#and their souls were blasted into my chest

[descendantsoffinwe]

Angrod and Aegnor are my ocs but! ☝🏻 they are also exactly how jirt intended them to be. You understand.

[dottydoesstuff]

You make me feel alive (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Based on the song Rio by Duran Duran

can be read as a part of this series or on its own

Idiots in love, mutual pining, light angst, background Jancy, reader is described to wear a bikini.

ps. a game & watch is like the 80s version of a nintendo DS

3.4k words <3

Steve didn't know when his all consuming infatuation with you began. Maybe it had alway been there, the throat tightening, cheek blushing , knee wobbling, soul crushing feeling that only your presence seemed to elicit. But it was getting rather annoying.

Don't get him wrong we wouldn't trade his friendship with you for the world but constantly having to hold himself back from confessing his undying love for you or some other irreversible truth that would surely ruin your friendship was exhausting.

The sun had been beating down on Hawkins unrelentingly for weeks, pushing the small town and its residents to the brink of melting and so to avoid such a fate, plans had been made amongst your group to drive up to lake Michigan.

Steve of course was ​​unwillingly nominated to drive as well as Nancy so the group was split between his BWM and Nancy's moms borrowed station wagon. A fight had ensued that morning when the group was choosing who to ride with, each option having its pros and cons. Steve's car had the better air-con which was a necessary luxury in the Indiana summer but Nancy lets other people pick the music unlike Steve who cites that he's driving so he gets to choose the radio station. Eventually (and after much debate) you, Robin, Eddie and Dustin rode with Steve and everyone else crammed into Nancy's car. 

The drive was only a few hours and the group had set off early to beat the traffic, or had attempted to, but apparently some people (Eddie) needed their beauty sleep. Despite the air-con remaining on full blast, the heat couldn't be ousted causing the road up ahead to become a mirage. However the heat wasn't on the forefront of Steve's mind, instead his focus was pulled toward the hushed conversation taking place between you and Eddie in the backseat. He couldn't make out what either of you were saying but he could hear your quiet giggles and see that due to the lack of space, thanks to Dustin calling shotgun, Eddie and you were sitting very close together. Eddie, ever the gentleman, had taken the middle seat with you and Robin on either side. Robin had zonked out within the first 20 minutes and had monopolised all of her and most of Eddie's seats meaning Eddie was currently crowding your space, not that you seemed to mind, which infuriated steve to no end, not that he could say anything about it because steve wasn't your boyfriend so had no right to comment on the situation however this realisation only infuriated him further.

Thankfully Dustin hadn't noticed Steve's indignation despite him practically having steam shooting from his ears, although Steve could’ve grown a second head and Dustin wouldn't have noticed as he was too busy playing mario bros on his game & watch, which he was surprisingly bad at. 

“Son of a bitch”

Steve turned to see Dustin shoving his game & watch back into his backpack after losing yet again.

“It's probably rigged anyway plus my jump buttons jammed so it’s not even my fault” Dustin sighed in defeat as he slumped back into the seat with his arms crossed.

“Maybe you're just shit” Eddie teased whilst shoving another handful of Doritos into his mouth.

Dustin turned his head to glare at Eddie as you slapped him on the arm.“And since when were you so good a mario munson?” you asked whilst poking him in the chest.

Eddie grabbed your finger as he retorted “since birth, obviously”.

Dustin rolled his eyes “Mario wasn't around in the prehistoric age dickhead”.

Yet another argument ensued. 

The snarky comments and constant touching between you and Eddie bothered Steve then it occurred to him, was Eddie flirting with you? The question bounced around in Steve's head until a much worse realisation overtook it. Were you flirting with Eddie ??? His knuckles turned white with how hard he gripped the steering wheel as jealousy washed over him, he knew he shouldn't have been jealous, you and Eddie were both single and neither of you knew that Steve was hopelessly in love with you … or something less intense to that effect. 

“-and if you think that i'm going to let you even touch my game & watch with your nasty ass Dorito fingers, you're insane” 

“Ugh say it don't spray it” Eddie mumbled as he wiped his cheek with his sleeve.

Steve was still trying to figure out a way to murder Eddie and make it look like an accident when you leaned forward to ask how much longer the trip was. Your gentle smile as you made eye contact with him through the mirror made him forget you even asked him a question until you said “stevie ?”.

He felt his face heat up at the use of the nickname that he claimed he hated. Because he did hate it, when it was used by anyone other than you.

“Uhh probably like another half hour” 

You nodded absentmindedly as you settled back into your seat and pulled a book from your bag.

The half hour passed fairly quickly with the only hiccup being when Eddie and Dustin started arguing yet again because Dustin wouldn't share his nerds which resulted in Eddie trying to snatch the whole pack and spilled them everywhere.

As they approached Porter beach the busier it became, Steve started to wonder if they would ever find somewhere to park. Eventually they found a spot next to a parking meter which wasn't too far from the beach, Steve got out to pay only to realise he had no change. “Oh shit” Steve mumbled while patting his shorts pockets.

“What?” you tilted your head at him as you asked. You were still sitting in the car with the door open rubbing suncream on your legs. Steve had to consciously hold himself back from asking if you wanted him to do it for you, partly because he liked helping you and partly for more selfish reasons. Instead he shook his head as if to physically expel the thought from his mind.

“Do you have any change?” he asked sheepishly. 

“Uhh, oh you know I think I do” you wiped any excess suncream on your top and grabbed your bag to start searching through it.

“How much do you need?” you looked up at him with a smile when you said it. It was subconscious, the way you always smile at Steve when you talk to him, he brings it out in you.

Steve looks down to check the price on the meter “A buck twenty-five” 

“Aha, here you go” you pull the dollar bill and coins out of your purse and hand it to steve. 

Your fingers brushing up against his made you both dizzy. Instead of either of you acknowledging the feeling Steve turned away to put the money in the meter and you finish putting on your suncream and decide it would definitely be safer to ask Robin to do your back because having Steve rub his hands all over your back could be something you never recover from.

As Steve looked around it became apparent that every family in Indiana had had the same idea to visit the lake, hell it looked like every family in the goddamn midwest was currently lying out on their beach towels taking advantage of the sunshine.   

“Looks like we have some competition” Eddie said as he sauntered up beside Steve and slung his arm around his shoulders.

Steve looked at Eddie alarmed, not having realised the boy was talking about space on the beach for them to sit and not competition for your attention. Steve wasn't sure why his mind had jumped straight to you, but it was becoming a common occurrence. 

He saw Nancy and the rest of the group walking toward them as him and Eddie finished pulling all the bags out the trunk. Steve set yours, Robins and his stuff aside from him to carry and called the other two over to get their stuff.

“Jesus we have a lot of shit” Eddie murmured to nobody in particular.

You and Robin were crouched down trying to get all the nerds out of Steve's car as Robin lectured Dustin about having food fights in an enclosed space. You noticed that Steve had slung your bag over his shoulder and so you walked up beside him to knock against his arm as a thank you, the two of you were good at that, communicating without words. Steve always knew what you were thinking, well most of the time he did, you hoped against hope that he had not clued in on your very obvious, very embarrassing crush on him.

“Okay, are we all ready ?” Nancy asked as she effortlessly took on the leader role which she claimed to hate doing but refused to relinquish as no one else met her standards. Steve would argue he could do it as he led a group of preteens through the demodog tunnels with no fatalities but she'd probably argue that letting them go into the tunnels in the first place was incredibly idiotic. 

It took them a good twenty minutes to find a patch of sand that wasn't covered by sun burnt middle aged women or children digging holes. 

You and robin walked arm in arm mostly to stop robin falling due to her perpetual clumsiness. Steve, Eddie and Jonathan were given the heavy stuff, normally you would argue how it was inherently sexist to give the men the heavy things but it was hot out and carrying like a bajillion bags would only make it worse so you decide to cut your losses. The teens all walk in a group behind you, all complaining about the long walk and the sand and how they want to go swimming now and how their bags are heavy. Nancy looks fed up with them already and you can't blame her.

Finally you spot somewhere to set up.

“How about over there?” you asked as you pointed at a relatively shady but most importantly empty space on the beach.

“Oh thank god. I think my arms are about to drop off” Eddie said as he made his way over carrying the cooler with him. 

You paid no attention to Eddie's dramatics as you were admiring a now shirtless Steve. The scattering of moles on his back paired with how his muscles were flexed due to him carrying about 5 peoples bags was mouthwatering. You would have stood there ogling all day had Jonathan not nudged you whilst giving you a knowing smirk. You gave him a shy smile and vowed to blame the heat if anyone asked why your face had gone red whilst running to catch up with the group. 

Once all the blankets were laid and Robin had coerced you into rubbing a thick layer of suncream on her back due to her aptitude for burning you could finally take your shirt off to cool down revealing your bikini underneath. Had you been paying attention you would've seen Steve watching you intently with a slight blush across his face which he, like you, would swear was sunburn. You then would have seen Eddie catch Steves staring and wiggle his eyebrows at him wittingly which caused Steve to have no choice but to throw a handful of sand at him. 

“my HAIR. What the fuck Steve” Eddie gasped as he tried to shake the sand out.

Max and El screamed as Eddie's head shaking covered them with sand.

“Stop, Eddie stop that's not doing anything” you giggled as you reached your hands into his hair to brush out any remaining sand.

“See Steven this is true friendship, right here” he said as he gestured to you.

Steve's jealousy had reached an all time high. He thought seeking his revenge against Eddie would make him feel better however it had backfired ridiculously and though he knew it wasn't Eddie's fault and he had no way of knowing Steve liked you that didn’t mean Steve wanted to strangle him any less. Okay maybe that's a bit dramatic, Eddie was still his friend and all he just wished you were running your fingers through his hair not Eddies. 

“Okay I think that's all of it” you say whilst smiling at Eddie.

“Thanks, I owe ya” he says with a wink.

“If you two are done flirting, can we go swim now ?” Mike mocks.

You blush even harder and Eddie squawks, “I feel sorry for El if you think that was flirting”.

Mike rolls his eyes as Max joins in with taunting him.

“Okay okay, I want all of you to be wearing suncream, to stay near where we are and not to go too deep. Got it?” Nancy gives them all a good long stare as they murmur their agreements. 

Nancy nods her head and they take it as a sign to go. All of them tripping over one another, desperate to swim. Nearly all of them made it to the water without face planting in the sand.

Once all the teens had gone into the water, without missing a beat, robin pulled the cooler in closer. 

“Okay, who wants what? '' she asks while digging around inside “there's beer, cherry ice cream, soda if you’re boring and more beer” she says with a hinting glint in her eye.

“Oh so this is what teachers mean when they talk about peer pressure” you taunt with a grin.

“No no, no pressure at alllll” she says with little to no sincerity.

“Well some of us have to drive you all back” Nancy adds whilst gesturing to herself and Steve.

“Go on Nance you have one. I can drive on the way back” Jonathan offers. 

“No, i-” She considers it for a moment before huffing out a breath. “no it's fine. Someone needs to watch those lot” she says as she nods toward the water where Lucas, Will , Mike and Dustin were trying (and failing) to make a human ladder whilst Max and El played mermaids.

“Nance believe it or not, most of us are somewhat competent” Steve says whilst side eyeing Eddie. 

Eddie looks thoroughly offended before smirking and replying “that's a terrible thing to say Steve I thought she was your best friend” whilst wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pretending to comfort you. 

Steve gives Eddie a sarcastic smile before replying “I meant you dickhead”

Eddie gasps loudly knowing full well Steve had meant him. 

Steve pushes Eddie away from you and drags you into his side whilst wrapping his arm around your back 

“She's the most competent out of all of us”

Now it was Nancy's turn to be offended. But before any eye poking and hair pulling started Jonathan placed a can in Nancy's hand and kissed her cheek. 

“Alright let's get this partay started !” Robin declared before downing half a can of beer then coughing when she inevitably choked. She looked back up at all your bemused faces and said “what? we’re on vacation, live a little you guys” 

“Yeah, yeah come on guys” Eddie agrees as he reaches for his can of beer, downs the whole can and scrunches the metal in his hand then throws the can back into the cooler and finishes with a loud whoop. You and Steve share an amused look and Nancy looks a little frightened.

“I think i'll just stick to sipping” she retorts 

Robin and Eddie start booing until Jonathan throws Eddie's crumpled up can at them. 

You're still glued to Steve's side and would be quite content to stay there for the rest of the afternoon, if not eternity. He reaches into the cooler and grabs a can of beer and a can of soda before opening the beer and handing it to you. You thank him with, in his opinion, a glowing smile which he would like to believe is reserved especially for him. 

The conversation moves on and with the more you drink the more your mind seems to wonder. The afternoon passes by as you're deep in thought, passively adding to the conversation when you feel like it. The teens appear and then disappear sporadically as the hours pass, even Eddie and Jonathan were persuaded to get into the water. As the sun begins to set your mind settles on how warm Steve feels next to you, how nice his hand feels on your waist and how despite the sweltering heat you have no desire to move away from him. He looks over to check on you, smiling as he meets your eye.

“You good?” he asks quietly, his face mere inches from yours.

Before you can reply you feel a hand wrap around your wrist and your body is ripped from steves as you're hauled to your feet by a now very tipsy Robin.

You mourn the comfort and warmth you just lost and look at Steve apologetically. Robin pays no mind and drags you into the open space next to where you’re all sat.

“Dance with meee” her words are slurred and you can't help but think about the killer headache to poor girl will wake up with tomorrow.

“Robs we have no music” you giggle as you place your hands on her arms, half to ‘dance’ with her and half to keep her upright. 

“That never stopped anyone”

You don't quite agree with her statement but go along with it anyway grabbing her hands and jumping in circles with her in the sand. You make sure not to push it as her being sick is the last thing anyone wants. You twist and turn, stumbling in the sand and catching robin numerous times due to her incoordination being heightened by the alcohol.  She spins you in a circle and you feel the effects on the beer you've been sipping, you feel a haze of contentment wash over you as you continue to sway in the setting sun with a look of bliss on your face and Robin goes to find her next victim. 

Steve watches the entire ordeal and thinks that you've never looked more beautiful. Even with a small glob of suncream on your shoulder that you missed when rubbing it in and a sheen of sweat covering your skin, you shine. If he could look at you like this forever he'd be more than content. He damns himself for not bringing a camera but he supposes it wouldn't be able to capture the dazzle in your eye or the sway of your hips. You break from your dancing for a second to turn to Steve and give him the widest most shining smile he'd ever seen, he waved back at you and you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to dancing as Steve chuckled softly to himself.

“We’re just friends y’know” Eddie's voice pulled Steve from his thoughts as he turned to look at the boy next to him. “I just- look I know you like her and all and I don't want any” Eddie pauses to think of the right thing to say  “...hostility between us. She's great, really great but were just friends”

“What Eddie, I don't-” he laughs awkwardly while scratching the back of his neck “I have no idea what you're talking about.” 

“Steve” 

Eddie meets Steve's eyes with a sad look on his face.

“The way you look at her, the way you were just looking at her. You'd be blind not to notice it”

“Notice what ?” Steve asks in a small voice, already knowing the answer.

“Love”

Steve looks back to where Nancy, you and Robin were all dancing and laughing in the sunset and thinks that maybe the throat tightening, cheek blushing, knee wobbling, soul crushing feeling that only your presence seemed to elicit, was something he couldn't bear to live without. It's like you had reached into his chest and carved your name onto his heart to command it to beat only for you, and the pain it had caused him was glorious. He decided then and there that keeping you by his side was his number one priority, no matter if that meant keeping his feelings to himself as long as you were around he would be okay.

[gayandfairycore]

But it’s better if you do

Summary: Being Jennifer checks human girl friend and being best friends with needy, instead of Jennifer finding needy when she freshly turns she finds you. You struggle to find the right time to confess your love for the demon girl, when People of devils kettle go missing you can’t bring yourself to care when the succubus’s lips are on yours.

Warnings: reader doesn’t really care about anyone but Jennifer, homoerotic gay friendships are my fav, Jennifer killing and eating boys normal succubus things, arson, a complicated relationship with Jennifer where she kisses reader w/o consent, stalking, breaking and entering, probably more but I’m not sure!

A/n: I love Jennifer check so much I’m only like 80% proud of this fic but man Jennifer is so hot & what else could I do aside from using a patd song!

✧༺༻∞

Melody lane, a shitty little jukebox club in the middle of devils kettle usually filled with drunk old men, crusty teenagers, and Jennifer’s flings.

But occasionally they had a half decent band playing. And okay alcohol when Jennifer actually managed to convince the bartender. the only way you’d ever hear any of them was when Jennifer managed to drag yourself and needy along with her to the club to watch as she seduced either a new fling, or an old one.

You never minded Jennifer dragging you to places, you liked the company, I fact youd jump when the girl invited you to one of hers and needys sleepovers, it was usually filled with sinful thoughts, movies you’d rented, and shroud gossip about your drab peers. To you Jennifer and needys were the most interesting people in devils kettle.

But there was something especially, special about Jennifer. from her sensual smile, to the way she’d bite her lip when you were near, the the taste of her lip gloss, and the nights her lips were on yours. You’d deal with the disappointment of going back to friends the next morning as long as you got to feel the girls cold hands on your body.

she was addictive. so addictive, you’d stay in a constant loop of the girls lips on yours as you shared a bed with each other, her touch delicate and light over the skin of your chest. It was the only time her words were ever gentle and not piercing alone with you was the only time she’d let her guard down.

But you loved her in public too, when she was mean and cold. you didn’t mind when she was mean to you, infact you liked her meanness, her spirit, her beauty, her love for fun, her piping hot gossip. You liked Jennifer not just for her banging body but for her soul.

The way her hands would rest on top of yours underneath the table in geography, the way her perfect nails would scratch against your back on your sleepovers.

You loved Jennifer, like you loved breathing.

the night melody lane burned down and the freaks from that band wanted a virgin and some how hypnotised Jennifer to join them in their creepy van needy had to hold you back from chasing after the girl, but from the sound of people’s bones breaking and the smell of their skin burning off when you three were briefly trapped in the club it left you in the wrong headspace. It left you unable to think straight.

the only thing repeating in your head over and over, “where’s jen? Why did I let her go with them? I should have done more.” Over and over again

But from the burning bodies, needys quiet sobs, and watching as your best friend get in a van with freaks all you wanted to do was go home, sit on your bed, and cry. Your ride home in Jennifer’s sea-bring left you itchy and uncomfortable. it felt wrong to sit in Jennifer’s car without her. But still you sat there with the aircon blasting because you couldn’t handle the heat You still felt the residual burn from the fire.

It felt wrong to be safe in a car with needy When Jennifer was probably suffering in the hands of emo guys from a shitty band out of state that decided to lay their seedy sights on devils kettle and take your best friend from you. It felt like one big cruel joke.

“Are you gonna be okay without me?” Needy asked resting her hands on the steering wheel pushing her glasses up against her face. Snapping you out of your thoughts

“Yeah yeah… I’ll be okay will you?” You asked your arms tightly wrapped around yourself the chill of the night air against your uncovered arms was welcomed.

The nerdy girl observed your face, not quite believing you’d be okay by the far off look in your eyes she wasn’t even sure she knew where you were. She was wrong. you knew exactly where you were but your head was out of it. Part of you still left with Jennifer in the van Still fighting needys grip still being held back in needys hold as you watched the girl you love be carted away with strange men.

“Yeah I’ve got chip.” Needy smiled awkwardly your voices quiet in the silence the small car light basking you two in warm orange. Watching eachother in awkward in silence, you were just grateful for your lives. And you’d talk about the effects of this eventually, but not tonight.

“Drive safe needy.” You smiled hand squeezing her shoulder tightly before unbuckling and getting out of the car. The walk to your door had been quick the buzzing silence and the illumination from the street lights left an eerie feeling to chill your bones. Or maybe it was the chill of the night air cooling your burning skin.

slotting your key into the hole and sliding the door open you’re met with your home drenched in darkness. The usual warmth and safety of your house felt unnerving.

The warm yellow lights from your ceiling and the sounds of the tv that sounded like childhood was gone only filled with aching silence. It was like even your home reflected your mood.

The only light was what came from your porch and needys headlights as she left down your street.

you wandered to the kitchen in the dead of night, the familiar creak of the floorboards and the buzz of your fridge calmed your racing thoughts, the only light source from the beeping green timer on the oven that stayed on no matter what you did. This was good.

This meant you were safe. You were home.

As you Pulled out a glass cup and filling it up with sink water, resting against the counter you downed your glass quickly the smooth liquid cooled the dryness in the back of your throat, the smoke from the fire coated your throat and making swallowing difficult.

You felt so sick, climbing the stairs to your bedroom and collapsing on your bed you flick your dated lamp on the warm light illuminating your room you finally let the tension from your body the sound of a creak made you crack your eyes open straining your ears to hear anything else after a few minutes of silence

it was probably nothing climbing under the plush comfy blankets of your bed you felt like a little kid again. safe under the blankets tucked in where nothing could touch you.

Despite your blanket force field you didn’t dare turn off the lights. You keep them on and let them light the room.

You were always terrified of the dark. The only darkness you liked was the back of your eyelids

So you shut your eyes tightly and tried to ignore the horrible stench of smoke littering your clothes and staining your sheets. It would be your mother’s problem in the morning.

✧༺༻∞

When you cracked your eyes open again you were met with the sight of your light turned off and your room shrouded in darkness, Odd.

The world outside your window was also silent no crickets, no cars, just nothing.

Sitting up on your bed your blanket clutched to your chest you strained your eyes to look through the darkness, to adjust to the dimly lit room as you blindly reached your hand for the lamp switch turning it on despite the click you’re only met with darkness.

So you tried again,

Click

Still darkness?

“Fuck sake” you muttered the age of the lamp clearly took its toll and of course it chose today of all days to die.

Pulling the cord to you you’re met with a jagged edge, not the plug pulled out from the Power Point under your bed. But a cord that’s been cut the edges fraying dangerously.

Panic swirls in your chest any semblance of tiredness in you disipates as you observe your room, straining your eyes demanding them to focus. Your heart racing you can’t help but imagine a horrid monster under your bed that’s going to grab your ankle the moment you hop down.

Letting out a quiet whimper at the thought you push yourself against the headboard you’re met with two options: brave getting off the bed, and making a run for the light switch Or…Jumping out the window from the second floor, and splat on the veranda. no.

You’ve got one option,

You’d have to brave the darkness.

Taking a shaky breath you push yourself from the safety of your bed you become alarmingly aware of every step, every sound, every creak. You can hear your breaths in the silent room but something in the back of your mind swears you heard the breathing of something that wasn’t you.

you wonder if you’re being pranked, “ok needy, chip. Not funny!” You call shakily into the darkness.

but when a hand grips your foot and tugs you hard to the floor, you slam painfully against the wood Groaning at the impact it only takes you a minute before your mind is clear again.

And you realise there’s some monster under the bed that tugged you to the floor. And their hands still holding your foot. you scream and tug your leg from their hold with force but still your eyes don’t adjust to the darkness and your scrambling to get back up but the monster doesn’t let you tugging you again to the floor. their hand grips your upper calf leaving a wet, sticky hand print.

What the fuck.

You feel their body crawl over you their cold hand trails your body with force but

Before you can scream again hand is covering your mouth tears well in your eyes at the feeling all the worst scenarios come to mind as you lay there frozen in fear, tears well in your eyes spilling down your cheeks.

“P-please” you whimper in its hold and the monster laughs. It laughs. Or what you think is a laugh it sounds like a horrible gurgle but it must be amused by the way the pressure holding you down lets up only slightly.

Just as quick as the laugh came it’s gone replaced with silence and a monster straddling your hips it feels human.

And in away that makes it worse. When the monsters hands trail your body from your hips to your chest where they settle over the little silver bff locket Jennifer gave you, it brings its wet slimy lips to your cheeks and its tongue slips from its mouth and you come to realise it’s licking your tears from your cheeks. It’s hold lightens immensely as it places a light kiss over your lips and you cry harder unable to see what this thing is, before its pulling back and it’s stopped straddling your waist instead it sits with its hands on the floor and its knees to it’s shoulders.

In the dim moonlight you catch a glimpse of black hair, and a sickly smile

“Are you afraid of me?” It asks with a voice like Jennifer’s and you swallow the bile in your throat

“Yes.” You hoarsely whimper, you’re left with a horrible realisation the lips that just kissed you feel the same as when Jennifer does. Before you can confront this thing masquerading as Jennifer it replies.

“good” just when you think you’re safe the creature skitters back to toward you, you finally see what this creature is, the light a passing car that shines into your window gives you enough time to see the creature and you’re right.

it’s Jennifer, just Jennifer she doesn’t look like some permanently deformed monster she still looks beautiful despite Her face covered in mascara streaks and an inky black substance that littered her pale skin and what looks to be blood on her shirt jennifer smiles and she crawls towards you her hands trailing your chest to her necklace. And she leans near you her lips hovering over the shell of your ear and she places a kiss And it doesn’t feel like it did when you and Jennifer sleepover, or the way she leans towards you to whisper something in your ear at school this is intimate.

But this leaves you questioning If she was Jen why did she go so far to tug you to the floor? Why Did she hold you down? Why did cut your lamp? You had so many questions and by the way the girl observed you it unnerved you, it made it abundantly clear you weren’t getting any answers tonight but still you couldn’t help yourself.

“Jennifer?”you say through tears finally sitting up “Jen…what happened?” You ask tearfully she’s crouching on the balls of her feet her her arms holding her ankles and it’s impulsive but you can’t stop yourself you reach out to touch her cold cheek with a shaky hand.

“Why were you under my bed? What are you covered in?”Your hands still hold the girls face before venturing to her shoulders and you pull her to stand up with you and to your surprise she does it. she watches you with a familiar glint in her eyes and you can see she wasn’t some bogey man. Just Jennifer. covered in what you assume is blood, and an odd black substance, but she was still Jennifer.

“What did they do to you?” You whisper before you can stop yourself, tell yourself that is was just shock. Like shock did this kind of thing to people. You couldn’t trick yourself with lies something happened.

It would do no good to question the girl about it just yet, so you Lead her to your kitchen you filled up a glass of water for the girl and watched as she downed the entire thing before going through your fridge, tugging through all of your food, finding nothing of value.

She turned back to you and she watched you hungrily like she wanted to consume your soul like you were prey and she was predator, like a lion and an antelope on a nature documentary. It made your skin prickle.

“Jennifer? What’s going on?” You pleaded your eyes watching her every move, Jennifer stalks up to you with speed that makes you back track into the counter, and her body entraps you against the counter and her lips ghost yours before she pulls away and you fight the urge to chase her lips you watch as she dashes out the back door, the slam of a screen is the only thing that even told you you were not crazy That and the black goop drying to your body.

✧༺༻∞

The next morning you arrive late to school having missed first period, staying awake into the long hours of the morning too afraid to sleep. from the fire, to your odd encounter with Jennifer it left you shaking, sitting for hours in an extra hot shower trying to pull yourself together although the heat seemed to make your skin prickle and the fire in melody lane burn brighter in your mind. You needing to feel clean, you needed to shower off the grime, and the incident with Jennifer.

Maybe it was The mild case of smoke inhalation in your lungs that made you hallucinate last night but the black goo on your body made you question that theory.

when you finally arrived to your first class of the day you sat beside needy and the girl looked as traumatised as you felt and you don’t have to ask to know she’s had a night similar to yours.

“Hey” you greet and the girl greets a quiet “hi y/n” back but you don’t pay much mind not when you’re teacher begins to talk about the fire and the people who died who went to school with you.

At the mere mention of melody lane needy and yourself share a look with eachother a sense of guilt and dread that you three survived. It wasn’t dread over the fact you survived, you all were happy to be alive but you felt somewhat responsible for the fire despite not even setting it.

Why did three girls who are the most unlikely group of friends survive? Why not everyone else? Were they not equally important? What if one of them were going to cure cancer. Why did you live you weren’t going to cure cancer.

When the door to the classroom swing open and Jennifer walks in looking as perfect as ever, you can’t help but think the girl looks absolutely stunning (like always) your cheeks prickling with the feeling of her hand caressing them last night and you fight the urge to chase the imaginary feeling. Making sure you don’t raise your hand to your cheek over the feeling.

Instead you shake your shoulders like it’ll put your back in the present. It works. But you can’t shake the feeling of your hairs that stand up on the back of your neck as Jen pulls up a seat beside you and her warmth heats your side and her addictive perfume wafts around you, and you can tell she’s watching you with the same look as she always does. A sensual look thats different than the looks she gives her flings, it’s a look that makes you feel like you can’t breathe.

She slathers lip gloss over her plush pink lips as needy attempts to talk sense into Jennifer, you didn’t even realise she was talking. Only catching the final bit of her conversation

“Anyone we know?” You hear Jennifer ask like she doesn’t really care, but there’s a twinge of annoyance in her voice.

“We know everyone…” needy says her eyes watching Jennifer like she’s foreign. And you watch the desk like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

You don’t pay much attention when Jennifer talks about how amazing she feels and how she doesn’t care about the fire. It shocks you truthfully because told but you don’t have the energy to pay attention to anything but the guilt when Craig’s friend, Jonas, starts crying in the middle of class.

You look down at your lap playing with your fingers as Jennifer talks to both yourself and needy you catch sight of needys hands. her nail beds caked with the same inky black substance that assaulted your body and for the first time since Jennifer walked in you look her in her eyes with a sort of horrified intrigue, it wasnt a dream that you conjured up in your fucked up mind. when your eyes flicker to needy something passes between you both. A shared Understanding.

✧༺༻∞

You spent the first day back at school in a weird headspace like your drifting through the hall’s hollow. Like your energy’s stagnant, like a ghost. It’s like you died in that fire.

It’s like you’re not actually here anymore you walk the halls seeing but not observing. Clutching your book to your chest as you walked the halls with needy the sounds of sobbing filled the halls, friends embracing friends it made the scene even more intense.

You were counting every minute down until the end of the day until you could go home watch some tv and stare into space, you stood beside needy looking through your locker as needy told chip about what she witnessed with Jennifer. You couldn’t help but pay attention to her story despite your hands searching for your school book.

“It was like evil…” needy shook her head unable to come up with words to describe it, chip watched the girl with something akin to awkward concern? Although chip was always awkward.

“I think you need to see the school shrink. I love you needy but that’s a little…crazy?” Chip shrugged defiantly before placing a kiss to needys cheek and walking to class.

“Well, I believe you needy. Something happened to me too last night she cut the cord to my lamp and she was under my bed…she pulled me to the floor- Somethings wrong.” Your voice shakes as you lowered it to a whisper confiding in needy with a nod of the blond girls head

“We need more information” needy spoke pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose

✧༺༻∞

When needy called you that night that Jonas had apparently been murdered and eaten it felt like time stilled, What curse was plaguing devils kettle stealing away its people it was odd. It was like melody lane was the one thing that caused a chain of events.

It was no time before news broke again there was another murder.

then another,

then finally Colin gray died after Jennifer agreed to go out with him.

Each murder had the same mo, a cannibal killing. murdering only boys. it was poetic As it was confusing, now you didn’t particularly care for any of these boys why would you? Who needed boys when you had Jennifer and needy? but you would admit to be eaten alive, left in a half finished houses, nothing but carnage with their pants down, rosary clutched in their bloody hands. It was pretty disgusting.

You empathised for these guys but truthfully you didn’t care, not one bit. The only people you cared for was needy and Jennifer and Jennifer had been glowing recently despite the murders, the girl waltzed around not a care in the world, she was living her best life. until she wasn’t.

Then there’d be another murder.

and then Jennifer would look beautiful again (not like she ever stopped but she’d look inhumanly beautiful.) And then shortly after she’d find another boy to toy with at school and in her fling with that boy she’d spend her nights in your bed, her soft fingers playing with your hair as you rested on her knees listening to the latest fall out boy cd And her strawberry lipgloss would leave a sheen on your lips that you’d be tasting for hours after.

And a scent on your tshirts that had you sniffing them for weeks, Then she’d disappear from your hold again. for weeks, she’d leave the sheets cold and her absence ever growing.

And you lay in your bed re-listening to fall out boy, and smelling her perfume on your tshirt to quench the Jennifer shaped hole in your life.

And she’d stop glowing, and she’d look tired, at school hair lifeless compared to its previous glowy form only a week ago.

And it began to make you wonder if maybe it was something more than just pms. It solidified your theory that something darker happened to Jennifer the day melody lane burned to the ground.

Maybe it changed Jennifer so much it made Jennifer kill these boys, you didn’t forget that night at your house where she looked inhuman. where she tugged you to the floor and her lips pressed against yours with force. like she’d have you right then and there like you’d be her last meal.

You had to confront her, Something was wrong with Jennifer check.

✧༺༻∞

It was a normal school day, nothing particularly special happened the morning your house empty by the time you woke up, the heater of your car blowing the same warm air against your cheeks as it always did, then you’d be at school the lively chatter of your fellow students excitement over the upcoming school dance was the only thing buzzing through the hallways

The various murders had become old news, by the time Colin grey died it was no longer of interest to be focused on the maneater “tormenting” devils kettle.

Just as quickly as the chatter came it left, and in its wake left nothing but a trail of murders behind and the horribly popular song released by low shoulder that seemingly took everyone in devils kettle by storm.

You couldn’t give a shit about the murders, these guys never cared about anyone but themselves, plus who needed boys they were useless anyway.

You’re infatuation with Jennifer grew but By this point in time you began to decipher by the help of needy, that Jennifer was a succubus. The blonde had been horrified to learn her friend had been killing these boys. That Jennifer virtually died the night the band shut the van door. Leaving Jennifer trapped with them.

The realisation that you indirectly killed the girl made you want to throw up, you’d never dream of harming the girl so learning you kinda sealed her fate left you wallowing.

The school library was chilly its plastic blue chairs and sad grey carpet left you rolling your eyes. The plain white desks and rows and rows of books left you and needy hidden from prying eyes

Shutting the occult book needy and your self discovered in the library both your hands shook with the realisation your friend was infact a demon, both needy and yourself shared a mildly horrified look and in no time the both of you departed the library the blonde to chip. And you to Jennifer.

✧༺༻∞

Rushing through the halls of devils kettle highschool you didn’t care to observe the faces of your peers opting to instead hurry through the halls to the change rooms Jennifer would have been only now finishing getting changed back from her flag girl practice and she’d always stay later for a long shower, so the room would be pretty much deserted. Perfect.

Flinging open the door to the change rooms you’re met with Jennifer tying her shoes on a small wooden bench the black haired girl lifts her head as you enter the room her usual bored expression plastered on her face her lips perfectly glossy and her eyes watched you with a sense of unnerving pleasure.

Like she enjoyed reading you to see when you’d figure her out.

“I know what you are” you tried to hide the shake in your voice when you spoke closing the change room door and stepping towards her. cringing inwardly at how blunt you seemed you refused to let the facade of fearlessness die so easily so you watched as Jennifer’s perfect lips tipped upward as the revelation

“Do you?” She dragged tucking hair behind her ear and standing up to stalk towards you bumped into the door as you stepped back you stopped the shuddering breath from leaving you when you felt her body creep in front of you her wicked eyes watched you.

“You’re a succubus. You’re the one killing the boys.”

“Boys are just placeholders, they come and they go.” The girl sneered her glossed lips bright as she watched you.

Steeling yourself beneath her gaze you took a breath filling your lungs with humid changeroom air;

“do you deny it?”

Your voice was strong as you stood your eyes boring into eachother you knew your icy tongue wouldnt do the girl any real harm, she’d had her fill she was immortal. Regenerative.

When you were met with silence Jennifer’s cold gaze calculating whether she should confess or kill you now. But the brave look in your eyes and the familiar feeling of your lips on hers she’d grown far too fond of you.

“Do. you. deny. it.” There was no doubt in you, now you were sure, Jennifer was a succubus you just needed her to confess to ensure you were not insane. Staring the girl in the eyes you hardened your gaze and you waited on baited breath for which of you would crack first.

This time,

it was Jennifer.

breaking eye contact she turned her gaze to the ground sighing. “Yes I’m a succubus god.” The girl groaned bored

“how did it happen?” You felt the flood gates open it had been involuntary for your concern to slip out through your cold facade

“The band freaks like totally sacrificed me, when I got into their creepy van it was like the fog on my mind cleared and I realised the trouble I was in, they took me to the falls and I tried to run but they caught me and…” the girl dragged the last bit out before plopping herself down on the bench sitting crisscrossed you sat next to the girl you felt tears well in your eyes.

Jennifer was murdered by the band freaks, and you didn’t try harder to stop her from entering that van, She died because of you.

You felt a lump rise in your throat, “they sacrificed you” you nodded and it felt like you were going to implode looking at your best friend and imagining her bloodied corpse all alone at the falls.

“Mhm, When they caught me they gagged me, and then sacrificed me to Satan- how fucking lame is that!” Jennifer rolled her eyes yet there was a hint of pain shining in her eyes maybe Jen wasn’t completely gone.

“And well after everything happened I managed to find my way to you… I was so hungry but I couldn’t bring myself to kill you, I like you too much.” Despite her bored tone her fingers fiddled in her lap she was nervous to confess this.

“Jennifer” your eyes shone as you watched the girl this was the closest you’d get to Jennifer telling you she loved you, atleast right now. But you understood what the raven haired girl was telling you, and it was like everything she’s done up to this point didn’t matter to you.

“Jen. I don’t care that you have to kill and eat boys, i don’t care that you’re like a demon now? I don’t care about any of it.” You shook your hands as you spoke with volition any confliction you held washed away.

“Jennifer I have loved you since we were kids. you were always my girl. Fuck those guys! The boys you’ve eaten, the band freaks, every pathetic morsel in devils kettle! fuck all of them! I want you, Demon and all.” You exclaimed your warm hands enclosing her cold ones your eyes booring into hers, the shiny sheen of lipgloss on her pink lips made you want to kiss her

It had been months since the fire, months since the girl had caressed your body like she was starving. Like your soft skin bled life itself into her undead heart.

You couldn’t wait any longer, you only had now.

“Can I kiss you?” Your hands hovered over the girls cool cheeks as you asked in a whisper, Jennifer didn’t respond instead the girl shot forward catching your lips into a kiss her lipgloss sticking to your lips as Jennifer had her way with you the girl certainly was a great kisser finally snapping out of your stupor, you kissed her back feverishly.

Both lips fitting together like pieces to a puzzle you hope to never pull back from her lips again. You’d put all of your fears behind you even if it was just for now.

[jayaury]

Marked for Love

Another short story from the archive. Plenty more on you know where! https://www.patreon.com/JayAury

Oh, this was not good. Not good at all.

Cynthia Spellman bit her lower lip as she looked in the cracked mirror, her robe hiked up, baring her slim stomach, her lacy panties and, more importantly, the red mark like an elaborate heart tattooed on her mons. Throbbing.

Pulsing.

Beating with an insidious heat that wormed its way through her and to her core.

She groaned aloud. Ohhhh dammit. Dammit dammit dammit! She knew they should have recruited a priest into the party when delving into the Demon’s Dungeon. If only she’d been able to torch that imp to ash before the bitch got off that spell. Because Cynthia knew the curse mark she was looking at. Any mage would.

A breeding rune.

She swore again. An insidious mark, and one with only a 2% chance of landing. Honestly, she hadn’t thought any demons would be stupid enough to cast it. But that imp had looked awfully pleased with herself, right before Cynthia blasted the little harlot back to the pit that spawned her.

But the damage had been done.

And she was stuck with it.

Cynthia chewed on her lip worriedly. What she needed to do was get it dispelled, asap. Because a breeding rune was one of the more sinister magics. It enchanted a woman to desire a man to cum in her by any means. To be filled with seed and quicken with child. Which was bad enough, but the real danger was the longer she held out, the more the curse would change her in order to get what she needed. Corrupting her body and soul until she was just a demonic trollop begging for a good dicking. Not a problem if she got the curse banished. But if she ended up giving in, she’d be locked into whatever state she was in when she finally got that much needed fucking.

And how in the hells was she supposed to explain that?

A knock sounded at the door. “Cynthia? You okay?”

Cynthia squeaked, dropping her skirt hastily. “F-fine Roland!” she called. “Just fine! Just… just making sure this new hood fits! That’s all.”

“Alright. But be careful. We’re not out of this dungeon yet.”

Gods, and didn’t she know it. She felt again a flush. They’d delved pretty deep into the dungeon today, and the way out was quite far. But she felt sure she could manage it. The curse would take time to take effect. Honestly, she could last a few hours without jumping Roland’s bones. Fine bones that they were. Making the knight so big and strong and tanky. Always ready to take a hit for her. Let her do her stuff. So protective and sweet and…

She felt the heat within her stir and grow and she quickly shook her head. Get it together, girl! All she had to do was last a few hours and she could get out of the dungeon and head straight to the nearest temple to get the curse removed. For brief moment she considered telling Roland, but instantly dismissed the idea. The thought of admitting such an embarrassing thing appalled her. She couldn’t tell him she’d done something as silly as getting cursed by some low-level imp. Not to mention he’d ask to see it. Ask if he could do anything for her, because he was such a good man. A kind man. A sweet, lovable, hunk of man who would be such a gentle lover and…

She groaned and slapped her cheeks again. Focus, girl. Focus! Turning on her heel, she marched to the door and opened it abruptly.

Roland waited on the other side, and just the sight of his handsome, worried face almost melted her legs out from under her with a sudden needy heat that shot from her core. Blonde hair curled about his face. A broad build confined by his heavy armour, a large shield and sword sheathed on his back, and an expression of genuine concern, he was what every mage dreamed their tank would be.

“Did you try on the hood?” he asked.

“Hm? Hood? O-oh! Yes. Mhmm. Yes, absolutely. It ah, it didn’t boost my stats quite as much as I’d hoped. Haha!”

“That’s a shame,” he said, his eyes wandering down to her chest. “But uh, why are you leaving your robe a bit open like that?”

Cynthia looked down in surprise, realizing her collar was a bit undone, revealing a hint of her bust. “Oh, yes, that. Just… been feeling a bit hot in here. Thought I might get more air circulating. Cool myself a bit. Not a big deal.”

“If you say so,” Roland said, though she couldn’t help but notice that his eyes lingered on the teasing hint of her breasts. A sensation of amused triumph thrilled through her, but she quickly tamped it down.

“Let’s get going!” she declared, quickly passing him. “Gotta get above ground soon. Can’t delay!”

“Oh, yes. Um, right. Of course,” she heard Roland say, then the reassuring clank of his armour as he followed her. Cynthia breathed a sigh of relief, focusing on the present and what she needed to do. Just keep moving. Just keep going.

And try to ignore how comfortable it felt to put a bit of wiggle into her walk.

#

Gods, why was it so hot!

Cynthia groaned as she sat on a rock, feeling the heat like her clothes were stuffed with burning coals. With every step she’d been feeling the curse mark pulse on her mons, threading more of its feverish warmth through her. Roland had gone to scout ahead for a bit, giving her a blessed opportunity to take a break. Gods, but she just needed a bit of relief. Just a little bit to get further.

She hesitated, reaching for the enchanted bell on the collar of her robe. She knew she shouldn’t adjust her clothes. But if she did nothing, she’d pass out from heatstroke before reaching the surface. And if she did, then Roland would surely check on her. Maybe undress her. Then he’d see that mark and think she was a dumb bimbo and… and…

She grimaced and tightened her lips. Reluctantly, she touched the bell on her collar, gripped it, and willed a bit of relief.

Almost at once the fabric around her chest loosened, stretching and exposing more of her cleavage. She sighed with satisfaction, sagging a bit. Gods, that was so much better! But she still felt warm. Blushing a bit, she willed the sides of her robe to open, creating long slits that left only a strap of cloth covering her mons and ass. Somewhat scandalous, true, but there was no denying it was far more comfortable.

And… dare she say, cute?

She looked down at her chest and a worried frown marred her face. Was it just her, or was she… bigger? She cupped her chest, and had to bite her lip to suppress a sudden moan from escaping her. Oh… oh gosh, that… that felt good. So… so sensitive.

In fact, it was kind of hard to stop.

Stop feeling her big, soft chest. Giving it a bounce. A squeeze. Ohhhh, that felt gooood. She squirmed, legs rubbing together. But… but what would feel even better would be getting a big, studly, strong man to fill his loving hands with her big breasts. A man like…

”Roland,” she breathed.

“C-Cynthia?”

She squeaked, snatching her hands back and looking up in shock to find the knight standing at the end of the tunnel, staring at her in amazement.

“Roland!” Cynthia exclaimed, bounding quickly to her feet, and as she did, she caught his eyes riveting to her chest as her breasts bounced in her top. A feeling of satisfaction filled her, but she dutifully ignored it. “What um, what did you find?” she asked.

Roland seemed to shake himself, blinking as he looked back up at her. “Find? Oh, yes. It seems clear ahead. Looks like the ah, monsters haven’t respawned yet.”

“Wonderful!” Cynthia said, snatching up her staff. “Then we should get going, shouldn’t we?”

“Er, yes. We should. But uh, Cynthia, your clothes. They look…”

“Oh! That,” she giggled, giving a quick twirl. “Do you like it?”

“I um…”

“Just getting a bit of cooler air. So hot down here, right?”

“It is?”

“Absolutely!” she said, smiling encouragingly. “So hot. Gets me all sweaty and warm. Just needed to, you know, get a bit of airflow going. Right? Anyway! No time to waste. Better get back on the move.”

“I… guess,” Roland said uncertainly.

“Exactly! Let’s go,” Cynthia exclaimed, bounding past him, trying to suppress the knowledge of how good it felt to have that strip of cloth swishing between her thighs. The way the silk stroked her panties and slick mound.

But she also noticed the way Roland watched her breasts bounce in her tight top as she went by.

And maybe she enjoyed that gaze a bit more than was proper…

#

Hells but her migraine was just killing her.

Cynthia groaned, rubbing her temples.

“You sure you’re okay?” Roland asked her.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Just fine. Have a little headache, that��s all.”

“Can I do anything to help?” he asked.

Bend me over this fucking rock and rail me until I’m begging you to stuff me with your fucking stud baby batter!

Through an incredible force of will, Cynthia managed to not scream that out. But she needed some relief. The heat in her was coiling its insidious tentacles all through her, and she needed SOMETHING to take the fucking pressure off.

Her eyes slid back to Roland.

“Actually,” she said slowly, rolling her shoulders with a pained expression. “I’m feeling so… stiff at the moment. And you have those wonderfully talented hands. I was thinking maybe you could give me a quick massage.”

“A massage?” he said uncertainly.

“Yeah,” she said, already warming to the idea. Well, her body was anyway. Just the thought of getting those strong hands on her made the tension coiling in her ease just a bit. “Just a bit. Help me relax.”

“Of course,” the knight said, beaming that lovable smile of his as he took off his gauntlets. Cynthia bit her lip. Gods, just the sight of that goofy smile made her want to cram his head between her thighs and ride his tongue to a dozen screaming orgasms.

But she’d take what she could get. And as he moved around and sat down behind her, she tried not to shiver at the smell of him. That sweet medley of leather and sweat and manliness.

And that was before she felt his hands on her shoulders.

“Ohhhhh,” she groaned, arching.

He paused. “You okay?”

“Better than ever,” she sighed.

“I haven’t even started.”

“Then don’t wait,” she fairly growled. “Get those strong fingers in there.”

“Sorry?”

“Just… please, start.”

She stifled a moan as his fingers began to gently knead her shoulders, soon growing more confident at the familiar motions. Cynthia exhaled heavily, her eyes drifting half-shut as she enjoyed his touch. His wonderful, gentle yet firm touch. Gods, those fingers were incredible. She could actually feel herself start to drift away, even the headache easing.

“Is that good?” Roland asked.

“Wonderful,” she breathed, sinking back against his touch. Oh gods it was so good. “Lower.”

She felt his touch slide over her shoulders. “Like that?”

“Oh yessss,” she groaned, shivering in ecstasy, her toes curling in her shoes. “Just… mnnn… like that. Maybe… maybe a bit lower.”

She felt him hesitate, then obey. She was breathing deeper. Heavier. That was good. That was nice…

“You smell good,” Roland murmured.

A smile stole across her lips at his dreamy voice. “Thank you. Perfume… perfume is new. And lower, Roland.”

“L-lower?”

“Please,” she panted, wriggling.

Again that moment of hesitation. Then his hands slid down. Slid over the gentle curves of her chest.

Oh gods yes.

A soft moan escaped her as she arched, pushing her breasts into his uncertain hands. Hands that began to grow more confident. Slow. Gentle. Pumping and squeezing her breasts in ways that made her whimper and gasp in helpless pleasure.

Oh gods.

Oh gods that was so good.

She could feel the heat that had been torturing her dull to a pleasant throb. Swelling up into her head, filling it with a hazy warmth. Her headache easing into clouds of euphoric pleasure as her hips lazily rocked.

“Just like that,” she breathed, her free hand stealing between her thighs, a jolt of delight racing through her as she touched herself, the silky strip between her legs offering no protection to her hyper-sensitive pussy. “Oh Roland…”

“So soft,” he breathed, his face nearly buried in her luxurious hair, his hands still massaging and adoring her breasts. His warm breath panting against the back of her neck.

Oh gods yes.

“Roland,” she moaned, her finger pressing against her pussy, stroking herself through her dress and panties. Higher. Higher.

“Cynthia,” she heard him gasp behind her, his hands skilled and adoring as they bounced and massaged her soft breasts. She squirmed in delight, hot pants escaping her in rushes, her ass grinding back against him, feeling the bulge in his pants.

“Roland. Roland,” she whimpered, her finger strumming herself harder. Pleasure sparking through her in bursts, the cloudiness in her head concentrating. The pressure throbbing. Feeling so good. So wonderful. So… so…

“Mnnnnnn!” she cried out, quivering as she came, her juices staining her filmy panties and the strip of her robe, her muscles tightening in shameful ecstasy, the pressure in her head releasing in a sudden burst of euphoria that washed her in a wave of bliss.

She sighed happily, leaning back against Roland, who merely moaned softly, still gently massaging her plump teats. A sensation that ached through her wonderfully. Gods but it felt good. Gods it all felt so… so fucking good…

Why hadn’t she done this before?

As that idle thought swam through her mind, she felt another urgent throb from the place above her mons. She lifted her head numbly, and felt a strange weight on her brow. Vaguely, she reached up, touching her forehead.

Feeling a pair of bumps.

Her eyes snapped open in horror. Horns. Oh fuck, she had horns! Her formerly wonderful pleasure vanished like a flash of pink steam.

“Cynthia?”

She looked down in shock at the hands on her breasts and bolted suddenly to her feat, then slapped her palm to her forehead, turning away so Roland couldn’t see her front. “Er, yes! Thank you, Roland. Wonderful job. Very um, good. I’m just gonna go, er, freshen up a bit real quick. Be right back!”

“Wha-”

Before he could object she hurried back around the corridor’s corner and covered her face with her hands. Oh gods. Oh gods, did she really do that? Did she really just get Roland to play with her fat cow tits while she masturbated on his lap?

Yes.

Yes she did.

And it had been amazing.

She felt her blush warm herself anew, even as she berated her response. Gods, the curse’s heat was already back! It was like she hadn’t even gotten a moment of relief from it. But it was fine. It was fine. She could fix this. Just… just get out of the dungeon and find a priest who could dispel the curse. Then she’d be back to normal.

Yes.

Just normal.

So normal she’d never have done anything like that. Let Roland massage her sensitive breasts. Rub her ass against his bulge as she stroked herself to one of the best orgasms she’d ever had.

Totally.

Utterly.

Normal.

Cynthia bit her lip at the thought. She… she did want to be normal again. She was pretty sure of that. No, no. She was absolutely sure of it. Even if it had felt amazing. Even if she’d relished the thrill and the sound of Roland’s voice becoming dim and hazy. As if drunk on her presence. Her beauty. Even if she now had horns which she really needed to cover up. Yes, a hood. That’s what she needed.

And… maybe let the chest out a bit more. All of Roland’s pumping had made her even bustier.

Again she touched the bell on her neck and willed the changes. She sighed in relief as a hood formed from her top, looping over her hair, while an even larger boob window opened in her robe. As she looked herself down, she frowned at a sight below. The strip of fabric between her legs now sported a very apparent stain.

“Gods dammit,” she groaned. Look at that mess. She was NOT wandering through the dungeon with a big stain on the front of her robe. But how to hide it?

A sudden vision entered her mind, and well, it was a bit out of character for her, but why not? She’d be out of the dungeon soon anyway. Another press on the bell folded the strips of cloth between her legs, her robe shrinking even more, hugging her curves in a form-fitting leotard that showed off her every incredible curve. Cynthia smirked and turned this way and that, admiring her bared thighs and curves of her breasts. A perfect hourglass. Gods she was hot. That wasn’t the curse talking. Just… confidence.

Yeah.

Just confidence at being so gorgeous.

Smiling, she turned and went back into the chamber. Roland was still sitting on the rock, bent forward, his head in his hand like he had a headache.

“Ready, Roland?” Cynthia asked.

He looked up, and Cynthia had to bite her lip to keep from smirking at his expression. His jaw positively dropped at the sight of her, the awe in his eyes sending another shot of pure heat into her pussy and tingling through her veins.

“Cynthia,” he gasped. “You…”

“Just needed to let my body breathe a bit more,” Cynthia said coyly, turning this way and that to let him admire her further. “Do you like?”

“You… you look amazing,” he admitted.

Cynthia giggled. “So glad you think so. Now, come on, Roland,” she said, crooking a finger and beckoning. “Let’s get going.”

He rose instantly, and Cynthia felt another thrill at how quickly he obeyed. How his eyes grew dim as he breathed in deeply, as if just the sight and scent of her threatened to drown him in her presence. Arrogant of her to think so, perhaps, but as she turned, leading the way forward, she was hit with the delightful feeling like she was leading a puppy through the black stone halls.

And enjoying every moment of it.

#

The heat was back.

And strong.

So fucking strong.

It had been okay for a bit, but now the coiling warmth of desire was consuming her like an inferno. Cynthia was blushing, feeling her pulse throb and mons ache as if begging her to bathe her womb in the seed of a man. And it really didn’t help having such a handsome, willing man right behind her. Gods, she just wanted to push him down, kiss him, smother him under her fat tits and grind herself to a dozen orgasms before she even got his fucking pants off.

“Look! The exit.”

The words snapped her from her fantasies. Cynthia raised her head and through the blur of her vision she saw the white glow of the way out. The shining end of the tunnel beckoning her on.

Out.

Out of the dungeon.

Excitement surged within her. Bloomed with euphoria. “Yes!” she gasped. “Yes!”

So overcome, she whirled around and wrapped her arms around a startled Roland, leaned forward, and kissed him adoringly on the lips.

She felt him stiffen reflexively, but then he moaned, his eyes lidding, growing hazy as his lips moved against hers, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her tight against him. Cynthia whimpered in delight as she felt her mound press against his front. Grind against his bulge. Her sensitive breasts rubbing against the steel of his chest.

The kiss deepened. Her tongue pushed into his mouth. Her hands slid up his neck and to his head, her fingers running through his hair as his own arms moved over her back as if tracing every inch of her winsome figure.

More.

She needed more.

The compulsion radiated from her mons. From the mark. She pushed him back and Roland hit the cavern wall. She broke the kiss, panting. Hot. Needy.

“We… we shouldn’t,” she breathed, her hands already moving, finding catches and buckles of armour and stripping them away with uncanny precision.

“Y-yeah. Shouldn’t,” Roland said dimly, offering no resistance as his hands continued to stroke her, tracing the curve of her ass, pressing himself against the tight fabric of her leotard.

“Gotta… gotta resist,” Cynthia panted as she tugged his pants down, her fingers grasping his stiffened cock.

“Nnnn,” Roland groaned.

“Can’t give in,” Cynthia breathed as she sank to her knees, Roland’s cock finally in her hand. Before her eyes. Thick. Throbbing. Begging for her attention. The scent stuffing her nose. Her head. Her tongue teased over her lips. Her mouth opened, and she swallowed him deep.

“Ohhhh!” Roland groaned, head falling back, body jolting with a gasp.

“Mmmm,” Cynthia agreed, her lashes fluttering in ecstasy as she began to bob, her tongue swirling over his tip and length. Gods. Gods above, he tasted so good. So thick and powerful and virile. Her free hand slipped beneath him, cradling his balls, and she could fairly feel his seed churn within them. Stirring from her ministrations. Begging for release.

She’d release him.

Gods she would.

She’d suck him dry. Swallow without missing a drop. Gods, what had taken her so long to do this? How could she have kept herself from pushing him down and just fucking choking herself on his fat cock!? Her throat seemed to accommodate his every inch with uncanny ease. Moaning, bobbing, she sucked him deep, going down to the root, her tongue lathing and wrapping around his manhood with utterly shameless need.

“F-fuck!” Roland gasped, his eyes misty. Foggy. His hands groping down to her head. Cynthia bucked as his fingers pushed aside her hood and wrapped around her horns, the sensation throbbing into her like a bolt of lightning. For a brief moment she felt panic, but glancing up at his face showed Roland didn’t even seem to notice. His eyes were fogged, his mouth open, panting in needy gasps as he pumped into her waiting mouth.

Pheromones. A demon’s trait, now hers from the curse.

And he was utterly drunk on them.

She knew she should feel bad about that, but she didn’t care. She wanted him too much. Too badly. She needed his cum. Needed him. The heat from her mound pulsed in a throbbing beat like drums urging her on. Urging her to suck harder. Massage his balls. Tease and pump him until his face was flushed and desperate gasps were escaping him. Until he was feverishly pumping his cock into her mouth, fucking her face until… until…

“F-fuuuuuuck!” Roland cried out, head thrown back, groaning as he came.

And Cynthia was in heaven.

She moaned, her eyes lidding as the hot heaviness of his load pumped into her mouth, eagerly swallowed down into her stomach. She sucked him gently, relishing every spurt, feeling the swirling delight ache through her.

Gods.

Gods, it was… it was so fucking perfect…

And yet, it wasn’t enough.

Cynthia pulled her lips off his cock, her whole body feeling like it was on fire. Her head throbbing. Thoughts swirling with a single need that she had to satisfy. “More,” she gasped.

“C-Cynthia?” Roland panted, looking down at her blankly, his jaw slack.

She knew he’d do anything she wanted him to. She could tell. He wanted her as bad as she wanted him. And she’d have him. She rose, no longer hesitant. No longer caring of consequences or doubt. Her hand rose, rang the bell on her collar.

Every stitch of clothing seemed to burst from her, baring her glorious figure in all its glory, her skin so flushed it seemed red, her breasts so huge and full they seemed to float upon her chest. Her hips were wide and her legs parted, the curse mark blazing proudly on her body.

Roland stared at her, mouth agape. “What…”

“Don’t question,” she commanded, and he fell silent. Another thrill surged through her as she turned around, bent forward, planting her hands against the far wall, her ass thrust out. “Fuck me, Roland,” she growled, glancing over her shoulder. “Fuck me like you’ve wanted to ever since we met. Fuck me. Mate me. Breed my fucking pussy! I need your cock, Roland. I need it in me. Now!”

Roland stared at her, and oh how her curse mark rewarded her for that stare. That look of helpless lust. Of frantic desire. He came towards her, his hands reaching out, grasping the soft swell of her ample hips. She cried out, cooed as the rewarding heat of her curse mark surged through her again, tingling in her tailbone and back.

“That’s it,” she breathed, waving her rear, smirking as she saw his cock rise, hardening once again at the sight of her needy figure. “Fuck me, Roland. Fuck me hard. Mate me like the slut I am. Just a bitch in heat. Needing your cock. Now fuck me. Fuck me!”

“Yes,” Roland gasped, squeezing her soft rump, aligning his cock with the steamy gash of her pussy. “Yes… mistress…”

For a brief moment that word shocked Cynthia. Raised a doubt in her. She opened her mouth to order him back.

Then he pushed forward.

Filled her.

And hesitation was burned away by the fire of pleasure as she got what she so desperately needed.

“Ohhhhh!” Cynthia cried out, arching, tightening deliciously around the thick cock impaling her. Heat bloomed in her, but no longer tortuous. No. Now it surged in her in a euphoric blast. “Yesss!” she cried out. “Fuck me, Roland. Mate me! Fuck me haaaard!”

“Yes,” Roland panted, not hesitating a beat, beginning to thrust, pumping his cock feverishly into her hot pussy. Driving into her with a desperate urgency, every smack of his hips off her ass sending another throb of pure pleasure rocking her to the core. “Yes! Mistress. Fuck mistress. Fuck her!”

“Yes!” Cynthia cried out, uncaring, lost, relishing the feeling of him finally inside her. Finally giving her what she needed! “Yes! Fuck me. Mate me! Breed me, Roland. Breed your mistress! Mistress ah! Mistress needs your c-cum! Give it to her. Give it to me! Fuck me! Fuck me n-nooooooow!”

Pleasure pounded through her. Throbbed behind her eyes. In her back. In her ass. As she wailed her ecstasy, she felt the pressure burst. Felt a dark tail twist from her rear. Black wings sprout from her back.

“Breed your demon mistress noooooow!” Cynthia howled in triumph.

“Nnnnn!” Roland moaned, filling her a final time, his cock sinking deep inside her as he gave in. Cumming in a sudden rush of his hot seed.

The feeling surged into Cynthia. She wailed in pleasure, her orgasm flowing through her after his. Her pussy tightening, quivering, urging the hot gush of his cum into her womb. Feeling it fill her.

Wake her.

Consume her in bliss.

She moaned, her eyes rolling back, her arms shaking as she felt the curse mark burn itself into her skin. Marking her forever. Glowing like a brand.

And she couldn’t have been happier.

With a shaky breath she stepped forward, unsheathing Roland’s cock from her. The knight fell back onto the ground, his strong chest heaving, his eyes staring at her in worship and hazy love.

Cynthia smirked down at him, her hands lazily stroking her figure, her dark wings fluttering, her tail lashing.

Beautiful, she thought to herself. Utterly beautiful.

“Am I lovely, Roland?” she asked.

“So… so lovely,” he gasped, worshipping her with his eyes.

Cynthia giggled, her hands cupping her breasts, stroking them and sending them bouncing, her fingers tracing down onto her hips. “Mmm. And you’ll love me forever, won’t you? Be my obedient stud forever and ever? Pumping me full of children whenever I want?”

“Yes,” Roland panted. “Yes!”

“Adore me?”

“Yes!”

“Worship me?”

“Yes!”

“Do anything for me?”

“Gods yes!”

Cynthia purred, the desperation in his words filling her with intoxicating power. “Good boy,” she cooed, crooking a finger. “Then get up, lover. It’s time for you to get dressed and head out. There’s a whole wide world out there for us, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” Roland breathed, dragging himself to his feet. “Yes, msitress.”

“Good boy,” she laughed, strutting towards the exit of the dungeon, her obedient love slave stumbling after her, still pulling his boots on as he did. Maybe she would visit the temple after all, Cynthia mused. After all, the sisters there would surely love to examine her curse mark. In intimate detail…

[hells-wasabii]

I’m shamelessly asking for some Carmilla Carmine x fem!reader where reader gets nearly killed during extermination day, maybe severely hurt kind of thing cuz I’m a sucker for angst

A/N: And I am shamelessly answering this wholeheartedly Can I just say that I love Carmilla?? And one can never have enough angst. I went ahead and decided to make it a drabble

A/n's A/N: I came back after finishing this, i really didn't mean for it to get so long. It's not a drabble anymore, it's a short fic. the word count is nearly three times what i usually allot for my drabbles.

Character: Carmilla

Type: Fic (Carmilla x fem!reader injured during extermination, Angst, Fluff)

All it takes is one second. Time meant everything during the annual extermination. If you drop your guard, let yourself get distracted, it could mean certain death. This was something that Carmilla had been extra diligent in teaching her daughters, and something that she had always reminded you, her love, her heart, of constantly.

You would always offer a soft smile of reassurance, pressing a kiss to the overlord's hand.

But things don't always go as planned, do they?

No one expected to get separated.

There had been an explosion that had taken out most of the city block. Some sinner trying to put up a fight before their inevitable demise, her daughters informed her after the fact. She had found Odette and Clara easily, both on the same side of the blast as she had been, but she had lost sight of you. You hadn't been caught in the blast, she knew that for sure. You were durable enough for something as measly as that to not be of much effect, anyhow.

But the fact that she didn't know where you had gone made her nervous. No one was truly safe during the exterminations, only hellborns and the king.

Her blood ran cold when your scream met her ears, her head snapping in the direction.

No.

Carmilla was in motion before her mind could catch up. The arms dealer instinctively ran through the streets littered with death and destruction, Clara and Odette calling after her. It wasn't like their mother to act so impulsively.

Turning the corner, there you were, lying in a slowly growing pool of blood. The arms dealer deflated upon seeing you in such a state. If only she had gotten here sooner. Luckily, the exorcist has gone. Likely to chase down some other damned soul like an animal, she thought bitterly. Skidding to a stop, she dropped to her knees at your side.

You were in a bad state, disheveled, bruised, bloodied. The worst of it appeared to be a rather large stab wound just above your hip, likely from some sort of spear.

But you were still breathing, nonetheless. You could still be saved. Hope bloomed in Carmilla's chest, as she pushed aside your blouse to better reveal the worst of your injuries.

"Girls," Carmilla called out once she was sure that it was safe for them to follow.

As she checked you for other injuries her daughters knelt by her side.

"Mother, here." Clara sounded as frantic as Carmilla felt. The overlord briefly turned to her daughter, surprised to find her taking off her coat to offer her. "To apply pressure," her daughter clarified. Her heart swelled at the action, accepting the coat and pressing it to your wound.

"Look!" Odette called out, and out of the corner of her eye, Carmilla saw her pointing to the sky. "The angels are retreating!"

"She's right!" Clara chimed in, placing a hand on her mother's shoulder, "We should get her back home, then we can tend to the wound properly."

Carmilla had never felt prouder of her daughters, they truly had grown into exceptional young women. She made a mental note to properly thank the both of them once things had settled.

But home was too far away, they would never make it there before you bled out. Lady luck was on your side as the four of you hadn't been too far from one of their safe houses, however, they needed to move quickly before you lost too much blood.

The next hour and a half were a blur. The moment they had unlocked the door to the safe house the Carmines got to work

Your wounds were cleaned and dressed. Carmilla herself had been the one to wash off the blood and dirt that caked your skin and you were laid up in bed. Odette and Clara had left once they were sure you would recover, choosing to give you and their mother space.

The arms dealer couldn't help feeling partially responsible. She thought if only she had been more diligent, and kept you close to her, maybe you wouldn't be left in such a state. The realization hit her, hard. She could have lost you.

"Carmilla?" your voice pulled the overlord from her thoughts. You were awake! In an instant she was by your side, taking your hand in hers.

"It's okay darling, Everything is alright now." You don't answer, at least not with your words. instead, with a grateful smile turning up the corners of your lips, you gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She couldn't help but return the smile, relieved. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to your temple.

"Funny, for a moment there, I thought I'd somehow made it to heaven. Mistook you for an angel," you managed out a strained laugh, though you immediately regretted it when a sharp pain shot through your lower abdomen. Your smile returned, however, as Carmilla couldn't help but roll her eyes. But you had met your mark, the arms dealer finally let the tension leave her body.

"Mi amore."

"Yes, Carmilla?" You at first thought that the arms dealer was going to scold you for making light of the situation. You never would have expected the next words out of her mouth. She breathed out, gaze softening, her request was barely above a whisper.

"Marry me."

[sentient-stove]

“I keep thinking that I could’ve been a meta when my parents first opened that portal. I was standing almost right on in it, got a full blast of ectomatter straight to the face.”

It shouldn’t be cold, it’s September and there was a warm front. But his hands feel like chips of ice, warm cider doing little to establish feeling there. Danny probably shouldn’t be sitting on the fire escape with how rampant meta trafficking is in Gotham but since, since his accident small spaces no longer brought the comfort they once had.

“I know.” Of course he did, Tim knew everything about Danny, and vice versa. They bore their souls out and were connected for it. This information doesn’t stop Danny from continuing to talk though, because some days, it feels like the fact that he can keep talking is why he hasn’t been stuck six feet under yet.

“I- me and Sam and Tuck, we were fightin ghosts as kids with nothing special to show for it. Just junky tech we scrapped together. Maybe we would’ve gotten less hurt for it.”

“I know.”

“I’m dead. I think. I don’t know if I’m actually alive.” Danny held the mug closer to his chest and Tim sighed, leaning his weight on Danny’s side, stealing some of the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders so they could share.

“By all medical definitions, you’re alive. There’s brain activity, a heartbeat, your cells are decaying and replacing themselves whereas a dead person would have none of that. Your heart would not pump blood, your brain would be devoid of electrical impulses, the cells would only die and rot. Polaris, my star, my love, you are alive.”

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

congrats on 100 followers! :) id like to request kidd + his so getting hurt while protecting him

Hello Anon!! Thank you so much for this wonderful request! I am so deeply in love with Kid and this little drabble almost wrote itself. I love my chaotic Captain! Also, since you didn't specify gender, I kept it gender neutral, I hope it's alright! And I hope you like this, I had a blast writting it! ❤️

Source for pic

My Personal Hell

Word Count: 2093

Tags: gn!reader; Cursing; LOTS of cursing; SFW; Frustration; Care; Comfort; Love; Fluff; Annoyance; one use of the word cock! Tiny angst?

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You protect Kid during a Marine attack and end up pretty hurt. He has a very weird way to show his concern and affection towards you.

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn

Notes: Gosh, anyone knows who's the doctor for the Kid's Pirates? Damn this information eluded me!! 😓 I'm sorry!

|Masterlist|

“Fucking reckless idiot! Stupid irresponsible! Fuck!”

You could hear the loud crashes and breaking sounds coming from just outside the infirmary door. Even though it was closed. 

“Could've gotten killed! What the fuck’s wrong with that fucking head?!”

More crashes, wood splintering, metal bending, glass shattering. You were still bordering between consciousness and the sweet limbo of unconsciousness, but his voice was unmistakable. 

And if it wasn't, all the swearing gave him away. 

“How long has he been at it?” Your voice sounds hoarse and raspy, scratching and itching against your throat. Grunting you open and close your eyelids, trying to adjust your vision to the brightness of the white lights. “Fuck, that's bright.”

“Since he brought you in, sweetheart. Now lay still or you'll open up the stitches. And they were a bitch to close, too.”

You stay still, chewing on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood so you can stifle your pained grunts as the Doc finishes up the last stitches. 

“Like, what the fuck! Who am I?” More crashing noises can be heard and the unmistakable creak of more metal bending. “I'm Eustass Fucking Kid! The fucking Captain of this fucking ship, with a fucking 3 billion berry bounty! I don't fucking die!”

You sigh, exasperation adding to your growing pain. “Any chance I can get more drugs, Doc?” You ask, a slight edge to your voice as the vein in your forehead trembles and pops with stress. 

“No can do. You’ve already had enough. Maybe if Heat brings you some of his stash, though, but no chemicals!” The Doc sternly advises and you huff, puffing your cheeks and prolonging the breath to try and distract yourself from the sounds of chaos and apocalypse that are happening just outside the door. 

“I fucking know what I'm fucking doing!” Kid yells. 

You keep nodding your head, counting from one to ten, from ten to one, odd numbers only, even numbers next… Until you've had enough. 

“Fuck this, I’m gonna yell at him.” You let out through your clenched teeth. 

“Don't yell at him, honey.” The Doc advises in a singsong voice. 

“I don't jump straight into fucking danger! I'm not a fucking idiot!” Kid's roar is unmistakable. The man's pissed. 

“Weeeell… I don't know about that. Agree to disagree?” Only Killer would have the balls to answer that savagely to a disgruntled Kid. 

“Piss off ya fucking wanker!”

“I'm gonna yell at him.” You repeat, taking a deep breath and getting ready for it. 

“Don't do it.” The Doc says again, eyes already closing and scrunching in anticipation. 

“I'm gonna!” Arching your torso to try and raise yourself up sends an unbearable jolt of pain through your sternum, chest, belly and back, all at once, and you plop back down, arms hugging your form as you grunt, moan and sob in pain and desperation. Your hands punch the mattress a few times and you bite hard on your lower lip, chewing away the pain to stop sobs and moans of agony. 

“I told ya, honey. Bullet wounds are fucking painful.”

The door doesn't just open: it crashes open, almost falling out of its hinges with the force it was thrown open. 

“What the fuck is going on here?”

“Who here saw this coming?” The Doc asks, a big open smile and hand raised in the air, looking over the shoulder at Killer, whose muffled snickers can be heard behind his mask.

“Oh, fuck you, Kid!” You sputter with another grunt and moan. “Shove your fucking Haki up your ass! You can hear me groan and moan but you can't hear me yell: ‘Watch out, the fucking bullets are made of fucking seastone?’ You fucking blockhead, I-... OUCH!”

You cry out as a sharp pain travels all over your torso, leaving you breathless and panting. 

“Brat, I could hear ya moaning with my head underwater and corks in my ears.” His voice lowers in tone, but not in arrogance. “My fucking cock twitches every time you make that sound!”

A vicious grunt leaves your lips as you're more annoyed that you actually found his retort both funny and endearing, than at himself. 

“Fucking pig!” You mumble between pursed lips. 

“Doc, ya done?” He asks gruffly. 

“Yeah, all patched up. Unless something opens up the stitches again. Like screaming, or trying to forcefully get up! Which I don't recommend!” You roll your eyes to the back of your head at the accusations and, though you're itching to cross your arms over your chest in a defiant gesture, you don't, because you know it'll hurt like a bitch. 

“Good. Leave then.” Kid scratches the chair against the floor purposefully - because he knows it pisses you off - until it's right next to your head, flips it and sits with his legs spread, his arms resting on the back of the chair, a terrifying smile pulling his lips back and revealing a sharp set of canines. “I need to have a few words with my brat.”

It's not quite fear you're feeling. You respect Kid as your captain. Very much. But you don't fear him. He huffs and puffs and barks and growls but very rarely bites. 

Fear is what you felt when he was almost hit by a hail of bullets. When those Marines got cocky and thought they could take down the great Eustass Captain Kid. They weren't counting on you jumping in the way to protect your man at all costs. 

Yes, even at the expense of your life. 

You love Kid more than life itself. Even if he's as stubborn as a mule, as edged as a knife and, as hot-headed as a raging fire. So you regret nothing. 

Lies. Perhaps you regret trying to yell at him just now. You could've avoided this conversation. 

Killer and the Doc leave the infirmary and close the door behind them - after Killer places it back or its hinges - and you look at the ceiling, trying to avoid Kid’s intense, piercing gaze. 

When he speaks, his voice is levelled - which is very rare for him. “This is the last time ya-...”

“Don't tell me what to do!” You snap, your head whipping towards him, and wince to hide the pain. 

“Tough shit! I'm yar fucking captain! Don't like it? Jump overboard!” His hands grip the chair so hard that the metal bends and the indents of his fingers are permanently marked on it. “This was your last field mission.” His words are laced with authority and leave no room for contest. 

“You can't do that!” Your voice turns into a whine, accompanied by a pout and a trembling of your lower lip, and you can only blame this childish behaviour on the drugs. 

“Fucking watch me!” Kid growls as his canines appear, giving him a very feral look as his orange eyes pierce yours, daring you to defy his orders. 

The silence that envelops you both is stifling and suffocating. It weighs down on you and presses harder than the sting of bullets. You love exploring new islands. You thrive on the joy and exhilaration of a fight. Kid knows that. And that's why this is your punishment. 

After some moments of intense, fiery gazing, you break. Your eyes downcast as a stubborn tear escapes the corner of your eye, leaving a shiny trail of wetness on your skin. “Fuck you, Kid.” Your voice is barely a whisper. “I saved your fucking life.”

You can almost feel the tension in the room dissipate. The lights seem brighter and the air stops being charged with intense magnetism as Kid relaxes his posture. His shoulders sag and his head falls forward in a defeated position he wouldn't let just anyone see. 

“I know ya did. And ya almost died. So if I can do anything to avoid that, I will. Because there's no way ya’ll die before I do. No fucking way.” 

You fight but there's no way to stop the tears from flowing now. You know how he felt. Like his heart was out of his chest, being ripped to shreds in front of him and a feeling of dread and helplessness suffocating him. You felt that as well. Before you made the split-second decision to jump. 

And, fuck, you'd do it again. 

“They were seastone bullets, Kid. You'd never have made it out alive. I don't regret anything.”

The way his smile turned cocky in an instant made you weak in the knees. This unhinged side of Kid aroused you to no end. “I would've survived, brat. I can't get killed. Much less by wimpy fucking Marines.”

His laugh roars around the room but you don't find it amusing at all. This cockiness of his, although fucking sexy, will get him killed someday. 

“Go to hell, Kid.”

You reply, eyes closing, trying to dry the flood of tears. Fists clenched against the sheets to stop the trembling and lips pursed to keep the sobs at bay. 

Until his big, calloused hand finds yours and he squeezes it, showing a very rare gentleness. 

“Already been, brat. When ya were bleeding out in my arms, unresponsive and dying. That was my hell. And I'll relive it ‘till the day I fucking die.”

You finally look up to meet his gaze. His eyes look shiny - though still dry - and there's no hint of his cocky grin anymore. In its stead, there's a pained grimace. An ugly twist of his usual scowl that you find you hate. You never want to see him look like this again. 

“I'm sorry.” You finally utter. “Not for doing what I did - I would do it again! - but for the way my actions made you feel.” Turning your hand up, you entwine your fingers with his, your hand much smaller against his. 

Kid lets out a deep sigh and as his chest deflates you notice he's still wearing blood-stained clothes. He must've been pacing in front of the infirmary door since you were brought in, just like the Doc said. “Scoot.” He tells you while getting up. 

“I can't.” You whine. “If I move, everything hurts. I was shot five times, Kid.”

“Five fucking times? Fucking Killer! He said it was only two shots! Fucker!” You stifle a chuckle and hold back your comment about how he could have easily spotted the five bullet holes in your shirt because you're pretty sure he was too busy trying to keep you alive to worry about counting bullet holes. 

He keeps cursing as he gets up, gently lifting you as he settles in the bed, curling you into his lap against his chest, making sure you're comfortable and not straining any wounds. 

You're pretty sure the Doc is going to bite Kid's head off if they see both of you in this position, even if he's the captain, but you feel so safe, comfortable and secure that you couldn't care less. 

“Kid, you can't forbid me to go out of the ship.” Your tone is almost pleading as you don't know for sure if he was being serious or not with his earlier threats. 

“I know, brat. Ya love to create chaos, don't ya?”

Turning your head slowly up, you bury your nose against his neck, your fingers digging into his shirt, bringing him closer. Inhaling deeply, you take in his scent. Sweat, sea salt, rust and metal. It brings as many tears to your eyes as it brings serenity and peace. Kid's your home. 

“You know I do.”

“But ya can't be jumping in front of bullets anymore. Or I'll strap ya to my back with those baby fabric things and ya have to be dangling on my back for the whole outing.”

The image brings tears to your eyes as you burst out laughing. Kid laughs with you, the sound of your laugh as sweet on his ears as his is on yours. 

“That's a deal, Cap. But you need to listen to me. And stop being a foolish daredevil! You're not invincible, Kid. Don't act like you are.”

He reaches down and plants a soft peck against your head. “Aye, aye. It's a deal, brat.”

The soft rise and fall of his chest make the perfect lullaby and the drugs the Doc gave you are the perfect concoction to bring sleep to your tired bones as your eyes start to close and flutter. 

“I'm glad you're alive, Kid.” You whisper, words slurred and dragged between sleepy breaths.

“I'm glad you're alive, brat. I wouldn't know how to live without you.”

[flaggermuser]

They Took My Sunshine Away

1,146 words || Fluff, Spoilers for Season 4 Episode 4, Hurt/Comfort, GN Reader, Doctor Reader, Childhood Trauma, Parent & Child Relationship, Parent & Child Attachment, Codependency, Platonic Love ||

The first two Tawny fics: When You Loved Me & Home Is Where His Heart Is

A/N: The general consensus for Tawny is that they are a woman but I will continue to write them as gender neutral

Thank you to @hom3landr for being my beta

Homelander wakes with a start, sitting up and trembling, breathing fast in panic. He was back in the incinerator again, watching all the scientists while he cried and screamed from the pain.

Warm hands cup his cheeks, trying to ground him and he looks at you through blurry eyes.

“You're okay, you're okay. It was just a bad dream. You're here in my house, in the bed in the spare room.”

He nods slowly, the information slowly working through the swirling thoughts dominating his mind until it properly sinks in, bringing a sense of calm.

Your hands fall away from his face once you see that he's settled, taking his hands and squeezing tight. You've come to his aid just like you did when he was a child.

A parent comforting their son.

“I killed them.”

The words slip out before he can stop them, admitting to only one of his many crimes but one that was relevant to you. He searches your eyes for a reaction, fully expecting you to demand that he leave and never darken your door again.

“You were going to kill me too.”

It’s a statement, not a question - as if you’ve resigned yourself to the truth before he can confirm or deny it. He wants to hang his head in shame but he can’t, his eyes fixated on your face, trying to prepare himself for your reaction.

“It wasn’t a coincidence that you showed up at my door,” your tone is indistinguishable. “It was only a matter of time.”

You knew. You knew why I was here but you still let me in.

“Vogelbaum, Edgar, Barbara. One had to be careless enough to leave the tiniest scrap of information about me. Usually, all records would have been scrub-”

“There was an old file,” he interjects, cutting you off. “They’d probably forgotten to destroy it.”

You hum a thoughtful yet morose noise, only adding further to Homelander’s anxiety. He’d lost you once, had you almost completely erased from his memory but now that he’s found you again, he won’t let you go.

He can’t.

“Frank? Marty?” You start to list various names, only for him to nod in response. “Barbara?”

“I left her alive,” he hesitates, scared to reveal the details. “I locked her in that room, with what was left of them.”

You tighten your grip on his hands, your jaw tight and eyes downcast. You lick your lips, clearly preparing to say something but with each second you remain silent, his chest tightens, making it uncomfortable for him to breathe.

“What did she say to you?”

“That you… all of you. That you were all scared of me, from the moment I was born.”

You’re looking him in the eye and it feels like you’re looking straight into his soul.

“I was never scared of you John,” the words are laced with honesty, spoken with conviction. “You were just a little boy. If you hurt me, hell, if you even killed me back in the lab, it would only have been in self-defence.”

Your grip is like a vice, not uncomfortable or painful to him - it’s as if you refuse to let go just in case you lose him again.

He swallows, “She said that I could have broken out of there anytime I wanted, that they couldn’t have stopped me. That I stayed because I couldn’t stand the idea that they’d all be disappointed in me. My need for approval and love.”

You’re trembling now, he can hear your heart beating a mile a minute. He can see it, written all over your face. You’re upset but differently - you’re angry, even more than that, you’re furious.

This is pure unbridled rage.

“That fucking bitch,” you seethe. “You stayed because you couldn’t stand the idea that they’d all be disappointed in you? That entire lab was built to withstand a nuclear blast and, in that room, there was damage around the door where you tried to punch your way out. There was no way you could escape.”

It all boils over, your body slumped as the dam breaks, the tears you’ve kept inside for what must have been years spill forth, cascading down your cheeks and neck, dripping onto the duvet beneath you. 

“I should have taken you.”

Now it’s his turn to comfort you as he pulls you into a hug, trying his best not to crush you with his strength but wanting to hold you tight enough so you can truly understand how much you mean to him.

“Oh John, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

He's heard those words fall from your lips so many times yet they've not lost their sincerity. Every time, you seem more genuine in your regret.

This is your penance.

“Can you stay with me? Not until I fall asleep, for the whole night. I don't want to dream about the lab again.”

“Of course I can.”

He releases you and you get into bed, lying back with your head on the pillow and arms open, allowing him to cuddle up to you.

His head is pressed to your chest and, although he can hear your heartbeat from a mile away, hearing it up close unlocks a memory.

Sitting on your lap, his head against your chest while you wrapped him up in your arms, singing to him as you rocked him.

The gentle beating of your heart then, as it does now, soothes him, and reminds him of how safe he is with you — a security blanket in human form.

He almost wants to ask for you to return to the Tower with him, to live permanently in his penthouse where you'll always be within easy reach. 

But it's a huge ask - you'd be uprooting your life, leaving everything you've ever known to start anew back at the company that fired you for caring about a scared little boy. Yet there’s something comforting about knowing that he can just turn up at any time of the day and play pretend, that instead of growing up in a lab, he grew up in this house with you.

He grew up with someone who loved him.

“I’ve missed you so much,” your voice breaks, prompting him to cuddle closer. “You have no idea how happy I was to see you again. It was like I was given a second chance, to be there for you, to love you like my own son.”

Like my own son.

That confirms that you feel the same as he does, that the love between you is strictly platonic, the love between a parent and a child.

“I love you, Tawny.”

“I love you too, John.”

You were my sunshine, my only sunshine

You made me happy when I was afraid

They must have known then, just how much you loved me.

So they took my sunshine away.

[jolalibrary]

i. to fix a porch

joel miller x f!reader | chapter one of honey stained hands

chapter summary: it’s why he allows himself the chance to look, to admire. His hand slides in yours all over again, as you offer your name—dutifully exchanged. and all he can think is, you’re a pretty thing. He’s seen pretty, laid with it lifetimes ago, but there’s something different in you.

wordcount: 3.5k warnings: typical canon-angst. my spelling. joel trying to fit in and be good for ellie. an: i am so nervous about this. i hope you like. huge thanks to @guyfieriii + @thetriumphantpanda for holding both my hands.

The world had gone to shit, but the world hadn’t gone to shit.

It still grew, expanded—and changed.

Just as it once had. The grass didn’t stop turning green. The trees didn’t stop rustling, the flowers didn’t stop pollinating between bones and disintegrating fabric.

Nature, in all its immensity, didn’t bow to the cordyceps that stole minds and whispered destruction along roads and grass. Nature didn’t allow the rot to take the seasons, as it had done with so many other things.

The end of times wasn’t allowed to touch the moon’s schedule. It didn’t have an impact on how the daylight grew shorter and the night span longer. It had no bearing on the way leaves turned golden, the dew appeared on tall grass, or how both danced under amber-rising and lemon-setting suns.

The outbreak took souls, but it didn’t rid the craved scents of stews and freshly baked apples—two aromas that flooded Jackson's roads.

Mostly, even if something else thrummed along the ground, and spoke in claimed lives, it couldn’t try and claim to have any effect on the way frost made the morning path glitter—or how it made the world still feel magical.

Fungus had stolen a lot. Had spread its poison across state lines and once happy towns. But it couldn’t thieve the natural beauty that shifted in three monthly turns.

Joel wakes in a sea of sweat, panic and desperation. Forehead clammy. Salt and pepper hair clinging in thin spider-leg lines against the creases of his frown.

Each morning, since Joel has been here, has followed the same pattern. The shadowy nightmares were still there, ever-present—swirling and twirling, not ready to stop their dance. Even if the sun is blasting through, informing them it’s morning—it’s the time their claws should retract and allow him to experience a new day.

They never really do. They remain, hanging in the edges of his thoughts, his eyes—even as sleeping thoughts diluted into the present day.

Just the same as he did yesterday and the day before, his closed fist rubs in gentle circles against his chest—right over his heart. Where it thumps and beats, hammering quickly. Fingers and palm attempting to soothe it, half-wishing he could weave under milk-white bone and release the guilt-wrapped tendrils around it.

It doesn’t matter what his routine involves, it’s all in vain.

Little to nothing alleviates it. Not the circles of his hand over the bobbled t-shirt he sleeps in or the way he wills himself to breathe, to fill his lungs—advice given against his will.

Joel has attempted a lot of things, but the tightness always remains. The imaginary vines forever constricting, all stemmed with thorns, digging in, tightening their hold as he struggled to gasp, never mind breathe. It’s like a fungus of its own, a thing poisoning him, ruining him, blackening what’s left of his soul.

All because he made a choice—one he’d make a thousand times (if given the chance).

Blinking, he slowly sits. Back aching, body groaning as the honeyed sun coats the place he calls his. It flutters over the set of drawers, the flannel draped over the handle of his closet, and the strings of the guitar, gifted by Tommy to keep him busy and out of trouble.

It’s a good place he’s found himself in. A normal place—one found in the centre of moving on and trying to live life. Something he gives enough of a shit not to let it be torn from him and a thing he worries is being tugged from his grip all the same.

One wrong move.

That’s what he hears, even if no one says it. It never leaves their lips, but instead is etched into the faces of everyone he has been introduced to. It was discernible on his sister-in-law's face when he and Ellie appeared; it was poorly concealed by his brother when he’d handed him the instrument.

So much so, that he’s become worried all of this—the safety, the future for Ellie—will be taken from him if he breathes wrong. If he makes eye contact a little too quickly, a little too sternly, too forcibly and not followed quickly enough by a half-smile.

He tries. Not for him, but for her. The same person he keeps his jeans close by and his t-shirt on for—the one that makes him sleep on the side so his good ear can hear a scream of his name—just in case. The same person who manages to shift off the worry, dusting him down without knowing the impact she has on him—the young person who forms him, shapes him into someone half-decent, who is willing to try, who is willing to do things with his hands that isn’t fighting or shooting.

The only time Ellie has shouted for him since being here, though, is for breakfast.

Now, the house is silent—too silent. A smile almost appearing all on its own. An image bubbling, appearing, blanketing over the nightmares that tried to linger. One of her, in her new bedroom—the one she keeps talking about painting—all asleep, mouth open, catching flies.

Joel snorts, swallowing it back. All of the darkness that is weaved inside of him. Focuses on the little flecks of dust that glitter in the glow of a new day, how they fall absently in the space between light and dark—making a choice, one he makes each day, to be here. To try.

His hand slides from his chest, landing on his wrist. Sighing, he closes his eyes and lets his thumb slide over the broken glass of his watch—the one he never removes—another thing he does daily. Another thing that has become a routine.

He knew what Jackson was when he arrived the second time. A communal, a place where everyone chips in.

Joel had expected something more to be requested from him. Almost braced to be told he would be stationed on the other side of the gate—in a more permanent role than others. But, he wasn’t.

If anything, he was given tasks.

Menial things, but tasks all the same.

Little jobs, all reminiscent of a handyman back before things to fungus and rot. Oddities, bits and bobs. Projects half-finished or never begun at all—assigned, handed to him, chosen for him because he’s there and capable. And not, as Tommy explains, is because no one trusts him.

The first had been his own porch. The wood split, cracked, creaking—an accident waiting to happen (a thing he’d muttered to Tommy when he’d first walked up the steps of it), more so as the days became shorter and the nights loomed closer.

He shouldn’t have been surprised to find a toolbox placed at his feet the next day. A smug look on his younger brother’s face: think it’s time y’fix y’damn porch, brother. A clap on the back to cement it, a promise silently exchanged—that he could ask more of him when he was done.

And Tommy did, just not how he expected.

His breath mists the same as Tommy’s when he sighs, the weather biting as the two hovered on his newly repaired porch: got something else for you to do.

Maybe he should have said something when the silence filled the air when Joel suggested after. That he’d be good on patrol, that he could help in ways that weren’t repairing porches, front of shops and whatever else he brought to his door. If not for the fact he was grateful for the chance, for her—for the girl who is slowly making friends, who is beginning to smile—he may have done. The old Joel would have. He’d have pointed out that his skin isn’t stained with scarlet, that his hands are worn, but not smeared with the guts of those who’d crossed him. That he’d hung up as much of the former demons as he could.

He suspected, deep down, that Tommy could still see them haunting him. Knew that they kept him awake when the world went silent—that Joel didn’t sleep until the moon was at its highest, and woke with them jeering at him, perched on his shoulders, poking holes into his soul.

Joel also presumed that Tommy could see the way guilt had looped itself inside of him, strangling, making truthfulness harder to spill. Even if Tommy had no idea. Even if Joel hadn’t whispered to even the animals, never mind a person, what happened before he and Ellie had arrived.

So, he doesn’t argue, not as he’s handed another task, and another, then another. Days seep into weeks, weeks ticking into another month. Each time, his jaw grits, and his head nods, all well-versed, practised, as he picks up his toolbox and heads where he’s needed.

Except, today, when he’d finished up the fence that contained the sheep, a request came from someone else—a person he had spotted, but never spoken to. They were weary, guarded—approaching with caution as though bracing for him to snap, to become the callous individual they’ve likely heard through the whispers of gossiped stories.

In time, they approach, asking, burying their hands into their pockets as they do, before they continue with their reasoning for the request—one not for themself, but another person in Jackson.

A person Joel realised was his neighbour.

He’d been a good neighbour once, almost a lifetime ago.

Had hoped that it would come to him when Tommy had introduced him to you the following morning after he and Ellie returned. Your hand in his, smaller, but warm, a smile that was inviting, but slid over to Ellie upon Tommy’s introduction.

You usually rose early, that he had learnt when he’d begun to watch the sunrise before the leaves not just changed, but began to litter the floor in an array of shades. A pattern of habits he had picked up when he’d descended his own staircase, finding you already passing his home or your lights were on, already busy ticking off the hours of your day.

Today, he’d spotted (thankfully) the latter. His coat was thrown on, boots stepped into, toolbox in hand before he closed his door behind him and headed over. Your name on the tip of his tongue, all heavy, thick—an array of unsorted letters he’s hoping will shift into something as he climbs the steps to your front door. The syllables there, desperate to form, but in no order when his hand lifts to knock.

Air is what greets him, as the door rips open before his knuckles can even make contact.

Now, he’s standing in front of you—again. Your eyes land on him, brushing over in thick strokes of warmth, and all he can focus on is how you don’t step back in fright or stand a little taller. If anything, you don’t react, don’t move, as though it’s normal he’s there standing, talking to you.

“Oh, hi? It’s Joel, isn’t it?”

It’s kind, sweet, your tone. Eyes wide in a way that reminds him of a surprised, small animal—except, you’re grinning, not spooked. No sign of fear or question sketched across your features, or into the rest of your face, not as he stands, hovering.

It’s why he allows himself the chance to look, to admire. His hand slides in yours all over again, as you offer your name—dutifully exchanged.

And all he can think is, you’re a pretty thing. He’s seen pretty, laid with it lifetimes ago, but there’s something different in you. Something that has remained, that has weathered the storm of whatever it is, and however you came to be. Your smile rises, sliding into your cheeks, as his brain snaps a Polaroid of it and stores it somewhere less dusty in his mind.

“I just have to nip out, do you need something?”

Your hand sliding a jacket—one he’d just noticed in your hand—around your frame. It buries you, smothering, hiding yourself into it as you pull it around, watching, studying him as he does the same to you.

Shaking his head, he glances at your porch. “No, ma’am. Jus’ here to fix your porch.”

Sighing, you roll your eyes. “I make one comment and… anyway, I don’t want to trouble you. You don’t have to.”

“Maybe I want to.”

Looking down, you stare around at the porch. Him waiting, watching. “Guess it’s lucky for you, I wasn’t planning on taking it with me.”

It tugs from him, not forcibly pulled, but rather rolling from his mouth willingly: a laugh. It’s gruff, covered in cobwebs and sheets. It’s different, laughing with an adult compared to a pun book in the hands of a child.

“Well, definitely makes my life a bit easier that you’re not.”

Smirking, you lick your lips—a thing he spots, and finds makes his cheeks burn. “Yeah, guessing that following me around the animal pen wouldn’t be your favourite thing… after the other day.”

His eyes narrow, attempting to follow—until it dawns. Until it slams into him.

“You saw.”

“I did. Roscoe is a very boisterous sheep, though. So, it’s more on him than you.”

Cursing under his breath, he dips his head. Trying to stifle the embarrassment, the one rising in him like a phoenix, swarming up.

“Anyway, do you need any tools…”

That’s when he notices how your voice dies, your smile fading. Your words all fall from existence as the warmth around the two of you suddenly chills, as though he’s been plunged into a snowstorm. Your eyes had dropped, landing on the box in his hand.

It’s long, too long.

Almost prolonged, the quietness shifting into awkwardness until you’re blinking, head lifting, chin rising, determined and full of insolence.

“I’ll be back soon, yeah?”

Nodding, he swallows. Ignoring, for your sake, that your voice cracks before you’re hurrying past him. Watching, and staring until you’re a blip, a little figure in the distance of the cold morning—unable to forget about it, the look, the one that unhooked something in him.

Because it made him question—made him want to ask.

His hand shifts around the handle of the toolbox, staring down at it—the one he suspects belongs to someone you knew, someone you were close to. One that is in the hands of someone you don’t know, someone you live next to, that you know nothing about.

Except stories.

And fuck, Joel knows the stories can’t be good.

Joel had maybe made an assumption that you’d never speak to him again.

Sarah’s voice, barely discernable, wafting around his mind, assumptions make an ass of you and me, dad. He blamed it on being bitter, tired—or grumpy, as Ellie liked to call him. The kind of qualities he’d rather be known for, than the ones he sees reflected in the eyes of the people living here, wondering the kind of man he was to go back out there and then return.

He’d made the assumption based on the way your eyes flicked to the toolbox when you’d eventually returned home—him halfway done, waving away your offer to help. You barely spoke, and skirted around him, only placing a glass of lemonade on the welcome mat as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

He drained the glass, and hated how good it tasted. Keeping in mind to leave the toolbox outside when he rapped his knuckles on your open door to bring the glass back in, inform you that he’s done. You call out to him, eventually coming into view—apron on, doused in flour, cheeks and smile smothered in it.

For a moment, he could almost forget an outbreak had even happened with the way you looked at him—the way you looked in general. Something out of one of those cooking shows that play at ridiculous hours of the night; a thing that’d had a street talking about with sweet you sounded.

“I bake—sometimes,” you announce, hands down your apron, leaving flour-finger strokes against the navy blue.

He could see that. Placing the glass on the side, thanking you—watching you glance around him, likely for that. He almost tells you, informs you it’s outside, left on your porch. But, he waves himself off as a beeping begins, that he’ll get out of your hair, because you’re busy—knowing deep down it’s the right thing to do.

That’s how he left it.

Nothing more, nothing less.

His thoughts sliding to you when he saw you talking to others; his mind unable to rid himself of the way you’d looked at the box he’d been given to be a helping hand.

So, it surprised him when he watched you climb the steps of his porch from outside Tommy’s. Something in his chest narrowing—different from the way it does when he wakes up in the morning. Observing how you’re nervously shaking your free hand, moving from one foot to the other—a thin t-shirt covering your frame (no coat or jacket on your arms) as you try to stand still in the chill at his dark doorstep.

It’s only as he nears that he sees what your other hand is holding. A bottle, the contents from appearing amber in shade. The hesitancy woven into your figure is more prominent as he reaches his own boundary, unsure whether to clear his throat—and only doing so when you knock.

“Heard he’s out fixing more porches.”

Turning, he finds you smirking. Spinning around on your heels, slowly taking a step down—still above him—before your hand gestures for him to take the bottle. “A thank you.”

Thank you, he thinks, staring at it. His thumb catches your fingers as he tries to ignore the twist and knot of his stomach when he eyes the label. It used to help, for all the wrong reasons. It’s why he’d tried not to drink since arriving here, still able to remember how it used to scratch an itch, how it smothered over scabs—ones that never healed.

It unlocks that part of him that worries that they’ll become inflamed again. All raw, hot to the touch.

“Y’didnt need to.”

“Well, it was alcohol or baked goods—and you strike me as a drinker over shortbread.”

Snorting, he lifted his head, swallowing. “I do like shortbread.”

Your face lights up—shimmers—under the slowly setting sun. A part of him wishing you’d brought him a tin of those instead.

Because the main reason he hadn’t been to the Tipsy Bison is that he preferred the version of him that didn’t drink. The one from before all of this happened—the one with a clearer mind. One that isn’t trying to run but rather settle and live—the one that comes out when he tastes something akin to what he shared with Tess.

The bottle in his hand demands his attention—a note attached to it that reads the same as your words. Gratitude humming, rolling from you, all in plenty. The entry at being neighbours suddenly ajar, the door taken from the hinges so it can never be closed again.

“Next time, then?”

You say it purposeful, full of genuine nature. And, it makes him roll his jaw, biting the inside of his cheek. Palm and fingers still clutching the bottle—unsure if he likes this. The neighbour thing—the pretty neighbour thing. Especially one who looks at him with a sweet smile and who makes lemonade just because.

“I should go, don’t want to interrupt your evening—”

“Well, the only thing you’re interrupting is whether or not I should open this now or wait.”

You stop moving at that, coming to a stop in front of him, smile broadening, almost turning into a smirk. “

Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighs. “Got another job in the morning. Be a lot on my own.”

“What problems to have, ay?”

He snorts.

But then, he finds you nodding, licking your lips. “How about this, for the safety of the porches of Jackson, I’ll help you with your problem.”

“And what’s my problem?”

“You don’t wanna drink alone—likely worried about what it means if you do.”

You say it nonchalantly, as though seeing through him was a relatively easy task. Your body is still not moving; the cold either not bothering you, or you are faking it all so well.

“Alright.”

“Alright,” you say, slightly more chipper than him.

CHAPTER TWO ->

[mrsharrington83]

Code Blue

Summary; The aftermath leaves Y/N second guessing everything in her life. Losing friends and witnessing her boyfriend of two years getting closer to his ex is enough to push her over the edge. Will they be able to pull themselves out of this hole that’s darker than the Upside Down itself? (For the sake of this fic, what happened at the end of the last episode of season 4 hasn’t yet happened)

Warnings; usual Stranger Things, things. Swearing, blood, injury, alcohol consumption, mentions of death and suicidal thoughts. If any of this is triggering, please don’t read.

A/N; I haven’t written anything in so long! It’s a long fic! 6.5K words, my longest on here yet. I apologise if this is bad, I’ve just been in a writing mood so thought I’d let out a lot of angst and fluff (we love it) I am a British writer (England) so sorry if things don’t make sense to you! Thank you for stopping by, hopefully my writing streak stays strong. Requests are always open. Love to all xoxo

The aftermath of the supposed earthquake had everyone second guessing. Some people left, other people were packing to leave. Having known what really went down, you sat in silence staring into your vanity mirror as everyone else you knew went to help the community at Hawkins High.

You just couldn’t stomach it. Cuts and grazes over your skin, tiredness evident in your eyes, your hair still clumped with dirt from the Upside Down, dried blood. You hadn’t even showered yet. You didn’t know how to process anything that had happened over the past 72 hours. You were accustomed to this kind of thing having it been a big part of your life for the past few years, the most recent battle however, took the biscuit.

Small Polaroid pictures littered around the back wall of your desk. Smiles, memories, better times. Max and Dustin when she stole his cap. They were in mid laugh so it was blurred a bit, but a happy memory that was stuck in time. That same Max was now in hospital, fractured bones, blind, unresponsive. Not laughing and joking with her friends, not happy, not anything. Doctors didn’t know if she’d ever wake. She was such a selfless soul, way beyond her years, but still so young. Too young. You all were.

Pictures of the group, you and your boyfriend Steve. A picture of you and Eddie during a D&D game. His hair all over the place, tongue sticking out, you laughing, Dustin in the background pulling a stupid face.

Memories.

Eddie.

Your best friend.

Gone.

Just like that.

He didn’t run this time, and fuck. You really wished he did.

The tick of your small clock dragged you away from the pictures, the light ticking mocking you, “shut up! Shut the fuck up!” you screamed from deep in your lungs, a howl so painful from your chest, putting what was left of your strength and upset from the past few weeks into knocking the blasted thing to the floor, hearing the glass and mechanics hit the floor in one swoop. It was a gift from Eddie one Christmas as you were pretty much always late. Bittersweet.

Guilt built in your stomach as you stood up fast, pushing your stool back with your legs, failing to the floor, cupping the bits of broken glass as sobs wracked your body, not realising your hands were clenched around the shards, the all too familiar claret running through the lines in your palm and down your fingers, dripping into a pool on the wooden flooring of the bedroom.

Your breathing hitched as you remembered Eddie die in your arms, the way blood trickled from his mouth. The look of pure terror on his face. He knew he was dying, but he kept it together till the very end for the sake of you and Dustin. His best friends, the people that were there for him no matter what everyone else was saying. You didn’t want to believe it. Dustin’s screams and sobs as the light left his eyes. You saw them gloss over. The way you both shook him, screamed into his ear, telling him not to leave you both behind. Your hands covered in blood. His blood.

Dropping the bits of glass on the floor, you pushed your feet and newly cut hands against the floor, the small slitters of glass that were still on your palm slicing deeper into your flesh until your back met the wall, your hands and body shaking, the tightness in your chest getting worse and you struggled to fill your lungs with air. You felt like you were about to pass out.

The past 72 hours had been, by far, the worst time of your life. You’d witnessed what you thought was your boyfriend of two years get closer to his ex, eyes can be deceiving, but there was something in his own eyes that glimmered whenever he spoke to Nancy, deep down you always wondered what Steve saw in you. Maybe you were just a knock off version of Nancy. Someone to keep him grounded in all of this. A warm body to forget all the wrongdoing in the world. Someone he knew cared about him. Perhaps more than he cared for you. You didn’t know that of course, it was just what your mind was telling you.

Your best friend had died for a town that hated him, Max, the girl who had adopted you as a cooler older sister after Billie died was lying in a hospital bed with the looming same fate, Vecna was still out there somewhere and you were sure there was even more danger on the horizon.

Even after everything that happened, your mum hadn’t bothered coming home. She was always away with her new man for weeks on end. She had called up one night before the phone lines cut out to make sure the house was still standing after witnessing the news, but other than that all you got was, ‘with everything that’s happened in Hawkins, I’m going to stay with carl for another few weeks, maybe more. Be careful out there.’”

You’d never felt more alone. You didn’t blame your friends or Steve. They wanted to help out, of course they did. You did too, but you were in no way the right frame of mind to be seeing people crying for their loved ones, talking to people that had lost others whilst you were reeling from losing your own.

You pulled yourself off the floor with great difficulty. It felt like you had a ton of bricks weighed down on you. Metaphorically speaking, you did. Though it wasn’t bricks, it was the weight of hurt and anger, of death piling up one by one. “Get yourself together Y/N. get your fucking self together.” Rummaging through your dresser, careful not to get blood on everything, you pulled out some comfortable lounge clothes that were bigger in size, purposely avoiding one of Steve’s t-shirts as you dragged yourself to the bathroom.

Putting down the toilet seat, you placed your clothes and rinsed your hands under the cold tap. Water on open cuts made you wince, but at least you felt something other than emotional pain. Watching your fresh blood mix with water and into the sink like a mini whirlpool was almost mesmerising. Picking out the last few shards of glass making the water redder with each bit. You were lucky water was still running. There were some parts of Hawkins that had no water.

Turning the dial on the shower you undressed. Peeling your clothes from your skin. Clothes you wouldn’t bother to wash. They would go straight in the bin. You had enough awful reminders on that night, you didn’t need more. Stepping into the shower, careful not to slip, you submerged yourself in warm, running water and closed your eyes, feeling old blood, mud and debris leave your tired body.

Steve had come home early, with both of your parents almost always being away you basically lived with each other. When your mum was away, he’d stay with you and if his parents were away, you’d stay with him. He had his own keys to your place, and you had your own to his.

Steve kicked his shoes off in the hallway, tiredness in his bones. The house was silent apart from the sound of water from the shower, you were at least out of bed. When Steve left this morning you were curled up in a ball with covers over your head, blocking out the world. He leant down and burrowed his head in your blankets kissing the top of your head, saying how much he loved you and that he’d be back as soon as he’d helped out in Hawkins High, with a running car it was easier for him to pick up robin and bundle Dustin, Will and Mike in the back of along with all the supplies, it was a squeeze, but not a long drive and with everything that had happened, the kids didn’t mind being on top of each other, breathing, alive. In truth, Steve didn’t want to get out of bed either. His temples ached, his bones felt heavy and the wounds he had were still throbbing, not letting him forget about the events.

He sighed and flopped onto the sofa, leaning his head back hoping to get the knots out of the muscles in his neck, tension. He didn’t want to disturb you in the shower, even though all he wanted to do was bury his face in your hair, your skin, breathe in the only place he felt safe, the only thing that made sense to him. Seeing everyone at Hawkins High, the missing persons post filled with faces he knew, faces he didn’t, the heartbreak of all of Hawkins. All he wanted was you, but instead he just sat there.

You pressed your head against the cool tiles in the bathroom as you turned off the shower, the familiar car engine shutting off in the drive, you knew Steve was back, yet you didn’t think you could see him face to face yet. You breathed out heavily and stepped out of the shower pulling a towel from the back of the door, wrapping it around yourself and another for your hair. Red staining the white cotton as you’d opened old wounds as well as your still bleeding palms that stung. You bent down to get the first aid kit from under the sink as you got to work on your wounds. You at least looked cleaner, your split lip and eyebrow not looking as bad now you’d washed, half of these injuries you didn’t even know when you’d got them, from fighting demobats to being thrown across the floor by Eddie when you tried to help, bruises from being pulled away from your friend as his lifeless body lay motionless, wounds from yourself from hitting the wall in desperation. You looked how you felt. Completely broken. You wrapped bandages around your hands and left it at that. Drying off and throwing oversized clothes on, you reached for the door handle, your hand visibly shaking.

Going back into your room you sighed at the mess. Somewhat thankful that Steve had stayed downstairs. Glass and blood everywhere. You grabbed a dustpan and a brush from a small closet next to the bathroom as well as the small towel you used for your hair, sweeping up the small shards of glass and discarding them in a small bin next to your bed. Wiping the claret up with the small towel and putting that in the bin too. You sat on the end of your bed once again staring at the pictures behind your vanity desk.

“Y/N?” Steve called up the stairs noting that the shower had been turned off for a while, worry lacing his voice. You could hear it.

“Yeah, I’m coming down.” You stood up and dragged yourself to the top of the landing. You could just throw yourself down the stairs and hope for the best. Hope you’d have an ounce of peace from your racing mind, but you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t bring yourself to take yourself over that edge, to make the people that cared about you lose another. You’d all lost too much. Begrudgingly you walked down the stairs, the illuminating light from the sun almost blinding you, you’d been living in darkness for the past few days, being in the Upside Down and then closing all the curtains upstairs as soon as you’d got back home. You’d almost forgotten how bright daylight could be.

Steve was waiting in the kitchen for you, his eyes visibly glowing when you walked into the room, as though you lit up the small space when you stepped in. A smile tugged on your lips that suddenly dropped when you remembered he was looking at Nancy exactly the same not too long ago. The same nagging thoughts you had earlier pulling you back. Knock off version of Nancy. Now that Johnathan was back, of course he came running back to you. Steve looked down to your hands and frowned, he didn’t remember you hurting your hands so much they needed bandaging,

“Sweetheart? What happened?” Steve was by your side in an instant his hands gently over yours as he inspects the bandages,

“I dropped some glass, not a big deal. Just got a little cut up in the process of cleaning it up.” You lied through your teeth, you couldn’t be bothered to talk about Eddie again and how you’d broken the last gift he would ever give to you out of anger. Steve continued to look at your hands, careful not to disturb the bandages around them,

“Do you want me to have a look? I can bandage these a bit better for you, make sure there’s no glass and...” you cut him off with a, ‘I’m fine.’ And pulled your hands away from his warmth, Steve looked a little deflated, but understood. All of you had patched each other up countless times that it was almost routine now, you’d learnt how to stitch wounds, what ointments and antiseptics to use, you basically had a mini pharmacy under your sink for things that people would never believe.

“Honestly, I’m fine Steve.” You forced a smile and went round the Kitchen Island feeling his eyes burning through you. Your house wasn’t the biggest, it was snug. The kitchen was weirdly one of the bigger rooms and probably the nicest, it was one of the only rooms your mum put any effort into before she started gallivanting around the globe. It was bright with several flowers littering the windowsills, yellow lace curtains to match some of the décor. How the flowers hadn’t died yet, you didn’t know. You never watered them.

You and the rest of the group had spent ample time in this kitchen cooking cookies and brownies for movie night, Max and Lucas always managing to burn popcorn, Steve rushing to open windows and flail a tea towel at the fire alarm to stop it beeping whilst Robin was toppling over laughing at Dustin with brownie mix all over his mouth, You’d also spent ample time in here with the older lot of the group, your mum had quite the alcohol stash. Probably enough to open a bar downtown. From several different bottles of vodka, gin, whiskey to wine, beer, cider and god knows what other potent liquid that did the job, which is exactly what you were heading for now.

Steve was slumped against one of the dining chairs as he watched you move around the island, he knew exactly what cabinet you were riffling through, “Ahhh, there it is.” You picked out an unopened bottle of vodka and put it on the side as you went through a different cupboard to pick out a decent glass.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Steve sighed as he watched your every move, “I know things aren’t great at the minute, but we really need to pull together.” You opened the vodka and poured a small glass, turning around and leaning against the counter with your ankles crossed, the glass of vodka in your hand. You shrugged and took a gulp, the burning from the alcohol igniting your insides.

“Look, sweetheart, please.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, the lack of product evident, no one ever saw Steve walking around with no product in his hair, probably because without it, it was so fluffy and never sat in the right place according to him, “this isn’t the answer, that isn’t going to help. It’s not going to bring...”

“Shut up!” you screeched, smashing the glass back onto the counter, thankfully not breaking it, “you think I don’t know that, Steve? For goodness sake! How stupid do you think I am?!” Steve is taken aback, he’s over stepped a line and he knows it, “I know it’s not going to bring Eddie back it’s not going to stop what’s going on here,” you look around the room, “it’s not going to stop Max from being in hospital, it’s not going to stop those poor kids dreaming about what happened over and over again, how fucked they’re going to be in years’ time if they even make it that far, from losing countless people and battling these things over and over again, but maybe, just maybe it will stop my racing thoughts, the hurt, the anger, the resentment I have for this stupid fucking town for five goddamn minutes, okay?! everything is falling apart at the seams, we’ve all lost so much, I even thought you were getting cosy with Nancy again!” you bite your tongue getting caught up in the rift, Steve looked towards you bewildered. You turn back to the vodka bottle, filling your glass halfway, drinking it down like water and filling it up again, “I’m not asking you to understand Steve, I’m not even asking you to deal with this, you know where the fucking door is.”

Steve stood up from the table and walked over to you slowly, turning you to face him, moving the hair that had fallen so effortlessly over your features, “I love you Y/N, whatever you thought you saw between me and Nancy was not that. I’m happy for her and Johnathan, really. I’m so glad were now with the right people, the people who ground us and make this stupid crazy life worth living, you’re my muse. I would never do that to you, sweetheart. Not ever,” moving his hands over your covered arms, to your hands, holding them gently in his, “I’m not going anywhere Y/N, just please, I don’t want to lose you too. I can’t.”

You looked Steve dead in the eyes, his glassed over, tears threatening to fall. The beautiful honey eyes you’d got lost in time and time again, “Maybe you already have.” His hands let go of yours as he visibly slumped, and took a step back, you might as well have been holding a gun, a bullet to his chest with the way he was looking at you. Turning your back to him, your own tears threatening to fall, you grabbed the bottle again unscrewing the cap, pouring yourself another glass.

“What do you mean?” Steve is silent again, his presence still behind you, feelings of uncertainty heavy in the air, “Y/N, look at me please...” the defeat in his voice made you feel awful, this was your boyfriend of two years, the person that had stayed by your side that whole time, through everything. The good times and the bad, the way you both laughed, the random dates he took you on, sometimes even after work, some of which ended up being group outings as one of the kids had seen you both and then got on the walkie talkies as quickly as possible, they ended up calling that ‘code blue’ as the first time it happened Steve was in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, the movie nights, the late night talks, walks, your safety net, the countless jokes that weren’t even funny. Helping him with his hair, the days he was sick and you’d take care of him, and the days he would do exactly the same back for you. He never faltered, he was always brave, always stayed strong for you, for everyone, but here he was, seconds away from breaking down. A painful ache in his voice that cut you in half, the same ache breaking the last pieces of your heart that were still intact, you wiped your tears away with the back of your sweater, turning around to see Steve once more, pain drowning his features,

“I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t do this anymore.” he sucked in a shaky breath as a sob broke from his lips. Pain. Pain that you had caused. You finished your glass of vodka, keeping your back to Steve, you couldn’t watch him break, you couldn’t see the sadness and heartache on his face. As if he hadn’t been through enough recently,

“Y/N, please,” his voice was low, strained, as though he was bleeding out on the spot behind you, “don’t do this, we can get through this, we can get through anything, please just don’t...” you turned round to Steve his eyes visibly blood shot probably from tiredness and the tears that were free flowing down his cheeks,

“I’m sorry Steve.” You walked past him, a slight sway to your walk from too much alcohol in a short space of time on an empty stomach as you tackled the stairs, all you wanted to do was sleep, before you even got half way up the stairs you heard the front door close causing you to stop on the spot, your own sobs now tearing way through your body, this pain was tearing you apart, so much loss, but you had caused this last one.

You found yourself sitting on the end of your bed looking at the pictures behind your desk once again, would you ever feel that kind of happiness again or was this the new norm? A burning hole in the middle of your chest that was once whole and pushed together in the shape of the people you loved. All of those memories seemed like a lifetime ago, how time and life could be fleeting, oh how you took it all for granted.

***

Two weeks had passed.

Two long weeks.

Probably the longest two weeks of your life.

In those two weeks you’d had almost everyone knock on your door, mainly Robin and Dustin, “Y/N, open this door right now or I promise you I’ll put a brick through your window and climb in there myself.” Dustin shouted as he looked through the small glass patterns on the front door for signs of movement, “I’m not joking Y/N.” Dustin looked around your drive and picked up half a brick, “ten seconds, Y/N!” finally he saw movement and put the brick down on the grass, you opened the door and huffed,

“Dustin, every day for two weeks, ae you not bored yet?” He pushed you aside gently and kicked his shoes off before throwing himself onto the sofa and turning on the small TV as if he lived there, “and how can I be of assistance today?” you stood in the doorway of the living room, you no longer had the bandages on your hands, the cuts on your hands were hardly visible now, your other physical injuries were also doing much better, some might not even scar, not that you cared about a bit of scarring,

“You look like shit,” Dustin looked back at you and scoffed, he wasn’t wrong, you’d been wearing the same kind of clothes for two weeks, anything you could get your hands on. Mix matched sweats and sweaters, sometimes Steve’s t-shirts, on a very rare occasion you treated yourself by wearing a pair of jeans. Your usual full of life hair was lifeless and scraggly from the lack of brushing, your eyes blood shot from lack of sleep, red lips from gnawing at them constantly,

“Well, love you too, Dustin,” you rolled your eyes and went to the kitchen fetching juice and cookies on a tray, “so what is it today?” Dustin cleared his throat and made his way into the kitchen, taking a few cookies off the tray as he took a seat around the table drinking juice you’d bought specially for him,

“It’s Steve,” your breathing hitched as you looked to the floor, biting at your already raw lips, you pulled a second chair out and sat opposite Dustin, taking your own cookie and nibbling at it. You hadn’t eaten well for two weeks now,

“What about him?” you took a swig of your own juice and sit looking towards your younger friend,

“Don’t give me that, Y/N. I know you still care, Robin tells me things, y’know, and you’re not someone that doesn’t care about people,” Dustin shook his head, “this act is bullshit, Y/N. Steve is over there wondering what he did wrong, what he can do to help you, he’s broken, Y/N and none of us can get through to him, ne needs you and you need him and we need you both. We need our kick ass non babysitters back. We need to stick together. We can’t all break otherwise what do we have?” you bit the inside of your cheek letting Dustin talk, you had been unfair, everything in this world was so wrong and you were breaking the only good thing in it,

“I’m scared, Dusty,” you looked to him and he nodded, not wasting time to eat more cookies, all the kids loved your cookies,

“We all are, Y/N. you know this isn’t over right?” you looked down knowingly and started to play with the patterned table cover, “Steve needs you, I need you, we all need you. You know Eddie wouldn’t want this right?” you breathed deeply at the mention of his name, “you’re the bravest person he knew, he told me, and do you know what else?” you looked up from the table, “he loved you and Steve together, he saw how happy he made you and that’s what he wanted for you. He wanted you to be happy.” You sighed, breath shaky as a tear fell from your lashes onto the tablecloth you were playing with moments before,

“Well he got one thing wrong, he was the bravest.” Dustin put his hand over yours and gave it a light squeeze,

“Please just come and see Steve? Everyone is round there trying to cheer him up and he looks just as shit as you, if not more. If you don’t come with me, the others are going to try one by one, I’m the nicer one.” He stood up from the table, hopeful,

“Dustin I can’t,” disappointment clouded his eyes, “I can’t go over there empty handed, help me make some cookies?” the usual toothy grin from Dustin was back, one you hadn’t seen for a such a long time, one that made your heart swell. You loved those kids so much and you’d do anything to protect them, you felt bad for wallowing in in your own self-pity when everyone you cared about was going through the exact same thing as you. You’d nearly lost the one thing that made sense and you were going to try and not let that slip any further. You and Dustin got to work on the cookies, not failing to get flour all over the surface and yourselves. Once the cookies were in the oven and cooking, you looked over to Dustin, “Keep an eye on the cookies for me? I’m going to try and sort this out a bit,” you pointed to your mop of a hair as he grinned and nodded, picking up his walkie as you left the room,

“Guys, it’s Dustin, over.” He waited for the usual static of the walkie patiently as he pressed more buttons hoping to hear from the others,

“Hearing you loud and clear, Dustin, what’s the status, over.” Mike was on the other end, uncertainty in his voice, but hugged by hope, Will, El and even Lucas in the background hugging over the other walkie talkie hoping for a shred of good news. Max was still in hospital, though in good hands. There was hope that she’d still wake up, she was strong and a fighter. Lucas sat by her bedside every chance he got, but he too needed fresh air sometimes, to see his friends. Being cooped up waiting for someone to wake up wouldn’t do anyone any good if it was constant. Same four walls day in, day out. It took some time for him to realise that however.

“Guys, we have ourselves a code blue. Over.” Dustin chimed excitedly as the rest of the youngsters screamed in joy, they were out of ear shot from Steve and Robin, all around the pool as it was such a lovely day in Hawkins, warm with a light breeze hitting the trees and pool every now and then causing small ripples, birds still chirping. Even amidst all the uncertainty and heartache, life could be beautiful.

You looked into the mirror having put a little bit of makeup on, an extreme rarity for you with everything that had gone on the past few years, you’d finally put a brush through your washed hair and changed into something more you, high waisted jeans, a black t-shirt and a light denim jacket you could take off if you wanted, you felt the warmth through the bathroom window as you looked at yourself in the mirror once more, “presentable.” You could smell cookies downstairs signalling Dustin had kept to his word and kept an eye on then, not letting them burn. You hurried down the stairs with a skip to your step and twirled to Dustin who was standing in the hall with a cookie jar in hand, ready to pack them once they’d cooled a little,

“There’s the Y/N I know! Yes!” Dustin fist bumped the air with his free hand wishing the cookies would cool down faster. You gathered your shoes and a small bag to put your keys and anything else you needed in,

“what if he doesn’t want to see me?,” you stopped in your tracks, looking at Dustin unsure, “what if I’ve hurt him too much and he never wants to see me again?” you play with the hem of your denim jacket, backtracking, wondering if this was a good idea after all,

“you’re the only person he wants to see, Y/N. we just invite ourselves in and he’s too nice to tell us to get out,” you shake your head,

“You know that isn’t true, he loves you guys as much as I do, even if he’s in the worst mood possible, he’d always rather have you guys around, you know that,” Dustin nodded, putting the cooler cookies into the jar sealing them tightly, “did you bike over here?” you questioned as Dustin shook his head,

“I didn’t,” he grinned and dug his hand in his back pocket, pulling Steve’s car keys out and waving them in your face, “he doesn’t know, obviously,” Dustin shrugged as you shook your head and put your head in your hand laughing in disbelief, a real laugh, something you forgot you could do,

“Dustin! You could have caused an accident!” you tried to sound serious over your laughing that just wouldn’t stop,

“well, you don’t see many cars on the road these days after what happened, maybe people are too scared,” he shrugged once more, “not me, now. Let’s gooooo!” Dustin ran for the front door, cookies in hand, and his small backpack you didn’t realise he had draped over a shoulder,

“Ahhh. Not so fast, keys!” you extended your hand to Dustin, Steve absolutely loved that car, sometimes you wondered if he loved that car more than you and okay, Dustin got there safely, but now he was in your care he wouldn’t be driving that thing,

“Spoil sport,” he ginned as he handed you the keys stepping out into the outside. You took a deep breath. The smell of the outside you hadn’t seen in weeks. The light breeze through your hair the sun tingling against your skin, butterflies and birds, nature. Things you hasn’t stopped to look at for such a long time, “earth to Y/N,” you shook your head and walked towards the car, opening it for you both.

 You hadn’t driven in forever, was it something you could forget? Fastening your seatbelt, making sure Dustin did the same, starting the car and opening the windows, you pulled the sun visor down, a small Polaroid falling onto your lap. You turned it around to see a picture of you and Steve, your heart beating against your chest as you ran your finger over the photo. It was the first one you took together, before you were even official. Halloween 1984. That stupid party, the night Steve and Nancy broke up. You found Steve crying on the back step, you spent the rest of the night trying to cheer him up. One too many beers, weed and a stupid camera, “he kept it...” Dustin looked up at you as you put the photo in the dashboard opposite Dustin,

“Of course he did, he keeps everything,” you didn’t know that, you didn’t say anything further as you pulled off the drive, it wasn’t a long drive. It was actually an easy enough walk, you didn’t live far from Steve. The nights he would randomly turn up at your house and throw pebbles at the window even though no one else was in the house, small memories making you smile.

The drive was quiet, Dustin looking out the window the whole way there, your heart still hammering against your chest, would people be happy to see you, would they hate you, would things be the same, what the fuck were you going to say to Steve? Pulling onto his drive, things got too real, you heard laughter from the other younger people of the group outside as you locked up the car, Dustin rushing to the back gate with cookies, though before he could you were tackled by El, Mike, Will and Lucas, “Y/N OH MY GOD YOU’RE HERE!” mike exclaimed as you laughed with the kids, some of them sopping wet from the pool, of course they still loved you, “we all missed you so much, it’s so good to see you” you ruffled everyone’s hair, something you always used to do when they were younger, something you still hadn’t stopped, tears in your eyes, you smiled, for once they weren’t sad tears,

“I’ve missed you all so much, I’m sorry I haven’t been around, I’m sorry I haven’t been stronger for you all.” They all hugged you tighter, understanding, when did they all grow up?

“we all understand,” Lucas looks at you empathetically, “Max would want us all together, so would Eddie,” you hugged them all just that little bit tighter as they lead you into the back gate, not much had changed in Steve’s back yard except the grass was unkempt, the pool still clean somehow, “we will let you talk to Steve now,” you took a deep breath and looked towards the back sliding doors Robin leaning against them smiling as she ran out to hug you,

“Oh praise the heavens you’re here, I cannot deal with him in there for one minute longer,” you looked towards robin apologetically and she shook her head, “none of that, Y/N. Go see him, bring our Steve back, yeah?” she smiled and sat next to the kids, stealing one of the cookies you made.

You made your way into the house, the house that had so many different memories, you kicked your shoes off and put them where you always do before poking your head into the living room, Steve’s back was towards you as he was staring at the TV something you guessed he’d been doing for the past couple weeks, a lot like you really. His hair was too dishevelled and free of product, but oh fuck did he look like home. “If you’re there to try get me outside in the pool again, Robin I swear to fuck I will change the locks on this house.” He signed defeated and tuned round, his pupils dilating, shock on his face, the evident bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, “Y/N?” he scrambled off the sofa as fast as he could, scared you were a figment of his imagination, “is... is it really you? You’re here...” he stood opposite, reaching out to you,

“Steve...” tears welled in your eyes, “I am so, so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you, I didn’t want what I said, I was so lost in my own mind,” he pulled you into a bone crushing hug, “please forgive me, I’m so sorry,” you pulled away to look at him, tears in his own eyes as he brushed your free falling ones away with his thumb, “I love you so much, I was so scared of losing you too that I fucked up and lost you anyway,” he pulled you back into him, the smell of cedar, bergamot and a slight hint of cigarette smoke, home.

“You didn’t lose me, sweetheart. I love you, more than anything,” he pulled you into him, lips crashing together, cola Popsicle and a small hint of your home cooked cookies that Dustin must have been bringing to him secretly. Everyone loved your cookies. He pulled away and smashed his lips against yours again over and over, the taste of salt now from both of your tears, small lazy kisses planted all over your mouth as he pulled away, your lips slightly swollen, his honey eyes full of life once more, he was never going to let you go. He pulled you flush with his body, your head resting against his chest, as he ran his fingers through your hair, “you’re my home, Y/N. Wherever you are. That’s home to me. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, okay?” you kissed him again, your cherry chapstick smearing over both of your mouths,

“you’re my home too, Mr. Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington,” you looked up to him, a smile on your face, no longer crying as you knocked your hip with his. The emptiness in your heart glazing over a little, the pieces of your broken heart slowly reconnecting, the feeling of life, love, family.

“Have you seen my hair right now?” he ran a hair though it, washed, but lifeless. “Give me a minute, yeah? Put a movie on.” He kissed you softly before sprinting out of the room. You sat on the sofa you’d sat on countless times as you went through old rentals that would probably never be returned as the video store was one of the places to be destroyed, you placed a VHS in the TV as Steve bounded down the stairs, his hair no longer lifeless and messy, but perfect. Your smile so big your jaw could dislocate, “better? The hair is back,” he grinned and jumped over you on the sofa, “Return of the Jedi? One of my favourites.” He pulled your legs over his lap, both of you draped over the sofa like nothing had changed, his hands caressing your knee, smiles not leaving either of your faces.

“GUYS, CODE BLUEEEE.” Dustin shouted from behind the sofa as everyone else bundled in, “and look at that, Farrah Fawcett spray,” Dustin grinned,

“That’s top secret, dude!” Steve shook his head, a genuine laugh falling from his mouth as everyone pulled blankets and cushions around themselves, your cookies in hand. A good old fashioned movie night, things were going to be okay, you looked over to Steve, his eyes glistening as he squeezed your leg. The people you chose as family, Robin in the corner of the room beaming for the both of you. Both of her best friends back together, where they belong. There was a long road ahead for all of you, but at least you’d always face these things together. You were all so much stronger together. A team. A family.

[theysaidhush]

Pick Me

➝ YouCan'tSeeItButIt'sThere!OT8 x 9thMember!Reader, 00's line x Reader ➝ You and the 00's try to discuss who's the most 'pick me' in the group. ➝ crack?, suggestive ➝ wc. 1k

It started off like a joke, really. You were just joking around, enjoying the company, when the topic of 'pick me' came around. To be honest, you weren't one to make fun of others. After all, you do not know what's happening in someone's life. Maybe they are just craving attention - which they obviously are, and they don't know how to voice it. So you just smiled and nodded whenever your opinion was needed.

Jisung was probably the most passionate one in this discussion, shaking his arms and rising his voice whenever someone pointed out that he was the most likely to be a pick me - in your group of friend, that is. But it was a real blast to make fun of him and tease him for his small quirks and habits.

"Hey! Why aren't you defending your bestie!" he turned towards you, eyebrows furrowed and fists tighten in a deadly grip around Hyunjin forearms. Was he trying to fight the taller boy? Maybe, and you weren't going to help him, or else the both of you would end up on your ass if Hyunjin calls Chan.

"Who? Me? Nah, I don't have any bestie, sorry."

The look of pure betrayal on the boy's face was one that you saw on a daily basis. In fact, Jisung was probably one of the only person who could compete against Hyunjin for the title 'who's-the-most-dramatic'. So you just laughed behind your sleeve and watched your self-proclaimed ex-bestie getting his ass beaten by Hyunjin - serves him right, no bestie would want his friend to get whooped.

"See? Starting a fight and then yapping and calling for help, he definitely is the 'pick me' of our group!"

"I'm a babygirl, that's different!"

"Said who?"

Felix's voice was trembling just as much as the accusatory finger pointed at his soul-twin. The accusation did not feel like one coming from his mouth, yet Jisung gasped - you feared he was going to choke on his saliva.

"How dare you!"

How dare he, in fact, when he was second on the podium of 'pick me'. If the way he looks at you meant something, he definitely knew that, and he was hoping that his involvement in this conversation would fade and disappear just like Jisung's ego when he yelped like a ten years old girl as Hyunjin kicked his ankles - so much for going to the gym with 3Racha.

Felix's bright smile was enough to wipe your memory. Did he just threw his friend to the wolf? Who, Felix? No, look at that smile of his, he could never. But, then, you started to doubt it. Would he have done the same if you were in Jisung's situation? Would he have pointed at you with his small finger and pursued lips? You squinted your eyes, looking at his. He just looked back at you, smiling even more brightly. No, Felix can't do that, you're just being dramatic.

As if sensing your - humoristic - internal debate, he puffed his cheeks and made grabby hands towards you, inviting you into his warm embrace.

"Look at him! Look at! That Gremlin is trying to steal my girl while I'm being killed by this atrocious human being!"

"Oi, she was my girl first?"

Well, you had nothing to say, Felix was kinda right. You ignored your Quokka's plead and crawled your way into the Australian's arms and sighed as you snuggled in his chest. His warmth could save you in the coldest night, he lived up to his nickname. His hug was so soft that you did not notice his roaming hands slowly making their way toward your chest.

"Put on a show, we'll put ours."

"I wanna join, it's unfair!"

"Don't mind him, he's just trying to save his ass. Moron."

Oh, the opportunity was too great to pass upon. You were going to kill two birds with one stone. So you clumsily got up on your feet - almost stepping on Felix's hard on while doing so, and everyone turned towards you. Well, Jisung tried, being in a headlock quite prevent him from doing so. And then it was your turn to point an accusatory finger at someone in the room. Hyunjin.

"I'm gonna tell Chan you said that!"

Oh dear. You might have overestimated your capacities. You really thought that being on your feet while Hyunjin was on the floor would do you good. You really thought that you could be faster than someone like him, someone whose reflexes were otherworldly. And you could have succeeded! If it weren't for Seungmin. Kim fucking SeungMin. That traitor. Let alone the fact that Hyunjin's quick hand caught your ankle, making you fall miserably on the ground as he climbed over your body and sat on the back of your thighs, his hand muffling your pleas. But what happened? Seungmin wasn't even in the room!

While you were having a chat with the twin sunshine and your favorite Picasso in a bedroom, the other members were just minding their own business in other parts of the apartment. So you did not expected Seungmin, of all people, to stand in the doorframe - Chan send him to tell you to quiet. What is he? A little brother who has to do his older brother's chores? Spoiler alert: yes, he is. But thankfully, what he found in yours and Felix's shared bedroom was really entertaining - Jisung in a headlock was always entertaining. So he just watched chaos unfold. He heard Hyunjin say ass and moron, watched you get on your feet, ready to snitch on him in order to save your little, poor and hopeless boyfriend, only to watch your face fall when he smirked at you and shut the door on your face.

Seungmin might have heard a muffled scream coming from behind the door. He might have heard Felix praying for your soul and Jisung get his ass whooped a second time. He might have heard something crash and then the bed creak. But he only smirked and headed towards the kitchen. Any other day he wouldn't have missed on the opportunity of watching Hyunjin get scolded by Chan, or watch you being ruined because of your 'bad behavior'. But he was still salty because of what happened a few minutes ago. Seriously, who sends him, a grown ass man, to tell dumb dumber dumbest and dumberest to shut up?

[coffeebanana]

It felt eerily familiar, kneeling ghost-like beneath a vermillion sky. Doom crept though Antichat's chest, as thick as the acrid smoke scorching his lungs. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. There was a weight in his arms—an inexplicable solace. And yet…  Suddenly it didn’t weigh as much as it should. No.  His eyes flicked downwards. No, no, no, no— All he held was a pile of ashes, moulded into the shape of a girl.

Some nightmares refuse to fade.

***

[Read the full fic below the cut or on Ao3!! CW: panic attacks, dissociation, depression]

It felt eerily familiar, kneeling ghost-like beneath a vermillion sky. Doom crept though Antichat's chest, as thick as the acrid smoke scorching his lungs. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. There was a weight in his arms—an inexplicable solace. And yet…  Suddenly it didn’t weigh as much as it should. No.  His eyes flicked downwards. No, no, no, no— All he held was a pile of ashes, moulded into the shape of a girl.

Please, no.

Chat squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head to rid himself of a sudden, blinding panic pounding through his skull. But it was too late. Ladybug’s slate-stained image was seared into his mind, her face frozen in pain, devoid of everything that had once painted comfort across his soul. 

Her mask was half-torn, such that Marinette's bare cheek was cradled closest to his chest. Like maybe he'd tried in vain to protect her from the blast.

From his own destruction.

A choked sound ripped itself from his throat, a painful lump following in its wake. He had no way to fix this, nothing to do but pull her in closer. To tighten his arms around her precious, fragile remains.

Another mistake. 

She crumbled in his grip; ashes floated up like a mosaic, blinding his vision. Frantically, he pawed at the air—trying to gather her fragments, to force her back together. If he caught enough, perhaps he could papier-mâché her likeness. He could use his tears as glue.

But there was no time for that before a fiery breeze tore through the street. Marinette’s remains were swept away, and only Chat’s strangled cries could follow. 

The further away they fled, the more he came undone. There was nothing left to tie his mind together, to keep his pain from exploding like a supernova.

Nothing to keep the world from collapsing in on him.

“What did you expect?” Nightormentor’s voice sliced through the smoke. “You’ve always been poison to the ones you loved most.”

NO!

With a frigid gasp—one that curdled his tar-slicked insides—Adrien awoke. Once again, there was a darling weight in his arms. Only this Marinette was warm and solid. Her limbs were tangled in the blankets she'd pulled to her side of his bed, and one of her hands curled slightly into his T-shirt as her breath tickled the fabric.

She was alive.

Adrien just wasn't sure his heart still knew how to beat.

He was too hot and too cold all at once, both drenched in sweat and trembling. His chest felt like someone had trampled it, and every attempt to breathe sliced further into the wound. 

When he closed his eyes, the world was still on fire.

Stomach lurching, he carefully rolled Marinette’s weight off his chest. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t listen to the even sounds of her breath without hearing echoes of his own sobs slip between them. 

The room spun around him as he stumbled to the bathroom; the world still appeared as though through smoke—muted and unreliable, the air too thick to breathe. He collapsed to his knees in front of the toilet, his empty stomach convulsing, only to realize the sickness inside him wasn’t the kind he could expel.

He remained there, braced against the toilet seat, until his limbs eased their shaking enough for him to crawl away. Even so, he barely made it to the wall beside the sink before one of his arms gave out, and his cheek slammed a little too hard into the handle of one of the cupboards he twisted into a seated position. Hissing in pain, he let his face press against the wood there, shuddering at the way the cold surface shocked some life inside of him.

Time ceased to make sense after that. One moment, his chest was burning, pain reverberating through his back as he struggled to fill his lungs. The next, it seemed he’d become a giant cloud. A numb expanse of icy droplets, ready to fall at a moment’s notice.

Light gradually awakened the room, a subtle warmth flickering near the edge of his awareness. He only fully realized the day had come when, somewhere beyond the door he’d left ajar, the bed creaked.

“Adrien?” Marinette called. Her voice was gentle, but pierced through him all the same. “Everything okay?”

No.

Panic set in anew as footsteps approached. He swore he could somehow taste the blood pounding in his ears, and he clamped his mouth shut to keep from crying out. To keep from breathing, even.

He didn’t want to be found. Maybe, if he held his breath until his lungs screamed again, he’d remain concealed in his lifeless fog.

But ironically, it was harder to keep from breathing when that was his actual goal. He sucked in sharp breaths, timed to his heartbeats, and hid his face in his hands.

“Oh, Chaton...” Marinette’s slippers scraped across the bathroom tiles, coming to a stop within his sight. Too close. “Did it happen again?”

He managed a nod, bottom lip quivering as he bit back a sob.

A long exhale piqued his attention; it started as a noise from above and ended as a warm breath against his cheek. Kneeling at his side, Marinette rubbed her hands against her thighs.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

Adrien shifted his jaw from side to side, guilt hooking its talons into his gut. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

It wasn’t a lie; he felt plenty bad about inadvertently dragging her here every night. She deserved the comfort of her own bed, regardless of whether he could actually get any sleep without her. So the least he could do was actually let her get enough rest.

But it wasn’t the truth, either.

And as she took his hand, carefully smoothing his fingers over hers, he had a feeling she knew it.

“Adrien…” She tugged his arm upwards, pressing a kiss to his fingertips. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

Biting his lip to keep from disagreeing, Adrien squeezed his eyes shut. With one less sense at his disposal, he was all too aware of the way she lifted his hand further, unfolding his fingers to press against her cheek.

“See?” she whispered, breath tickling the inside of his wrist. Her head twisted to the side, lips planting a kiss on the heel of his palm. “Everything’s fine.”

He swore he could feel the remnants of destruction prickling against her cheek. It took everything he had not to jerk his hand away.

Nothing was fine.

No matter how he’d come into this world, and no matter how much he despised the fact, Adrien would always be—in some way or another—his father’s son. Sometimes he swore he saw a glimpse of the man when he turned too fast in the mirror. Other times, a flash of fury would seize him; with a sickening sense of satisfaction, he’d know what it might felt like to be a villain.

Even worse, he was his mother’s son. His very existence had killed her.

He’d killed both his parents, in the end. 

So no matter how much Marinette tried to console him, Adrien knew the voice of his nightmares had a point. He was a danger to her, to himself, to the world.

It might not even end up being his choice. All it would take was someone finding out what he was, and stealing the two rings he still couldn’t stand the sight of.

He was, at most, a liability. And Marinette deserved more than that.

She never agreed with him on that point.

“Look at me,” she said now. An edge crept into her voice, one that shocked him into listening.

His heart jumped at the blue of her eyes—filled with all the warmth that the fiery world of his nightmares had failed to hold. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking. 

“No, no, no. I don’t want you to be sorry. I just…” Tears filled her eyes. “I love you, okay?”

Adrien couldn’t say it back. He couldn’t find enough truth to shove into the sentiment—not when that was all buried beneath his own misery. It was like he’d returned to his nightmare, with smoke charring his throat and one all-consuming fear.

Just the tiniest wrong movement could ruin everything.

But if he didn’t give some kind of response, Marinette would only worry. So he tugged on her hand—maybe a little too hard considering her yelp of surprise—and guided her to sit between his legs. She moved readily into place, and Adrien forced himself to ignore the fear spiking through his veins, hugging her back to his chest.

Once settled, she twisted around and tried to crane her neck upwards, reaching a hand half-blindly up to his cheek. Heart squeezing in his chest, he tightened his grip around and pressed a kiss to her head. 

She remained tense for a moment too long, but finally sighed and melted back against his chest. Her hand trailed lazily back down to her side, and her breath spilled into a hum of contentment. With her gaze fixed firmly ahead, Adrien could finally breathe again.

He didn’t want her to see the few tears he’d finally let slip down his cheeks—even if she’d no doubt hear his sniffles or feel the way the cries rumbled in his chest. And he didn't want her to examine him to deeply, to discover what he already knew.

One day, he would surely disappoint her.

[ladykailitha]

A Love For Christmas Part 8

And here we are! The last chapter! Thank you to everyone who liked and comment on this wonderful story. I had a blast trying to make it as a Hallmark Christmas-y as possible!

Steve gets what he always wanted for Christmas, people who love him!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

~

It had been six weeks since I sent my little elf off into the big wide world and I was anxious to see how they were doing.

They had been sending progress reports on their person they chosen to help bring to the joy of Christmas. They had originally chosen a battered and worn down secretary, but when she unexpectedly passed away, they were forced to change tack and instead began to focus on the son of the business owner.

The young man had had a rash of bad Christmases and didn’t believe in the holiday anymore. The elf had been working tirelessly to help the poor man out and they had done a stellar job.

I walked up to their stall at the Christmas market and asked for a cup of hot chocolate.

“Santa!” they cried cheerfully and then covered their mouth with a blush.

“It’s alright,” I told them. “There are enough people around that any old man with a white beard might be mistaken for the jolly, old soul.” I winked.

They grinned back.

“He has really turned around and loves Christmas now,” they said proudly. “I did it!”

“You most certainly did.” I pull out a small box and hand it to them. “This is for that young man. So if you could find away to get it to him, I’d appreciate it.”

Their eyes went wide and their smile was incandescent. “You trust me to deliver a present for you?”

I nod.

They clutch to their chest and then salute.

I laugh. It’s good to see them so happy.

~

“Come on, Stevie!” Eddie implored. “You can’t leave Hawkins without seeing the Christmas Market! It’s what the town is known for.”

Steve shook his head. “The last time I went to one of those things it was held together by duck tape and Elmer’s glue. It had three shops and shopping mall Santa who was more drunk than he was jolly, and my best friend left me stranded there to go make out with his girlfriend when he saw what a disaster it was.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie huffed, eyes wide. “You are Christmas cursed!”

Steve waved his arm in front of him. “See? And that wasn’t even the worst of it.”

“What could be worse then that?” Eddie asked cocking his head to the side.

“My dad couldn’t pick me out for three hours,” Steve huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “So I was wandering around looking for something to do and somehow got roped into being Santa for two of those hours while their paid Santa slept off his booze.” He threw his arms in the air. “I didn’t even get paid. I was told I was ‘volunteering’ and that my payment was the joy on the little tykes’ faces.”

Eddie licked his lips slowly. “Babe, now you have to come to ours. It is so not like that. At all.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, Stevie,” Eddie said with a fond, dimpled smile. “I promise.”

~

Eddie drove Steve’s car because he wanted Steve’ to be blindfolded but didn’t want to take his van. It was having issues and Eddie had to wait until after they tallied up all the money from their close to Christmas sales before he could get it fixed.

Finally they came to a stop and Eddie hurried around to the passenger side door and opened it for Steve. He carefully guided him out of the car and toward the entrance, making sure the car was locked behind them.

Then Eddie removed the blindfold.

There was a huge sign welcoming them the Christmas Market in red, green, and white. The entrance was framed by two massive Nutcrackers. Beyond the entrance were shops and booths galore. People dressed as elves and old-timey carolers wandered around, cheerfully singing Christmas songs.

It was what Steve always imagined what the North Pole must have looked like.

“Eddie...” he breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

Eddie grinned back at him. “Just wait until you see what’s inside.”

So they walked in and immediately Steve was struck by the sounds, sights, and smells of Christmas. It was bright and cheerful, but with a homey atmosphere that Steve had never experienced before in his life.

Suddenly he was tugging on Eddie’s wrist and dragging him over to the carolers dressed up as though they walked out of the pages of Dickens novel.

Eddie laughed.

They had bought cookies from the German shop and chocolates from the Swiss shop.

Then Robin came bounding up to them. “You made it!”

Steve wrapped his arms around her and swung her around. “This is amazing!”

“Is it just?” she cried happily. “Come on, you have to come with me to the beverage booth. There is a pretty girl there and I need you to make sure she’s not some angel or something, she so gorgeous!”

Eddie and Steve laughed, but followed her to the beverage booth. Sure enough there were a pretty red-headed girl with bright green eyes and sweet smile.

“She’s so your type!” Steve said bumping her shoulder with his.

“Shut up!”

Steve walked up to the booth. “Two hot chocolates please.”

Her name tag read: Chrissy. Perfect.

Once Chrissy handed over the two cups in beautifully decorated red styrofoam cups, Steve smiled brightly at her. “And your number for my friend?” He jerked his head to where Eddie and Robin were standing.

“I guess that depends which one it’s for?” Chrissy said with a wink.

Steve grinned. “The pretty blonde.”

Chrissy looked back over at them and then nodded with satisfactory smile. She pulled out a pen and wrote her number on a napkin, handing it to Steve.

“I’d say to tell her I get off at seven,” Chrissy said with a smile, “but I think she knows that.”

Steve laughed and walked back over.

~

“They’re so perfect together,” Robin said with a sigh. “Just look at them. So pretty and sporty. Just think of the babies they’d have.”

Eddie frowned. He hadn’t liked the way she kept looking over here at them when she was supposedly supposed to be working.

Then Steve came up to them with a big grin. He handed the hot chocolate to Eddie. “A hot chocolate for the handsome gentleman.” Then he handed the napkin to Robin. “And the pretty girl’s number for Robin. She gets off at seven and likes to watch the carolers.”

Eddie and Robin shared a shocked glance.

“You asked her out for me?” Robin asked in amazement.

“Sure,” Steve said brightly. “Everyone deserves a little Hallmark cheesiness for Christmas.” Then he winked at Eddie, who turned as bright red as the cup in his hand.

~

Far too soon the place was closing up, Robin and Chrissy had long since gone home together and it was just Eddie and Steve under the glistening stars.

“Thanks for making Christmas special this year,” Steve murmured as they got into the car.

“It’s not over with yet,” Eddie said, slipping into the passenger seat. “There’s still Christmas chaos with everyone. There’s going to be lots of food courtesy of Claudia with no orange to be found,” he started ticking off on his fingers, “Joyce and Hopper are bringing the drinks, everyone is bringing presents. You don’t have to buy something for anyone, your presence will be the gift. But I, uh. I got you something.”

Steve lit up and dared to glance over at him. “I got you something too. I really hope you like it.”

Eddie’s answering grin was enough to keep Steve warm all the way back to Indy.

~

He called his parents to tell them he was moving out of Indy which was met with the same disdain he had gotten from them his whole life.

“You’ll regret that,” Mrs. Harrington sniffed. “He might be pretty now, but once you run out of money, he’ll do the same.”

“Think about what you’re doing, Steven,” Mr. Harrington grumbled. “You know you’re not smart, you’re only importance is as my son and if you walk away from that no one will even look at you twice.”

“Seriously, Steven,” Mrs. Harrington continued, “there is no amount sex that will make being with someone like that palpable. There were several young ladies at the party who would have been willing to put up with your flaws for the amount of money you make. They were just frightened off by that riffraff you brought with you.”

“There are plenty of opportunities in the company,” Mr. Harrington huffed. “You just need to put your back into it.”

Steve burst out laughing. “We both know that the junior partner was going to Tommy or Billy. It was never going to be me. I hate what we do. I always have. But I’m tired of wasting my life for a job I never wanted. I have a lot of money saved up, I’m not going for some guy. I’m going because that person looked at my unhappy life and showed me it didn’t have to be that way.”

“If you walk away from this,” Mr. Harrington growled, “you’ll never see another cent from us.”

“We’ll never see or speak to you either,” Mrs. Harrington twittered. “Is that really what you want?”

Steve let out a happy little sigh. “Oh god, yes.” Then he hung up and blocked both of their numbers.

He felt free for the first time in his life.

~

Steve pulled into driveway of the Munsons’ house. It was small and homey and gave off a warmth that all the other houses he had been to did. Nothing like his bland apartment or the Macy’s catelogue worthy house he grew up in.

He grabbed the red velvet bag he brought just for tonight and made his way to the door. He knocked and instantly it opened up to Eddie in a Santa hat.

“Stevie!” Eddie cried, big grin on his face. “You made it.” Then he spotted the bag and his eyes went wide. “And with gifts, too. You are a very welcome sight!” He stepped back to let Steve in.

Steve slipped past him, so close that their chests brushed against each other and Steve felt a spike of warm lance through his chest and settle down into his belly.

He sat down next to the tree and suddenly Joyce was at his side with a steaming mug of Jim’s apple cider.

“It’s a good thing Jim doesn’t like orange in this otherwise we would have had troubles,” she said handing him the mug.

Steve blushed. “Oh I checked before I poured myself some. I’m aware that most recipes call for it and was very happy to find out it didn’t. Didn’t need it either.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Steve,” Joyce said with a smile.

“Me too.”

Then it was time for presents and Steve got to play Santa. Not everyone got a present from everyone else, but everyone had a stack of presents so no one felt left out.

But every time someone opened a present from Steve they would gasp and say that was just what they always wanted.

Finally when Eddie opened up a black wooden dice box complete with sparkling red dice, did anyone ask the question.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “It’s beautiful, but how did you know?”

Steve shrugged. “Robin helped me pick out gifts from everyone.”

Dustin tilted his head to the side. “But how would she know? She’s only been here since November.”

Steve mirrored his expression and blinked. “Huh. It just always felt like she’d always been here, you know?”

Everyone agreed that it felt that way to them too, and everyone moved on. Then it was time for Steve to open his.

He got warm woolly socks from Robin, hand-stitched pillows from Dustin and Claudia. Dustin picked out the colors and material and Claudia sewed them. A box of Eggo’s from Ellie. A nice hat and scarf from Eddie and a few things from everyone else.

“Hey Steve,” Robin said, “I think one of your presents dropped.” She indicated under his chair with her chin.

Steve looked down between his legs and sure enough, there was a small present took behind one of his legs. “Oh thanks!”

He picked it up and unwrapped it. It was a necklace box, the kind his dad would buy his mom when he cheated on her. On top was a note and when he read it, tears streamed down his face as he pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle his cries.

Eddie came over and sat down in the chair next to his. “Hey, you okay?”

Steve handed him the note to read as he opened up the box with that little sproing and snap that jewelry boxes have.

“Dear Stevie,

I’m sorry I’m fifteen years late, but it took me a while to find the perfect match. Take a chance and I think you’ll find I’m right.

xxSanta”

“What’s this about?” Eddie asked lifting the note.

“When I was eleven I wrote to Santa begging him to send me someone who would love me unconditionally and would never leave me. Not like my parents who more concerned with appearances then the health of their own son.” Steve shook his head. “When nothing came under the tree that Christmas, I stopped believing in him.”

He lifted the necklace. It was red guitar pick on a black leather cord and he frowned at it in confusion.

“Holy shit! That’s mine!” Eddie gasped. “I thought I lost it that day our at the Sinclair farm when I rescued the horses. It must have fallen off then.” He reached out to rub the surface of the pick between his finger and thumb. “I thought it was gone for sure.”

Steve put the necklace around Eddie’s neck and used it pull this beautiful man to him. Then he sealed their lips with a kiss.

~

“You did a good job, Robin,” I said, appearing next to her as she watched Eddie and Steve whisper their ‘I love you’s. He bumped her shoulder with his. “And yes you can stay here. You’re happier here than you ever were in the North Pole. You found your people.”

Robin blushed a bright pink. “Thanks, boss. I thought for sure the job was sunk when Dolores passed away, but I think he had more influence on this sweet little group then she would have.”

“I think if there is a God,” I said warmly, “I think he was looking out for our Stevie, too.”

“What will happened to Steve now?” she asked fondly.

I chuckled. “He’ll move out here to Hawkins and go to school at the state school, get a degree in doing something he loves and continue to deepen the connections he made here over the last month.”

Robin nodded. She looked up at Santa and he appeared younger than when she saw him at the Christmas Market.

“The more Christmas spirit there is,” I explained to her unasked question, “the younger I appear. It’s nice to be able to straighten my spine, it’s been awhile.”

“Does that mean Mrs. Claus also gets young and hot, too?” Robin asked with a grin.

I laughed my jolly ole laugh. “Too bad you won’t be heading back to the North Pole with me to find out.”

“Rude.”

“I punished Myrtle, by the way,” I told her. “The elf who sabotaged your sleigh.”

Robin cocked her head to the side. “Yeah?”

“I told her that I was taking her with me on my around the world trip,” I explained.

“That doesn’t sound like much of a punishment,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms with a pout. “That’s like the dream come true of every elf in the workshop.”

I tucked my thumbs in my belt loop and rocked back on my heels with a grin. “As reindeer scooper.”

Robin blinked for a moment as she took in what he just said, then she threw her head back and laughed.

“Merry Christmas, Robin,” I said kissing the top of her head.

Merry Christmas, indeed, she thought with a smile.

~

Tag List: COMPLETED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @steddieislife @tartarusknight @themoonagainstmers

[inkedinfusions]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲 | eren jaeger chapter 10

⊱𖣂⊰ | In which you fall into a fictional world with the key to Pandora's box.

⊱𖣂⊰ | masterlist

⊰– prev   next–⊱

𝟏𝟎 | 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

chapter word count: 3.1 k

content warnings: graphic panic attack, very light mentions of body horror, hurt/comfort, blanket warnings

a/n: Double digits!!! Shout out to my beta for picking out the name of the chapter. Hope you like this one! I had a blast writing out the descriptions even though the dialogue was sometimes a pain in the ass lol. Oh well.

Thanks for reading!

𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 cut the glitter dome that is up above, flowing in tandem with heavenly winds. Small wisps of their bodies drift away from the main path, scattering amongst the stars, becoming the translucent curtains that divide the heavens. 

You float amongst the vastness, mindlessly being carried away by their hold. They whisper around you, unfolding their voices like petals of moon flowering blooms. They are liquid electricity, powering their own existence, as well as holding up your own. What feels like a second, or perhaps a millennium passes, and suddenly the stars and currents are once again high above, leaving you on the surface. 

The air feels silky, as does the ground. You walk – but do you? You walk, walk, walk, and yet arrive nowhere. Everywhere looks the same; still, you're confident you haven't moved. Goosebumps riddle your soul, and you feel compelled to fall over, as threads of your consciousness are rhythmically pulled away from your sentience. 

And it's hot. Is it hot? You were sure you couldn't perceive your own body, let alone the temperature. But it is very much. Hot, that is. Blazing, melting your skin, charring your hair, burning your heart. It spreads, catching ablaze just like dry, cut grass. 

Your heart goes fast, fast, faster. It beats against your chest, that is to say it rumbles far past your ribs, hammering and hammering and hammering until you’re sure it is about to spill out your thorax. The starry dome begins to blur as you are forcibly ripped from your dream world, and your eyes snap open.

You gasp as you sit up, hands clutching the blanket you were sure was choking you. Beads of sweat slowly trickling down your forehead, down your back. There isn't enough air and your chest feels constricted and you're burning and there isn't enough air. 

You have to get out. Out your sheets, out the tent, maybe out the camp. There isn't air inside, but surely there is air outside, right? It doesn't matter what misconceptions the others could jump to, seeing you outside alone at night, right now you're choking on nothing and you have to get out, out, out. 

You trip over your discarded blanket as you clumsily stand up, absentmindedly grabbing a jacket before booking it out the tent. If you stayed, however, you would notice how Mikasa stirs awake, confused by the ruckus you're causing. 

But by the time she wakes up enough to question you, you are already halfway towards a small clearing on the edge of it all. The canteen, the tents, the lights, the crates, they all close in on you, robbing you of your breath. They loom over your path, no less giant than the hills that surround you. 

Still, you push on, no less agitated than when you first woke up, walking and walking and pushing towards the other side of a knoll, hidden away from prying eyes. Not once does it occur to you how miraculous it is that you encountered no Scout on your way here. 

You let yourself fall, your back sliding against the coarse rock as you curl in onto yourself. The cold air had done something to halt your racing thoughts of burning and choking and rumbling and terror, but you were still deep within the clutches of your own panicked mind.

Thoughts slip through your hands like slippery ice, only leaving behind the remnants of your musings, and they unwittingly become the reflection of your insecurities. All that you’ve tried to contain since you first realized the magnitude of the forces at play comes crashing down. The other shoe has dropped, and it's in the tremors it causes in the ground that you find yourself tripping over. 

You're in Paradis, and away from Yelena’s prying eyes, and on your way to making allies, so why are you so afraid? What are you so afraid of? You want to scream, to tear your hair off, to claw your arms red. You have to get out, out, out, but there is nothing to get out of but your own skin. 

You shudder, threading your hands through your hair, lowering your gaze towards your boot covered feet. When did you put them on? You don't remember and that kicks off another wave of dread. 

You can't remember putting on your boots, you can't feel your face, you can't remember your last name. Your clothes are itchy and coarse, like sand on an abandoned beach, visited only by the remnants of forgotten spirits. Clothes, face, name. Clothes, face, name. Clothes, face–

“Y/n?”

Eren. Eren is here. He's calling your name, you notice. You want to answer something, anything to reassure him that you're fine, that it is just a fluke, and to please not tell Levi of your nocturne escapade. But all that comes out of your mouth is a choked sob, which is quickly covered by your hands. 

A hand that is not your own makes its way into your field of vision. It stays there, palm up and unmoving, before you let out a shuddering breath and make a move to grab it, reaching for it with both your searing hands. You expect him to flinch away from the scorching heat, but there is no discernible reaction that you can perceive. 

The first thing you notice in Eren’s hand is its coolness, clashing against the raging fire that burns under your nails. His other palm drops above your own, encasing both in a brisk hold. He holds still for a moment, and when you don't pull away he squeezes, giving you a point to center yourself around. 

His left thumb rubs comforting circles on the back of your hand, pressing callused fingerprints onto it. They are rough like fine sand, gently rubbing away the coarseness of your touch. You focus on that feeling, slowly concentrating on the way his hands differ from yours. 

Expectedly, his are rougher, with more calluses than yours. Yours, on the other hand, are almost silky smooth when compared to his, and you're so perplexed by this you don't notice how your breathing begins to calm down. 

He lets you turn his palms around, chuckling at your puzzled expression. You don’t find it funny, rather you find it intriguing. His life has been marked by hardship and physical labor from the beginning and yours hasn’t, so why wouldn't you find the blemishes of toil interesting, especially when compared to yours of everyday life? Still, you would’ve thought that his nature as a shifter meant that no blemishes would mark his skin. 

You both stay still for a while, only accompanied by the distant waves that crash against the escarpments that give way to the beach down below. The clamor against your ears calms down in favor of the echo of the sea, of the hands that hold your own. 

After a while, you speak. “How’d you know–”

“–Where to find you?” Eren interrupts. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”

You choose to appear disbelieving, because the only other option is to be flustered. You raise your eyebrow at him, and it is in your silence that he amends his statement. 

“Mikasa saw you sneak out. She woke me up when you didn’t return,” he says.

“I woke her up? Jeez, what a great second impression,” you say.

Eren shrugs. “I don't think she blames you. She was pretty worried for someone she only met today.”

You chuckle, wiping away the dampness in your cheeks you’ve just now noticed existed. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better. I don’t mind that your friends don’t trust me. To be honest, I don't really get why you do.”

Eren is silent for three crashing waves, mulling over his words. For someone with a reputation of speaking impulsively, he seems to think a lot about what he should say. You won’t believe him if he says something along the lines of oh, no don't worry, everyone trusts you now, but if he tells you that yeah, no one really wants to rely on you, then it would be nothing but a dick move on his part. 

“I never fooled myself into thinking that everyone was going to trust you just because I told them my future memories made it easy for me to do so,” he says. “But I do think that eventually they will learn that you are someone who can be relied on.”

“...Thanks Eren,” you say, fighting against the tears that seem to form in your eyes without your permission. 

“Do you want to… talk about it?” he says, cringing at his hesitation. 

Your laughter is a little wet, and you pull one of your hands away from his to once again wipe the tears that fall over when your body shakes. 

“No, but thank you,” you say, giggling harder when his shoulders relax at the prospect of not listening to the cause of your panic. “Got a little too tense there, huh.”

Eren’s ears redden slightly, as do his cheeks, embarrassed. “I’m not good at this comforting stuff. Armin’s the one that usually does this.”   

“I figured,” you say, glancing at him with a small smile. 

Crickets sing with the sea’s waves, forming a chorus along with the gentle sway of grass around you. All of nature’s orchestra is lit by moonlight, and you can see the way it bounces off the distant water, swimming with the silver ripples that form on its surface. The sea comes and goes, and comes and goes, ruled by the magnetism of the lunar pull. 

You sigh, reclining so your back sits flush with the coarse rocks of the small alcove you’ve taken refuge in. Eren follows suit, and you both gaze at the landscape before you, intertwined hands resting between the two of you. 

“What's the plan then?” you ask, easing into the silence of your voices. 

“Plan?” Eren turns to look at you questioningly and you mirror his movements, falling deep into his aquamarine eyes. 

“Yeah,” you say. “Like, what are we going to do with the whole… future thing.”

“You sure you’re up for that?” he asks. 

“We won’t get another chance for a long time, I think,” you say, straightening your posture. “What do you know?”

Eren cracks a small grin, but you don't miss the way his eyes flash with anguish at your question. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“I could go first, if you’d like,” you say. 

Eren’s eyes move from you to the horizon, and he sighs. His fingers twitch in yours as he contemplates the memories he has received from his future self, more likely than not arranging them in a coherent way. You feel dread at the way his pupils waver, preparing yourself for the worst.

“Maybe you could start with what you’ve told others,” you say. “So I know where to thread.”

A beat passes. 

“There's… my dad,” he starts, “at the Reiss church, or rather below it. He kills everyone but the father.”

You nod slowly, remembering how freaked out he looked on the posterior days of entering the basement of his old house in Shiganshina. Back then everyone, including him, simply thought that Grisha lashed out at the family, eager to take control of the Founding Titan in Freida’s possession.

“And then there's you,” he continues.

Unlike the previous revelation, you have no point of reference for a memory in which you appear, given you were the audience rather than the ones being watched. It's weird, to hear your future experiences from his perspective. 

“You're mostly hunched over what I think are blueprints or maps. I can never hear what we talk about, but there is always a feeling of camaraderie. I don’t think I would’ve sent those memories if you were someone I couldn’t trust.”

That leaves you a bit speechless, but also a tad reassured. You still seem to fight for what you think is right in the future, if the planning Eren says you’re a part of is anything to go off of. Maybe all your plans pay off and you succeed. 

“And the Scouts know about this,” you say, looking for confirmation.

“And the main government branches,” he says sheepishly. “I had to tell them though, because I didn’t know if I would be there when you arrived, and they’re not exactly on the best terms with strangers now.” 

“That's reasonable,” you say. “Although it did throw me for a loop when you greeted me by my name back at the beach.” 

“Sorry about that.”

“No, it's fine,” you say absentmindedly. “Yelena called me Ymir the first time we met.”

Eren chuckles. “What? Do you have some sort of connection to her then?”

You scoff. Things would definitely be infinitely easier if you did. To your dismay though, you arguably were the least connected to her than anyone else on the island, barring the non-Eldian Volunteers. 

“Apart from knowing she exists? Not really,” you say. “Your own connection comes from the Founding and Attack titans, yeah?” You continue when Eren nods. “Like I told Sasha earlier, I’m not a shifter. I just… kinda read? Yeah, I read about this.”

“And Zeke?”

“Well…” you exhale. “He knows. Not everything, per se, but he knows I know potentially more than what I’ve told him. Which was basically his plan for the island.”

“You told him?” he says, disbelieving. “What for?”

“I needed to get to the island somehow,” you retort, oddly defensive against your own plans. Was it the best thing you ever came up with? Hell no, but there also wasn’t much you could do in your situation. “Which brings me to the next point. At some point in the future, you’re going to access the Paths with Zeke.”

His eyes snap to you, alert. “A titan of royal blood.”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “You knew, right?”

“I had a hunch.”

“I know,” you say. “Anyway, I have a favor to ask of you when that happens. I’m not… from here originally, and I think Ymir is my only shot at getting home.” 

Eren glances at you, eyebrows raised in inquiry. “Where are you from, then?”

“Nowhere you would know,” you say, cracking a small grin. “But it's not somewhere I can simply return to.”

“Does Zeke know about this?” he asks. 

“To an extent,” you say. “But I wouldn’t put it past him to list it lower than his own goals. And the titan of royal blood? Have you told anyone about that?”

“No one else knows,” he says. 

You nod. “Good. Don’t mention it until Hange does at the hearing.”

“You know about that too?” Eren says, surprised. “We are due tomorrow at the walls to discuss the whole Anti-Marleyan Volunteers thing with Historia and the other branches. I think you’ll be coming with us, since the Captain isn't very keen on leaving you here.”

That is awfully nice of him. Or absolutely terrible, it all depends from what point of view you were analyzing the situation. For you it is nice, because it means less time near Yelena and more with the main cast, who you need to get to trust you. On the other hand, it could also be a symbol of the general distrust towards you, and the need to keep you under their watch. 

“Okay,” you say. “I can work with that. Will I be called to speak or something?”

“No clue.”

You sigh, bringing your unoccupied hand up to massage the bridge of your nose. Honestly, you prefer your mind games and eccentric conversations with Zeke to this. At least he had some semblance of care towards you. The government wouldn’t extend the same grace, so you needed to get all your cards right, or risk saying something you shouldn't. 

“Okay,” you say, counting with your fingers. “So, your father and the Reiss family, myself, the royal blood and Founding Titan. Is that everything?" 

“All I’ve told them. But for what I haven’t…”

You wait for him to speak. Your clothes rustle when, after a minute, you turn to look forward, thinking that maybe your constant gaze is putting unnecessary pressure on him.

“There are… explosions,” he says after a while, wetting his lips to continue with his tale. “My dad at the Reiss church, but this time I'm also there. Someone lying dead on the floor. And… hundreds of thousands of titans marching away from the island.”

Your stomach drops. A hollowness makes its way to your guts, sharp and cold. All your blood rushes to your feet, except that it doesn’t because suddenly all your extremities are freezing. You both stay still– even statues would be more animated, more alive. 

His eyes follow yours when you look at him, and you can see the same dread that was lurking under his eyes come alight, certainly mirroring your own. You know and he knows, so you’re both plunged into a monstrous storm when faced with the possibility (inevitability) of the future. 

The confirmation of the unavoidable in your eyes just adds to the burdens already placed on his shoulders, and even if you’re here now to alleviate the weight. 

“We'll figure it out,” you murmur.

“You know as well as I do that we can’t change something that is meant to happen,” he says.

“It's not predetermined,” you argue. “There’s gotta be some other way, and we’ll find it. Together.” 

Eren stays silent at your reassurances. You falter, scrounging for any piece of information in his future memories that could lead to hope, but it is all eerily similar to that which he saw originally. 

The explosions could very well be the conflict that rose in light of the Jaegerists, and his vision of himself at the Reiss church at least confirms that he will make it to the paths, but the lack of mention of you or Ymir has you a little worried. Sasha originally dies while laying on the floor of an airship, and the Colossal Titans marching from the island can only mean one thing: The Rumbling. 

So yeah, all in all it's looking pretty bad for the both of you. 

“At least we have time, right?” Eren speaks, breaking his silence. “Time to figure out what to do.”

“We do,” you say. “Enough to find a way that doesn’t result in the scorning of the island, nor the island's revenge on the world.”

Enough to secure a way home, and on the way, ensuring that Eren’s doesn’t go up in flames. Yet there is not much to do at this very moment, so for the meantime you both return to tranquil stillness, and it is only dawn that reminds you to go back to your tent. 

a/n: Super quick fun fact, Y/n tracing the lines of Eren's hands is supposed to be a callback to  earlier chapters, where she starts fiddling with stuff when she gets nervous, more specifically in chapter 2, dissection – “There's a small crack in your mug that you trace over and over again, the repetition helping ground your attention instead of spiraling.”

taglist:

@dressycobra7 @xngelsau @bloodchapell @i-think-im-adorable13 @luna4mnoon

@yuuuumii @kermittears @binluvsu

ask or comment to be added!

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

First of all, very in love with the digital reader fic you put out <3

But since reader expressed not knowing why they were in hell I just couldn't help myself from thinking about this-

Reader: I don't even know why I'm here, the hell did I ever do?

Lucifer: Didn't you crash over half of all the systems on earth when you were alive?

Reader: That was an accident! I was only trying to crash like...ten!

Just a goofy thought that popped into my head- destructive characters that are chaotic on accident my beloved lmao-

Kisses darling <3

-📽

Sweet silly little Lucifer with his ducks. I feel like everyone thinks he's completely aware of everything happening in Hell at all times. Meanwhile, he's just making ducks and missing his daughter and can't remember the last time he ate.

Digital Pet [Vox x Reader, but this is a Lucifer interaction]

What Do You Mean You Don't Know

You'd been surfing through the digital plane like any other day. Vox had his schedule completely full, so you were on your own the pass the time. You hopped between windows that led into various devices all around Hell.

It was hard to tell where you were most of the time, but a part of you was convinced that you could slip into the devices of demons outside the Pride Ring. You'd once seen hellhounds and succubi at a party when you'd peeked into a large screen behind a DJ on stage. The large venue was covered in honeycombs and you saw some sort of lava lamp-looking furry doing shots in the middle of the energized crowd. While the aesthetic was similar enough to what you'd seen in the sinner's little slice of Hell, it felt... different.

It was precious information you decided to hold close to your chest. Maybe you'd tell Vox one day but from everything you'd seen about his power-hungry reputation, you decided it may be best not to play your card too soon. For all you know, it was just an exclusive club with different vibes. It wasn't unheard of for demons from the other rings to come to the clubs in Pride.

You were floating through an endless hall of screens and lights, looking between the different windows into the world you couldn't hope to touch when you saw a face that made you double-take.

"Is that..." You float back and gasp as you get a closer look that confirms your suspicions. "Oh, you motherfucker!"

Lucifer let out a startled yelp, dropping the duck he'd been painting as he fell out of his chair. He'd just been minding his own business, listening to some light jazz while he made duckie replicas of his daughter and all her little friends at the hotel when a loud voice suddenly blasted over the music on his laptop.

He frowned as he looked down and saw his white pants splatted with the fresh red paint of Alastor's duck. He was on his ninth attempt at replicating the cocky jerk and had finally been on the verge of getting his stupid grin right when you startled him.

"Oh great," Lucifer grumbled as he pulled himself off of the ground. "It's already bad enough I have a growing pile of ducks dedicated to this prick, now he's ruining my clothes too."

Lucifer leaned over his desk, trying to see what sort of pop-up advertisement or virus had gotten on his system when he suddenly saw you watching him with crossed arms. Your small form glared at him from where you sat atop of his video player.

"A sinner...?" Lucifer blinked slowly before looking at you in awe. He could see your soul and recognized you as a person immediately. "What on Earth are you doing in there?"

"You tell me!" you point at him angrily. "You're the guy in charge of this shit, aren't you? What did I ever do to you?! I didn't do anything to deserve a worse Hell than everyone else."

"How should I know?" Lucifer squawked as he threw up his arms in defense... "I haven't gone outside in... wait, what day is it?"

"How do you not know?" You ask, the two of you amping each other up in your confusion. "You're Lucifer! This is literally your entire thing!"

"Uh, excuse you," Lucifer tsked as he placed a hand on his chest. "I'll have you know I am a man of ducks and dadness. Not keeping track of every soul that drops into Hell. Do you have any idea just how many of you die a day? A lot. Too many. Just. Please get better at staying alive, I beg you."

You deadpan at him before shaking your head with a sigh. "Well, do you at least know how to get me out of the digital plane? I'd like to actually eat food or let my feet touch the ground o-or sleep in a bed!"

"Uhh," Lucifer laughed nervously. "Yeaaaah, no. Nope. Sorry uh, no. Technology isn't something I really know anything about. I'd love to help but uh, yeah... no."

You groan, obviously disappointed in his answer as you flop over to the side and let your frustration win in the moment. You run a hand down your face and look up at the great devil of Hell with a sigh.

"Do you at least have any idea why I'm in Hell and not Heaven?"

Lucifer hummed, squinting at you as he ran a history check on your soul. It took a lot longer to find a reason than he expected, but then he finally landed on it.

"Ah, there it is," he muttered. "Looks like you ate the last slice of birthday cake in the fridge back in your college days."

Your jaw drops, for a couple of reasons. The top reason should have been that such a little thing damned your soul for eternity. However, your priorities were a bit skewed. Which became transparently obvious as you exclaimed, "Excuse me?! It was MY birthday cake!"

"Yeah, but they called dibs," Lucifer shook his head with a sigh. "Heaven takes dibs very seriously. And as you should know by now, I don't make the rules."

The powerful demon grumbled like a child as you recovered from the absolute bullshit that was your afterlife. It wasn't until you'd sat back up that you looked past Lucifer and finally noticed his room.

"Why the fuck are there so many ducks?"

[gxthicupid]

Heyo! Just wanted to ask if you could do a oneshot with the Six-Eared Macaque or Sun Wukong where the reader just bumps into them on a relatively normal day. (Or as normal as it can get anyway-) For Macaque, I was thinking, maybe the reader sees one of his posters advertising his shadow plays and he sees them staring at it for a rather long time and decides to spark some conversation? For Wukong, maybe she's a vet of some sort and one of his monkeys somehow manage to get off Flower Fruit Mountain (most likely washed up by the sea-) , all the way to her clinic where she cares for it immediately- and Wukong maybe finds out where his tiny child be at and things go from there? Do whichever suits you fancy or feel comfortable with! qwq

୨⎯ 𝑷𝑼𝑷𝑷𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑬𝑹'𝑺 𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻 [𝑺𝒊𝒙 𝑬𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒙 !𝑭𝑬𝑴! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓]

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇxᴛ: ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴍᴀᴄᴀQᴜᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏꜱ?

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ɴᴇᴡ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ <3

➨ The day seemed grim and dull, as everyone seemed to be at home, enjoying themselves inside and possibly watching the cable or working while you walked down the pathway and carried bags of groceries. You minded your own business while listening to music from your headphones and heading straight back home.

➨ However, as you were distracting yourself with a favourite song, you noticed an eerie poster on the corner of an alleyway. You stopped walking and took a better look with much interest. The poster promoted a recent shadow play coming into Megapolis about the legendary and tragic tale of ‘The Hero and the Warrior’.

➨ You stared in awe while the music continued to blast into your ears as white noise before seeing a stranger at the corner of your eye approaching closely. You turned around and freaked out while letting out a small yelp and immediately recognised him as the puppeteer from the poster.

➨ “Ah, I see you have noticed my poster?” A low and gravelly voice was heard from the hooded man as the shadows of the alleyway managed to hide most of his face, except for his mouth. “How? . . .Where did you come from?” You stepped back against the wall and questioned the puppeteer.

➨ He only gave you a sly grin, showing some noticeable canines. “I simply come around these parts whenever I’m on break. How about you?” His alluring yet mysterious tone responded, and you took off your headphones to listen to him properly. Then you replied honestly. “Me? Well, I was heading home from grocery shopping, and well – can I say that your poster looks amazing.” Besides the creepy introduction, you must admit that it’s not like every day you’re talking to the lead of a play that interests you. 

➨ The puppeteer chuckled slightly and came closer to you as a result, as your skin felt a slight chill before he spoke again. “Sorry. Where are my manners? The name’s Macaque.” He let his arm lean close, and you felt a heavy heat on your cheeks.

➨ You did not expect the puppeteer to have such a lovely voice; it was so pleasing to hear in more than one sense, and you managed to see more of his features the closer you got. His yellow eyes were so tempting it felt like they were piercing into your soul. 

➨ “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Macaque.” You couldn’t help but be swayed by his charisma and way of words. “I suppose you’re eager to attend one of my shadow plays, right?” For some reason, you couldn’t muster the strength to pull away from his gaze and only allowed him to come closer to you.

➨ “I am. When does your next show start?” You began to feel flustered the more you talked with Macaque, and the words slipped from your lips so easily. “Around 5:00pm. And speaking of, I should be heading back and getting ready for my next show." He separated himself from you, and you suddenly felt your heart beating hard against your chest.

➨ “See you later. . .Y/N~” He whispered into your ear in a husky tone before leaving the alleyway and you. You were utterly flabbergasted by what just happened, but at least now you had something to look forward to today. 

・❥・

➨ That afternoon, you made it just in time for Macaque’s shadow play, and you got some popcorn and a drink just in case. After what felt like forever, the lights in the theatre dimmed down into total darkness before a strange mist appeared on the floors of the stage.

➨ The curtains opened and revealed the puppeteer with a fascinating lantern. “Welcome, viewers, to a shadow play the likes of which you have never seen.” He introduced himself and glimpsed at you in the crowd before smiling and continuing the story. 

➨ “It follows the tragic tale of a legendary warrior, and how those who bring light into this world. . . inevitably bring darkness to those they hold dear.” Once he finished his sentence, a gust of harsh winds erupted in the crowd, sending goosebumps on your skin. You couldn’t help but mesmerise the scenery of his shadow plays. They were so astonishing to watch.

➨ The winds calmly settled once he spoke again. Throughout the shadow play, the puppeteer continues telling the story, and you can’t help but feel bad for the warrior character. Their life sounded so sad, and you feel like whatever happened to them shouldn’t have ended on such a sombre note.

➨ Finally, Macaque finished the tragic tale. Most people would have thought this ending seemed anticlimactic, but you were blown away by such a marvellous performance. While everyone headed out of the theatre, you went backstage to find Macaque, and he was examining the lantern that he used in the shadow play. Not paying attention to anything else.

➨ You walked over him and felt a little cheeky by sneaking up on him and getting your revenge from earlier. However, Macaque seemed to notice you and dodged your attack before pinning you against the wall again, but more ferociously than ever.

➨ Since it was dark backstage, you could hardly see him, even with the help of the lantern. All you heard was a deep chuckle that filled your stomach with butterflies. You listened to the ruffling of his hood being removed, but you saw nothing, thanks to the obscure darkness.

➨ “Hey there, Y/N~ Enjoy the show?” Judging from the tone of his voice, Macaque was attempting to flirt with you, and as a result, you laughed nervously before replying. “Yeah. . . absolutely amazing.” You tried to keep yourself together, but he was making it impossible.

➨ “You know, I was going to change the story a little in this performance.” His voice sounded so alluring that hearing him speak softly into your ears made you feel so weak under his grasp. Your mind felt so blank while the touch of his wrist slowly came up to your own.

➨ “H-How so?” You muttered under your breath, and you felt so lost that everything around you seemed not to matter anymore. All your attention was only on him. “I was going to describe a love interest for the Warrior,” Macaque continued explaining.

➨ “Who so happens to have E/C eyes, H/L, H/C hair and a face so beautiful that made the moon jealous.” He gently held your hand and placed a kiss on top. On the other hand, you paused for a minute and thought how all those features seemed to match yours, and when the realisation finally hit you, your whole face felt so hot from getting flustered. “Wait a minute. . .Y-You’re the–”

➨ “Yup. I’m the warrior in the story. Glad you managed to figure it out.” He interrupted you, and you managed to catch a glimpse of his eyes and how dark yet attractive they managed to become to draw you in so quickly. “But keep this secret between the both of us, alright?” You nodded obediently.

➨ You felt his lips were inches away from yours, and you slowly closed your eyes and embraced his warm and captivating lips within your kiss. You were in a moment of bliss before he let go, and you saw his sly smirk with the help of the lantern.

➨ You were dazed for quite some time before he suddenly began to walk away. “Well, I hope you stay tuned for my next show. It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N.” Macaque walked behind the theatre curtains, and as you tried to catch up, he disappeared into thin air.

➨ You noticed your hand held a slip of paper, and it revealed to be his phone number, along with a message: “Looking forward to talking with you more. XOXO Macaque”

୨⎯ 𝑨 𝑽𝑬𝑻 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑨 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑴𝑬𝑹 [𝑺𝒖𝒏 𝑾𝒖𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒙 !𝑭𝑬𝑴! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓]

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇxᴛ: ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜɴ ᴡᴜᴋᴏɴɢ'ꜱ ʙᴀʙʏ ᴍᴏɴᴋᴇʏꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʟᴘᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ?

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ɴᴇᴡ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ (ᴀɢᴀɪɴ)! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇʟʟ <3

➨ Summer was at its peak upon Megapolis, and while everyone was enjoying the beach, soaking themselves in the fresh saltwater and bathing in the sunlight after a refreshing swim, you were stuck in your job as an Exotic Wildlife Veterinarian.

➨ The AC was not working at the vet centre. However, you survived the day until closing time and could return home. You felt relieved once you packed your things and finally felt the afternoon breeze sweeping against your skin.

➨ While waiting for your bus, you scrolled through the missed notifications and saw several messages from your online boyfriend. In short, you have been talking with a guy named 'Wukong' on a dating app, and you seem to get along really well.

➨ You had a lot of things in common; your conversations were so much fun, and you had your boyfriend who had the occasional voice messages and calls but never any Facetime. He says he’s still a bit nervous to show his face, but you were completely fine with that.

➨ You decide to call him so that the both of you can arrange another session where you’d talk nonstop until late at night. The phone buzzed, and he picked up. “Hey, Y/N! How’s it going?” Wukong exclaimed into your ear, and a smile came up your face. “Hey, Wukong, I’ve finished work for the day."

➨ “Are you looking forward to our nightly chat?” You replied gleefully while you heard the smug on his face on the other line. “Couldn’t get enough of me, huh?” You rolled your eyes playfully before responding, “Oh, stop it, you~” However, your ears picked up a large crowd at the shore of the beach and decided to look quickly to satisfy your curiosity. “Hang on, I’ll call you later.” 

➨ You hung up the phone and quickly went through the crowd. Your eyes widened when you saw the baby monkey curled up and breathing heavily. You noticed that the monkey looked afraid, so you pushed out of the crowd and carefully cradled the monkey in your arms.

➨ You carefully rushed back into the vet centre, and from the looks of it, the monkey seemed to suffer from extreme dehydration, so you got a water bottle to offer some fresh water. After restoring some energy to the monkey, you realise that a couple of hours have passed.

➨ The baby monkey seemed to be resting well but still shivered and whined in its sleep. As you feel your eyes droop tiredly, you try to stay awake by scrolling through the notifications you have missed since you last checked.

➨ There were some missed calls from Wukong and messages regarding whether you were okay or not, and you felt your heart melt from how much he cared for you. You gave him a couple of texts, including talking about how you needed to treat a monkey that washed up shore before eventually succumbing into slumber.  

・❥・

➨ Your eyes open and meet with the morning sun glaring down, and as you regain your consciousness, you check on the baby monkey, but they were gone. You started to freak out, but you heard some noise from the front desk before you could search.

➨ You saw the monkey going around the front desk, causing a mess. Again, your stress levels were going through the roof, and you needed to calm down this monkey ASAP.

➨ You carefully approached the monkey, but they ran away every time. Eventually, you managed to catch the monkey, but it began to wrestle with you, and you were so distracted that you didn’t see anyone coming into the vet centre.

➨ You and the baby monkey stopped struggling and stared back at the person walking in and noticing the mess. Suspiciously, they were wearing a hoodie and a pair of sunglasses. Really? In this weather???

➨ Regardless, you were nervous about the disastrous situation you were in, and you felt like you wanted to die right then and there. “Heya, I heard a monkey washed up on the beach; I figured it was mine.” His tone may sound guilty, and his voice may sound timid, but you swear that you’ve heard that voice before.

➨ The baby monkey changed its mood instantly and happily chirped at the stranger before leaping onto their shoulder. It began to nuzzle its furry cheeks against their head affectionately. “Wait! Hold on, don’t move like that – ” The monkey’s tail brushed off their hood and sunglasses to reveal golden hair and. . .monkey ears?

➨ You noted his shining eyes, peach-coloured face markings and simian features. You stared at each other for a few seconds before he chuckled nervously and quickly pulled back his hood and put on his sunglasses. The monkey on his shoulder chirped in confusion while he began to approach the door. “Well, uh, that was weird. Anyways, thank you and see ya.”

➨ You leapt onto your feet and grabbed his arm before questioning him, “Do you. . .go by ‘Sun Wukong’ by any chance?” He froze in place, and you patiently waited for an answer as he slowly turned around with a surprised look. “It’s me. . .Y/N.” You tried to ring him some bells, desperately wishing it was truly your online lover.

➨ Suddenly, his face became enlightened as a soft gasp left his mouth. He tried approaching you but seemed hesitant. “Y/N? Is that really you?” A shine sparkled in his eyes as a smile began to form on his face.

➨ Your heart has yearned for this moment for a long time as you cup his face and let your lips set onto his own. He was caught off guard, but his eyes slowly fluttered shut before coiling his tail around you while you wrapped your arms around his back.

➨ You hold onto Wukong tightly, and he gently caresses your back slowly. Once you broke apart, you took a minute to breathe while smiling happily in each other’s embrace. “I can’t believe that I finally got to meet you.” You spoke; your voice sounded broken as tears swelled up in your eyes, but Wukong wiped them with his thumb. “Don’t cry, darling. I’m glad I get to see you.”

➨ “I’m sorry. I’m so happy I got to kiss your face for the first time.” You sniffled before you gave Wukong several kisses all over the face, as his cheeks flushed pink and became putty in your hands. You looked back at the baby monkey who sat on Wukong’s head and watched the whole time.

➨ “So, this baby monkey is yours?” You pointed up, and Wukong quickly recovered and replied with a smile. “Yup!” He then lowers the monkey to meet you, but they seem too scared to approach you. “It’s okay. Y/N’s not gonna hurt ya.” Wukong reassures the baby monkey.

➨ “Yeah, I was only helping you.” It took a little while before the baby monkey walked down Wukong, crawled up to you, and cheerfully chirped once they began to nuzzle against your face. “Aw, I think they like me.” You gently pet Wukong’s baby monkey, and he can’t help but let his tail wag while his heart pounds against his chest.

➨ “So, after work, do you want to go on a date?” You questioned Wukong and noticed how he began to look hesitant to say what he wanted. That’s when you realise he didn’t want to go in public. He began to talk while rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Well, about that –”

➨ “We can go to your place if you want.” You added before he could reply. He looked at you stunned but smiled faintly. “That’d be nice.”