#and you know the mantra and the pushing through it all and being scared of not making it and what if you had just gone a little further

[yuwuta]

CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART BURNING, CAN YOU FEEL ALL MY GOOD LOVING — YUUJI ITADORI

cw: mentioned sex, friends to lovers, yuuji greatest boy 

The first time that Yuuji asks you out, you reject him. It’s not a matter of not liking him or liking him (even though you do like him, a lot)—it’s a matter of maintaining your friendship, about weighing risk versus reward, and about pushing your personal feelings aside for what’s best for everybody. 

Yuuji doesn’t listen. To him, your rejection was just confirmation about what he already knew about you—that you had a tendency to run away or avoid things you didn’t want to confront, but only when you were really, truly scared.

So, he does what he does best; he takes it to the next level. Despite being rejected, he holds your hand, and pulls you close, gives you kisses on your cheek, and your neck sometimes, and once you even let him leave a hickey, even though you spew the same mantra of—“You shouldn’t—Yuuji we shouldn’t be doing this”—you let him charm you every time.

Because Yuuji knows that you like him back, and he knows that even though you’re scared to say it, deep down you know that he’s always been yours. Because Yuuji is your best friend, and he knows better than anyone how to punch through the walls you so carefully build up. Because, honestly, you should have learned by now to stop trying to keep him out—he makes his way in no matter how many walls you put up. 

It’s how you end up in bed with him only three mere weeks after rejecting his confession. And even though you’ve both been as close as two people can be, Yuuji knows he’s missing one thing from you; one final seal to show you that he’s it, that there’s nothing to be afraid of, and to get you to stop running once and for all. 

Which is exactly why when you ask him if he wants to see thew new Spiderman movie after breakfast, he smiles and puts his plan into action. 

“Yeah, of course,” Yuuji grins, “If you say that it’s a date.” 

Your smile falls halfway, but Yuuji’s only widens as he slips his hands into his pockets. He waits, expectantly, even through your stunned silence, and you finally sigh when he begins to rock on his heels.  

“Yuuji, you know that–” 

“What I know is that you’ve got to get out of that head of yours sooner than later,” he says, leaning forward to happily invade your space to tap at your forehead, “And that you love me.”  

“Yeah, I kind of thought the confession that I only turned you down because I didn’t want to lose you, and the having sex with you last night kinda let you show that.” 

“Yes, yes, there was all of that,” Yuuji moves his hands to cup the sides of your head, looks into your widening eyes and grins, “But I’m giving you a way to make it official in that complicated little head of yours. So, go on, ask me out. I promise I won’t say no.” 

Your eyebrows pinch together. Yuuji immediately moves his thumbs to stroke at the tail ends of them as you pout, “What do you mean ‘make it official?’ I know—I mean I hope that all our feelings are official.” 

“Make it official to you,” Yuuji clarifies, using his right thumb to tap at your temple, “In that beautiful—” he bends forwards to press a kiss to your forehead, “—smart —” another kiss, “—very complicated —” and another, “—head of yours that I love so much. So, like I was saying: ask me out, so that you get your closure even though you don’t think you need it, and you start seeing and learning that I don’t want to do anything with you without romantic intentions.” 

Yuuji presses one last kiss before pulling away to show you his glowing smile. Your expression softens through his speech—confusion sinking into surprise and then pure adoration. You’re slightly amazed that Yuuji has deciphered this for you before you could even fathom a justification behind your emotions, but then again, you think, you shouldn’t be; Yuuji has proved, throughout the course of your friendship and his courtship, that you have his undivided attention—that you are the object of his desires, and as such, it’s only natural that he knows the parts of you that you don’t think about.  

So, you concede, push your shock and pride aside, and close that embarrassing gaping mouth of yours because this is Yuuji and for all the shit you’ve put him through, the least you could do is ask him out.  

“Okay. Will you go to the movies with me?”  

Except when screws up his face and purses his lip in dissatisfaction, you wonder if you should put him through the wringer yourself.  

Yuuji’s grip on your head tightens ever so slightly, not enough to be uncomfortable, just enough for him to manually shake your head to mirror his own, “You have to make it clearer that you’re asking me out. We go to the movies all the time, I love movies—” 

“Yeah, exactly,” you frown, reaching your right hand to grab at Yuuji’s wrist to still your shaking head, “I’m asking you to do something I know you love.”  

“Ah, but you see how that’s confusing to me,” Yuuji quips, “I am but your oblivious friend—you have to let me know that you want me to be there with you because you like me, otherwise I might not know for the next twenty-something years, and history will repeat itself and—ow!” 

“I get it, you asshole,” you bite. Yuuji gives you a shallow shrug, and a crooked smile, that you, begrudgingly, find endearing. So much so that you groan and let your head fall forward until your forehead is pressed against Yuuji’s chest. You can hear his laughter; feel the way his palms immediately latch to your back to rub shallow circles. “This is stupid. I can’t believe I like you and you’re making me do all this for some three-hour movie.” 

“Oh, wrong L-word, try again.” 

“Even worse. You know I love you and you insist on making me do this.” 

“You must think I’m worth it, or you would have left me hanging a long time ago,” Yuuji gives you another kiss to the crown of your head, before he holds you by the shoulders to urge you to stand up straight, “Now come on, ask me out, sweep me off my feet, m’lady.” 

You blink your eyes open slowly, adjusting for the sparkling image of Yuuji standing before you, waiting far too patiently. That awe washes over you again—a wave for the overbearing love you feel for him, another for the incredible soul the boy in front of you is—for how lucky you truly are to have him.  

And you are lucky to have Yuuji. To be loved by Yuuji. So, you reach for his hands and wrap yours around them before you look up to face him and ask, “Itadori Yuuji, will you go out with me?” 

“Yes, and I’ll do you one better,” he smiles, shakes your hands off so that he can put them on your waist to pull you to his chest, “I’ll be your boyfriend, too.” 

[rosenclaws]

Hi!! I’d love to see you do the prompt “Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it.” with Logan! Was thinking of the reader who’s so self loathing of her own powers opening up for the first time towards Logan 🥺

warnings: angst/fluff, Logan has interesting teaching methods lol

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a/n: So this also...turned into more than a drabble oops. I got carried away I can't help it asdflk;h. Anyways I totally got inspired by ATLA for some of the logan pep talk if u can tell lol.

The mansion was so lonely. It shouldn't be but it is. Especially for you. Brought here as a child you grew up here. You were excited, hopeful that maybe you could start a new life here. But then your powers went haywire.

Just when you thought things could be different your emotions got the better of you. Fire raged through the mansion and you couldn't stop it. The more you panicked the worst it got.

When the flames were put out all you could see was the destruction that ravaged the once spotless mansion. It was an accident. Charles knew it and so did everyone else but that didn't stop the whispers, the fear. You never wanted this.

You did all you could to suppress your powers for years. Leaving the school and never looking back. Years passed and you managed to live a quite life. You went to work and went home. It was a lonely life but you couldn't hurt anyone so it you learned to live it.

Then one day you got a letter from Charles. It was a matter of such importance that you had no choice but to return. It was weird being back.

It was in the dead of the night that you found yourself alone. Just as you remembered. This time wandering through the halls of the mansion. Your fingers traced the familiar paintings and furniture. A frown coming over your face as you trace the faint scorch marks that still remain.

"So those were you." A deep voice startles you.

You feel a light flame escape your fingertips as you shove you cross your arms and hide your hands away. There stands Logan with a cigar in his mouth. You breathe a sigh of relief as you lower your arms.

"Sorry, didn't meant to scare you." He holds out his cigar and you roll your eyes. He's been trying to get you to use your powers, to light his damn cigars because he's too lazy to reach into his own pocket.

"Come on, just a little flame." He says with a smirk.

"Can I help you Logan?" Though you're glaring he can see that small smile.

You and Logan were unlikely friends as you put it. The two of you understood each other. Understood the want to hide away. Don't get close and you won't get hurt. Even with that mantra somehow you were each others exception.

Maybe it was stupid but having Logan was nice. He was nice in his own weird way. Looked out for you, joked with you on the rare occasion. Plus he was easy on the eyes, but you don't let yourself go there. Love...it's just not meant for you. You don't do love and neither does Logan. Even if you want it, even if sometimes he finds his way into your dreams.

"Nope." He gestures for you to follow him so you do. Walking quietly through the halls until he leads you outside. A chill washes over you step outside.

"Just a little light for me sweetheart?" Okay the first time was charming but now it's getting annoying.

"Will you quit it." You snap. Logan raises an eyebrow and you sigh. Sitting down on a bench and looking down at your hands.

"You know I don't use my powers anymore."

"I know."

"So why do you keep asking?" He shrugs and sits down next to you.

"Because, I think you're being ridiculous."

"Excuse me?" You scoff. You clench your fists as you glare at Logan.

"So what you burned some wood big deal. That really all it takes for you to run?"

You're hurt and confused where the hell this is coming from. You thought he'd understand you but clearly you were wrong.

"You know what Logan fuck you." You hiss as you stand up.

Logan grabs your wrist before you can walk away and in a fit of anger you push him away. Flames coming out of your hand and hitting him square in the chest. You gasp as his flannel catches fire. Without thinking you press your hand and kill the flame.

"Logan I-"

"Stop." He grabs your wrist and points to an empty fire pit.

"Light it."

"Logan I can't."

"Yes you can sweetheart," He tilts your head towards him. Looking at you with a sparkle in his eye.

"Trust yourself." You take a deep breath and send a fireball into the pit, lighting it up.

Your hand tingles as you use your powers for the first time in a long time. You wait for the other shoe to drop. For the fire to rage past what it's meant to be but it never does. Slowly you hold your hand out focus, the fire slowly gets smaller until it's snuffed out. You stare at your hand in awe. Control. You had control.

"Fire is destruction." Logan interlaces your fingers with his. He's got this smile that you've never really seen before.

"But it's also life, it's beautiful. You're beautiful." You bite your lip as he squeezes your hand. There's a fear that you'll burn him without thinking but he heals. You can't hurt him.

"Why are you helping me?" Why does he care this much? He didn't have to do this, you're not a student and yet here he is. Pushing you past your worries.

"I..." Logan tries to find the words. You're right he doesn't do this but he did for you because, well because..."I love you sweetheart."

Your eyes cloud with tears as you take in his words. He doesn't mean it can he? I mean, it's does he understand what that means. What it means to love you.

“Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it. Please." You don't think you could handle it. He's already got your heart and it won't take much to crush it.

"Are you doubting me? I'm over a hundred years old I know what love feels like." Logan brushes your lips with his thumb, he's not great with words but he knows what he feels. No one can tell him any different.

Your eyes flutter shut as he kisses you. He smells like cigar smoke and he tastes like honey. The kiss a little rough, you can tell he's trying to hold back. To be gentle which he's not always great at. You pout when he breaks the kiss, already wanting more.

"Later." He promises after noticing the look on your face.

You walk back through the mansion hand in hand. It's better at this hour, no prying eyes and whispers. For now it's just you and him. Though something does cross your mind as you reach your room.

"Did you...Were you trying to make me mad on purpose?" He smirks and pulls out another cigar from somewhere.

"It worked didn't it?" Unbelievable.

"You're an idiot Logan, what if I couldn't control it? What if I burned down the mansion, again?!" Logan rolls his eyes and kisses you again. Pushing you against the door. Your thoughts turn to mush as he kisses your neck.

"You aren't the monster you think you are." He whispers and you freeze. His words hitting you like a brick. Logan knows what it's like to be a monster, a weapon. He's the monster if anything. But you? You could never be. Not in his eyes.

Before he leaves he hands you his cigar. You shake your head and laugh. Holding out your hand you produce a small flame and he lights his cigar.

"Was all this just so I could give you a light?" You ask teasingly. Logan chuckles and presses another kiss to your cheek.

"Absolutely." As much as you want to invite him in your room, you decide to wait. Rushing anything with Logan is the last thing you want. You want the time to be together. A good fire needs to grow before it becomes a roar.

"Goodnight Logan."

"Goodnight sweetheart."

Your fingers slowly unlace as he walks away. You don't want him to go, fearing that this is just a one off night. There's no way you can have control so easily but then he looks back at you. He's got this look on his face that makes you feel like everything is going to be alright and for once you believe it.

[lustfulslxt]

Hellbent - Chris Sturniolo

summary : y/n and chris, so incredibly in love with one another, yet ruined by self sabotage.

warnings : angst, swearing, fluff, smutty, heartbreak, self-harm (if you squint)

a/n : this is the one :)) regular italics are flashbacks.

—

so who do i call now? i'd give it all now, just to be fighting in the kitchen and hearing the crash of broken dishes. thought it was bad then, this heartache is hellbent.

“Why are you pushing me away?!” She shouts, tears brimming in her eyes as the ache in her chest grows.

The two of them were everything and nothing at the same time. So head over heels for each other, but almost doomed from the start. Chris; scared to take things to the next step. Y/N; wanting nothing more than to take it further.

They were both in love with each other, but Chris couldn’t voice his concerns, instead, opted for trying to make her hate him. It was unconventional, yet it made the most sense to him. He loved her with every fiber of his being, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. However, the thought of furthering their relationship, making it real, scared him to death. There were so many factors in which caused him to pull back. Though, things would have been better off if he had just explained his worries, he chose to make things harder than they needed to be.

Y/N loved Chris more than any and everything in her life. She loved everything about him, and she wanted to be with him, more than what she had. She didn’t just want sex and casual conversation, she wanted love and passion. She could feel it between them, the most amazing love and deepest passion, but there was still a barrier between them. It was easy for her to read Chris, well usually, but their recent encounters had thrown her for a loop. She could feel the love from him, yet the unexplainable distance he put between them and the impenetrable walls he put up only made her head spin.

“Chris.” She half sobs, after receiving no answer from him.

He can’t bring himself to look at her. He knows the sight of her torn apart will break his heart, especially because he’s the cause of their wreckage.

“Look at me.” She begs, “Please, Chris.”

He deeply inhales, his eyes frantically darting around, unable to lift his head. His heart feels heavy. He knows he has no right to be sad, considering this is all his fault, but he can’t help but feel melancholy.

The sound of loud sobs spring through the air, and the sight of Y/N falling to her knees in his peripheral causes his head to snap over in her direction. There she sat, her body shaking with every weep that left her mouth. Her rosy cheeks glisten with a tremendous amount of tears, and her lips pull into the deepest frown he’s ever seen on her. Her eyebrows are furrowed and her eyes clenched shut.

Chris can feel the lump forming in his throat as he takes in her appearance, utterly heartbroken. Knowing he’s the reason she’s so distraught brings tears to his eyes. Hurting her is the last thing he ever wanted to do. His mind is racing; he’s unsure of what to do. He wants to take her in his arms and hold her close, profusely apologizing and taking it all back. Yet, part of him feels it’ll only make it worse. Without another thought, he joins her on the floor, his arms wrapping around her as he tries to console her.

Her cries only worsen as she fights to push him away, “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, repeatedly, like a mantra.

Her reluctance to accept his embrace continues, only for him to try harder. Tears inevitably slip from his eyes, he hates the predicament he put them in. He can feel her struggling die down as the energy diminishes from her body. Her body still shakes with sobs, but she can no longer put up a fight against him. There they sat, her body slump against his as his arms wrap around her.

“I am so sorry, Y/N.” He mutters, his voice croaking.

A few moments go by before she responds, “I just don’t understand. Things were going so well between us, and you can’t say that you don’t feel something deep for me. I know you, Chris. We’ve spent almost every day together for the last year, I know you inside and out. But what I don’t know, is why the sudden change? Why are you pulling back?”

Again, he doesn’t answer, which only infuriates Y/N. She harshly pulls herself from his hold, turning around to face him. His face is ridden with sorrow as he looks at her with sad eyes.

“You’re giving me absolutely nothing! You’re leaving me in the dark about it, I do not deserve that. I’ve been nothing but good to you despite how you’ve been the last couple of weeks. The least you can do is tell me what changed.”

He sighs, struggling to find the right words to say. He can’t bring himself to tell her the truth, and he knows whatever he says won’t matter. She’s going to be hurt regardless. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting his head fall back.

“I don’t feel anything for you.” He lies through his teeth.

“Bullshit.” She snaps.

Even though she knows he’s lying, his words still hurt. She doesn’t understand why he can’t just be straightforward with her. He’s never lied to her before, why now?

“I don’t feel anything for you.” He repeats, his eyes now staring into hers, looking void of emotion.

Her heart feels like it’s shattering all over again. She’s never had to deal with this type of hurt before. She’s never felt the way she feels for him for anyone else. Despite never being in a relationship before, she knows she’s in love with him.

“Get out.”

“What?” He asks, unsure if he misheard her.

“Get out.” She repeats through gritted teeth. “Get out! Go! You don’t feel anything for me? You want to push me away? You want to call it quits? You want to leave? Then leave! Just leave, Christopher.”

He doesn’t want any of that, it’s the last thing he wants. And knowing that once he walks out the door, she’s going to spiral, makes him want to stay even more. But the whole point in him pulling back is to make her hate him, because he knows he won’t be able to leave her. He needs her to leave him.

Without a word, he gets up from the ground and makes his exit. She watches him leave, the door shutting behind him. She hopes and hopes that he’ll turn back around and apologize for everything. She hopes he’ll finally admit to her that he loves her and that he wants to be with her, but she knows it’s won’t happen. It’s done. It’s over. They’re over.

-

It’s been a week since Y/N and Chris have spoken. A week since he left. The hole in her chest only grows bigger with every passing second. She misses him so deeply. Part of her just wishes she could just go back to their last moment together. It was hard and it hurt, but she’d rather have that than nothing at all.

Going from seeing each other all the time to not having any type of communication was more difficult than she anticipated. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but God, did her heart hurt.

Chris was in the same boat; distraught from the loss of her. He was stuck grieving their relationship and the guilt he felt was tremendous. He knew that the downfall of them was his fault, he accepted responsibility. There was nothing more that he wanted, than to go to her house and apologize, and tell her how he really feels about her. He loves her more than anything. He’s not sure he could ever not love her. Everything about her just calls out to him, he finds perfection in the simplest attributes of her being.

Leaving her behind caused him physical pain, but he couldn’t bring himself to give in. He was scared of fully committing, taking the next step with her and making it real. Although, it felt real, there was just something about giving all of himself to her that struck him with fear. Maybe it was the fact that he knew how his fans would react. They would chew into Y/N like they were starved animals and the only thing to satisfy their hunger was to eat her alive. He didn’t want to put any kind of negativity on her.

So, there both of them lay, alone in bed. Eyes glued to the ceiling, cheeks stained with tears, lumps in their throats, anxiety brewing in their stomachs, and heavy chests. Two different homes, yet exactly the same all at once. Eerie silence, so loud they can feel the echo of their painful heartbeats in their ears. The more they think back on all of their time together, and what came of them, the more frequent and louder their sobs got.

-

Chris and Y/N both lay on the couch, their legs entangled together while she rests atop of him. Their fingers are intertwined as she has her face buried in the crook of his neck. Every so often, she would deeply inhale the scent of him, feeling intoxicated by the way he smells. She can never get enough of it.

"Are you smelling me?" Chris asks with a chuckle, his chest subtly shaking with the vibrations from his laugh.

Y/N playfully rolls her eyes, moving to look up at him. "Yes, what about it?"

"Nothing." He smirks, shaking his head. "You're just odd."

"Hey!" She gasps, defensively. "You smell good. Is it a crime to enjoy it?"

He laughs once more, "A crime? No, but it's definitely odd."

"Shut up. Don't think I haven't caught you doing the same thing to me. You're not slick, Christopher."

His cheeks darken with a rosy color, warming up in slight embarrassment for being caught without him realizing it.

"You've seen me smelling you?" He asks, his voice timid.

"Please. You practically breathe me in." She teases, enjoying the state of him being flustered.

"How come you never said anything?!" Chris questions, his jaw dropped.

She shrugs, resting her head on his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart. "It was never that deep. We like the way each other smell, so what?"

He doesn't reply, instead, flips the two over, so that he's now on top of her. She looks up at him with wide eyes before he smashes his lips against hers, taking her in a deep kiss. Their lips move together as if it's the easiest thing they'd ever done. In reality, it probably is.

One of his hands softly grips her jaw, the other resting on the bare skin of her waist. Her hands cup his face, deepening the kiss, until he pulls away. His lips trail down her cheeks, meeting her neck with soft kisses. His nose grazes her skin, brushing over it as he takes a deep breath through it. Her sweet scent fills his nostrils, rushing him with dopamine.

"You're such a weirdo!" She laughs, pushing his face away from her.

"Hey! You said it's not that deep!" He defends.

She giggles, shaking her head, "Come here, you dork."

Her fingers softly grasp his dangling chain, pulling him into her for another loving kiss that the two of them both melt into.

-

Y/N's pillow was drenched with her tears. With every happy memory surfacing, came a thousand more tears. She was incredibly distraught. She didn't know what to do, she felt so lost. Never in a million years did she think she would lose Chris. It never even crossed her mind.

Her house was dark and quiet, the only sounds being her cries. Her fingers gripped the roots of her hair, tugging in frustration. The burning sensation couldn’t compare to the aching in her chest. Maybe on the outside, people would assume she's being dramatic and should get over herself, as well as the boy she's so bent over. But on the inside, she truly felt so utterly heartbroken. She hadn't spoken a word aloud since she told Chris to leave. It's been seven whole days since she uttered a single word.

She had no one in her life aside from Chris, his brothers, and their friends. No one has reached out to her, but she couldn't blame them because she hadn't tried reaching out to anyone either. She simply turned her phone off, attempting to shield herself from the world.

She didn't know how to cope with the loss she was feeling. She knew it wasn't good to stay in bed and shelter herself from any and everything, but she couldn't bring herself to get out of bed. All she wanted was Chris. She wanted to rewind time to go back and have him again. Unfortunately, she'd rather have their messy situation than have nothing of him at all.

Tear-stained papers were scattered throughout her sheets, handwritten notes from Chris. She reread everything he's ever wrote to her over and over again, wishing for him to say the words out loud to her. She could tell from his letters alone; he did love her. She could tell from his actions and how the way he treated her, he did love her.

So, why on earth could he not just voice it?

Why, instead of telling her he loves her, would he push her away and make her feel like none of it mattered to him to lose?

-

“Chris!” Y/N’s yells, her laughter filling the atmosphere as she runs from said boy.

The two have giant smiles on their faces, joyous sounds emitting from both of their mouths as they run around the house. A can of silly string rests in his hand, determined to empty it on her.

“I swear it’s all gone, look!” Chris fronts, attempting to sway her just to cover her in it again.

“You’re lying!” She laughs, running around the counter.

Chris catches her on the opposite side, causing her to shriek in fear. His free hand wraps around her waist, holding her close while his other hand sprays the silly string all over her. At that point, she accepts defeat and pouts at him.

“Chris.” She whines, feeling the substance coating her head. “My hair!”

The grin never leaves his face as he pulls her flush against him, one hand on the small of her back, the other hand softly grasping her chin. His eyes stare down at her in adoration, love swelling in his heart as he takes her in.

“I’ll wash it for you.” He offers, closing the gap between them.

Their lips meet, soft and tender together. She melts into the kiss, savoring the way they mold together so perfectly. Her hands trail from his biceps to around his neck, her fingers, instinctively, playing with the loose strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

Y/N pulls away, only to be met with a frown on Chris’ lips. She breathily laughs, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the direction of the bathroom.

“What are we doing?” Chris asks, following in suit.

“We aren’t doing anything. YOU, are washing my hair like you oh so kindly offered.” She grins, locking the door behind them.

He chuckles in response, immediately accepting with no hesitation. He turns the faucet on, adjusting the temperature just how he knows she likes it. While they wait for the water to heat up, he grasps the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head, tossing it in the hamper.

The innocent look in her eyes as she stares up at him with love ridden on her face makes him feel like putty. He can’t help but capture her lips in a sweet kiss once more.

They continue to undress, discarding their dirty clothes with the rest of them. Chris helps her into the shower, joining her seconds after. He held her close, the hot water drenching both of them equally as they stood in each other’s embrace.

“I love this.” He mutters into her hair, his hands gently caressing her body.

“You love what?” She asks, looking up at him.

His beautiful blue eyes fill with admiration as he gazes back at her. His wet hair slick against his forehead and his lips a soft pink. He smiles at her, brushing the soaking hair out of her face. His touch against her incredibly tender and sweet, full of love and passion.

"Being here, like this, with you." He whispers, his voice soft and delicate, almost as if he is worried of scaring her away.

Y/N's lips pull into a rather large smile, her stomach fluttering with butterflies. His statement was so simple, yet it has her weak in the knees. She doesn't say a word, only clasps her hands around his neck and pulls his face into hers. Their lips meet in a longing kiss, both of them savoring the deep connection between the two. Chris' hands wrap tightly around her waist, tugging her against him, desperate to feel all of her.

After a moment, they pull away, breathless. She smiles up at him and lays her head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in her ears. His cheek meets her hair, enjoying the feeling of her embrace. His hands run through her hair, massaging her scalp as he does so.

Suddenly, she pulls back and looks him in the eyes, "I love you."

He smiles, "I love you too."

She shakes her head, biting her inner cheek. "No, Chris. I love you. I'm in love with you."

He feels as though time stops, everything frozen around them. The running water muffles, and all he can hear is the sound of his erratic heartbeat. His eyes are wide as he stares down at her, his voice caught in his throat. He wasn't expecting this. Though, looking back, he should've realized it would be happening soon.

Her lips started falling, curving into a frown, before quickly pulling them back up in a tight-lipped smile. "It's okay."

He opens his mouth so say something, yet nothing comes out. She softly shakes her head, her fake smile growing in an attempt to reassure him, even though her heart is slowly breaking at the thought of him not loving her back. Not loving her the way she wants to be loved, the way she loves him.

"You don't have to say anything."

And so, he doesn't. He clears his throat, proceeding to wash her hair like he intended. The silence between them is loud, awkwardness filling the air. Y/N can't help but feel regret for saying those words. Although, they were nothing but true, she now feels as though she messed things up.

-

That was the beginning of their destruction. Everything changed the moment Y/N said those five little words. Chris pulled back and put his guard up. Y/N was so lost and confused, unknowing of why things changed. Using her head, she knew it was because she admitted her feelings, but her heart ached every time she attempted to understand why it changed. It was obvious to everyone that knew the two, Chris was undoubtedly in love with her. Why wouldn't he just say that?

The next couple of weeks after Y/N's confession were looming with uncertainty and inevitable ruination. Chris was snappy and seemingly far away, trying to put as much distance into them as possible. He could see what it was doing to her, and it made his chest tighten in agony. She wasn't the same happy girl she usually was. At times she would try to hide it, but he could read her through and through. She was sad.

No matter how many times Y/N tried to address the elephant in the room, Chris would always be extremely dismissive and standoffish. She could barely even get two sentences out before he was either interrupting her, or simply walking away. The pain she felt was excruciating. Every time he just left her there, she felt like he was taking her lungs with him, because she suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Chris was her person. Without him, she had no one to turn to. She couldn't reach out to anyone for advice, simply because there was no one else. She was stuck enduring the heartache he was causing, unaware of the fact that he was going through the same feeling. He didn't want to be cold towards her, he didn't want to leave her drowning in a pool of unwanted emotions, but it's what he felt he had to do.

Ever since their last communication, the skies were dark. It was as if the universe was following in suit of the two of them. The world seemed gloomy around them. Either that, or their overwhelming negative emotions clouded everything good in the world.

"Chris, bro, you have got to leave your room!" Matt's voice was heard from the other side of the locked door.

Chris doesn't respond, only continues to look off into the distance, reminiscing about the girl he loved and hurt all at the same time. His bedroom door shakes with the pounding from his brothers, both of them desperate to reach him. Suddenly, the furious knocks stop, leaving just a moment of silence before the lock clicks and the door flies open.

Chris turns his head, his dead eyes meeting Nick and Matt. The two of them look back at Chris, their faces morphing into sadness and confusion. They have no idea what's causing Chris to be so detrimental to his own health.

"What's going on, Chris?" Nick asks, "You have to talk to us. We're your brothers."

Chris can't even find the words to respond. Just by his features, Nick and Matt can see that he's absolutely devastated. However, they have no idea why. When he doesn't answer, Matt walks forward and sits beside him on the bed, engulfing him in a comforting hug. That seems to have an effect, because Chris bursts into tears, his entire body shaking as he silently cries. Nick gasps and rushes over to the other side of Chris, joining in on the embrace, desperate to help soothe the pain of his brother.

"Shh." Nick coos, "It's okay. It's gonna be okay."

Chris violently trembles, as his sobs grow louder, "I fucked up. I fucked up so bad."

"Chris, tell us what happened. We can help you fix it." Matt says.

He shakes his head, "It's too late."

Nick and Matt share looks of concern, completely bewildered by the state of their brother. He had never ever been like this before, and quite frankly, they were unsure how to handle it. They just continue to console him to the best of their ability.

“Is this about Y/N?” Nick asks, sharing another look with Matt.

“We’ve noticed she hasn’t been around this last week.” Matt adds.

Chris doesn’t say anything, so Nick continues, “Did something happen between you two? It’s not like you guys to go so long without speaking to each other.”

Chris’ cries only seem to get louder, indicating the two of them made correct assumptions. Matt rubs Chris’ back in another effort to comfort him.

“Chris, if you want to talk about it, you know we’re always here for you. No judgement, no criticism. Just here to listen, and if you want advice.” Matt softly states.

Slowly, but surely, Chris’ finally gets himself together enough to stop sobbing, however, the tears remain a steady flow. He lifts his head up, looking back and forth between his brothers with a frown on his lips.

“I told her I didn’t feel anything for her.” Chris finally admits.

“Why would you lie?” Nick questions, receiving an elbow from Matt, pulling a groan from his mouth.

“Go on.” Matt insists.

Chris sighs, tossing his head back in frustration with himself. “She told me she was in love with me the other day. I didn’t say it back.”

Nick and Matt look at one another, realization dawning upon them.

“I don’t know why, I just couldn’t say it. The words wouldn’t come out.” Chris adds.

“But you do feel the same, right?” Nick asks.

Chris nods, “I love her more than anything. I’m so in love with her, it hurts. But I’m such a fucking idiot. I pushed her away, I made her hate me.”

He lets out another sob, Matt quickly jumping in, “I’m sure she doesn’t hate you. It’s Y/N, she could never hate you.”

“You weren’t there.” Chris shakes his head, several tears falling from his eyes. “I looked her in her face and told her I don’t feel anything for her. I watched her fall apart. I could see it in her face, what my words did to her. I’ve never seen her so sad before. She told me to leave, and we haven’t spoken since.”

“Oh, Chris.” Nick sighs. “You’ve gotta fix this.”

“Dude!” Matt counters, nudging him again.

“No!” Nick cuts, “I know we said we’d listen, but come on. Chris it’s so obvious you love her. Look at the way you’ve been distraught over this! You haven’t left your room in a week. We’ve had to use old unposted videos just to give our fans content because you’ve been sulking. I get you’re upset, I understand that. What’s stopping you from telling her the truth?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do know, you’re just lying to yourself.” Nick snaps. “Accept it, Chris. Just say the words out loud.”

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Matt encourages.

“I’m scared of fully committing. I’m scared of giving her all of me and not being good enough!” Chris shouts, feeling exasperated.

Nick sighs, “Kid, look back on all these years. She’s been head over heels for you for as long as I can remember.”

“Plus,” Matt starts, holding a finger up. “You’re still committing to not being with her. So, therefore, it’s not commitment you’re afraid of.”

Chris shakes his head, a small chuckle leaving his mouth. “It’s not just that. What if after everything, she doesn’t love me like she thinks? And our fans would go insane.”

“Fuck our fans!” Nick exclaims, receiving a pointed look from Matt. “Okay, that sounded harsh. But seriously, if our fans can’t be happy that you found someone that makes you happy, then they’re not real fans.”

“I don’t want them to hurt her.”

“Like you’re doing right now?” Matt points out.

Chris frowns, knowing Matt is absolutely right. He is hurting Y/N, and that alone, makes his stomach drop.

-

Y/N’s phone had been going straight to voicemail, and none of Chris’ texts were delivering. He assumed she blocked him until he tried having Matt and Nick call her, but to no avail, neither of them got through. So, either she blocked all of them, or her phone was off.

Regardless, Chris was ridden with panic. He worried immensely about her. He knew she was hurting, and he was scared of her doing something stupid. Which brought Chris to where he is now; standing outside of her door.

He’s been on her doorstep for about five minutes, contemplating what to do and what to say. Part of him wants to turn around and forget about him, but he can’t bring himself to do so. He needs to talk to her. So, his hand reaches forward and, before he can talk himself out of it, he knocks several times. So much, in fact, that he yanks his hand back and curses at himself for being so stupid.

It feels like forever has gone by, like he’s been standing there for eternity, until the door opens and snaps him back to reality. His head lifts up and he’s met with Y/N. Her eyes are bloodshot, cheeks red and puffy, and she looks incredibly miserable. Chris still finds her beautiful.

Her eyes widen in surprise before they’re replaced with anger as she frowns at him, “Can I help you?”

The way she talks to him like he’s a stranger makes his stomach twist and he’s suddenly ten times more nervous than before.

“Y/N.” He sighs, unable to form another other words.

“Christopher.”

He takes a deep breath, washing his anxiety away in order to speak to her. “You were right. You were right about everything. I was a complete asshole. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you, the way I pushed you away. I lied. I do feel things for you. I feel so much for you that it terrifies the fuck out of me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone and I didn’t know how to deal with it. So, when you admitted your feelings for me, I panicked. I was scared, I’m still scared! I don’t know how to be in a relationship, I’m worried I won’t be good enough for you. I’m scared you’ll realize that you don’t actually love me the way you think you do. I’m scared I’ll ruin everything good between us, if I haven’t already. You’re so fucking amazing, I can’t even wrap my head around how you want anything to do with me. I do love you, I’m so fucking in love with you that it hurts. I’m so incredibly sorry for the pain I caused you, it breaks my heart that you had to endure that because of me. Because I’m an idiot. I’m sick for even jeopardizing us because I was an idiot and couldn’t use my words like a big boy. I do love you, and I want nothing more than to be with you, to have a family and grow old with you. I want to go to every single doctor appointment for our children. I want to have cute gender reveals and baby showers. I want us to have a cute little house with the white picket fence. I want us to have a cute little garden and a play-set for our kids, and a little doggy house. I want to go to sleep with you every night, and wake up with you by my side every single morning. I, so badly, wish I could take back the last few weeks, but I know it’s not possible. But please, if there’s any part of you that still wants me, I want nothing more than to be yours.”

By the time he’s finished speaking, he’s breathless. The two of them had tears running down their cheeks, never breaking eye contact for even a moment. Chris feels so much relief for finally getting that off his chest, he just wishes he had done it sooner rather than later.

“Do you want to come inside?” Her voice speaks up, softer than before.

“Please.” He nods, letting out a breath of nervousness.

She opens the door wider, allowing room for him to enter. He does so, turning to her once she shuts the door. The two stare at each other, no words spoken, causing Chris’ anxiety to spike.

“Will you say something?” He asks, “Please.”

Instead of speaking, she steps forward, yanking him into her. Her arms wrap around his neck, his arms going around her waist. She buries her head in the crook of his neck, and he places his head on hers. Both of them sigh in contentment, finally back in each other’s embrace. Their hearts swell with love as relief floods their bodies.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He repeats.

“Shh, come on.” She says, reluctantly pulling away and beckoning him to her room.

He follows her in, watching as she gets on her bed. He stands there, almost unsure whether to join her, until she pats the space beside her. He wastes no time in lying right next to her, their bodies molding together once again. Her head on his chest, his arm around her, keeping her in place as their legs entangle and fingers interlock.

“I missed you so fucking much.” He whispers, pulling her impossibly closer in fear that she’d disappear.

She squeezes her eyes shut, gripping onto him tighter, like when she opens her eyes, she’ll find herself alone and realize all of this was a dream.

“Please never do that again.” She croaks, swallowing the lump in her throat.

He instantly lifts her head up, coming face to face with her as they lock eyes. “Never again. I promise. I’m never leaving you again. I want this, I want you. I’m sorry it took me so long to admit that, but I promise this is what I want. You’re what I want, what I need. I’m here to stay.”

It’s like his words flipped a switch because she could suddenly see right through him again. He’s being sincere.

Her hand slowly makes its way to his cheek, rubbing the soft skin with her thumb, before pulling him into her and pressing her lips against his. It feels like heaven. This is what both of them have been longing for, being together in the way they are meant to be.

Their mouths move in sync, the kiss deepening with each passing second. Y/N hooks her leg over him, sliding herself on his lips, to straddle him. Chris’ hands, instinctively, meet her hips, holding her in place.

He suddenly pulls away, “Wait, I don’t want you to think I just came over here to get my dick wet. I-”

“Please shut up.” She breathes, melting into his lips once more.

Their kiss becomes feverish and desperate, as if trying to make up for lost time. Chris’ hands move downwards to her ass, tightly gripping it as she grinds her hips against his. Almost instantly, she can feel his bulge against her core. Her lips part from his and continue trailing down his neck, leaving open mouth kisses, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin. His breathing picks up, now heavy in her ear.

With one quick motion, he flips her, leaving him hovering over her. His lips meet hers again, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths like it’s the first time ever doing so. His hand softly grasps her neck, his hips rutting against hers, eliciting a soft moan from her.

“God, I’ve missed that sound.” He mumbles against her lips.

Her hands reach the bottom of his shirt, tugging it upwards and placing her hands on his chest as he fully removes it. Her fingers roam his torso, goosebumps arising on his skin beneath her touch. His lips work on her neck, kissing down towards her exposed collarbone. He pulls the loose strap of her tank top down, exposing more skin, his lips following in suit. Soft, breathy moans fell from her mouth, enjoying every sensation he’s giving her.

Chris grabs the hem of her tank top and swiftly pulls it over her head, leaving her topless. His hands caress her bare skin as hers tangle in his hair. He lowers his mouth, peppering wet, open mouthed kisses along every inch of her upper body. His lips trail down the valley of her breasts, both hands cupping each one, giving them a tender squeeze.

“God, you’re so perfect, baby.” Chris groans into her chest, his lips wrapping around her nipple.

Her back arches, pushing her chest more into him, her panties growing more wet with every touch. He takes turns with each nipple, sucking, biting, and pinching them. Airy moans left her mouth, fueling Chris’ desire to hear more of them.

His fingers hook in the waistband of her bottoms, pulling them down and off her feet in one quick motion, tossing them across the room. Y/N’s left bare in front of him, he can’t help but admire the sight of her. Butterflies erupt in her stomach at the loving look in his eyes, her cheeks heating up under his stare.

“So fucking pretty.” He mutters, placing another kiss on her lips.

His hands trail down, groping at every one of her curves, softly massaging the plush skin. They make their way down to her thighs, caressing them with passion. He pulls them apart, her core glistening with her arousal, causing him to lick his lips. She’s completely mouth watering to him.

“Need you so bad.” She moans out, the cool air hitting her right where she needs him most.

He lowers his body in between her legs, softly kissing and nibbling her inner thighs. The moment she bucks her hips up, in need of friction, Chris lurches forward. His tongue glides through her folds with ease, causing her to let out a loud moan. His lips wrap around her sensitive bundle of nerves, gently sucking.

“Fuck.” She moans out, her face contorting in pleasure.

He pulls away, his finger taking his place. It rubs her clit in soft circles, before trailing down, gathering her juices. He leans up towards her mouth, placing his lips on hers, and sinks his finger into her entrance, causing her to moan into the kiss. His finger continues pumping in and out of her for a moment, before he adds another. He speeds up the pace, fucking his fingers into her and curving up just right, feeling that spongy spot he knows she loves.

“Oh my fuck.” She moans, grinding into his hand.

He continues this, his mouth now working on her neck once again, marking her up just how he knows she likes. He knows her inside and out, quite literally. His thumb rubs her clit in circles while his middle and ring finger thrust in and out of her, leaving her a moaning mess. Very quickly, her legs begin shaking and she clenches around him.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna make a mess for me, hm?” He whispers in her ear, sucking on her earlobe, and placing a kiss on it.

Unable to form a sentence, she frantically nods, her hands grasping his arm as he speeds his hand up. She gasps, feeling nothing but euphoric. The knot in her stomach tightens, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Fuck, right there!” She moans out, “Please, don’t stop. Please, please.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He speaks, quickly bringing his mouth back down to her heat, his lips easily wrapping around her clit once again.

Just as his tongue flicks over it, her hips are bucking as her orgasm rushes through her. Her legs tremble as she releases, her juices flying out and drenching the sheets as well as Chris. He moans into her center, his tongue working to taste all of her as his fingers slowly help her ride it out.

“Taste so fucking good.” He moans, pulling his fingers out of her and placing them in his mouth, sucking her fluids off of them.

Her legs continue to twitch as she tries to catch her breath, a goofy smile dancing on her lips as she watches him through heavy eyelids. She pulls him into her again, her lips easily molding with his, the taste of her juices still on his tongue. She can feel his clothed erection pressing into her, causing her to pull away.

Her fingers grasp the drawstring of his sweatpants, slowly pulling them loose. He gets the hint and pulls them down, adding them and his boxers to the pile of clothes discarded on the floor. His hand wraps around the base of his dick, sliding it up and down through her folds, coating it in her arousal. He places himself at her entrance, both of his hands interlocking with hers. Looking into her eyes, he slowly sinks in, loud moans coming from both of them as he bottoms out.

“Mm, missed you so much.” She moans out, her fingers tightening around his.

“I missed you.” He groans, slowly pumping in and out. “God, you feel so good around me, baby.”

As he thrusts into her, her hands guide his to her breasts. His hands engulf them, tightly squeezing them as she claws at his back. His strokes become faster and harder, desperately fucking into her as deep as he’ll go. Her eyes roll into the back of her head as her mouth falls open, broken moans emitting.

He grabs one of her legs, lifting it over his shoulder for better access. The deeper he gets, the louder the moans are, falling from her lips. His free hand comes down, rubbing her clit as he fucks into her at a delicious pace.

“Chris, baby, I’m so close.” She moans with a whine, her fingernails digging into the skin on his back. “You fuck me so good.”

“Let go, mama. Wanna make you feel good.” He groans, his thrusts meeting her just the way they both need.

The tightening in her stomach indicates she’s close to releasing, causing her to tightly clench around his cock. That causes his thrusts to grow sloppy, him feeling his own orgasm sneaking up on him. He recomposes himself, his hips rutting into hers so perfectly, instantly snapping the metaphorical rope inside of her. Lewd moans fall from her mouth as she lets go once again, her juices coating his dick.

“Fuck, so good to me, baby.” He groans, pumping in and out of her before his own release hits him, his hot load painting her walls.

His thrusts slow down before he pulls out altogether, their mixed fluids dripping out of her. Both of their breaths were erratic, their skin flushed mixes of reds and pinks. Chris collapses beside her, their hands immediately connecting as they attempt to regain themselves.

“I love you.” Chris suddenly announces, “I’m gonna remind you every chance I get. I’ll never let you forget it, or doubt it. I love you, I’m so in love with you. I wanna be yours and only yours, forever.”

-

a/n : lolzzz there ya go <3 wasn’t sure if i liked the ending but i got lazy and someoneee wanted a happy ending. it’s not my fic without a lil nasty 🤭 hope you enjoyed it xx

@worldlxvlys @flowerxbunnie

[stranger-writer]

A Nightmare in Hawkins

Summary: Eddie Munson has become an infamous town legend of Hawkins since the events that transpired in 1986. Whether it’s to scare children or used as a creepy Halloween ghost story, everyone knows his name and the terrifying mark it has left behind. Recently, you find yourself having consistent nightmares about him, but these just aren’t any ordinary night terrors. He’s haunting you in your sleep which starts to bleed into the waking hours of the day. Can you stop him? Or better yet, is Eddie actually the monster everyone claims he is?

Warnings: blood, scary nightmares and “hallucinations”, cursing, biting, 18+, mentions of sexual themes, possessive eddie

Of course this is heavily inspired by the classic, A Nightmare on Elm Street! Hope you all enjoy it! Reblogs and comments are much appreciated!🖤

…………………………………………………………………………….

1, 2 Eddie’s coming for you…

You were there again. The sky that same hue of red and blue, the sound of lightning taking its violent strike, and the snow-like particles dancing in the air that you began to recognize all too well.

The dreams were always taking place in this strange, unknown place, except tonight, you’re standing right on the concrete pathway staring straight ahead at your house. However, this is nothing like home.

Slithery vines are wrapped around its entirety to the point where you couldn’t tell where one started and one ended. They were right by your scuffed up sneakers too, teasingly moving as if waiting for you to make one wrong step. One wrong move. The windows were boarded up, the beautiful flowers your mother planted are now sitting decayed and lifeless. Here, your house is a corpse that’s rotting from the inside out.

The front stained glass door begins to open with an obnoxious creak that’s similar to nails on a chalkboard.

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. You close your eyes, trying something different that can maybe make you snap out of it and wake up.

“This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real…” you whisper the mantra over and over in hopes that this will work.

Instead, you hear that sinister chuckle you have gotten quite familiar with. Your palms begin to sweat and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“You would be such a good little housewife sweetheart, why don’t you come on in and show me.”

His tone is anything but inviting and even though you can’t see him, you can definitely feel him. It’s as if he’s talking to you through your mind and the way your body reacts is by his doing.

“Please…just stop this,” you beg and snap your eyes shut tightly while dropping your head down.

“You’re right, a little housewife doesn’t entirely suit you, does it? You know what I think the perfect fit is?”

You don’t give into his daunting torment and malice as you keep your head hung low.

“Being my pretty. Obedient. Puppet.”

Your head abruptly yanks straight up, as if a string is attached and pulling it. Your forearms do the same, and your legs begin to shakily move, one foot in front of the other. He’s forcing you to walk into the house.

Sobbing, you scream for him to stop or show you any kind of mercy. The tears run rapidly down your flushed, red cheeks. Your body comes to a halt as it approaches the front door. One more step and you would be inside.

You cannot see a thing. It’s like staring into complete and utter darkness, which makes you all the more terrified.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you cry out wherever he is. “Please!” Your cries and pleads are music to his ears, but that’s the only defense you have.

“You want to know what I want?” He asks, but this time, his voice isn’t in your head, but instead you can feel the coolness of his breath as if he’s talking directly in front of you.

You can’t fully see him, but if you squint you can just see the outline of his silhouette.

“I want to hear you scream.”

A force pushes you into the void that’s inside your “house” and you wake up to the feeling like you do when you fall from a one hundred story building.

Your stomach lurches for a moment before your eyes snap open and you jolt awake. The window shows it’s still night time as the fall breeze makes the trees outside sway gently back and forth. Your pillow is soaked from the sweat that accumulated on your neck.

You sit up and tuck your knees into your chest, resting your head on top of them. It was only a dream. Just like all the others. But why do you still feel him, like he’s lingering in the darkness, just waiting to drag you back down to whatever that hell is with him?

……………….……………………………………………………………

“You okay sweetie? Those dark circles make you lookin’ like you're a part of the Addams family,” Tatum observes on your routine walk to school. “Starting your costume a little early?” She smirks as she nudges your shoulder with a playful bump.

You give her a joking eye roll. “Ha-ha, very funny.”

The two of you continue to walk in comfortable silence before you decide to finally bring up the topic of conversation you have been dreading.

“Hey, have you ever had the same kind of dream occur more than once?”

“No, can’t say that I have. Why, have you?” She quirks an eyebrow up and gives you a quizzical glance over.

“It’s just, I’ve been-“

You’re interrupted when Jason and Randy jump out of the bushes, scaring you and Tatum half to death. The shriek you let out was embarrassing, but if they only knew how you have been spending the last couple of nights, they would understand.

“You assholes!” Tatum giggles while running a hand through her hair. Randy walks backwards, facing the group while Jason wraps his arm around your shoulder. You aren’t dating, but he still attempts to flirt in hopes you change your mind.

“What’s the topic of the morning today ladies?” Randy asks with that usual look of mischief across his face. “How sexy Brad Mackenzie looks in his compression pants or the size of Ashley Donald’s ass?” He wiggles his eyebrows in amusement.

“Do you guys know much about the story of Eddie Munson?” You ask. There’s an awkward silence that lingers. Shit. Before you’re about to retract, Randy and Jason start laughing hysterically.

“Hawkins’ ultimate Boogeyman!” Randy bellows before continuing. “You’re telling me you’ve never heard the stories?”

“I mean I know the gist I guess, but c’mon, I’m sure some stuff is made up.”

Randy lets out a breathy chuckle. “I’ll tell you what isn’t made up. They found that babe Chrissy Cunningham mutilated. I’m talkin’ every limb snapped in half, blood seeping out of her eyeballs, and her face was completely distorted. When her mom had to identify the body, she was so fucking traumatized they had to send her to Pennhurst for a month.”

You shudder at the image, trying to erase it from your mind, which only makes it worse.

“Oh please, Chrissy was the girl who acted all sweet and innocent, but was secretly a huge slut. I think the rumours are true and she was fucking the freak,” Tatum adds while checking out her nails.

You grimace and flinch slightly at her very rude and insensitive words.

“It’s always the innocent ones,” Randy winks before hoisting Tatum up and carrying her over his shoulder. She begins to laugh as he runs with her down the sidewalk, leaving you and Jason in the dust.

“So what ever happened to him, Eddie?” You ask, gripping your books tightly to your chest.

“After that night, he disappeared and no one has seen him since. Apparently the townspeople rallied together to hunt him down, but it was unsuccessful.”

You hum in response, staring ahead at the school that’s slowly approaching into view.

“Legend says every year on Halloween he comes back to Hawkins to terrorize the town and take another girl’s soul just like he did that night.”

You stare up at him, a look of worry etched across your delicate features.

“Don’t worry Y/N, if you ask me it’s all a bunch of bull. It’s just some made up stories to scare kids and entertain the people in this boring ass town.”

Biting down on your bottom lip nervously, you ask, “Well what if it isn’t?”

His eyes flash with the slightest concern for just a second before he shrugs and displays a smug grin. “You got me here to protect you.”

You realized in that moment that one of two things are true. Either you are going absolutely mad or you are Eddie Munson’s next victim. And the most horrifying part is you couldn’t tell which one was worse.

…………………………………………………………………………….

Sitting in the dingy bathroom stall of Hawkins High was not exactly how you pictured you’d start your morning. Your knee was bouncing with anxiety as you tried to process everything over and over again in your head. What do you do? Who do you tell? How do you make it stop?

You hear someone come in and decide to pause the merry go round of thoughts that are starting to consume you. Right before you’re about to grab your book bag and head out, you crane your head a little lower and notice the bulky combat boots walking towards your stall. The heavy thump of the shoes and the clinking sound of a chain makes you get that feeling again. No, you thought to yourself. You’re not dreaming.

Whoever it is comes to a halt and stops right in front of your stall. You gulp, the nerves consuming your throat as your shaky hand reaches out to unlock the door.

You yank the door open in such haste that you jump at your own actions before taking a sigh of relief as you see who is before you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Piper,” you apologize with a smile, holding your hand over your heart as a means of comfort.

“Somebody’s jumpy today,” she remarks, which between that and her appearance makes you feel like something is off with her. You can’t put your finger on it, but her stare is vacant when usually she’s super animated. Her attire is on the edgier side too than the usual bright colors she always sports, and her hair is wavy today which it never is.

You give her a closed mouth smile as you begin to swing your bag over your shoulder. You try to politely move past her, but she doesn’t make it easy for you as she remains standing in the same spot, still nothing behind those big brown eyes. Odd. You could have sworn she had green eyes.

Once you slither past her, you’re almost to the door as you grab the handle, but what she says stops you in your tracks.

“It’s almost time,” she grins, but again, this is not her usual, warm smile. It in fact is creepy and quite unnerving.

“Almost time? Almost time for what?”

Your heart drops into your stomach as you wait for her answer.

“For Halloween of course,” She smirks like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but there’s still something about her tone that’s unsettling.

“Oh yeah….right. I uh- I better get going, I’m already 15 minutes late for Simmons’ class.”

“He’s coming for you,” she mutters close to a whisper. Your eyebrows furrow as you give her no response and instead run out of the door as fast as you can muster.

…………………………………………………………………………….

The encounter with Piper had you feeling immense paranoia the remainder of the day. The thought crossed your mind to just ditch the rest of today, but you were petrified to be home. Alone.

Usually you hated P.E., but given your current circumstances, it’s your favorite since it’s impossible to close your eyes and pass out.

Running the mile always resulted in you, Tatum, and your other girlfriends simply walking it. Coach Ann always blew the whistle at you all, yelling, “what do you think this is ladies? Book club? Get moving!”

Once you get back to the locker room, you decide to take a quick shower. Tatum wanted you to go to the mall with her after school and you didn’t want to feel sweaty and gross.

You’re happy that all the showers are empty. For some reason, being completely naked in front of the other girls always made you feel awkward.

Stripping off your green “Hawkins P.E.” T-shirt and shorts, you stuff them in your bag before unclasping your bra and doing the same. You quickly pull down your thong and throw that in as well before swiftly entering the shower.

You turn the nozzle to the hottest setting and the burn feels good on your tense muscles. Steam starts to fill the small space, but you don’t mind, it’s the most relaxed you’ve felt all day.

Releasing a deep sigh of relief, you close your eyes and position your face directly into the streaming downpour of water. Suddenly though, you get that feeling again, the slight shiver that shoots up your neck.

When you open your eyes, you're back in that place. You’re still in the shower in the girls locker room, but everything looks decayed and full of grime. Those same slimey, breathing vines are intertwined together along the wall and the color in the room has shifted to a tinge of blue.

In a haste, you yank the towel that’s draped over the rod and speedily wrap it around your body.

“No need to get all modest now sweetheart, I was quite enjoying the show.” Eddie’s voice echoes throughout the locker room.

The grip on your towel is so tight, you can feel the digging of your nails into your palms through the material.

“Fuck you,” you mutter, shocked at your own words that spilled from your lips.

“What filthy words from such a shy, inexperienced girl like yourself.”

He’s taunting you, and you have no idea how, but he knows you’ve never had sex with anyone yet and worse of all, it’s like he knows it’s one of your biggest insecurities.

You try to very quietly pad over to reach the lockers, each step leaving a wet footprint behind. Still gripping the towel tightly to your chest, you can feel the water dripping down your arms and legs.

“Saving yourself for true love,” he declares with a chuckle. “How adorable. But I can sense it. You’re just aching to be touched, aren’t you?”

The room is so eerily quiet that the only sounds you can hear are the small droplets of water coming out of the shower head with a soft plink. From the volume of his voice, you know he’s near.

“I bet you think about it… How do you want your first time to be? All soft and sweet? Because your little friend Jason…well…let’s just say his dreams about fucking you are quite…entertaining.”

Suddenly hearing his daunting footsteps as you see his shadow near the front row of lockers, you patter in a hurry down to the last row to hide. Your back is against the cool metal as you are tempted to take a peek to see around the corner.

“I wish you could see the way he pictures it… with you on your stomach…eyes rolled to the back of your head in pure bliss while he has his way with you. You’re biting down on your lip to suppress your soft, little moans, which makes him fuck you harder…faster…doesn’t that sound nice? Being fucked like a good little slut?”

“Go to hell!” Your voice is trembling and unsteady, but there’s no use of trying to be quiet anymore, he will find you one way or another.

His sinister chortle echos and you can hear his heavy boots stepping closer.

“Awh sweetheart, you didn’t notice? We’re already there.”

You no longer hear his approaching footsteps anymore. Your breathing is intense as you sneak a look to your right and peek around the corner. With a shaky breath you risk a glance, but you don’t see him.

That is, until he catches you off guard from your left and briskly pins you against the lockers.

This is the most face to face you have ever been with him out of all the dreams you’ve had. His eyes are so dark, they’re close to black. The red and purple veins around his eyes are translucent through his icy pale skin. As if this close contact isn’t horrifying enough, you spot them….his fangs.

The grip he has around your neck isn’t hard enough to choke you, but it’s tight enough to hold you in place. He takes a big inhale through his nose before his thirsty eyes bore into yours.

“Too bad Jason will never get to know what that sweet cunt of yours feels like because you belong to me.”

“Please,” you whimper, having a terrible time tearing away from his intense gaze.

“Please…” Eddie mocks with a sarcastic frown. “I think there’s nothing more I love than hearing you beg.

With the grip still on your neck, he takes his other hand to play and twirl with the long strands of your hair.

“You hear that?” He asks, tucking a tendril behind your ear. Your brows furrow before you realize what he’s referring to. It's the sounds of a clock ticking before the chime strikes in the most haunting way.

“It’s almost time,” he grins from ear to ear as you begin to cry. He swipes your tear away with his thumb, and as he brings it to his lips, you see it. It’s blood. You’re not crying tears, but blood.

“Mmmm,” his deep voice hums. “Just how I imagined you’d taste.”

“Leave me alone!” You shout before hearing his maniacal laughter echo through your head in a way that consumes your entire mind. The blood from your eyes is oozing out in streams down your face, dripping onto the floor. Your shrieks and cries are piercing before you’re being violently shaken awake.

“Y/N, wake up! Wake up! Jesus Christ, wake up!” Tatum is kneeling before you, the sound of the shower running is the first thing you hear. You're crouched in the corner, knees tucked to your chest while your hands cover your ears, like you were trying to block out the sound of Eddie’s hysteria.

“What the hell happened? Are you okay?” Tatum asks, well, more like shouts as she takes in your pathetic form. She turns the water off and grabs the towel before wrapping it around your shoulders.

“I’m fine, I-I felt light headed while I was taking a shower and decided to sit down for a minute and I must have passed out for a sec. I’m okay though,” you try to assure, shocked at the believable lie you were quick to muster up on the spot.

“C’mon, let’s get you dressed,” Taum grabs your bag and goes to hand you your undergarments first. She hands your bra over to you and has your skirt and blouse in one hand while the other is digging for something else.

“Did you go commando today?” Tatum asks.

“What? No?”

You grab your bag from her and search through it yourself to not find them in there. You distinctly remember having them on and taking them off right before…..

“Huh, that’s weird,” you utter, not even having a plausible excuse to tell her even though you know exactly who took them.

“Why don’t you let me take you to the doctor or something? Don't you want to make sure your head and everything is okay?”

“Tatum, I’m fine, I promise. I didn’t eat lunch today and the heat and the exercise on an empty stomach got to me.”

She’s not a hundred percent convinced, but she gives you a nod. “Okay. I’ll wait outside while you get changed.” She’s about to get up before your small voice stops her.

“Can you stay here with me while I get dressed?”

You know that she knows something is up, but she decides to not press or ask any more questions. She turns around, giving you some privacy as you begin to throw your clothes on rapidly. There’s nothing more you wanted than to get out of this locker room immediately.

Once you're out in the hallway, you turn to Tatum.

“You and Natalie go on to the mall without me, I’m going to go home and get some rest.”

“Okay, but you promise you’ll call me later?”

You give her a swift nod and a smile before parting ways. As soon as you see her turn the corner, you make a bee line for the library.

Dropping your belongings onto the floor, you plop into the swivel chair, and begin your research.

Like some sort of mad woman, you submerge yourself for almost an hour into every article and interview you can find regarding that fateful night in March of 1986. You almost give up on your search before you scroll down a bit more.

Dustin Henderson.

From what you put together, he was one of the few who was outspoken about Eddie being innocent, which in turn infuriated the town for obvious reasons.

You race to one of the shelves and grab the yearbook from ‘86, frantically turning the pages until you get to the “clubs” section. There, you see them, the infamous group called “The Hellfire Club.” Just based on the photo, it seems like a group of innocent, goofy boys. You ignore the vandalism on the page which accumulated over time. “Burn in hell” is sprawled above the photo, as well as a pentagram and there’s devil horns drawn on top of Eddie’s head.

Maybe if you can talk to this Dustin Henderson, he may have some answers that can help you. At this point, it’s your only hope. You couldn’t go to your family, your friends, or even the police without them thinking you're going clinically insane. A total stranger is your best option at this point.

Tucking the sheet of paper you printed at the library in your pocket, you begin your walk home. This is usually your favorite time of year. The crisp weather, the leaves, everyone’s homes decorated with jack-o’-lanterns and makeshift ghosts.

You pass by a group of little girls jumping rope, but you halt when you realize the nursery rhyme they are singing.

“1, 2 Eddie’s coming for you. Three, four, better lock your door..”

The clouds in the sky begin to darken as the wind drastically picks up, causing your hair to whip around wildly as the sound of thunder begins to rumble.

“Five, six, grab your crucifix…”

The horrifying image of him piercing through the flesh on your neck with his fangs intrudes your mind as if he’s planting the thought in there himself, making you see what he wants you to.

“Seven, eight, gonna stay up late. Nine, ten, never sleep again.”

He’s sitting on the porch swing, legs spread with one arm resting on the back of the swing. His smirk is wide as he shoots you a wink and a wave with the wiggle of his fingers. His fangs and mouth are covered with blood.

With Halloween approaching, you have little time to spare. Each day your dreams are starting to progress, and even worse, are starting to happen when you’re not even asleep. The hallucinations as well as Eddie’s power grow stronger and stronger within each passing second. You’re completely haunted by him night and day, and you can only hope that by the time you reach Dustin, it’s not too late.

[andreafmn]

I'm Not Afraid | Chapter 22

Word Count: 3.1K Warnings: depictions of violence, mentions of blood

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack, as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

A/N: falling back in love with this story 🤭 just need the same motivation for my Criminal Minds fic 🫣

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That was it.

That moment was either kill or be killed.

Realization dawned upon everyone at the same time, the air in the room shifting as everyone understood what needed to be done. Even the Kanima had his own rules to carry out. Whether they wanted to or not, they had to fight Jackson, and someone had to come out of it alive.

Isaac’s grip tightened around (Y/N) as the creature unhanded Allison, its sight set on the other Argent girl. Meanwhile, her father stood between her and the creature in a protective stance. Even without a loaded weapon, he would not let more harm come to his daughter.  It was clear Gerard had given Jackson a quiet command and he couldn’t ignore it.

But once free, Allison reared back and elbowed the Kanima in the face, breaking his gaze before he pushed her to the ground and out of the way. His eyes fell back on (Y/N), a murderous glint in his irises. He was tasked to kill the girl, and he wouldn’t stop until he completed his goal.

Suddenly, Stiles’ powder blue Jeep crashed through the wall, colliding straight with the Kanima. “Did I get him?” he asked, his eyes tightly shut.

His question was answered as Jackson jumped onto the car, scaring him and Lydia out of the vehicle. Stiles ran to Scott while Lydia faced the lizard version of her ex-boyfriend. As scared as she was, she knew what she had to do, obviously aware since before she came upon the creature. She dug into her pocket for a key, her head facing away from the Kanima, too afraid of his form to stare and bracing for his potential strike.

“Jackson,” she muttered as she showed him the key, stopping him dead in his tracks.

The creature’s eyes focused on the item. Suddenly, it was the most important thing on his mind. He no longer felt the uncontrollable need to kill; there was only him and his memories. It wasn’t the key, of course not, but what that little gold thing meant.

Right before everyone’s eyes, the scales started to disappear from Jackson’s body, revealing the boy under the murderous lizard. Lydia had always been the answer to their Kanima problem; they just didn’t know.

The boy stumbled back as his body continued to revert, and in the blink of an eye, Derek sprung from the ground toward him, and Peter appeared from his back, and they both dug their claws into Jackson’s stomach and back, respectively. They raised him off the ground, sinking deeper before setting him back down. Blood pooled in his mouth, and his stance faltered as weakness took over him.

Lydia was quick to help him stand, her teary eyes focused only on him. “Do you…,” he tried to speak. “Do you still…?”

“I do,” she whimpered as she nodded. “I do still love you.”

The redhead kept repeating the words as a mantra as Jackson closed his eyes and his body grew limp. They both fell to the ground as the weight took over the girl, but she never let him go. Instead, she cradled his body close to hers, whispering her goodbyes to the boy who had been her first love.

All their friends could do was stand and stare as they watched her lay him gently on the ground, witnessing the last traces of the Kanima disappear from Jackson’s face. They had gone so far and done so much, only for Derek to get what he wanted in the end.

But they were in Beacon Hills. There, sometimes, the dead didn’t stay dead for long.

As they worried about Gerard’s sudden disappearance and Lydia turned her back to Jackson, the sound of nails scraping the concrete echoed through the room. He raised from the ground and revealed the most unexpected of turns. The bite had taken, and Jackson had finally gotten what he wanted. He was finally a werewolf. And, most of all, he was alive.

“Don’t mean to break this beautiful moment here,” (Y/N) muttered. Lydia and Jackson had shared in an intimate embrace as they celebrated his reanimation and her confessions. “Still sort of bleeding out here.”

“Oh my god, (Y/N),” Allison said as realization dawned upon her. “I-I…”

“You can save your guilt for a later time,” the girl groaned. “Right now, I need to stop the bleeding.”

“Here, munchkin.” Henry ripped two strips from the bottom of his t-shirt, using them as a tourniquet for her leg and shoulder. “That should keep you stable until we get home and get you stitched up.”

“(Y/N), I’m…”

“It’s fine, Allison,” (Y/N) said through gritted teeth. “We can talk later. I just… I need to get out of here.”

“Take my car,” Chris interjected. “I’ll go back home with Allison.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, shame eating away at her mind. “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

(Y/N) started to limp away with the help of her father and Isaac, ignoring the burning gaze of Derek. She could tell he wanted to reach out, to be the one helping her to the van. But he had burned that bridge with a torch and gasoline. If he ever planned on rebuilding it, he’d have to do it from the ground up.

The girl groaned with every step she took, her limbs aching and pulsing. Isaac helped her into the SUV, clicking her seatbelt for her, careful to avoid her injuries. “I can go with you,” he whispered. “Meet you at the house?”

“You should stay with Derek for now,” she said. “My mom’s gonna probably be at the house and Erica and Boyd have to be there already. I’ll send them over as soon as I can—given they actually went there.”

“But…”

“I’ll be okay, Isaac,” she assured with a weak smile. “I’ll see you later today, okay?”

“She’s in good hands, kid,” Henry said as he sat on the driver’s side of the car. “We’ll let you know when you can sneak back into the house.” 

“You, uh, you know about that, sir?” 

“Not much happens in my house that I don’t know about,” he chuckled. “And I know Brody is not the one eating the food in my kitchen.” 

“Oh, uh, um...” 

“It’s okay, Isaac,” Henry smiled. “I don’t mind. There’s always space for anyone that needs it at my house. You can stay over any time—except when my wife is at home. She’s not as generous.” 

“Uh, thank you, sir,” Isaac mumbled. “I appreciate it.” 

“Guys, this is a beautiful moment,” (Y/N) interrupted, “but still bleeding here.”

“Right,” her father chuckled. “We’ll let you know when you can come over.” 

The car ride back home was quiet at first. Henry sped through the streets, rushing to get to his house and take care of his daughter. He knew her condition wasn’t worrisome, but it didn’t stop the concern that flooded his mind as (Y/N) grimaced and groaned from the pain. But he knew all she needed was a bit of conversation to distract her mind.

“So, you and Isaac seem close,” Henry teased. “Is he the boy that had you questioning our family’s beliefs?”

“What? No,” she quickly replied. “Isaac and I are just friends, dad.”

“Does he know that?”

“Dad…”

“I’m just saying, kid,” he chuckled. “He seems to really care about you.”

“And I care about him, but we’re just friends,” (Y/N) assured. “It didn’t really work out with the person I was talking about that day. He, uh, wasn’t who I thought he was.”

Henry turned to look at his daughter. She no longer was the little girl who could barely see above the dashboard when in the front seat, or the preteen who would live with headphones on her ears. (Y/N) was closer to adulthood than she was to her younger years, even if he couldn’t think of her as anything other than his baby girl. She was growing, and with that came many challenges they would have to face together.

“Is it Derek?” the man continued to inquire. “Gerard mentioned something about it tonight.”

(Y/N)’s gaze fell to her leg, fiddling with the soaked fabric. “Yeah,” she sighed defeatedly. “I mean, nothing really happened between us, but it still ended.”

“Derek Hale, huh? He’s been quite the character in our family’s story.”

“Yeah, sure know how to pick ‘em,” the girl chuckled awkwardly. “Didn’t even get to become a problem for the Argents. Over before we even began.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Henry asked. “You don’t have to, of course. But it can help you make sense of everything.”

“I don’t… he just said something that he can’t take back,” she shrugged, sinking into the seat. (Y/N) considered telling her father the entire story. From the dreams to the agreement she had made with Derek, she wanted him to know everything. But if he could keep his secrets, so could she. At least until they all erupted to the surface. “We just don’t work, I guess. No point in really delving into the whole thing.”

“Well, I’m here if you wanna talk about it, kid,” he said as he killed the car’s engine. “Let me help you out.”

Henry rounded the car and took his daughter in his arms, carrying her inside.

The house was quiet and dark, save for a light in the kitchen. There, Rebecca was serving a wine glass for herself. As (Y/N) came into view, the glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the ground, spilling liquid as red as the blood that stained her daughter’s skin.

“What happened?!” she exclaimed as she ran to her daughter. “I thought you were supposed to stay away from this.”

“She wasn’t gonna work with the hunters,” Henry said as he set (Y/N) on a stool by the kitchen island. “Doesn’t mean she wasn’t gonna help her friends.” 

“Did they do this to you, (Y/N)?” Rebecca worried. “Did those things hurt you?”

“No, mom,” (Y/N) scoffed. “This is the work of Allison. You know, your niece who was hellbent on getting the local pack to avenge her mother. Yeah, she did this.”

“No… Allison wouldn’t.”

 “She did,” Henry confirmed. “Gerard was real proud.”

“Come on, she’s family,” the woman continued to argue. “Allison wouldn’t do that to you.”

“We can stay here and argue about what happened to me,” (Y/N) sighed, “or you can help me with these wounds. Just stop. Please, mom.”

Rebecca hurried to the cupboard under the kitchen sink. She pulled out the first aid kit and quickly set to work on her daughter. First, she cut the leg of her pants, sliding it softly down her leg, careful not to disturb the wound. The girl’s thigh was covered in dried blood, fresh droplets still coming out of the cut. Thankfully, the knife hadn’t gone deep enough to nick any veins, but it had caused enough damage to drench her jeans and her skin with blood.

The woman cleaned the skin surrounding the wound, mindful of her daughter’s jerks and winces as she worked. Once the area was clear she glued the skin back together with a liquid bandage before doing the same with the girl’s shoulder. Finally, she covered both wounds with a waterproof bandage and gave her daughter two ibuprofen pills.

“Why don’t you head up to the shower and go to bed, honey?” Rebecca said as she put the items away. “We can all talk calmly tomorrow. It’s been a long night already.”

“Yeah, are you asking me or telling me?” 

“Okay, kid, let’s get you upstairs,” Henry said, stifling a laugh. “There’s gonna be a lot to unpack tomorrow.”

“Alright, I get the hint,” (Y/N) said as she got off the stool, careful to keep her weight mostly off her hurt leg. “Good night, guys.”

“Do you need any help?”

“I think I can manage.” She tested her steps, making sure she could at least make it to her room without help. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Alright,” Henry said before kissing the top of his daughter’s head. “Let me know if anything changes during the night, munchkin. I don’t care how late it is.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” (Y/N) limped toward the staircase, pressing her nails into her palms as pain shot up her leg and through her arm. She knew she should have asked for help, even if it was just to her room. But she had felt useless enough. “Night, guys.”

“Good night, honey,” her parents called out.

The girl mustered all the strength she could to make it all the way to her room. Part of her hoped Erica and Boyd had made it to her house. But as soon as her doorknob turned without any fight, she knew they were not there. All she could do was hope they at least were somewhere safe. Maybe they had gone through their plan of skipping town. Maybe.

Instead of two teen werewolves inside her room, she was met with an expectant Brody. In the blink of an eye, he had jumped off her bed and was by her side, whimpering as he noted the star of her body. He nudged her healthy leg softly, his eyes focused on hers.

“Hey, buddy,” she chuckled painfully. “I’m alright, boy. Just gotta get all this dirt off.”

Brody merely whined in response, clearly worried for his owner.

“I’m okay, bud,” (Y/N) smiled weakly. “We won tonight. Yeah. We won.”

She wasn’t sure if those last words had been to calm her dog or if she had to convince herself. They’d merely won a fight, but she could feel a war coming in. Something no one was ready for.

But she couldn’t worry about the future just yet. Not when the present was still so fresh.

After sending Brody to her bed, (Y/N) hurried to the bathroom. She set her change of clothes on the bathroom sink before ripping the dirty clothes off her body. The fabric had darkened with her blood, making it cling to her as it dried. Both items were unsalvageable, already cut and sulked by her wounds. They were evidence of a fight well fought but they reminded her of all she had done wrong.

(Y/N) set the shower to run hot before she allowed the stream to over her aching body. As the water came close to singe her skin, she allowed the tears to fall from her eyes, one of her hands flying to her mouth to muffle the sobs that escaped her.

Her mind kept replaying the night. She had started off strong with her fight back at the school. Hell, she had felt invincible then. When she had helped Erica and Boyd escape, she was sure the night would be filled with nothing but wins. But all it took was one wrong move and she’d allowed Allison to incapacitate her for the rest of the fight. If Stiles and Lydia had not burst in, she would have just become a burden to her friends. All the training and records she had broken had meant nothing. Not when a simple knife to her leg was enough to take her out of the running.

Then there had been Derek. She couldn’t get the gut-wrenching look of betrayal he sent her out of her mind. As much as he had hurt her, she didn’t want to hurt him. Yet, she knew Scott’s plan inevitably would. Derek was too married to the notion that the only way they could defeat Jackson was by killing him, but in doing so, he’d unravel too many knots that had already been tied.

When she had gone to see Scott after the fight in the sheriff’s station, (Y/N) had been sure she’d be leaving his house on Derek’s side. But there she learned just how much was at stake, and to beat Gerard they had to start playing his game. He had begged her not to tell Derek, knowing the alpha would find a way to get the Argent man exactly what he wanted. Knowing how much they could lose in the process, she had agreed. She didn’t tell anyone.

Much like she had done for her pain since she was a little girl, she kept it all inside. The girl shielded everyone around her from her fears and her sadness, too afraid to let them be consumed by the darkness that hid within her—in her mind and her heart. It was that very darkness that she was afraid would eat away at her when she least expected it. The void that lived in the chest of every Argent, waiting dormant until it was its time to wake.

(Y/N) had seen that darkness in Allison that night, but it had started its consumption many nights before. It had chiseled away at the barriers of her mind, clouding her thoughts with ire and vengeance. That night, it was the darkness that had sunk its knife into (Y/N)’s body for standing in the way. She couldn’t blame her cousin because she knew it all too well. It had visited her in her dreams, and it had been biding its time until it could have a taste of her too.

The water had grown cold by the time it had finally run clear. Ache returned to her muscles as the temperature dropped, and she knew her laments had to stop, too. No good would come from being alone with her thoughts, spiraling down an endless tunnel of dread.

At that moment, there was only one person that her mind drifted to for consolation. Regardless of what he had done and what he had said, she had grown to find comfort in him—his arms, his touch, his lips. And at that moment she needed that solace.

But he had made things clear, and no phone call or message could change his mind.

At least that’s what she thought.

(Y/N) left her bathroom, ready to sink into her cold bed and fall asleep to Brody’s gentle snores. She left the mess of dirty clothes on the floor—a problem for the morning. All she wanted was rest. Just rest.

She hadn’t expected to find Derek in the middle of her room, welcomed by an excited Brody. He was petting the dog and singing him praises when he noticed (Y/N) coming into the room, making him stop dead in his tracks. “(Y/N), I…” he started, unsure of what to say. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but after tonight I just had to see you, make sure you were okay. I can go if that’s what you want. I just…”

(Y/N) didn’t let him finish. She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, letting herself come undone in his arms. Words be damned, hurt be damned. All she wanted was that moment. She allowed herself to sob into his chest, melting into his embrace like she had done before, and she cried. She cried until she didn’t remember if she had stopped.

Next ->

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[stewieinnit]

Like a Halo In Reverse

CH1 part A

Cherik First Class swap AU

Pairings: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier

CW: references to the concentration camps in ww2, torture, alcohol consumption

Note: I will be posting the parts to this fic here before full chapters go up on Ao3.

Ch 1 part A

Auschwitz Germany, 1944.

It’s pouring the rain and the battered path that’s become pure mud slops under the rushed feet of those taken from their homes, their families. These people are being poked and guided by soldiers hollering in German, like cattle into the depths of the camp.

Amongst the sea of people, a young boy barely 14 is separated from a younger blonde girl. He shrills, calling after her as they are pulled apart, “Raven no!”

The soldier holding him yanks him away past the main gate ignoring his sobs and yelling something in German to another soldier. That soldier motions to close the gate, but before he even raises his hand the boy twists in the hold of the soldier holding him, pushing his hands to his temple in concentration, screaming one last cry.

In a flash the soldiers at the gate crumple, along with the ones herding the crowd ahead of them, all holding their heads screaming and groaning.

Raven stands horrified in the chaos. The soldier behind the young boy quickly grabs a rifle off the ground and bunts his head with the bottom of the rifle.

– – X

The young boy sits on top a medical table, knuckles white as his hands clutch at the metal beneath him. An older man dressed in military garbs pace in front of him before sitting himself down in a swivel chair across from the boy.

“Charles is it, Charles Xavier?” The man asks, sliding closer.

Charles stays quiet, eyeing the badge on the man’s coat. Dr. Schmidt.

“You have a wonderful mind, you know that boy?” He hums tilting his head observing Charles.

On a regular day, during a regular interaction, Charles would have taken it as a compliment with a sheepish smile. But the circumstances were different, he couldn't stop the constant mantra in his mind of where is my sister?

Plus, Dr. Schmidt was eyeing him like he was something to dissect, like a new toy, like a wonder that was just at his fingertips. He smirks wolfishly.

“I want you to do the same thing you did to those men, to me.” Charles looks up and meets his gaze. It’s cold and calculated, but Charles can’t find himself to reach out into his mind. On the surface his mind is dark and sharp, like almost as if one touch would poke and harm.

“I… really don’t know how.” It’s not entirely a lie. He did know how to enter minds, to feel their emotions, to dig through memories. But he did not know how he did what he did at that gate. It kind of scared him, to know that he had that kind power. That he could harm another being with just his mind.

Dr. Schmidt tsks scooting away and murmurs an order to the soldier that’s been standing by the door. He opens the door ushering in two more soldiers that are holding Raven. His sister.

Schmidt walks over to the soldier closest to him and grabs the pistol in the soldier's holster. Pulling the hammer back he aims it at his sister and spares a glance at Charles.

“Now, I’m going to count to three and you’re going to stop me from using this.”

Raven gapes at Dr. Schmidt and whips her head around to Charles to stare at him helplessly. She struggles against the soldiers, quietly whimpering as they hold her up on her feet.

“One” his grip on the pistol visibly tightens. Charles sucks in a breath, knuckles tightening even more on the table.

Raven starts to quietly beg Charles to do something, she knows what he can do.

“Two” Schmidt aims the barrel of the gun at her head, his face relaxing but his mind says otherwise. Waves of impatience and annoyance roll off of his mind and he starts to loudly think of what his sister will look like laying with a bullet hole through her head on the ground.

Charles stares at his sister in shock, unable to pry his hands off the table and towards his temple.

Her face suddenly settles into a look of confidence. She nods silently to her brother as some sort of reassurance. Charles gapes at her and on the first vowel of three, as Schmidt’s finger twitches to pull the trigger, Raven’s whole form shutters in a movement of scales. With it her skin turns blue and scaly, her eyes are a piercing yellow and her fire red hair stands out loudly.

Dr. Schmidt’s face twitches as realization settles in. He chuckles mirthfully and then lowers the pistol with a smirk.

“I see now that we got ourselves two extraordinary children.” He hums thoughtfully and then nods to the soldiers, “let her go.”

Raven immediately runs to Charles and grabs him by his shoulders to pull him into a desperate hug.

“Raven, oh Raven. Why did you-” Charles mourns as he finally pries his hands off of the metal table and grasps at her.

“I just wanted you to be safe, they’re going to-” he chokes up before finishing, pushing his face into her hair.

“I know I don’t care, I just want to be with you.” She states gripping at his ragged shirt.

[erogenousmind]

You are Being Watched

Do you like to be scared? The question has been echoing through your mind all evening. Asked in a more relaxed part of your conversation, between trances. You'd been talking about Halloween coming up soon. It seemed innocuous, but even in the moment, you felt the edge on that question. You'd answered in the affirmative, wanting to appear tough and maybe even a little bratty. You were strong and independent after all, not a little girl who needed to feel safe and protected at all times. Who needed a big strong man to be in charge, guiding you.

Never mind that you'd spent the last hour or more dropping for those simple little texts. That who knows how many of your recent nights had been spent mindlessly staring at the screen being made to do what you were told. Repeating back the mantras that were being so deeply ingrained in your mind. Maybe you just wanted to project something besides the mindless little trance slut you knew you were becoming. But you said yes. You did like to be scared. And after that...you really aren't sure.

You kick yourself for how turned on it makes you that you've been so well trained to forget on command. That these surprises can be planned for you with your complicity, but without your knowledge. It is so hot, even as you are starting to feel that fear rise within you.

Being home alone merely heightens your awareness. Like a child, you'd turned on all the lights once the sun set to help you feel a little safer. And it had helped for a little while. But the night called you, as it so often does, and you find yourself settling in, the glow of the screen the only light. You've no plans to speak of. Just a little scrolling; something to distract you. And if you find yourself getting more than distracted, if you find yourself getting swept away by what you see. If you find your desire, your need leaking out, overwhelming you. Well, then even better. And you'll sleep so much deeper.

And you are starting to be swept away. You slip into that familiar rhythm. You read a short story that pushes all of your buttons. See a video or two that speaks to you. You let yourself imagine that you could be that girl dropping so effortlessly. You could be the one repeating back what you are told in that empty monotone. And then a lovely spiral. Text appearing and disappearing faster than your mind can register. Down and down you scroll. No longer in control, you let it happen to you. You realize you've been staring at the same spinning image for a few minutes. The text around it telling you that you are a good girl. That you are sinking deeper. That you can't resist. And it's exactly what you wanted. Trancey and subby and happy, you think maybe you can drift off to sleep soon. The rest of the night forgotten. Just one more story. One more image. One more taking you deeper. One more...

Deeper...

That's when you see it. The sprite signalling a message sent to you. You move to open it without thinking, dazed as your mind is. Anonymous. No text, just an image. You think to yourself that you know better even as you go to look at what you have been sent.

And you freeze.

Your eyes lock on her form. You forget to breathe. She is the picture of entranced. Her irises are barely visible below the eyelids they have rolled back into, the slightest blur capturing their flutter. Her mouth is open. Her face looks...empty. She leans towards the camera her posture suggesting relaxation but also longing. Need. Whatever is happening to her, she needs it. She needs more.

She sits where you sit now.

She is you.

Your mind races back through the countless nights, wracking your brain to remember if or when or with whom. Your eyes flick up to your camera for just a moment, wondering how it betrayed you. Realizing you must have betrayed yourself. As you glance back down another image has been sent. It looks the same as the first but...no. It's moving. Looping seamlessly through just a few seconds, you can make out the reflection off of your face. You see the colors you must have been staring at. You see how they swirl endlessly. You remember...sinking...

You watch your face as you slip deeper. You see how mindless you have become. You know the spiral had taken all your thoughts away. It was so easy to stare...So hard to look away. You see the colors now, tinting that image of you sinking deeper. Were they there before? They are so easy to watch. You cannot look away. That idea echos in your mind. You feel your eyelids start to move. Your eyes lose focus. But still you watch the colors...

There is a link now. You open it without thinking and you see...yourself again. From the side this time and at a distance. You are staring into the screen. You look so peaceful...so calm. So blank.

A part of your mind is screaming. Where is this picture from?! Is there a window? A camera placed in the corner of your room? You need to look. You need to stop this. You need to...stare. You need to sink deeper into the colors like a good girl. It's so hard to look away. It's so much easier to let go. To surrender. To watch the colors fill your mind... The voice in your head grows quiet. Subdued. You watch. You stare...You sink...

You see your body tense for just a moment. The briefest moment of struggle. And then you sink deeper, your body melting as your jaw loosens. Your mouth hangs open. You're watching of video of yourself. Or...you struggle to regain some small bit of agency, to fight the hypnotic pattern that has captivated your mind in some small way. A moment later, you see your finger twitch briefly and then go still. That was all the fight you could manage. You are too deeply enthralled for anything more. You have lost your body to this hypnotic spiral. You feel your mind slipping away next. But now you know.

You aren't watching a recording. You are watching you. Now. You see the color drain from your face, but still you cannot summon the will to move. To resist. The colors are so much more vivid now. So much more powerful. You feel everything fading away. Your mind is ready to drift away. You surrender. You submit...

You obey.

And obedience feels so good. The warm pleasure of that admission flows through your body and the image in front of you goes out of focus for a moment as your eyes flutter. The intensity of the colors is changing now. Pulsing stronger and stronger. Each one wipes a little more of you away. Each one makes you feel better and better.

Pulse

Pulse

Pulse

Your eyes roll in your head for a moment as you feel yourself swoon. You recover in time to see yourself wracked by that pleasure but...you are closer now. You see yourself more clearly. Little by little the camera is moving closer to you. Stepping in time with the pulses. You don't know what is approaching you, but you know you can't stop it. You are too deep under it's spell...

And you want it.

You want to give yourself to it, even as that reality terrifies you. You discover how real your fun and games from the last many nights has become. You can't fight it anymore. They are in the room with you, getting closer and closer with every breath. With every step. And you can't even turn your head to look. You can barely keep a train of thought together to know that you are stil-

Pulse

Pulse

Your mind is fading now. All you can see in the screen is your face in profile. Your tongue starting to slip out of your open mouth. Your eyes half lidded. You look...gone. Your mind is gone. Your will is gone. You feel yourself pulled deeper. There is still some life in your eyes. You recognize it, but just barely. You see the fear. The breathing, fast for how still your body is. You feel your own pulse as you hear...something beside you.

It is close now. It has you. You feel the hair on your arms standing up and something brushes against them. And all you can do is stare. Surrender. Give in. Your mind is fading now. The colors are pulling you in deeper. Your resistance gone. At the mercy of whatever is filming you now. And that excited you, even as it frightens you to your core. You feel the heat between your legs. You see the last of the light fade from your eyes. Your last conscious thought is awareness of motion in the corner of your eye. You hear a sound and then

Everything goes black

Empty

Blank

[moments-on-film]

Moments on Film: Carmy and “Just Keep Going”

“Just keep going” is a recurring mantra in The Bear. The first time we hear it, it’s Marcus telling Sydney as he helps her clean up the spilled veal stock in S1. Cousin Michelle says it to Carmy during their poignant scene at the Christmas dinner. Carmy says it to himself by replaying Michelle’s words in his head as he awaits the results of the fire suppression test. The last time we hear it, Carmy says it to Sydney to help her focus and calm down as she’s recovering from Marcus’s outburst in the S2 finale.

I think “just keep going” has been Carmen’s personal mantra his entire life. It has had to be. And while it may have served him well in years prior, I believe it has now, finally all caught up with him.

Because of Carmy’s traumatic and abusive upbringing, he has trained himself to never properly reflect on what just happened. How could he possibly? From what we have been shown so far, his mother is extremely abusive, controlling, manipulative, and threatening. In their brief scenes together, she called him by his brother’s name, threatened him to the point that I believe she physically abuses him, and in fact slapped his face while he was very sweetly comforting her and trying to calm her down. The look on his face after being slapped is gut wrenching, mainly because, as always, there’s so much in his expression—a world of hurt and emotions, and you know he will never tell anyone about what she just did. All he can do is repress his feelings, suppress the urge to react in any way, and literally just keep going. He has to. It’s how he has survived. And it’s killing him.

Gif source: @sarcasmcloud

We still don’t know what Carmy’s relationship with his dad was like. He says he “didn’t really know him well enough to miss him.” Is this true? Or did Carmy also have to survive physical and emotional abuse, in addition to neglect from him, starting at a very young age? Either way, he’s had to keep moving forward and not look back, likely afraid of what will happen if he stops and actually does. This is another reason why he’s always scanning people’s faces, body language and tone to see if they’re mad at him, and waiting for the other shoe to drop. He has been surrounded by erratic, unpredictable behavior. He has had to think ahead, plan his next move, anticipate people’s behavior, reactions and responses so he can be prepared. He has had to live a life of propulsion, never looking back. Staying still, reflecting on the abuse he has had to survive as well as the recent trauma of his brother’s suicide could potentially cause a complete and total nervous breakdown, so he pushes on.

In the flashback scene in New York, we get another, heartbreaking example of how “just keep going” is killing Carmy. His boss is an emotionally abusive tyrant, but for Carmy to call it out, first he would have to acknowledge it. To do that, he might also have to think about and acknowledge the abuse he’s suffered, likely from his dad, certainly his mom, possibly his “uncle” Lee, even his brother. He is not ready to reckon with any of the abusive behavior in those relationships, so he keeps his head down, and does anything he can to get through the day, even if that means vomiting his unspoken feelings out of his sick and exhausted body before every single shift.

Even before New York, which—ironically and devastatingly, was supposed to be a time where he could “decompress” and escape the trauma at home, he was doing anything and everything to stay ahead of slowing down and facing what he’s been through. For years he’s been putting one foot in front of the other, scared to look down, lest he fall off the tightrope.

Presumably since after high school, he’s been traveling around, and in constant motion. Numerous restaurants in California, Copenhagen, then New York. Carmy has so much unprocessed trauma from multiple sources that has never really dealt with, he’s literally been on the run. He has been distracting himself and filling the void by throwing himself into work, and in the words of cousin Michelle at Christmas dinner, he has, in fact, been, “running around like crazy.” He might change his location, but his unprocessed trauma follows him everywhere he goes, causing him paranoia, anger, shame, guilt, self loathing, dread and fear. It’s also made him sick.

The only way to escape is to never be idle for a second, which is why he’s in constant motion. Carmy as a character is rarely completely still. His hands are constantly moving, in S1 in particular he is perpetually running his hands through his hair, feeling his forehead, smoking, and fiddling with his spoon. He hands tremor and tremble when there’s nothing to occupy them. None of this is an issue when he’s scrubbing floors or furiously chopping vegetables. He can be so unsettled and it all stems from the need to stay in motion to distract himself.

Life in a kitchen can easily swallow someone’s entire life. There’s always so much to do—from the prep to the cooking, the tasting, managing staff, actual service, cleaning, ordering supplies, and doing it all over again to keep the place running. Orders come in that have to be filled. It’s relentless, and at the highest level, requires complete and utter focus to be completed successfully. Natalie correctly points out the toll the restaurant takes on Carmy in her first scene with him. “It’s eating you alive”, she tells him. And it is. In S1, Carmy talks about how much time they would spend cleaning at The French Laundry. It’s hard to let your mind wander when you’re in motion and just keep going, so that’s exactly what Carmen does.

The rare moments where Carmy does pause and rest, he has life threatening night terrors, crippling nightmares, and horrible anxiety. In a prior post I analyzed Carmy’s visibly elevated vital signs in S1 and S2. He is so repressed and stressed out it impacts his entire body. With no outlet, his unresolved trauma, undiagnosed PTSD and extreme anxiety manifests inwardly and makes him ill. His dangerously heightened pulse and heartbeat are often visible onscreen. He has trouble breathing. He’s constantly chewing tums or chugging Pepto Bismol to calm his stomach. One of the few items in his apartment visible to Sydney as she enters is a giant bottle of ibuprofen. As I mentioned before, he often looks sick. There’s so much tension coursing through his body sometimes he actually looks like he’s burning up with fever. He’s not taking care of himself. He’s not eating well, and he barely sleeps. His coat is too thin for the freezing Chicago weather, and that’s when he actually wears it to go outside. He blinks his eyes hard in stressful moments, which is a trauma response. The way his body reacts during his panic attacks is frightening. There have been several moments where he looked like he was going to collapse and have a heart attack.

He has been running around, over working himself, repressing his emotions and feelings, neglecting his own needs, health and happiness and in constant motion for probably the past decade. As I detailed in a prior post, Carmy is lost at the present because he’s never allowed himself to slow down and find out who he really is and what actually makes him happy. He’s been in complete and total survival mode.

There is no way he can keep up at the level he has been operating and not completely collapse at some point. I think that’s a huge reason, subconsciously, that he slipped into the relationship with Claire. Among other reasons, he is exhausted and it was a way out and seemingly a soft place to land. She is also probably the first person to physically touch him, maybe in years. Of course he wanted to lean into the potential comfort and care that he thought she might be able to provide. He needs touch and tenderness so desperately that he invited her to the restaurant, his sacred space, mere seconds after she stroked his face, a turning point in their “relationship.”

Claire initially allowed him just enough relief that he wasn’t about to explode. However, in the end, it proved to be such a distraction that it pulled him even further from reality, his duties, and people who he actually should have been spending time with, namely, Sydney. The lack of healthy balance caused him increased anxiety and much more harm than good. His panic attacks actually increased and got worse during his time with Claire. She also only served to unhealthily unearth the past he’s been running away from by bringing painful memories he’s tried to suppress screaming to the surface.

I am very worried about where a potential next season(s) will take Carmy, emotionally and physically. He is headed for a serious crash and burn if he thinks he can just ignore his numerous health problems and keep running from his past. He is only human. They will all catch up with him and I believe they already have.

I’m also worried because we know the writers like to do call backs and tie threads together. Plot points, relationships and lines are never wasted. I’ve said in my posts prior to S2 how badly I think Carmen needs to see a Doctor. The fact that Claire is one, but it never factored into S2 is so odd to me. This is what makes me think we perhaps have not seen the last of Claire.

Carmy physically exhibits crippling distress, and noticeably elevated vital signs, in the form of shallow breathing, rapid pulse, pounding heartbeat and a face that often looks flushed with fever. He actually had a “gnarly” panic attack while he was with Claire. He needs medical attention, but we were never shown her acknowledge this or make a recommendation about the help he needs, or give him tips to calm down, apart from essentially “just ignore your problems and they’ll go away.” This is all so strange to me because Carmy is not well, Claire’s an ER Doctor in residency, and she experienced him during a horrible panic attack. What is the first thing they do at the Emergency Room? Check your vital signs. Can’t she see he’s sick? Wouldn’t she want to help him, personally, not to mention professionally, to get treatment and ease his suffering? It doesn’t make any sense to me.

He has, however, found a new way to self soothe in his most painful moments to calm down his nervous system—with visions of the one thing that helps him stabilize and breathe, visions of Sydney.

I really hope that the next time Carmy and Claire see each other isn’t because he’s being brought to the Emergency Room where she’s a Doctor because of something terrible, like an illness, accident, or major health emergency. That said, I think he is on the brink of a crisis. A major health issue might be the only way for him to stop and actually slow down enough to rethink his life and how he’s been spending it these past years.

Season 2 ends with Carmy believing he needs to double down on his mantra and “just keep going”like he always has, push himself to the max, and sacrifice his entire existence to run the restaurant, but that is not sustainable. It is not service, it is servitude. I believe he is exhausted, burnt out and headed for disaster from living this way for the past decade. He’s a master at masking that he’s barely hanging on by a thread. This is a huge reason why Sydney is his lifeline. Unlike Claire, who’s supposedly “known” Carmy for years, within days Sydney accurately diagnosed Carmy’s problem (S1E2) “you need help”, she told him. She saw through what he was trying to hide, to what he needs most. She caught him before he fell and she’s been holding him this whole time. I honestly believe that by walking in the doors of The Beef, Sydney saved Carmen’s life, but neither one of them truly realizes it yet.

I really hope for the sake of Carmy’s physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual health he will see that slowing down, coming to terms with the abuse and trauma he’s survived, taking care of himself, resting, and getting professional help is a life and death situation for him.

Carmen needs to realize that he hasn’t and isn’t living a full life with the mantra “just keep going.” It has worked so far as a survival tactic but he deserves and needs to live a life where he can be healthy, fulfilled and happy. A life where he’s not just going but growing. I hope he realizes this before it’s too late. For the sake of his health the stakes are extremely high and he has no time to lose. Every second counts, indeed.

©️moments-on-film 2023

[ultimate-shipper-blog]

Pt.6 the +1

Steve's radio goes off again. "Situation at the Munson bar."

Robin gives him a look. "We're going to respond to that right?"

Steve sighs. "We have to."

When he walks in it's definitely not what he's expecting. Gareth runs up to him.

"Hey Steve."

"Hey Gare what's going on?" He's still looking around for Eddie but he doesn't have to look long.

Eddie's drunk on the stage. Performing for karaoke Friday.

"I WAS MADE FOR LOVING YOU BABY" He has a glass of whiskey in one hand and a mic in the other. He's stumbling around.

"I've been trying to get him down for 30 minutes. He keeps saying it's his property so it doesn't matter but look at him, he's a danger to himself and he's scaring the customers."

"I'll handle this." Steve walks up to the stage until he's in Eddie's eyeline.

"Oooohhhh look who it is! Look everyone!" Eddie points at Steve. "The guy who doesn't want to date me!" He's laughing.

"Eddie that's enough. Get down."

"No!"

Steve can't believe he's acting like this over him. He's just some guy. Eddie wouldn't want him soon. He wouldn't want to stay. Steve was saving him from being hurt. He was doing the right thing.

"Eddie. Get. Down."

"No! I can do what I want it's my bar! It's my heart! It's my emooooootioooonnnssss" He sings into the mic.

Steve is silent. He doesn't know the best, safest course of action.

"Of course you're silent," Eddie scoffs. "You were silent when you ran off and I was pleading for you to come back. Why wouldn't you be silent when I'm publicly putting you on the spot."

"Stop."

"No. Not until you give me an explanation."

He waves the mic in Steve's face until he leaves it at his lips.

"So what's it gonna be Stevie? Tell the people? Or leave. Again."

Steve's face is stone. He will remain professional.

"I'm not doing this here." It echoes in the mic.

"Why not!" Eddie yells. "You won't do it here you won't do it when I'm pleading!"

"Can we go somewhere-"

"No!"

"I just don't know what you want to hear. I don't know what you want from me-"

"Why don't you want me!" Eddie's screaming at him. Still on the stage.

Steve stares up at him and it all feels right in that moment. Like he's not doing something wrong. Like he can have what he wants. He's ready now, he's going to put everything on the line.

"Answer me!" Eddie pushes at his shoulders and Steve stumbles a bit.

"Of course I want you! You don't want me!"

Eddie looks shocked. Tears are streaming down his face. He's still so drunk.

"Wha- what. What could you possibly mean by that." He walks leans forward, almost falling off the stage. He holds Steve's face in his hands. The look he gives him- god it cuts through Steve like a knife. He's never been on the receiving end of so much emotion, so much affection.

"I always want you, Stevie. You hurt me."

Steve chokes out a sob.

"No- no you want me now. You're drunk, you don't want me forever. I'm too much I love too much. I'm protecting you. I'm helping. The cop thing is a lot, people can't handle that. I'm doing what's right."

Eddie looks at him like he can tell Steve repeats the mantra in the mirror.

"I've sobered up. As soon as you looked into my eyes I was sober. You make me feel drunk. You make me feels things i didnt know i was allowed to feel. If you ever doubt me know im serious in this moment. I want you Steve Harrington. I love you too much. I want whatever you're willing to give me and I promise I'll give you so much more. Be with me. Date me. Never leave me and I'll be yours forever."

Steve crushes their lips together. He's too happy. There's no way this is real.

He pulls back and kisses all over Eddie's face. Eddie giggles and launches himself off the stage and into Steve's arms. His legs wrap around his waist.

They hear whistling all around them. People are clapping and jeering.

They're too wrapped up in each other to care.

"God I love you I love you I love you-"

"Okaaaay," Eddie pushes his face away and looks deeply into his eyes. "I love you too."

"Do you want to?"

"The good part of owning this place is I can leave whenever I want, plus today's my day off I just wanted to get your attention."

Steve cackles and holds him tighter.

"You have it. You have me."

"You have me always babe. Let's get out of-AAAAH AHAAHAHA"

Steve is still holding him as he runs out the door Eddie scream laughing in his arms.

---

Thanks for reading my second complete fic! Lemme know if you like it:)

I'll probably be editing this for like the next week idk

[drewsbuzzcut]

Fight Or Flight

college baseball player!drew starkey x fem!reader

a college baseball au blurb

warnings: panic attacks, anxiety, reckless driving, mentions a car wreck, fear, angst

You are on your way home from Drew’s baseball game, a bad baseball game, when it happens. He wouldn’t mutter a word to you, only grabbing your hand and leading you to his car. The drive is even more silent, tension filling the empty space. You know he’s upset, but you’ve never seen him like this before. Granted you have only been together for 9 months. His hands have a deadly grip on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white and his veins bulging. You start to notice the way his chest starts rapidly moving up and down. His breathing is speeding up, becoming erratic.

“Drew, what’s wrong?” You ask softly, your hand attempting to card through his hair, but he jerks away from you causing you to flinch in return.

You have to force your hands to not reach out again. You didn’t want to make him even more upset.

His driving speeds up, your body becoming tense with nerves and maybe fear. Your eyes take turns looking at the road ahead of you and the boy beside you.

“Drew, slow down,” you say warily, gripping onto your seatbelt while your legs start to tense up.

He doesn’t hear you, just continuing to push on the gas.

You scream his name in shock, trying to not cause anymore distress but also trying to not get in a wreck.

“Drew, please!” You plead, tears gathering in your eyes and your voice getting scratchy.

He turns to look at you and when he sees the fear swimming in your eyes, he speeds off to a stop on the side of the road. You grasp onto the dashboard, willing yourself to calm down. Drew exits the truck with haste. He’s pacing in front of you, hands pulling at his hair.

You get out of the vehicle, not knowing what to do, or how to calm him down. You situate yourself to lean against the hood of the truck. You’ve never witnessed him like this before. If you are being honest, it is really scary.

“I’m sorry,” he finally breaks the awful silence, tears falling from his eyes.

You open and close your mouth, not knowing what to say. Your eyes plead with him to stop pacing and to take a deep breath. His panic makes your panic worse.

“What happened?” You ask.

“I- I can’t do this. The pressure is too much. They all want everything to be perfect, but I’m not perfect, y/n!” He rants, hands further expressing his words.

“The game was absolutely shit. I was shit. I tried my hardest and I was still shit,” he screams out, making you flinch again.

You refrain from looking at him, knowing that if you looked at his broken down state, you’d just start bawling your eyes out. You see the tops of his shoes come into vision. You feel him hover over you. It’s not intimidating, but begging for your touch. You look up, witnessing the storm in his perfect, blue eyes. He’s gasping for air. It’s enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him into the comfort of your body. His face finds home in your neck, hands placed on the center of your back, keeping you pressed to him.

“It’s okay, baby. I promise everything is going to be okay. I know this game was tough, but like you said, you tried your best. You have to drown out all the unnecessary noise. Please don’t let it get to you,” you soothe him, softly whispering in his ear.

“I know,” he sniffles.

“You really scared me in the car. Maybe you should try seeing a therapist to sift through all the anxiety,” you say, trying not to come off as pushy or judgmental.

He just breaks. All the pressure breaking him into a shell of himself. The harsh sobs rack through his body. He trembles in your arms, saying sorry as if it were a mantra. He really didn’t mean to scare you, he just couldn’t find his way out of all the negative thoughts.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please. Please,” he cries, tears wetting the skin of your neck. His hands are gripping the material of your hoodie that belongs to him.

“Please? Please what?” You ask, confusion replacing the fear in your body.

“Please don’t leave me. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You shouldn’t even be with me; I just put you in danger. I’m a terrible boyfriend,” he blurts, separating himself from you. It’s almost as if your touch burned him, and that hurt you.

You attempt to walk towards him, but he quickly backs away, holding out his hand to stop you from continuing. He shakes his head, tears welling up in his eyes again. You see the way his body is starting to cave on himself, he is hurting and he isn’t letting you help. You rush to him, wrapping your arms around his waist even though his arms stay frozen at his sides. You rub his back before grabbing onto his cheeks, dragging his face down to meet yours.

“Listen to me, yes, you scared me, but I’m fine. You just had a panic attack. I’m not scared of you, and I’m not in danger anymore. I love you so much, you know that,” you whisper into his ear.

“Let me drive us back to yours. You need to shower and rest, cowboy,” you say, feeling his body go lax in your hold.

The drive home is silent, but free of panic.

Arriving at Drew’s dorm room, you lay in his bed, waiting for him to come out the shower. When he does, he quickly climbs into bed next to you.

He’s staring at the ceiling, on his back and you’re facing him while on your side. Once he connects his eyes with yours they starting watering again. You notice the way his chest is starting to heave again. You scoot closer to him, grabbing his hand and placing it over your heart. The consistent thumps calm him down. You let your hands massage his scalp, putting him to sleep. You rub your nose against his, telling him how much you love him and how you’ll always be there for him.

a/n: A little on the heavier side, but I just wanted to show how strong their relationship has been since the beginning. Hope you all enjoy!

taglist: @maybankslover @91vhs @sp00ky-spr1te @livsters @seris-circle @one-sweet-gubler @a06e @tiacordelia02 @ijustwanttoreadlols @a23starkey @cameronmedia @mutual-mendes

[sinking-in-a-gentle-pool-of-wine]

Seb Sallow x Reader Crucio Scene

FULL DISCLOSURE: this was inspired by a @toppersbitch post (“Cry All You Want”) in response to an anon prompt. I liked the prompt & wanted to riff off it--so check that one out toooooo okay - you (probs Ravenclaw), Sebastian, and Ominis are trapped oh no! (All characters 18+ & warning: descriptions of pain)

“If you cast Crucio, you will regret it forever.”

You’re inclined to believe Ominis. But that doesn’t help your situation at the present moment. You walk back to Sebastian, anxious to be out of the dank crypt.

“What do we do now? Ominis is not going to cast the Cruciatus Curse again.”

Sebastian swears.

“Ridiculous! As if dying in here is a better option than casting a damned spell.”

He kicks the floor and throws a glare in Ominis’s direction. He then looks back at you and sighs.

“It’s up to us,” he says. “I can teach you Crucio, or I can cast it on you.”

A jolt of shock shoots through you. Me, cast Crucio?

“Wait—you didn’t say you knew how to cast Crucio,” you say.

“Because I’m not sure I do.” Sebastian runs a tense hand through his hair. “Ominis knows that, yet he’s left us no choice—I don’t yearn to follow in Noctua Gaunt’s footsteps. I think I can cast it if I have to.”

You’ve always lived by the mantra that knowledge can never hurt you… but an Unforgivable Curse? And to cast it on Sebastian? No. You’ve made up your mind.

“I want to learn the curse, but I won’t cast it on you. You need to cast it on me.”

Sebastian nods once. You caught his eyes darken, though, in the flickering light of the torch on the wall beside you both. You hope he knows you won’t blame him.

“I shan’t forget this,” he says. “To cast Crucio, move your wand like so…”

He swings his wand in a terse motion, and you mimic his movements. It feels jagged and sharp in your wrist. Sebastian watches you, nodding.

“Right. And you’d aim at your target and say ‘Crucio’ as firmly as you can.”

“All right,” you say. “Thank you.”

He smiles tightly in response. You’re not sure how to feel about your newfound ability. Proud? Scared? The choice to cast the spell remains within your hands, but given the temptation…

“Ready?” Sebastian has positioned himself on the other side of the corridor, wand at the ready. You push the previous thoughts away and take a deep breath, gripping your wand tightly and setting your feet, sure to not keep your knees locked. In any other circumstance, you’d feel as if you were about to mount a broom.

“I’m ready.”

The air stands still, and it feels as though it's just you and Sebastian in the room as he swings his wand.

“Crucio!”

The effect is immediate. Your skin, your bones, your blood, boiling, stinging, burning, aching, bruising. A groan escapes you as you fall to the ground, all the breath knocked out of your lungs. You dimly hear Sebastian ask you if you’re all right, but even if you wanted to respond, you couldn’t force any sound out besides a pained moan. You hate crying, but you can’t stop tears from streaming down your face.

And yet, the stimulation—because you know the pain isn’t truly physical, it’s just a manipulation of your brain’s communication with the nerve endings in your body… it feels as though shockwaves of adrenaline are being pumped through your veins. You’ve never felt more alive.

And as the pain dulls and eventually disappears, your vision clears, and you feel Sebastian kneeling down next to you with a hand on your back, a tenderness in his eyes, you feel yourself laugh. You clap a hand over your mouth; Sebastian’s brow furrows.

“Are you all right? I’ve never heard of someone laughing after undergoing the Cruciatus Curse.”

“Yes,” you respond, breathless, beginning to wipe the wetness from your face. “Yes, the pain… it’s gone. I just feel so… exhilarated now… if that makes sense.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, and you feel your face flush. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you catch a bit of a smirk from him.

“I suppose. Cry all you want, I’m beginning to think you like this.”

As if it was possible, your face heats up even more, when Ominis mercifully cuts in to the conversation.

“Are you both all right?”

[istherewifiinhell]

anyway havent had the wearwithall to finish a post or lay stuff out With Proof. in some way yet but. Just lets play our favourite game. This story from someone elses perspective.

the very funny stone pov. ur the oldest coolest strongest guy around doing ur tasks and also lookig to bring home a guy/polictical tool for ur granddaughter. u see a alone consort guy and ur like okay. interesting. but when he sees u watching he gets SO SCARED and runs away. then u see him sentenced to death via the elements.so u save his life. and turns out hes the most neurotic lost puppy in the whole world. and he doesnt know anything. and he thinks your going to kill him for the weirdest things. and hes an asshole. but also probably sometimes he looks at you and your like. jesus. this fucking kid. all through it all ur still mostly considering using him politically/setting him up with ur granddaughter. and not telling him.

and then get in the shit at this place u were going to that got all destoryed and ur fighting for ur life and all that. and the little idiot followed you in? and saves you and you save him. and then hes looking SO SCARED but different scared and hes all banged up and ur like. jesus. kid. and its like... okay well what if we did sometime crazy ur not gonna like it AT ALL. and he would have to trust you. AND HE DOESNT TRUST U. but he does it.

and u show him more of you and The Lost Neurotic Puppy factor has just gone throught the roof. cornered prey AND homesick dog. and he finds out the other part of the plan. and he HATES that hes NOT gonna do that... but he keeps hedging whether hes gonna run away now. while reaffirm his commitment to 'helping temporarily'.

likeee do u get my point just like. that moon is NOT actually able to hide whats going on for him and like. damn. thats insane. whats wrong with this guy (his pathetic and abrasive nature has charmed another grandfatherly figure)

OR. and this one sends me into hysterics. from jades pov i think this turns into a DIFFERENT genre eh? like ur grandpa was supposed to bring you a politicial/royal match but he brought... a dark brooding stranger... hes a little Wild. he Hunts or Runs off by himself, he doesnt know the customs blah blah. He's illusive and wont accept ur gifts what are you doing wrong!!! and u travel off with him and its like. right hes neurotic and shy and he maybe doesnt wanna stay. oh but hes so good at solving problems in excepted ways. he nearly dies saving ppl. and u gotta like. hold his weak shivering form <- take a shot every time. and anyway he WONT commit to you... he MIGHT CONSIDER giving u some kids tho... but its complicate. and he DID seem interested for a second but breaks it off... but u have gotten the faint impression he does likes being lead/bossed/pushed around a bit.

including up to. getting attacked and he kills and enemy but not b4 u hear stuff where its like. Woah. did he betray you all. can he be trusted. but no its actually just. His Tragic Backstory, THE SECOND PART. oh and another, ah thats why hes like that. in general and about ur advances. but anyway he tells you all that be hesssss freezing to death.... wont someone keep him warm 👀. and NOW finally. he wants u back. cause he just really needed to be seen and acceptected that bady. oh and... He does. Like being pushed around. btw.

insane. insane. his stray dog rizz. his. horrible everything going on that is impossible to resist. as long as where INSIDE moons head the story is filtered thru his 8000 layers of social calculus and his constant mantra of 'what the fuck is going on and Are you going to kill me and fuck this shit honestly im so tired' but thinking NOT seeing his thougths its hard to imagine it makes it less obvious that his whole. shit. is fucked like that. it would just instead be. ppl reacting to the scrappiest little weirdo in the world. my little freak. what do the kids say. pookie?

[scarletsaphire]

Chapter 3 of EI for @pokkeshii and beta'd by @pricklenettle. No art for this chapter, but the next one...

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Trigger warnings for this chapter: Loss of control, implied/suspected drug use

Danny wasn't at school for the next three days.

Not that Dash paid any real attention to the comings and goings of that dweeb. The only reason he noticed was because he'd bombed a particularly important math test, and his resident stress reliever wasn't anywhere to be seen. Danny may have gotten better at flying under the radar since freshman year, but he wasn't that good. Dash had to make do with beating up some sophomore nerd he didn't even know the name of instead.

When Danny did finally show his face again, Dash nearly started laughing then and there. The boy looked rough. He'd never looked good, of course, but he looked especially bad now, even worse than he had before, which was bad. His hair was soaked with sweat, he kept his eyes firmly on the ground, and worst of all, he was shaking like a leaf.

Dash elbowed Kwan, who was busy chatting up some girl Dash didn't recognize. He looked over at where Dash gestured, before rolling his eyes. "You have fun with that, dude. I think I'm gonna keep enjoying myself over here."

The girl giggled.

Dash left Kwan to it, pushing his way through the crowd towards where Danny stood, hunched up against the lockers. 

"Ah, did the last ghost fight scare you that much?" 

Danny didn't reply. 

"What, you had to go run and hide from the big scary ghosts? And you still come back looking like you’re about to piss yourself!"

Still no reply.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Fenturd," Dash said, grabbing Danny by the shoulder. He intended to turn Danny's face towards him, maybe get a good look at his sniveling face while he cried for some extra material. It shouldn't have been hard; Fenton had always been a pushover, at least physically. Dash had roughed Danny up plenty of times before.

Instead of being met with Danny's face, Dash was looking directly at the floor and his arm was screaming in pain. He couldn't see Fenton at all, but he could feel one cold hand on his head, forcing him down, and the other twisting his arm behind his back. It was more than just the pain; wherever Fenton touched Dash, his skin crawled in an assimilation of pins and needles. 

"Do you want to say that again, Dash?" Danny said. His voice was off somehow. He didn't sound different, but Dash knew there was something wrong. He could feel it in the way his heart started to pound in his chest and the blood rushed in his ears, how his thoughts seemed to scatter in a silent mantra of run run run run run run- "I said," Danny twisted his arm further, forcing Dash lower to the ground. "Do you want to say that again?"

"What the fuck, dude?" Dash hissed between gritted teeth. "I was just playing around!"

Danny twisted his arm further, and Dash did not start tearing up. He didn't. "Then it's only fair that I play back, right?"

Dash knew what breaking a bone felt like. He'd broken several over his quarterback career. He wouldn't go so far as to say he was used to it, but he was familiar with it. This wasn't a broken bone. There was a popping sound, and then pain exploded down his arm, so much sharper than it had been only moments ago. Dash couldn't suppress the cry of pain as he tried to wrench himself free to no avail. Fenton's grip was cold and strong, holding him tight like a vice. Even as Dash's arm went limp, Fenton just pushed harder.

He didn't know how long Fenton held him there for. Long enough that he’d given up on convincing himself that he wasn’t crying. Fenton might’ve decided to keep Dash there forever, if Mr. Lancer hadn't stepped in, wrenching the two of them apart. Dash fell to the floor, trying to clutch his injured arm to his chest. It wouldn't cooperate. He couldn't move it, couldn't feel it outside of the electric pain shooting out from his shoulder. 

Sure, maybe Dash did cry. He could admit it to himself, if not to anyone else. It wasn't his fault though. Fenton was a thousand times more freaky than he'd ever imagined, even freakier than the ghosts. He couldn't blame himself for breaking down when getting so close to someone- no, some thing as unnatural as that.

---

Maddie tried to make a habit of not setting expectations for the day. She made plans and goals, of course, but she never set out with an expectation. It was a recipe for a bad day, in her opinion, and she tried to avoid those. Which is why saying she did not expect a call from the school did not come lightly.

She knew that Danny wasn't a good student. It would've been impossible for her to miss his less than stellar grades and positively horrendous attendance record. Jack and her had spent all of his freshman year and most of his sophomore trying to encourage him to try harder, but when it didn't work, they accepted it. He just wasn't as academically inclined as the rest of his family was, and there was nothing wrong with that. Or maybe it was just high school; Jack had been held back because he couldn't pay attention, so it wasn't out of the question.

The school had come to the same results for all the wrong reasons. Maddie knew they'd given up on Danny and were just funneling him through the system, and while she was incredibly disappointed, she did understand. Danny simply wasn't motivated, and there wasn't anything they could do to change that.

With all of that said, Danny had never been a bad kid. Even when he was little, he'd always been such a sweet child, always following her around in the lab to try and help, or carrying down plates of food bigger than he was whenever Maddie or Jack forgot to eat. He'd always been kind and caring and sweet and gentle. 

And yes, he'd been different lately, even more so than normal. He refused to talk about what had him so jumpy, but Jazz had told her that he'd gotten into a fight with his friends. It was unfortunate, and surprising. The three of them had been nearly inseparable since freshman year, maybe even before that. But he wasn't aggressive or lashing out, just quiet and drawn back. The past few days had been even worse, with him refusing to come out of his room at all.

He'd said he was sick, with a messy note passed under the door. Maddie didn't quite believe him, but he was clearly not feeling well, so she left trays of food outside the door for him and let him rest. She believed him a lot more when he'd finally emerged that morning, looking like he hadn't slept at all in his self inflicted quarantine, sweaty and shaking. She'd tried to convince him to stay home and keep resting, but he'd insisted that he needed to go to school.

All of that was why the call from the school, that he had not only gotten into but had started a fight? To say that it was a shock was to put it lightly.

Maddie expected for him to be even worse looking than he had been. Danny knew how to fight, or at least did when he was younger. She'd spent most of his elementary school years teaching him and Jazz what she knew. If he had been in good health, then she'd have more faith in him, but when he'd left the house this morning he'd nearly been blown over by the wind. Maddie doubted he'd be able to win a fight against a paperclip, let alone a football player.

Instead, when she ran into the school office she found him sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs, staring at the wall, sitting perfectly still. He didn't have any bruises on his face or skin that she could see, no blood or scratches or anything that indicated that he was any worse for wear. If anything, Danny looked better than he had this morning. 

His teacher, Mr. Lancer, stood next to him, his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. Maddie approached, but he didn't seem to notice her. He was standing next to Danny, tapping his foot on the ground rapidly.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lancer," she said with a practiced smile on her face.

He visibly startled before clearing his throat and fixing his posture. "Oh, you're here," he said, wearing his own, clearly forced smile.

"I am," she said. She turned to face Danny. "Are you hurt?" Maddie asked softly. If what she had been told was true, she would lecture him later. It was more important to make sure he was okay. She continued when she didn't get a reply. "Mr. Lancer called and said you got into a fight...?"

Danny still didn't answer. He didn't so much as blink or turn his eyes to look at her. If Maddie didn't know any better, she'd say he wasn't breathing.

Mr. Lancer cleared his throat, and she looked up at him. "He isn't physically injured, as far as we could tell. Despite this, he hasn't been responding."

"And you took that to mean that he wasn't injured?" she asked, trying very hard to keep the anger out of her voice. "What if he'd been hit on the head? He should be in the hospital!"

"We did," Mr. Lancer replied drily. "It would've been nearly impossible for him to have been hit like that. There were a number of student witnesses, and Dash Baxter, the boy Danny instigated the fight with, was hardly given the chance to lift a finger. In contrast, Dash is currently in the hospital with a dislocated shoulder and a pinched nerve. I wonder where he learned to react in such a way." The last sentence was whispered, clearly intended to be for Mr. Lancer only.

Maddie pretended she didn't hear him. "Eye witness reports are all well and good, but did you at least have the school nurse look him over?"

"As much as we could," Mr. Lancer replied slowly.

"And what does that mean?" Maddie asked.

Mr. Lancer cleared his throat. "The nurse had some trouble getting close.”

"I'm sorry, I thought you said he wasn't responsive?" she asked incredulously.

"He isn’t," Mr. Lancer said. " Mostly. He didn’t react well when she tried to touch him. If you'd like to try and see for yourself, you're more than welcome to, but if I might be frank, I am up to here with your families escapades today. Daniel is going to be suspended for a week, and the Baxter's have decided to not press charges. Something that you should be very grateful for. Now, if you'll excuse me." Mr. Lancer walked briskly from the room, leaving Maddie and Danny more or less alone.

She turned back to him. He still sat just as he had before, as if he was part of the room's decoration. "I want you to know that you are in trouble," Maddie started. "But I want to make sure you're safe first, and then we can talk about punishment. Do you understand?"

She still got no response.

"Danny, I need you to talk to me. Or at least give me some kind of sign, it doesn't have to be words," she continued. "A head nod. Two blinks. A loud exhale."

Maddie got none of that. She sighed, and straightened. "Okay. I don't know what is wrong right now, but we're going to get you home, and then we are talking about this. Come on." She let her hand fall on his shoulder, intending to guide him out  the door to the car. She didn't have the GAV today; Jack was buys with some kind of ghost snakes report across town.

Half of her expected to get some reaction when she touched his shoulder. Mr. Lancer had certainly made it seem like she should, but the only thing that happened was Danny standing up,  and following her out to the car. He walked as if on autopilot, stumbling over the slight step down to the sidewalk below. If Maddie hadn't been there to catch him, it looked like he would have just face planted.

She pursed her lips. She didn't care what the teachers or nurses might say, something was wrong with her baby. That was clear as day. It was just going to have to fall to her to figure out what.

Maddie had to guide Danny into the backseat, had to buckle him in like she hadn't done since he was five. Her concern only grew as she went through the motions, having to raise his limp arm to get the seat belt under it. It took longer than she'd care to admit, and it wasn't for another good few minutes before she was climbing behind the driver's wheel. She let her eyes wander to Danny again in the rear view mirror before she started driving.

He was staring directly down at his lap, where his hands lay. She noticed then that they were clenched, the only part of his body that wasn't limp, gripped into fists so tight that she could see how his knuckles paled from the tension.

Maddie put the car in drive and tore her eyes away. She needed to get home, and she needed to think. She needed to figure out what was wrong. 

Her first instinct was, unsurprisingly, overshadowing. Or maybe some other kind of possession. It would've explained the sudden difference in attitude recently. If Danny was trying to fight against it, it may also explain his not quite catatonic state, focusing all his energy inward to try and kick the ghost out. It would explain a lot, and it would be an easy enough fix. Maddie hoped it was just that.

She forced herself to think of other possibilities too. While possession would've been nice, she also knew that it was wishful thinking. Possession would mean her baby boy was just as sweet and kind and unbothered as ever, and that he was nothing more than a victim. It would've been terrible, that she couldn't keep him safe, but it would've been an easy fix. Maddie couldn't let her wishful thinking get in the way if it ended up being something else.

He could be sick, like he said, but that wouldn't explain why he was better now. He could have just been acting out, as the school seemed to think he was, but that wouldn't explain the sickness. Unless...

Amity Park didn't have the most alive drug culture. Maddie knew more about that than she'd care to admit. It wasn’t unusual for either her or Jack to be called to plenty of peoples bad trips for false ghost reports before they opened the portal, and it was always to the same couple places. It had been annoying of course, but educational. After the portal had opened, the false reports dropped substantially. Maddie didn't know if it was because the people stopped using when the real world was crazier than any drug trip they might have, or because now they could differentiate between the ghosts they saw and the real ghosts.

Either way, just because it wasn't as thriving as it was in other areas, didn't mean it wasn't a possibility. And the more Maddie thought of it, the more it seemed to fit. The shaking and sweating, the sudden sickness, the insistence that he needed to go to school... If he had managed to take something, it could describe his current state too.

Maddie took a deep breath through her nose. She wasn't going to panic yet. She just needed to make a plan. They were going to get home, and she was going to run tests for a possible possession. If they came back positive, she'd know exactly how to get whatever sorry excuse for a spirit that’d decided to target her baby out. She would make sure that it never happened again. If it came back negative, well...

Her eyes drifted to the mirror again for just a second, just enough to see Danny in the backseat, exactly as he had been when she started this drive. If her tests came back negative she'd figure something else out. He was her son, and she wasn't going to let him face whatever this was alone, no matter what.

—

They came back negative. Every test that Maddie did was negative, or as negative as they always did for Danny. Possession, overshadowing, excess ectocontaimination that might interfere with brain activity, everything. Negative across the board. 

Maddie had hoped that it would be easy, but it was clear it wasn't. Danny still sat on the table in the lab, just as still as he had been for the past hour, his hands still clenched in his lap. He still wouldn't reply to anything. The good news was, if this was some kind of drug trip (and Maddie was almost certain it was at this point) he'd long since passed the risk of any kind of overdose. All that they could really do was wait it out.

Maddie hoisted herself up on the table and sat next to Danny. Even though he didn't look like he was going to do much of anything, she didn't feel comfortable leaving him unattended, especially in the lab. "You know that I love you, Danny," Maddie said, more to fill the silence than anything else. She wasn't even certain he was able to hear her, or would remember anything she said. "I'm always going to love you. But I'm worried."

She sighed, propping her hands on her knees and letting her face fall into them. "I don't know where I went wrong. You were such a bright young boy. You still are, in some ways. But in others, things like this happen, and... Sometimes I wonder what happened to my baby boy."

"I died." Maddie raised her head sharply, looking over to where Danny sat. He was looking at her with eyes the same color as the portal behind him. Her hand went to her waist instinctively to grab the blaster she always had, but nothing was there. She'd taken it off so it didn't disrupt the tests.

Whatever was pretending to be Danny didn't seem to care about her panic, even as she stumbled off the table to go get it. It just kept talking in an echoing bastardization of her son's voice. "But I decided to keep playing at human, to keep pretending that nothing was wrong, that everything was fine. For years."

It was laughing by the time Maddie's hand found the blaster, a laugh that sent shivers down her spine. "It's a miracle it took me this long to figure it out." Maddie raised the gun at the creature as it jumped down from the table, its feet never touching the ground. "But I'm done pretending." It a blink of the eye, her Danny was gone, replaced with the ghost she'd been hunting for as long as the portal had been opened. Phantom.

"I'll see you around, Mom," it said, its voice still not changing. Still Danny's. But it was Phantom's too, her mind connected. And it was Phantom's eyes on Danny's face, with a suit that matched the one on the wall behind him with the colors flipped.

He disappeared before she could decide whether to shoot or not. The blaster fell out of her hand as she fell to the floor, shaking.

[marzbarsjupiter]

I've questioned all I've done to get to this point as I was writing this stupid comfort sex fic about Biden and Trump

This is posted on AO3, Wattpad, and (possibly a gun review on tumu?)

If you feel like scaring your mind go ahead and read...

I Can't Lose You

The news hit him fast, his heart racing as he rushed frantically to the hospital.

‘Please be okay, Donald.’ he chants in his mind like a mantra, pleading to every god he knows of. They refused to give him the details, causing him to be more worried than his old heart can handle. As soon as he pulls into the parking spot he burst out of his car and ran through the lot.

“What room is he in?” Biden asks the lady as he gets to the check in desk panting.

“Can I get the patient's name and your relation to them?” She calmly asks,

“Donald J Trump, my relationship with him is… uh… Presidential friend/ enemy.” He explains while she continues to type into her computer.

“Ah! Mr. Trump, of course. He's room 103, I'll go ahead and let you in.”

He thanks her and makes his way through the doors, his bodyguards close in toe. With every footstep, the dread building in his gut gets worse. Finally arriving at the designated room blocked by bodyguards, he slowly makes his way past them and into the room where Trump is speaking with a doctor. He stares at the bandage covering Trump's ear, a deep feeling settled in his stomach. He quickly knocks on the frame making his presence known. Trump instantly brightens up when he realizes who it was.

“Biden! I see that you came to visit me, I'm glad to see you!”

“Of course, I had to see if my rival was okay, and thank you for caring for him Ms?.”

“July Sparks, it's nice to meet you in person Mr. Biden.” She smiles as she offers a handshake. He shakes the hand and thanks her once again.

“Seeing as I have spoken with the patient, I will leave you two alone.” She says while finishing up her ending procedures. After she leaves, Biden closes the door and makes his way to sit by Trump, placing a hand on top of Trump's. The moment their hands touch, Trump's eyes start to water. The damn filled with emotions burst as he breaks down. Screaming out he says,

“I was so scared!” As tears flowed down his face, “I tried so hard to keep it in so America won't worry. I'm sorry. A family lost a family member, who I couldn't even protect!”

Biden quickly pulls Trump into his chest and holds him tight saying, “Shh, it's okay. I’m here, just let it all out. I’m just so glad you're okay. I'll never let them hurt you ever again.” Biden lifts up Trump's face, wiping the tears away from his face. “This wasn't your fault Donald, right now all that matters is you being alive. Alive and together with me.”

Binden pulls Trump's face close, leaving no question or doubt and kisses him gently. Pulling away, he looks into Trump's eyes and says “When I heard you got shot, I thought the worst. I was so afraid of losing you, I almost couldn't take it.”

“I'm sorry.” Trump says as he pulls Biden in, filling the kiss with all of his emotions and deepening it as much as he can.

(Here on gets spicy)

Biden pulls away and rises from his chair, gently pushing Trump down onto the mattress, leaning in for another kiss. Kissing him deeply, he slips his head to the side to kiss and nibble on Trump's uninjured ear before moving to kisses against his jaw making his way down to his neck. Slowly, Biden slips his hands under Trump's jacket unbuttoning his shirt.

Trump moans under his touch, each kiss and brush of Biden's hand sends shivers of delight down his body. Trump brings his hand up into Biden's hair, gripping it tight.

Biden moans from the tug of his hair and quickly moves his hand downwards towards Trump's dick, slipping it into his pants. He gets a hold of Trump's dick, giving it a good stroke before moving back to undressing him.

As soon as the shirt is unbuttoned, Trump quickly slips it off, tossing it to the side. Biden takes his time feeling his chest as his other hand strips himself. He continues to kiss Trump's neck, leaving love bites all over. He starts to move downwards to the chest, sucking, pinching and biting each nipple, sending Trump sparks of pleasure. Pulling back up he finishes discarding his own clothes before moving down towards Trump's throbbing cock.

Biden slips Trump's trousers off his legs, taking his dick into his hand giving it a quick few tugs before taking the whole length into his mouth. Trump arches his back moaning loudly as Biden bobs his head up and down. Quickly Trump crunches inwards while grabbing Biden's head and forcing it down all the way.

“Ah!!! JOE!!!” Trump calls out as he releases into Biden’s mouth, causing Biden to swallow. Trump flops back onto the mattress, heaving heavily. Biden sits up licking his lips. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he slips out a small bottle filled with liquid before opening it and pouring it onto his fingers. He leans forward to kiss Trump as he slips a finger into his awaiting entrance. Thrusting his finger in and out, he soon adds a second finger. Trump moans at each movement as Biden slowly stretches his opening. Feeling around his entrance he finally found the spot, the spot that blinds Trump with pleasure.

“M-mmore JOE!” Trump arches his back in bliss as he continues to play with the bundle of nerves over and over while adding finger after finger, sending Trump over the edge. Before he can reach his final limit, Biden quickly takes his fingers out. Trump whines as the loss of fullness, looks on at Biden in anticipation while he lines himself up with his entrance. With one thrust, Biden buries himself within Trump as Trump gasps from both pain and pleasure.

While Trump gasps for air, tears falling down his face, Biden patiently awaits for Trump to adjust then for his signal to continue. Suddenly there was a knock at the door as the doctor walked in while looking at some papers they're holding.

“Mr. Trump, we would like you to…” She looked up horrified as she stared at the two interlocked. Once she got out of her stupor she quickly left while apologizing. Trump and Biden look at each other before Biden leaned down and kissed him asking,

“Shall we resume, Don?” Trump nodded and gave the signal. Biden slowly started thrusted in and out, with each thrust he slowly picked up the pace. He aimed each pound to hit that little bundle of nerves that caused Trump to scream in pleasure with each thrust.

“HARDER!! J-joe h-harder! T-touch me Joe!” He screamed aloud. Following Trump's pleas, he pounded harder as he left more and more love marks around his chest and neck. Reaching down, Biden started pacing each thrust with a stroke of Trump's begging cock, leaving him a drooling moaning mess.

When he was close to reaching his climax, Biden leaned forward to Trump's uninjured ear and whispered “I love you so much, Donald.”

“I-i love you t-to Joe!” Trump quickly said.

Leaning back, they looked into each other's eyes and interlocked lips as they both orgasmed. Biden slumped against Trump as his orgasmic high settled. After gaining some energy from their workout, Biden slowly pulled out and started cleaning up the mess.

(End of spicy scene)

As soon as he was finished cleaning up, he joined Trump in bed and started cuddling him.

“Promise me, you'll stay safe.” Biden whispers,

“I promise.” Trump whispers back as they both fall into a deep slumber, sharing the warmth of each other, knowing that they have the other for another day.

[clits-and-clips]

Hey…as someone who has been in a similar position I truly believe you have to give it time and sad to say…cease contact for while. I know dude…it seems impossible it seems scary probably gut wrenching, but your health comes first. If you’re worried about time honestly fuck time. Everyone heals in their own way not everyone bounces back immediately. Not everyone handles situations the same and that’s okay.

You don’t even have to go cold turkey on communication. I always say to myself work with the issues instead of against it. Slowly kind of weening off also is a valid option.

I know the fact that it feels like it’s hurting you more than him and yeah that shit stings man. But again you have to take care of yourself. Even if you’re shitting crying and shaking it will become more bearable. Yes you will have these days and again THATS OKAY!! Regressing is part of the process of healing just try your hardest not to dwell and stay active.

It took me almost a year or two to get over that bond I had with my ex, attachment as well. Even though the thought of him moving on still kinda makes me feel a way, but I’ve realized it’s more so I’m afraid of being left behind stuck in the same place while possibly he flourishes in life. There are differences in our situation so I can only speak so much, but a lot of what you’re going through emotionally wise I get it man.

Like rn it’s hard for me to be social and have relationships with people because I’m scared honestly lol. Even platonically. At this point, I’m just taking this time to get to know myself and pay more attention to my hobbies. I’m also trying to force myself to do more things alone and volunteer places like community gardens and pantries. I’m not even there to make connection with people. if I do, cool, but It’s more so exposure therapy for me lol.

You got this man. Always give yourself, patience, grace and kindness. That’s my mantra lately lol.

I know I’m just a stranger but I do care. I don’t ever want anyone to feel this way.

Stay well and busy chief 🫡

Not talking to him at all has been difficult and I haven't managed to do it except for one day so far. I've been going up and down so much and just cannot accept that it's over. I honestly don't know where to go from here. I never thought we would ever break up so it's fucking hard. I do worry if I dont give him space and stop messaging that I'm going to push him away tho. The only way to stop that from happening is to focus on me which I'm trying so so hard to do, but none of it seems worth it which I've said before. I feel stupid cause I've said all of this before and I can't stop going on a loop at this point.

I appreciate the message and I will try and keep it in mind. I know I'll move on eventually but right now it's not what i want. All I think about is mending it and being with him again but I think its hurting me more than I'd like to admit. No matter how many times people and family tell me I need to accept it I just can't. And I know it takes effort to focus on the good and time and space to make it happen but I just don't see the light at the end of the tunnel yet. I have no friends to hang out with to take my mind off it, no job to go to every day, and as much as I'd like to get a job I have struggled so hard with my anxiety it just seems impossible. Anyway thank you again I appreciate it♡♡

[monpalace]

Hi there I'm 🥔 from trippygalaxy blog and I agree with you.

Undead knight with black ribbon reader

And here a thought idea

What if instead of the ribbon knight reader get curse to be forever the headless horseman or women and they ride their undead horse around looking for their missing head that Ganondorf have to piss off prince time?

i see you, i love the idea, call @trippygalaxy here because this is their au, and i meet you with:

what if ganondorf uses the guard's head as a taunting tactic (towards time) whenever the initial ambush on the city/kingdom occurs? their encounter, though brief due to the sheikah pulling him away, is enough for time and his guard's eyes to meet as they hang from a loop on ganondorf's belt?

time figures it's an illusion of sorts because ganondorf is just mean and incapable of feeling compassionate and he thought it would be a good scare tactic to show the prince that he's not one to be messed with— but when the head talks and demands (begs) that time use all the training they taught him and to run away?

he knows it's the real thing. he knows that it's his knight and not some trick of the eyes that ganondorf could've pulled as a cruel joke.

and he runs.

over the period of time it takes time to learn how to be the hero of courage, how to retrieve and wield the master sword, and going through whatever temples and dungeons he needs to get through in order to defeat and seal ganondorf; the legend of a headless horse-rider arises.

not a lot of truth come from anything time hears about it. it's mostly just skepticism and whatever little false facts to make the one who supposedly encountered it seem cooler.

it's a personal choice time makes to not believe the stories. for his own mental health to not let any of them distract him on his main journey.

(avenge his guard. defeat ganondorf. give them a proper death.)

(he repeats it to himself like a mantra whenever it all becomes to much for him.)

it's not a personal choice when he meets said headless rider in the middle of the knight, fighting a fragment or shade of ganondorf.

he had heard the sounds of a fight, of swords clashing together and grass being trampled as the combatants took their swings at each other.

he had gone to investigate and disperse (what he initially thought as) thieves or bandits that had come to attack whoever had previously been traveling.

and then he sees what he knows is his guard's body.

for something that had been dead so long, it looks well, even as it fights. the way it moves so gracefully with their sword and parries whatever attack the phantom of ganondorf throws their way is only additional confirmation.

when he tries to join the fight, he gently pushes them away as he blocks a heavy-handed attack with his shield.

(their body didn't need anymore damage; an ax to the neck was already enough.)

their body only responds by shoving him behind them and going back to attack the phantom.

(even in death, they protect their prince.)

it's a long fight— only an inch of ganondorf's full power— and time knows he's nowhere near prepared as he should be for the final battle. he's exhausted and sweaty and the magic-imbued armor he wears does nothing to help that, but he gathers that energy he has left to follow his guard's body when it leaves.

there's no hug, or handshake, or caress, or bow that their body gives him when it does. they leave him no time to do the same as they pace off, and an empty, aching hole is left in his heart.

time strengthens his vows to himself.

(avenge his guard. defeat ganondorf. give them a proper death. avenge his guard. defeat ganondorf. give them a proper death. avenge his guard. defeat ganondorf. give them—)