely changed over time 😢 thank you for ur kind words!!! ♥️

more unformatted messiness under the cut!!!

i will go in group order since it’s just easier for me to keep track. so first is JEYEOL. oh man. him and i have HISTORY…

he was originally the main vocalist, fotg, and centre of a group called machina back in 2022-ish**. he was the bae suzy of the group, always getting brand deals, other appearances, etc. he was just generally More Popular than his other six members. he virtually had the same backstory, but ‘original’ jeyeol was estranged from his parents in his teen years. i scrapped that concept because i just wasn’t satisfied w an excuse like that 😭😭😭 idk i Rlly enjoy the concept in other characters but for Me it was an excuse for shitty writing

** i only discovered the fic idol community back in oct of last year i believe? n even then i only checked the tag once every month. but i’ve been creating kpop ocs since 2019 and had No Idea that other ppl even creating kpop ocs 😭😭 like trust me i thought i was WEIRDDDD but im so glad im able to express my creativity while also seeing other people express theirs!!!

fun fact: jeyeol is also a mix of another character totally separate from my kpop oc-verse named canis. as you can tell he has Lots of dog motifs. canis is one of my most fleshed-out characters and i thought Hey, i might as well???

he has many connections w other characters in my verse which i am thinking should make an appearance. we shall see where my motivation takes me

in terms of fcs he has been jyou from to1, sangyeon from tbz, and very briefly chaein from purki (rip hong jein 2024–2024) (he was also even more briefly jeong jaehyun but i don’t count this era because it was for 5 minutes)

miss chorong is my angel baby who can do no wrong. she (along with seoyi) was part of a k-band named cherry theory. they were in it for the arts not the charts but were eventually tossed in the can because… well… everyone was a filler member except for seorong. so i kept her in my pocket until i realized she perfectly fit in w dachi!!!

her personality has Drastically changed since her switch over. she was originally a pastor’s daughter, very soft spoken, deeply afraid of conflict, and overall a people pleaser. whenever i think back i still can’t believe i thought That was gonna be chorong forever 😭😭😭 nuh uh she deserves her freedom. i can at least make One oc happy. and then cheerleading happened so i guess we can’t win (saying this like i didn’t birth her from my mind)

in terms of fcs she has been mayu from triples and gowon from loona. a girl with soft features and brown eyes that could kill millions is my best friend

seoyi… oh seoyi… humble esoteric weird girl and woman attractor 3000. she stems from many concepts, not exactly people or other characters. some concepts in my mind while creating her were as follows: effects of fame, naturally-occurring spirals in nature, rabbit in the moon, and isolation of magical girls in media. odd combo i know 😭😭 but idk. that’s her Vibe. that’s Go Seoyi in a nutshell

as mentioned before, seoyi was part of cherry theory. her backstory used to mirror jeyeol’s, aka famous since birth and still rising in popularity. because he already snatched up That storyline i decided to deviate completely. her fresh slate has given me freedom to make her a little more odd than everyone else. i find that when i have a ‘set’ archetype i tend to not be as creative??? idk it could be me and then i sound weird again

in terms of fcs she has been haewon from nmixx, yujin from ive, and ryujin from itzy. seoyi was actually ryujin for the Longest Time Ever before i fleshed out eun. n then i realized they might be too similar. and then gaeul-seoyi was born!!!

eun joobi, youngest of dachi. and unfortunately the member w the least development (oopsies) i didn’t mean it 😭😭 she exists because i stole one of my other characters aesthetics n then wanted a four member group instead of a trio. but also dachi wouldn’t be the same w out her??? needed a deeply angry girl to balance out the sad emotions i am brewing rn

once upon a time she had a sister (who i may bring back in tenderheart) n they had a very close connection n it makes me so sad because i completely erased that girl from her plot. n then lonely baby eun makes me so SADDD GODDDDD

anyway. just because she is the least developed doesn’t mean i will be erasing her any time soon… she also just happens to be the least popular… she will be making more appearances i promise

in terms of fcs she has been yves & kim lip from loona and karina from aespa. one thing abt eun: she’s always had angular features

deeply sorry that this post is ugly as hell i just couldn’t make myself organize my thoughts unfortunately

[fwhimmy-week]

i was gonna ask this in messages but tumblr absolutely nuked my sideblogs messaging tab AS i was sending them??? idk ANYWAY

well first of all- how do you get people interested? i was thinking of making an interest check form but have never made one before and was wondering what questions to put on it

oh rip your messaging tab. that sucks.

as for getting people interested: my form of interest check was a poll i did on my main (since i don't mind having people know what events/accounts i run.) it only had four options, all of them pretty general [link here!]

i had two yes's, participant and non-participant, to get an idea of how many people would actually make something, so that's a good thing to put on the form! obviously if the event your running is for a lesser known ship/duo/character, there's gonna be more no's and maybe's then definite yes's, but don't let that discourage you. I even had to tell myself "don't get caught up on the numbers, focus on the fun. focus on if I WANT to do this, not how much attention it will get." before making this event!

Another good question would maybe be the timing of the event? Especially now that we're in the latter months of the year. (Summer break is ending for any American still in school, the holiday season is getting closer, etc etc.) A lot of things are either gonna be giving people more time and other things giving them less time. This was probably a question i should've asked myself, in all honesty. Do try to make it happen at a time that's both good for you AND others. Don't be afraid to delay or push the event back a week, either. Life often gets pretty unpredictable

You could also ask for inputs on theme! Especially if your like me and suck at this stuff. Or you could be like fwhimmyweek #1, and just have daily themes based off the character(s) themselves.

I would also asks what type of art is most likely to be created, assuming you allow multiple types. Bigger events (think treebark week) are more likely to get more varied stuff (writing, stimboards, webweavings, etc) while smaller events like this one may only get art and a few fanfictions here and there

I would also leave an open response question, for any ideas or suggestions people have!

Actually getting people interested is the hard part. All i can say is promote the hell out of it, on here, in any discord server you can, with friends if you can too; but sometimes that only gets you so far. I saw an increase in followers and mentions of this event when it actually got going. (And it was, a little amusing to be honest, seeing mcytblrsource and other accounts in my reblogs post-event.) Sometimes just running it once will be what gets more attention.

(if you don't know what mcytblrsource is: they keep track of fandom events. i'm not sure what tags they check, but it's probably somewhere on their blog. Or they might allow asks. Getting them to see it, sooner or later, and tagging with #mcyt event could also work in your favor)

also! promotional images leading up to it! post your full event pfp and header, if they're both original pieces. my promo posts for the week before the event helped a little, and the header art is like the most popular post on this blog. so they both definitely did something.

that's all i can think of right now, hope it helps!

[acourtofsnakes]

Darkness At The Heart Of My Love, Chapter 1 | Kas!Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Chapter 1 - Bad Liar

Summary: The world still turned, people still laughed, and the sun still set. Everything carried on without Eddie's presence. Everything accept you. How could you? He was your best friend and your soulmate, and you refused to accept he was gone. But what if you were right? What if he wasn't?

Warnings: 18+ for heavy mention of depression, anxiety, slight suicidal thoughts, grief, feelings of isolation.

A/N: The future chapters will not be as heavy as this, but please read with caution. Remember, you are not alone, and my inbox is always open 💙

Tags: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @undiscovered-misunderstood @kaylee-krystal @theshireisburning-so-mordoritis @queenofthefaceless @gallowsjoker @kirsteng42 @rosiefridayrogersunday @salome-c @amywritesthings @meganlpie @sgt-morgan @starryeyedstories @pumpkin-stars

Series Masterlist | Playlist | Masterlist

*~ Oh, hush, my dear, it's been a difficult year

And terrors don't prey on

Innocent victims ~*

It was strange, how the world went back to normal after something devastating had happened.

The very foundation of your life could be ripped away, taking joy and light and your heart with it and yet… Everything moved as normal. People went back to work, kids went back to school, shops carried on selling and the clock still ticked by, reminding you that each second was another without the person you loved most in the world.

And it pissed you off.

It hurt.

Because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that everyone else acted as though nothing had happened, that they planned their graduation parties and outfits. It wasn’t fair that people laughed and had fun, it wasn’t fair that they shouted across the halls to their friends and asked what they were doing that night.

It wasn’t fair that it carried on. That they got those plans, that laughter.

It wasn’t fair… Because Eddie wasn’t here.

He was dead.

And you weren’t.

Your best friend, your partner in crime, your Dungeon Master, your soulmate, your Eddie. 

Dead.

Torn to shreds by those damn bats in the Upside Down.

And no one cared.

People were fucking relieved that they didn’t have to worry about the possibility of a cultist murderer in their cosy little town. The ‘freak of Hawkins High’ was finally gone, and they didn’t have to worry anymore. They could let their kids out at night without fear, as if Eddie was the worst possible thing crawling through this town, when he was far from it.

They forgot that Eddie was one of the kindest, sweetest guys in the whole place, the one who knew what people thought of him and tried his hardest to not make them afraid, to make them feel at ease. The one who took in the kids who would otherwise be mercilessly bullied and gave them a home in the walls of the school.

Jason’s demise put to rest the whole thing eventually, and now, months later, they didn’t talk about it anymore. They didn’t talk about any of them, really.

Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick had their pictures in the main hallway off the entrance of the school, with memorial plaques and messages from other students beneath.

The others who died in the earthquake were spread along the wall too, and yet… not one of those pictures were Eddie. Not a single one.

You and Dustin had put one up when school eventually resumed, and three days later, it had been defiled by devil horns and pentagrams.

As soon as you saw it, you flipped out, stalking into the cafeteria with the ruined memorial in hand, demanding to know which one of the student body had done it.

There were raised eyebrows and snickering, not so quite whispers about how ‘Munson’s little girlfriend” was losing her mind, maybe he’d finally broken her after all.

It wasn’t until you were standing on top of the basketball teams table, spitting vicious, pained words at them that Ms Kelly was summoned, and you were coaxed into her office for the rest of the afternoon.

She tried to get you to talk about your feelings, to open up about the chasm of guilt and agony that was slowly devouring you whole, but you merely pasted on a smile and reassured her you were okay.

It was just a slip of anger, of pain at how Eddie was treated but you felt better now, and you’d apologise first thing tomorrow.

That moment became the starting point of telling the world you were fine. Of putting on that mask and pretending you were trying to move on.  

That you were grieving, yes, but you were getting through. You couldn’t stop what other people said, only remember Eddie as you knew him. As he truly was.

That’s what you told people.

You continued the Hellfire meetings, the group naming you Dungeon Master in tribute, and you acted as though that notion didn’t tear another hole in your heart. Because a new DM meant he wasn’t coming back. And you pretended that sitting on his empty throne didn’t make you feel sick, like a betrayal to the idea of him still being out there, alive somewhere in the ruins of the Upside Down. It only made the guilt worse, a snide whisper that you’d left him there, that this was all your fault because you distracted him and broke your promise.

The outside world believed that you were getting along just fine, slowly but surely. They didn’t know.

They didn’t know that every single night, you were terrified to sleep. Terrified to give yourself over to your subconscious, which gifted you the memories of Eddie being torn to shreds, of his screams of agony, the tears on his face. The scent of his blood over your hands and soaking into your jeans, and the feel of his hand curling around your own, pressing his guitar pick into your palm, and croaking, “Take care of my sweetheart, sweetheart. She’s yours now. I love you, more than anything. Thank you for making me feel like a hero. Your hero.” Before his own slackened and slipped to the ground, gifting you the last piece of him he could because he knew he wasn’t coming back. Eddie ‘the banished’ wasn’t coming home.

They didn’t know that the voice in your head, the voice everyone had, that now and then told them negative things was… actually a real voice. His voice. The puppet master in control of all of this, of every act of horror and destruction, of every monster, of every death.

Vecna was the voice in your head, and he certainly had a lot to say.

They didn’t know that your dreams gave you the victorious screech of the bats and Dustin’s choked sobs as he witnessed yet another sight that a child shouldn’t.

It gave you the memory of Steve screaming at you, begging you to come back now, that there was no time to bring Eddie’s body back through the gate before the whole place collapsed. Then your fists pounding into Steve’s chest as he dragged you through to the trailer, his arms wrapped round you as you shouted and screamed insults at him that dissolved into the same hysterical sobs that broke from Dustin’s own throat where he was wrapped in Nancy’s arms, the pair of them restraining you both but also stopping you from shattering into a million pieces.

Every night, a new snippet.

Every night, you tasted blood and ash, heard the noises as the monsters tore into Eddie’s flesh.

Every night you fought sleep, and every night, when you inevitably lost, you clawed yourself awake, covered in sweat, heart beating so fast you were convinced you were going to die. You couldn’t place your room, couldn’t work out that you were safe in bed, not trapped in a decaying rendition of your home.

It took you hours to crawl out of your head, to realise where you were. Safe, yes but by no means okay.

And the following morning, you’d have to paint on your mask and act like it was all okay, until you could fall into bed and tear apart, breaking into more and more pieces each night.

Because the world was carrying on without Eddie and without you.

And it wasn’t fair.

*~ So look me in the eyes

Tell me what you see

Perfect paradise

Tearing at the seams ~*

The rain pelted your window, feeling as though it was responding to your emotion, your frantic anxiety.

You’d just shaken yourself awake from yet another nightmare and had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to do the breathing exercises Ms Kelly had taught you about, as well as finding the five senses within things in your room.

The rain has been the thing you could hear, so you focused on the heavy beat of water droplets on your window as you reached for your phone.

The soft light flared across your face as you unlocked the screen, ignoring any other notifications as you opened up the text app.

The little blue circles on various conversations reminded you again how many people you needed to respond to, but you merely scrolled to the thread pinned at the top and opened it.

“Master Of Your Heart❤️‍🔥🎸🦇”

An endless screen, a month and a half worth of unread text messages, all in green and red greeted you like a damn Christmas tree.

Hundreds of messages sent to the best friend and soulmate who’d never come home, marked with the red explanation points to signify they hadn’t delivered - would never deliver.

This thread had become a diary of sorts, the back and forth of conversations between you both petering off into your one-sided messages where you allowed yourself to reveal just how much you were drowning.

You and Eddie had never once hidden anything from each other. No thought, emotion or worry was too much, and this was your safe space to break and fall back into the shattered pieces you were trying so hard to keep together.

“Hey, you.” - undelivered

“I know it’s late… or I guess it’s early? Anyway, I can’t sleep… again. Ms Kelly keeps asking if I got those tablets yet and if they’re working.” - undelivered

“I told her they were, and I was sleeping without nightmares, and I think she finally believes me. Even though I didn’t even bother going to collect them. There’s no way I’m taking pills to help me sleep.” - undelivered

“And before you say it, yes, I know what we used to smoke, but that’s different. We knew what that would do.” - undelivered

You rubbed your eyes, gaze drifting to the side of your room for a moment and landing on Eddie’s guitar.

It hung next to your mirror, exactly as it had in his trailer, and you meticulously polished it so there was never a speck of dust or fingerprint on the smooth surface.

When you could drag yourself out of bed and face the outside world, you made it to the bookshop, where you’d purchased five different books on guitars, care and on a whim, how to play.

You knew you’d never dream of touching his guitar like that, but it just… made you feel closer. A physical aid to the memory of his arms wrapped around you, chin resting on your shoulder and his hair tickling your cheek.

The scent of smoke had lingered in the air from the cigarette on the side, his body warm behind you, legs either side of your own as he guided your fingers to play the chords. His voice had been a gentle murmur in your ear, such a contrast to the bright, animated voice of the Dungeon Master earlier that afternoon.

This softness, this liquid tone with that slight rasp was all yours.

“Here, like this. Then just strum with your other hand… Gently, baby… There you go! You’re a natural, sweetheart. Gonna be coming for my place in the band soon.”

The barest ghost of smile touched your lips, and you looked back at your phone.

“You remember all those guitar lessons you used to give me? I remember being stunned the first time you let me touch your guitar. I thought you must have been higher than we realised.” - undelivered.

“But then you sat behind me and spent the next two hours teaching me to play a Corroded Coffin song… and the whole time I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted you to kiss me, and I could have asked, and you would… But you looked so happy to be teaching me that I couldn’t bear to stop you. So I just sat there, thinking about that smile on your lips and how I wanted to taste it.” - undelivered.

“Or how warm your hands were on mine.” - undelivered.

“I thought about your hands a lot, actually.” - undelivered.

Eddie knew your fixations, made it his personal mission to learn you, what made you tick and breathe a little harder and when he found out your little thing for his hands?

Damn.

He made a point of it.

Tapping his rings on the table at lunch, moving them up and down his fingers when he spoke to you.

Rolling a d20 between his fingers at Hellfire meetings, knowing your eyes were fixed on the red die slipping between his knuckles, clicking against his rings because he knew how much you loved them too.

His hands would card through his hair, rub along his jaw knowing your eyes were trailing the action with that burning gaze searing your irises.

Of course, he didn’t let on how thrilled that made him at first. Or surprised.

In all honesty, he still didn’t understand what you saw in him, how something so normal, his hands of all things, could make your breathing quicken and make your teeth sink into your lower lip.

He never quite understood how you loved all of him so much.

You’d planned to spend every single day showing him.

“I still do.” - undelivered

“The thing is, Eddie… I can’t stop fucking thinking about you.” - undelivered

“I miss you so much, so much that it hurts, and I want to scream and set the world on fire because I don’t understand why they’re all carrying on when you weren’t allowed to.” – undelivered.

The wind howled fiercely outside, battering your window like it was angry too, like it felt your fury and pain and was manifesting it into something physical.

Either that or it wanted to barge in and drag you away too.

You were so tempted to let it.

‘Do it. If you let me, I could take away your pain, little dove. I could take you away from all of this, all of this agony and horror that you put yourself through. I promise you it would only hurt for a moment, but that’s nothing compared to what you feel every day, is it?’

That damn voice.

“Please come back to me, Eddie. I… I don’t know how long I can keep this up.” – undelivered.  

Nothing. And there would always be nothing.

You swallowed the glass in your throat, sinking deeper into the covers that provided little warmth and you pulled them over your head.

‘He isn’t coming, little dove. It’s just you and me.’

The light from your phone snuffed out, plunging you into darkness that always lingered at the edges of your vision, and you whispered into that abyss, “I love you, Eddie.”

*~ I wish I could escape

I don't wanna fake it

Wish I could erase it

Make your heart believe ~*

“Dustin was asking about you today.” Steve’s voice was soft, casual, a familiar tone that you could always rely on and always count on to be right there whenever he was needed.

You were seated in the front of his car, the dashboard spread with steaming, fresh food that filled the car with a delicious array of smells. You’d been hungry for once, actually.

Steve had treated you to dinner, taking you to the local diner he know you always loved when you were feeling down, and he’d gotten every one of your favourite things.

He hadn’t made a big deal about it, just reeled the list off to the waitress behind the counter and came back into the car with the giant bag of food.

You looked over at him, sipping your milkshake through the straw, “Really? How come?” You were safe in here, in the familiarity of Steve’s car, curled up in the passenger seat in a hoodie of his, one he’d promptly pulled over your head when you dropped into the vehicle without a coat.

Steve dunked some fries in his own shake, chasing them into his mouth before they dripped all over his lap, “They’re having a big party this weekend, with food and drinks and games and stuff. All the kids are going, and we all have an invite too. Apparently, Robin is going to make her famous coleslaw.” He rolled his eyes affectionately, “I have never heard of her having a famous recipe, but the thought of her being around knives fills me with horror, honestly.”

You couldn’t help the affectionate laugh at his words, a soft snort as you pulled open one of the boxes on the dashboard, “Let’s hope she doesn’t cut off any of her fingers, I’m not sure she could do with losing any limbs with her already upset balance.”

Steve smiled as you laughed, even though it was tiny, it was still something. It was something other than the broken, absent shadow you had been turning into the last few months. He could work with this.

Damn, it was an opportunity, slim, but one all the same and he grasped it with both hands, another rope to keep you afloat a little bit longer, “Absolutely. Oh my god, I need to put you all on reins. The kids seem to run off everywhere, El blows stuff up, then I have to watch you and Robin falling over every ten minutes.” He laughed himself, knocking his head back against the headrest, pointing a fry at you, “I should wrap you both in bubble wrap, otherwise you’ll trip over one day and break yourselves beyond repair.”

A mirthless laugh slipped from your lips before you could stop it, “It wouldn’t take much. I’m barely hanging on as it is, all it would take is someone sneezing, and I’d go tumbling off the deep end.” You blinked when you realised, you’d just sucked the life out of the gently growing bubble of humour in the car, and you shook your head at yourself.

Steve blinked, the laughter and hope sliping from his face, and he looked at you, almost too long and you felt your skin begin to prickle, like the concern and loving care in his eyes had begun to peel away the layers of your barely put together shell. “Hey…”

The softness in his voice, the gentle quality like he didn’t want to spook you… You knew where this conversation was about to go, your palms starting to grow clammy.

You shook your head, fixing your eyes firmly on the colourful sign of the diner in front of you, “I’m fine, Steve, really. I was joking. It was a stupid thing to joke about, I know.” Even you could hear the forced casualness in your voice, and you knew you were doing little to convince your friend.

“Don’t. Don’t do that…” He frowned, reaching across to rest his hand on your own, “Don’t shut me out, you know you can talk to me.” His hand squeezed yours gently, fingertips close enough to your wrist that you knew he could feel the rapid thrum of your panicked heart.

The breath began to come shorter in your lungs, catching on the way in and you didn’t look away from the lights of the diner, “I know, Steve. I know, and you know how grateful I am for that, but I’m okay. I promise.”

Steve’s frown deepened, worry flaring in his dark eyes and then the fingers of other hand gently rested over yours, “We both know you’re not… You don’t need to pretend, sweetheart, you can let the mas-”

“Don’t call me that.”

The words died on Steve’s lips as you cut him off, a pained hiss of a whisper, your body rigid under his touch, “What?” Then it dawned on him, the colour draining from his skin and he wanted to punch himself, hard. “Shit.”

He scrambled to put the food on your laps somewhere else, reaching over again and he pulled you into his arms, “I’m sorry, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t think, it just slipped out.”

You couldn’t answer him, couldn’t talk as your throat closed up, the food having turned to ash in your mouth and tears suddenly spilled down your cheeks unbidden, a symphony of Eddie’s voice echoing in your mind, speaking that sweet nickname over and over.

Steve slid a hand up your back, bringing it to cup your head to his chest, trying to protect you, to hold you together as your shoulders shook and you grasped weakly at his t-shirt. He didn’t make any moves to shush you or placate you. He just kept whispering, over and over, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you and I’m here. I won’t let it take you, I’ll keep you safe.”

His fingers rubbed against your scalp as he repeated it like a mantra, giving you something to cling to, just to take the weight off for what could have been seconds or minutes.

Eventually, you shuddered, fighting back a sob to croak, “I’ll come. Tell Dustin I’ll be there, I can’t wait.” Steve’s shirt soaked up your tears as you buried your face deeper into it again, the thought of leaving the house and pretending in front of more people filling you wish sick dread.

But it was better than being looked at like you were going to break apart at any moment, even if that was true.

~

You really shouldn’t have come.

No. No.

It was good that you were here.

The sun was shining, the air was warm and clear, and this was good.

You were good.

Right?

You had to be. You were going to be fine; this was what you needed.

The cool liquid of the homemade lemonade tickled your throat, its sourness doing a good job at wiping away the taste of metal form your tongue as you forced yourself to come back to the conversation, even as your other fingers moved restlessly, twirling the ring around your thumb, an anxious habit.

It was his ring, put there himself a couple months prior to the Upside Down. You’d both been laying in his bed, maybe not quite sober but still more than coherent.

Eddie had slipped his hand under yours, lifting it so you could both see, before sliding his ring onto your thumb, where it sat perfectly.

You’d questioned it, because his rings were as sacred to him as his jacket and his guitar, and the boy had merely given you that molten-eyed puppy dog smile, “Well, you’re sacred to me too. And we’ve always said we’d never rush anything; we’d do it at whatever pace we wanted but…” Then he’d blushed. Blushed, as he stroked over the ring. “I know I want to make this a real one, one day. So it’s a promise… If you’ll still have me.”

Then you’d cried. Realised how fucking lucky you were to be able to cherish and to be cherished by him, this soul who saw the world differently, who looked for magic and escape in every corner. Who’d never shied away from anything and worshipped the ground you walked on.

So you’d taken up his hand, brushing your thumbs over his knuckles before slotting one of your own rings onto his little finger. Then you’d kissed him, long and sweet before murmuring, “Of course I’ll have you, Eddie Munson.”

The call of your name snapped you back from that little memory, and you realised that everyone was looking at you, as if waiting for an answer.

You blinked, looking to all their expectant faces and you forced a bashful smile onto your lips, “Uh, sorry, I was completely out of it then, what did you say, Robin?”

Robin shared a look with Nancy, brief but you caught it, a twisting in your belly, “I only asked how the Hellfire meetings are going, Dustin was just telling us that uh, that everyone really likes you as… Dungeon Master?” She smiled, but there was a faint edge of tentativeness, the same almost false calm you adopted when approaching a wounded animal… that might lash out any moment.

The lemonade you’d just swallowed began to fizz in your gut, hot and uncomfortable but you ignored it, determined to have at least one normal conversation this afternoon that didn’t involve your friends looking at you like that. “Oh! Yeah, it’s going great, actually. Um… I’ve been trying to think of a new campaign for when this one runs out.” When Eddie’s campaign ran out. This whole sentence was a lie. You weren’t thinking of a new one. How could you not only replicate his flair for storytelling, but replace him? It was bad enough you had to sit on that throne and pretend it didn’t make you feel sick.

Robin’s face eased when you answered, even if her eyes did still hold the same worry and pity, the ever-present observation and waiting for an inevitable breakdown, “Oh that sounds pretty cool! Maybe we should come and see one day, the kids are always going on about it and we never did get a chance to come when Edd-” She choked off, flinching as Nancy’s foot found a home in her ankle. She grimaced, opening her mouth to… to what? Apologise for mentioning your boyfriend that everyone believed to be dead?

And there it was, the group holding their breath, the side-eye flickers to each other and the general air of, ‘Are we going to have to do damage control?’

It made your skin crawl as if it were peeling back from your bones, made you feel like you were way too exposed. And it made you feel… isolated. Alone, like there was a bubble surrounding you and keeping everyone else at bay.

They thought that their glances and whispers weren’t noticeable, but they were. They were glaring neon signs that your mask was slipping, and you weren’t convincing others as well as you used to. Maybe you never did, and they were just offering you a courtesy in turning a blind eye.

You knew they cared, you knew this came from a place of love, but you didn’t know how to explain the way it made you feel without acknowledging how close you were to slipping off that precipice.

Fortunately, you were spared the embarrassment of answering by Mrs Wheeler suddenly coming over, Sofia in toe with a jug of her lemonade, “Max!! I’ve been meaning to ask you, how is everything going?”

Max startled slightly at the question, blinking a second before she smiled a little, “It’s going great, thank you, Mrs Wheeler.” She’d been more like her old self lately, like she was determined to catch up on all the time she missed after Billy’s death, and during her recovery. She still had days where it was a struggle to move or get out of bed, her newly healed bones too stiff or her head aching, but she was doing so incredibly well. She was strong, and a fighter and it was beautiful to see.

Karen nodded quickly, sipping from her drink and she touched Max’s shoulder, “Well, if you need any help with the move, if you want any casseroles or anything brought over, just let me know. It really would be no trouble at all, hun.”

Sofia filled up her glass, smiling kindly as well, in that general openness and affection of all the mothers, “Anything you need, sweetie, I can send Dusty over with some things too. We all know how stressful moving can be, even if it is just across town.” She laughed softly, stepping back to Karen.

Why was Max moving?

You cut Mrs Wheeler off before she could speak, a frown on your face, “Moving? Where are you moving to? I thought they were rebuilding the trailer park?” You looked from Mrs Wheeler to Max, realising how out of it you must really be if you didn’t even know this.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dustin share a nervous look with Steve, who very faintly shook his head, arms tightening as he forced himself to keep a casual posture, all the way watching you like… you were about to explode?

That grating laugh echoed softly in your head, the gentle whisper of, ‘This is going to be good.’

Karen cocked her head at you, a smile on her lips but a slight frown between her brows, trying to work out why this simple piece of information was getting you so worked up, “Oh you didn’t hear, sweetie? They’re actually going to be taking away the ruins of the trailer park and turn it into a smaller shopping complex, something between the roads and the edges of the city to bring in more tourists after the quakes.”

There was a ringing in your ears, a low resonating hum that could almost come from the mouth of the very creature that started this all. You blinked once, twice, the words getting stuck in your head and pinging uselessly off of each other, “But… Where will he go to find his things?”

Karen shared a look with Claudia, looking even more bewildered by the second, “Honey, what are you talking about? Where will who go to collect his things?”

“Oh, shit.” You barely heard Dustin’s whispered curse, the surrounding partygoers halting their conversations as more gazes focused on you.

You ignored them, even as your skin prickled and felt too exposed, stomach starting to churn, “Eddie. If they’re tearing down the remains of his home, how will he go and look to see what survived? Wayne can’t go back there, he’s too traumatised. They can’t just get rid of it all without letting him look!” Why could no one see the injustice of this?

Karen’s face betrayed how unsettled she was, the way she didn’t know how to respond to that, your conviction in Eddie and what you just insinuated.

It was Claudia who turned to face you more, setting down her jug of lemonade and she looked at the kids, before back at you, obviously not reading the clear warnings in their faces not to broach this subject, “Edward Munson died, remember? He was responsible for those awful murders, for that poor Chrissy Cun-”

“No.” You near snarled the word, strangling her words in their tracks before you had to hear the same sick accusations against him, the words that his forced him from his home, and the things he loved, and roped him into this whole Upside Down business.

You’d done so well, so so well in keeping him away from those dangers the whole time you’d been friends with him, even when that unique friendship turned into something more, best friends, before blossoming and blooming into the burning, beautiful relationship you had.

Have.

You felt rather than saw Steve move to your side, his hand touch your shoulder gently and he whispered you name, just softly, so much so that only you would be able to hear it.

But you knew that tone. That soft, pacifying tone that again reminded you of the wounded animal, the people trying to help it without making it hurt itself.  “Come one, let’s go…”

You looked up at him over your shoulder, shaking your head fiercely, “No! I’m not going to leave just because I’m saying something you all don’t believe in. He’s my best friend and my boyfriend, Steve, I’m not going to shut myself away just because I believe in him.” You frowned at him then, “Besides, you all wanted me here.”

Steve flinched a little, grimacing because this situation as rapidly falling out of hand, and he didn’t know how to stop it, how to make you feel better, “I know, I know. I’m not asking you to shut yourself away, I’m just saying that…” His eyes drifted to the side, to everyone watching, “Maybe now isn’t the best time for it.”

What was happening? Why was he… Didn’t he believe you? Had he been lying this whole time?

Oh little dove, of course he didn’t believe you. You really thought your friends listened to these tales of your beloved boyfriend still surviving out there? I told you this would happen; you didn’t believe me. I know these things, and I know you better than you know yourself. I see it all.

That damn voice laughed in your head again, deep and rasping, like you were being dragged over a bed of nails.

“Isn’t the best time for it?!” You stared at him incredulously, sure you must be imagining, “Steve, when the fuck is the best time for it, then? It’s already been months. So next year then? When we’re the last people left in this fucking town that still remember him? That still believe in him?” With every question, your voice rose, drawing more and more attention.

They’re all looking at you, little dove. Your mask is slipping.

Steve let out a ragged breath, raking a hand through his hair, “We do still believe in him!! And we still believe in you, but… There has to a point where you…” He trailed off, brows lowering over his eyes and his mouth parted on empty words that he couldn’t say.

The beat of your heart tore through your chest, uneven and painful, spears of ice shooting through your chest with every pulse, “Say it.” Your voice was no more than a whisper, daring him to do this, to do something he promised he would never do.

That he promised Eddie he would never do.

But if it was watch you crumble and fade away, or hurt you now but save your life…

He closed his eyes, jaws clenched, and he spoke the damn words, “There has to be a point where you accept that he’s not coming back.” Those words came out far too easily in your opinion, like they didn’t taste as bitter as they should.

He’s been thinking them, little dove. They all have, knowing how badly you’re clinging to this hope when they all know the truth.

A mirthless laugh left your lips, and you shook your head at him, “I thought you believed me, Steve. You sat there and listened every time I spoke about it, about him and you told me everything would work out okay. And now you’re telling me I need to let it go?”

Karen looked back at the other mums, then at the pair of you, “Kids, maybe this, whatever it is, is better off somewhere else?” She faked a laugh, trying to bring that energy back to life.

Neither of you listened.

Steve turned away, running his hands through his already messy hair again before he turned back to you, “I do still believe you!! You’re not listening to me, okay?” He seemed to want to say something, but he couldn’t get the words out, “I’m terrified, okay? I’m terrified I’ll lose you, that you’ll fall into this dark cloud that’s following you around and I won’t be able to pull you out.” He held his hands out to you, pleading, begging, because you didn’t know.

You didn’t know what he’d been doing… And you didn’t know the promise he’d made to Eddie.

The promise Eddie made him adhere too, when they were lagging behind in the forest, “You gotta take care of her, Harrington. If anything happens to me, you have to promise me you won’t let her suffer. That you won’t let her hurt. I want her to have a life… To be happy. You need to promise me.”

And he’d tried. He’d tried so fucking hard.

You made a noise, splintering deeper and deeper with every single word, “You don’t know that he’s dead!! You didn’t even let me take his body back!!” Tears were glistening in your eyes, threatening to spill over… and then they did. “I was sitting there, holding him, with his – with his blood on my hands and you told me there was no time.” You sobbed, lifting a hand to your mouth, shaking as you swore you could still see the blood staining them, “So how can you stand there and tell me he’s dead? He could be down there, searching for a way out, hoping that one of us -”

“HIS BODY ISN’T THERE, OKAY?! I LOOKED!! THERE’S NOTHING FUCKING THERE!!” Steve’s eyes were wide, chest rising and falling rapidly, as those words hung there in the air. Words he could never ever take back, words he’d been holding in for nearly two months now, wanting to help you but knowing it would hurt.

And he’d just broken his promise.

Silence.

Pure silence.

Every single pair of eyes on you both, every breath bated.

You stared at him, a knife jammed in your belly, twisting, and turning, “What?” It was barely a breath again, because any more than that and you’d choke. You were choking, you were going to be sick, or scream, or… Anything.

“Steve…?” Dustin was staring at Steve with equal shock, the revelation that one of his beloved big-brother figures had been hiding the fact he’d searched for the other? Dustin’s two favourite people in the world?

Steve turned to Dustin, then to you, panic on his face as it drained of colour, but the words were out there now, and there was no way he could drag them back, “I’ve been looking, okay? I went back to... Watergate.” He sighed, “When I saw you slipping, falling apart… I couldn’t stand it. So I went to look out of curiosity, and it was like I could have strolled right in. The gates are open more than they ever have been, so I went and…” He looked over your face, sadness growing in his own and he reached for your shoulders. “There was nothing there. I checked every inch of where we were and it’s not there.”

You were going to be sick.

There was a ringing in your ears, growing louder and louder and you could hear the echo of Eddie’s screams, the screech of the bats… The scent of blood.

You shouldn’t have come here. It was too loud, too much, too many eyes witnessing the devastation of your very soul and your last dreg of hope. “What are you saying, Steve?” You couldn’t bear to hear the words, to hear what he was telling you.

What that voice , what he had been whispering.

Steve’s hands suddenly tightened on your shoulders, his head shaking fiercely, and he shook you gently, like he could make you see, “He’s gone. His body is gone, there’s no trace of it. He’s gone…” He sighed, “I’m sorry, okay? I really am. But I couldn’t let you go back in there; I couldn’t let you see nothing and lose you. None of us want to lose you.” His deep brown eyes shone with tears, pleading and sorrowful.

You stared at the faces of your friends, the ones who’d been the only reason you’d been gripping that edge by your fingertips, the only reason you hadn’t descended into that yawning abyss of darkness.

They meant well, you loved them for that but this admission… the looks, the whispers…You couldn’t take it anymore.

Not to mention Steve’s words hanging in the air like a fucking lead balloon.

He’s gone. His body is gone, there’s no trace of it. He’s gone.

Then you felt it, that tether snap, the wall slipping past your fingertips.

You were done.

All emotion dropped from your face, the blood draining from it and you pulled out of Steve’s hands, watching the heartbreak on his face as he realised what he’d done… But you felt nothing. “It’s too late for that.”

Without another word, you turned and walked away from the Henderson’s garden, from your friends.

From hope.

*~ I can't breathe, I can't be

I can't be what you want me to be

Believe me, this one time

Believe me

I'm a bad liar, bad liar ~*

You had broken your promise to Eddie.

Two promises, actually.

Before you’d gone back into the Upside Down, when you were standing in that field, Eddie had taken you away from the others, across the grass until it felt like it was just the two of you.

“Sweetheart, I… I want you to promise me something.” He lifted his hands to your jaw, tenderly cupping your face and stroking his thumbs along your cheekbones.

You frowned a little, wondering why he looked so serious and so solemn, when just moments ago he’d been play fighting with Dustin, “Of course, Eddie… What is it? What’s wrong?” You knew him, inside and out, could read the darkness lingering in his chocolate eyes.

He took a breath, as if the words were going to be difficult, “When we’re in there, when we’re doing what we need to… If something happens to me, I need you to run, okay?”

You blinked a few times, stared at him a bit. Then a laugh broke free of your lips, but it was a little off-kilter, worried, “You’re kidding me, right? Why would I leave you? You know we don’t do that.”

Eddie didn’t laugh, his eyes firm and as serious as you’d ever seen them. He shook his head, curls bouncing under the sunlight, “I’m not joking, sweetheart. I want you to run. To leave me there and get out, be safe. I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you, because of me.”

You cut him off before he’d finished speaking, lifting your hands to his wrists, and curling your fingers around them, “And I can’t bear the thought of leaving you! Of something happening to you, and you asking me to just leave you there? Eddie, how could you – how could you ask me that?” Part of you wanted to pull away, like you could pull back from his words and the insulation he was making.

But the other half… He looked so deadly serious, like he needed to hear you say this, that it would tear him up if you didn’t.

You swallowed, gazing over his features, a face you cherished so deeply, a soul you held so close even more than that. You had to. You had to grant him this… Even if deep down, you both knew you would never leave his side. A sigh left your lips, raking claws across your chest on its way out, like Vecna himself, “Okay. Okay, Eddie. I promise.”

You’d broken that promise when you scrambled back through the gate and ran for his body, ignoring his previous pleas that you leave him there to die. He should have known you’d never do that.

That you’d take the talons and bites of those bats in your own flesh before letting them touch him anymore.

The second promise, you’d been breaking from the moment Steve pulled you out.

When Eddie had been lying in your arms, far too still, far too cold, tears streaking the blood on his skin, he’d made you promise him that you’d be okay. “Don’t lose yourself for me, sweetheart. Don’t throw your life away for me. Remember that I love you, fuck, I love you so much and I won’t ever forget any of this, from the moment I met you and you made me realise the real world wasn’t so shitty. Remember that, and promise me that you’ll try and be happy, that you’ll live all those dreams we talked about.”

“Eddie…”

“Promise me, sweetheart. Please.”

“Okay… I promise.”

You couldn’t do it. Not anymore.

That conversation with Steve the other day and what happened at Dustin’s, combined with the news of the trailer park being torn down and the group missing todays DnD meeting had finally finished you.

You’d sat in that throne, his, throne for two hours, eyes fixed on the folder of notes, pages and pages of Eddie’s slightly messy but beautiful handwriting. Waiting. And waiting.

And waiting.

They wouldn’t have missed this meeting.

They had to convince you to come back to this in the first place, that Eddie would want you to sit in his throne, to use his dice set and his notes.

They wouldn’t have forgotten this.

So, you text Gareth, asking where they were and if they were going to be much longer.

And then… Then you’d gotten that text in response.

“Hey, sorry, we forgot to tell you. We can’t make Hellfire tonight; we’re holding try-outs for the band.”

Try-outs.

They were replacing him.

And that was it.

You were so tired. So fucking tired of pretending, of trying to make good on your promise and you were done. You had nothing left to give.

The tears ran salty in your mouth, an endless stain on your skin as you curled up tighter at the foot of your bed, like you could dissolve into the space beneath and escape this, once and for all. To find Eddie, to live those dreams with him.

The light from your phone was the only brightness in the room, a shitty symbol of hope in the drowning dark you were only too happy to lose yourself to.

“I can’t do this anymore, Eddie.” – undelivered.

“I can’t keep pretending I’m okay when I’m not. I haven’t been okay since the moment you cut that fucking rope and I had to claw my way back into that hellhole.” – undelivered.

A yawn tore its way free through your tears, merely hurting your already parched throat even more and you curled up tighter, despite the protests of your body. You’d been refusing to sleep these past few days, refusing to succumb to the worsening nightmares, to that snide voice that was getting louder and louder, telling you Eddie was dead and you needed to grow up.

He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t.

“I’m done with this. I’m done with walking around with a smile pasted on my face, when I really want to crawl back into that place and find you and stay with you.”

“You’re my best friend, Eddie. You’re the only one who ever truly saw me, who made me feel whole. I love you more than anything I’ve ever loved in this whole shitty world. I know it’s a cliché, I know I always said I hated that, but you are my soulmate.” - undelivered

“And you’re gone.” – undelivered.

“Come home.” – undelivered.

“Please come home. Come back to me.” – undelivered.

“I love you, Eddie.” – undelivered.

Streams and streams of messages that would never be delivered, never be answered.

Ringed fingers that would never again tumble over the screen in haste to reply back to you.

A soft smile on plush lips as he stared down at your words.

Gone. It was all gone.

You let the phone slip from your shaking fingers, dropping your forehead down to your knees because it was too heavy to hold up anymore.

Everything was too heavy.

That’s it, little dove. Give into it. Let it take you down, stop fighting.

It was so quiet, so subtle, you almost would have missed it over the sounds of your ragged breathing.

Such a tiny noise.

The soft whoosh alert noise that you didn’t even pay attention to any other time, so why would you now?

Because it was continuous. Each beat, one after the other, again and again and again.

And you knew that noise. You knew what it meant.

But that was impossible, there was no way that could be happening.

You slowly lifted your head, your heart suddenly pounding a staccato beat as you stared at your phone, face down on the floor. The noise was still there, rhythmic, and systematic, telling you that…

No.

This was someone playing a cruel trick.

You snatched your phone up off the floor, knowing this wasn’t real, this was just your desperate, exhausted brain taunting you one final time.

Four soft taps as you unlocked your phone, revealing the message thread it had still been on when you dropped it, the same stream of pleas, the same infinite loop of red exclamation marks to say –

They were gone.

The marks were gone.

And your messages…

Delivered.

Delivered.

Delivered.

No way. No fucking way. There was no way this was real.

Not just because of Eddie being…

Not just because of that.

But because, well… How?

Tremors started to run through your body, blood flushing hot and cold as adrenaline wove through your system, your consciousness jumping between viewing this realistically and screaming at you that it was happening. You’d got your wish.

“Eddie…” You breathed the word, afraid anything louder would startle that bubble and chase it away, taking the last dregs of your hope and sanity with you.

If this was someone playing a cruel joke… You wouldn’t survive this.

Someone with a twisted sense of humour, wanting to see you finally crumble and follow Eddie into nothingness.

Well, they would finally get their wish, wouldn’t they?

You were done if this was a prank.

Broken promises, a crumbled mask of happiness, your last fingertip desperately scrabbling on the precipice that had been calling to you since you felt Eddie’s final breath leave his lips.

You were kidding yourself to even entertain the idea that you could fake it for the rest of your life, how could you?

Eddie was your other half, the pair of you in each-others orbit, each-others weakness but also each-others strength.

The uneven pound of your heart was verging on painful, ribs aching like knife points as you held your breath, watching the three little dots fade in and out.

Please, Eddie. Please.

The seconds stretched on for minutes, hours, thoughts whirring out of control as you spiralled deeper and deeper on a path so cataclysmic, it was going to tear you and everything else apart.

Tears started to fill your eyes again the longer that bubble sat there, taunting you and the sickening feeling that was a trick merely increased tenfold.

And then the bubble disappeared.

Just fell from existence and dragged everything down with it.

You slumped, breath leaving you in a strangled exhale and that pain in your ribs cracked through your entire body, sucking away the final dregs of determination you were holding on with.

Finished.

The noise that left your throat next was simple.

Small. A tiny, wounded noise of agony… Of defeat.

Except, there was always one person who would make sure you never gave up, wasn’t there?

Ping.

A notification.

You stopped breathing.

You stopped thinking.

The whole word stopped.

Master Of Your Heart‍🔥🎸🦇:

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

[wornkindness]

MINI CHARACTER PLAYLIST

SHARE AT LEAST FIVE SONGS THAT REMIND YOU OF YOUR MUSE, OR THAT YOU ASSOCIATE WITH YOUR MUSE’S CHARACTER ARC. Including lyrics is optional.

i have idk like 6 playlist for amelia, but my main one for her has almost 100 songs because i have a problem. so i guess i’ll just list songs i’m currently vibing with the most

stronger than a lion - delta rae

oh yeah, you want to drag me down / i'm stronger than a lion when the jackals come around / you may think i'm weak, that my heart beats faint / but you shouldn't judge an engine by the car's ripped paint / baby, i'm a fighter in the robes of a saint / pull me through your fire, but i feel no pain / i'll be a survivor when i rise from the flames

daughter - sleeping at last

the sunlight shines a little brighter / the weight of the world's a little lighter / the stars lean in a little closer / all because of you […] this is your kingdom / this is your crown/ this is your story / this is your moment / don't look down / you're ready, born ready

all-american bitch - olivia rodrigo

and i make light of the darkness / i've got sun in my motherfucking pocket, best believe […] i am light as a feather / i'm as fresh as the air / coca-cola bottles that i only use to curl my hair / i got class and integrity / just like a goddamn kennedy / i swear / with love to spare […] i don't get angry when i'm pissed / i'm the eternal optimist / i scream inside to deal with it […] i'm sexy and i'm kind / i'm pretty when i cry

you're on your kid - taylor swift (this is more specifically tied to amelia queen’s arc)

from sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes / i gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this / i hosted parties and starved my body / like i'd be saved by a perfect kiss / the jokes weren't funny, i took the money / my friends from home don't know what to say / i looked around in a blood-soaked gown / and i saw something they can't take away / 'cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned / everything you lose is a step you take / so make the friendship bracelets / take the moment and taste it / you've got no reason to be afraid / you're on your own, kid / yeah, you can face this / you're on your own, kid / you always have been

history of man - maisie peters (again a song tied to amelia’s queen arc)

you didn't even falter / didn't look back once, did you? / so samson blamed delilah, but given half the chance i / i would have made him weaker too / sirens sounded, trumpets blaring / you walked out oh, without sweating […] the men start wars yet troy hates helen / women's hearts are lethal weapons / did you hold mine and feel threatened? / hear my lyrics, taste my venom […] i've seen it, in the poems and the sands / i've pleaded, with the powers and their plans

i hope you dance - lee ann womack

i hope you never lose your sense of wonder, / you get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger, / may you never take one single breath for granted, / god forbid love ever leave you empty handed, / i hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean, / whenever one door closes i hope one more opens, / promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance, / and when you get the choice to sit it out or dance. / i hope you dance… i hope you dance… / i hope you never fear those mountains in the distance, / never settle for the path of least resistance, / livin' might mean takin' chances, but they're worth takin', / lovin' might be a mistake, but it's worth makin', / don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter, / when you come close to sellin' out reconsider, / give the heavens above more than just a passing glance, / and when you get the choice to sit it out or dance./ i hope you dance

tagged by: @debelltio (thank you friend uwu) tagging: you!

[cafalla]

Vintage Pokémon Stickers and Temporary Tattoos (1999-2000)

I finally took the time to tackle my little pile of vintage Pokémon stickers and temporary tattoos! It's not a crazy amount, but there was enough to make me consistently go "hmm, maybe I'll scan them tomorrow".

Thing is, I have a whole box of magazines I still want to scan...and some catalogs...there is a lot still in the works where scanning is concerned.

This little pile of Pokémon stickers have been next on my to-scan list for a while. I felt it was time to finally get on it. I'm really excited to show them off!

I love all Pokémon, and I wouldn't call myself a die-hard Gen 1 fanatic but...there is really something nostalgically special about Gen 1. I just love Pokémon a lot, especially Gen 1, and I always will.

I'm very happy to have these vintage stickers/temporary tattoos and I hope to get many more in the future!

First off, here are a couple of temporary tattoo sheets! I know they're not stickers, but they basically look like sticker sheets...at least they're equally as cool. These are from 1999!

Each came in its own single-sheet package. These photos are actually the scans flipped, so originally, they are backwards.

Because, y'know, that's how temporary tattoos work.

But for the sake of viewing the artwork, I flipped them so they are facing the "correct way" towards us.

My favorite one is Pikachu holding his Pokeball...to be honest, I totally forgot Pikachu actually has his own ball! And that it has a little lightning bolt on it. So cute. I wish we got to see it more often.

I mean, how cool would it be to get a lightning bolt ball in the games and you could ONLY catch a Pikachu with it. That'd be fun.

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Next are some "super-size" sticker sets. Each set comes with two sticker sheets. These are also from 1999!

Here's the first set:

The weird swirly colored backgrounds feel sooooo 90s to me!

Next set:

Love the big Blastoise sticker. I imagine there are sets including big solo stickers of Charizard and Venusaur, too. Hopefully one day I can get my hands on them!

And the last set I have is this one:

Well, there is Charizard at least! Not a full sized solo sticker, but it's quite large. Super cool!

And the sticker of the main gang is so cute. I vividly remember that art of them featured in a lot of merchandise. We'll see them again with the next stickers, actually.

I do wonder if the white space in between Brock's bent arm was an oversight...there is also some white between Misty's neck and arm. Oops, lol!

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Next I have some giant Pokémon gift tag stickers from 2000!

I originally thought they were Christmas gift tag stickers, but I think they're for any gift-giving occasion. There are 15 sticker tags in the package, containing the three designs shown above.

There's that art of the gang again! I told you we'd be seeing them again lol.

And I vividly remember that Pikachu art on a lot of my childhood merchandise. I love the OG Pikachu.

I mean, Pikachu is great in any form, but like I said earlier, the original art just hits differently. I'm way too nostalgic for Gen 1 haha. Maybe I actually am a die-hard Gen 1 fanatic...

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Last, but certainly not least, we have this sticker book containing all 150 original Pokémon. It's from 1999, and barely hanging on by a couple of old staples. I had to be super careful scanning this book - I was afraid of it ripping apart.

Here's the cover:

The book's format is basically a page of stickers, and then the page opposite of the stickers contains a blank space with a pokeball graphic and the names of the Pokémon. The intention is to move the stickers over to the blank space with the Pokémon's name once you catch them in game, so you can keep track of which ones you've collected along your Pokémon journey.

I'll just be showing off the sticker pages, but you can look at the full book on my Internet Archive account to see what I'm talking about. There's also a cute little Pokémon word search in the middle of the book I recommend checking out.

Here are all 150 original Pokémon stickers!

So cool, right?!

Most of the artwork is pretty standard, but some of the Pokémon really get to show some personality! Specifically Dugtrio and Electrode.

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I really like how old Pokémon merchandise gave many "obscure" Pokémon a chance to shine.

Obviously Pikachu and the main line starters get heavily featured in merchandise...but I feel like most Pokémon in recent years don't get a chance to be promoted like they used to in the early stages of the series.

Typically only the fan favorites get to shine anymore. It's sad, because there are so many neat Pokémon! Every Pokémon is special to someone, and it's nice to see them represented across merchandise.

I hope you enjoyed these scans! You can view full size/hi-quality scans on my Internet Archive account.

Or, if you would rather reblog the photos by themselves, I've uploaded them onto my photoblog: nostalgiahime. So feel free to go take a look over there!

Thanks for reading!