#comin out of the coffin

[c0pper0tter]

I need to make this a sticker so bad

Been reworking my comic book concept about a queer neurodivergent monster family

Here's some art of a new character design until I make an official post with details

[meloncity]

Charm idea for all my fellow edgelords out there (・`ω´・)🔪🩸

[fear-is-truth]

a song i want playing at my funeral .ᐟ

tysm for the tag @lisboncy love you !!

no pressure : @newwavesylviaplath @bohnerrific69 @marchsfreakshow @marchbirdie @american-horror-whore @bicyclesinthefield @hopelessfawn @loveofcherry

[agreeewrites]

what about 1000 glances with steve 🥺

anything for my doomsdaybby 🫶🏻

1000 glances | S.H.

feat. Steve Harrington x bartender!reader

cw: MDNI 18+, making out/heavy petting, bar setting, drinking, creepy drunk men, lots of banter, sorry to edge you at the end lol

1000 things prompt list | masterlist

“Well, well. If it isn’t Hawkins most troublesome trio,” you called, flipping up the tap on the beer you were pouring.

Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, and Steve Harrington shuffled up to your bar looking thirsty. Steve in particular, though you could tell by his wandering eye that it wasn't booze he craved.

The music from the band thumped loudly through the packed bar, rattling the bottles behind you. The Hideaway was busier than usual tonight, and you'd been running ragged your entire shift, but you couldn't help but pause for your favorite regulars.

“Hello gorgeous,” Eddie cooed, bracing his hands on the bar and leaning towards you. “Band tonight's dog shit, eh?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just because it's not Corroded Cattails or whatever—”

“Coffin! You smartass,” Eddie huffed, flipping you the bird.

“Yeah, yeah. Ever think about getting yourself some real friends, Buckley?” You asked, glancing at the brunette picking pretzels out of the snack bowl.

Robin shrugged. “They keep the rednecks away.”

“Fair enough,” you replied. “And what's your excuse, Harrington? Lost your invite to country club?”

Steve chuckled, his hip leaned against the bar. “Something like that.” His eyes flicked up from your corset top, meeting yours with the intensity of a thunderclap.

You told yourself that you wore it for the extra tips, and not because you knew Steve would be there tonight, but it was a lie. As soon as you saw the burgundy leather, held together with string and prayer, you thought of Steve, and how quickly he could get it off of you.

And it seemed that Steve was thinking the same thing, his brown eyes melting like honey as he stared at you.

“So, what'll it be?” You asked, breaking the prolonged eye contact. “Jack and coke and two PBR’s?”

“Yes ma’am!” Eddie chirped.

“Comin’ right up.” You turned back to your station, starting on Eddie’s Jack and coke, but could feel Steve's eyes lingering on you, stealing glances at you between people watching and his friends.

You were just as guilty, glancing up at him between pours, while scooping ice, while rummaging through the cooler. You couldn't help it, he looked particularly handsome tonight in his white t-shirt and blue bomber jacket, light wash jeans hugging his thighs and hips perfectly—

“Hey, y/n, uh, you're overflowing,” a customer called out to you, jerking you out of your stupor. Coke was pouring over the glass and all over your hand.

“Shit! Thanks,” you said, setting Eddies drink aside and running your hand under the sink. You prayed Steve didn't see, but when your risked a glance at him, he was smiling, lower lip caught between his teeth.

“Alright, one Jack and coke, and two cans of ice cold piss.” You set the drinks on the bar, avoiding Steve's eye.

“Thanks, honey,” Steve said, his finger tips brushing yours when he took the chilled can, sending a wave of tingles up your arm, your heart pounding in your chest.

You hurried away to tend to other customers, the line having piled up in just that few minutes you were talking to them. The perfect distraction from the all-consuming presence of Steve Harrington.

The two of you had been making eyes at each other for months, stolen glances across bars and over heads, but neither of you had made a move towards one another. You avoided bar-related dalliances at all costs, and Steve was, well, an incorrigible flirt despite having matured considerably since graduation. You chalked his attention up to old habits, and left it that.

But Steve was growing hard to resist, especially when your reasoning for keeping him at arms length was as flimsy as the half-cooked french fries the kitchen put out.

You wanted him. Bad. And from the flush crawling up his neck and the way he kept shifting his weight, he wanted you just as badly.

Your proof came twenty minutes later when you went to grab Steve and Robin's empty cans. Beneath Steve's can was a napkin, blue ink scribbled across the bottom.

New top?

Your heart skipped a beat, and when you brought them fresh ones, you left a return note under Steve's.

You noticed? Creep.

Steve huffed a laugh after you turned your back.

Ten minutes later, they put in an order from some burgers, and you noticed another note written on the opposite corner of yours, facing you.

Can't help myself.

You placed their order with the kitchen, giving the line cook a stern word about properly cooked meat, and when you brought out the loaded up tray, you left another note under Steve's cheeseburger.

Just going to stare?

It was a bold move, far bolder than you typically like to be, but you had a feeling Steve would reciprocate.

Your suspicions were confirmed when you brought them a round of whiskey shots, with an extra tequila one for yourself for courage. There was a note folded at the end of the tray.

When does your shift end?

Steve grinned when you lifted your shot with them, earning a cheer from Eddie and Robin. You licked the rim and slammed the clear liquor back, savoring the pleasant burn of tequila and lime as it slid down your throat.

Holding Steve's openly appreciative stare, you licked the extra salt off the rim of the glass. “One,” you said and he smirked, dipping his chin in acknowledgment.

You lost track of the trio not long after that, all of them dispensing out to the dance floor or pit. But when you clocked out and gathered your things, stepping out from the humid bar and into the cool night, you found Steve was waiting for you, sitting on the open tailgate of a baby blue pickup truck.

“You’re late,” He teased, sliding off the back of the truck with a smile.

“It is—” you checked your watch “—1:03, to be exact.”

“Longest three minutes of my life,” he said, one of his hands reaching for your hip and drawing you closer.

“So impatient,” you hummed, leaning into his chest and looking up at him, your head barely reaching his clavicle.

“Been waiting a long time for you to work up the courage to talk to me.”

You barked a laugh, giddy excitement surging through you, and he caught the sound with a soft kiss. It was a barely a brush, a shameless tease, but it has your body practically purring with desire.

“This okay?” He asked, his voice a bit more breathless than it was before, his nose bumping against yours

You nodded, rising on your toes to kiss him again, tasting the booze on his lips, poorly masked by the mint he must have popped before you came out. God, he was adorable.

Without breaking the kiss, Steve took your things from your arms and set them on the edge of the tailgate, freeing your arms. He embraced you again, one hand on your lower back bringing your bodies flush together, the other cupping your face to angle your head just right. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, inquisitive, and you welcomed him, gliding your tongue against his.

The kiss quickly turned sensual, his fingertips trailing beneath the hem of your shirt to feel the smooth skin of your hip, his hand tangling in your hair. You melted into him, allowing yourself to get swept up in the moment, enjoy the taste and feel of Steve Harrington’s self-control unraveling just for you.

A burst of voices coming out of the bar yanked you from the moment, though, startling you enough to break the kiss. You could feel their eyes on you, slimy, cancerous stares that made your skin crawl.

“Hey, it's y/n!” One of them called, your name slurring on their tongue.

“C’mon, baby! Whatcha doin’ with that boy? Girl like you needs a man!”

Steve pulled you tighter to him, mouth set in a hard line as he glared across the parking lot.

“Take your limp dick back home to your wife, Shaw!” You shouted back. “See how manly you are then, flopping on top of her like a goddamn fish!”

The drunks roared in protest. Steve grabbed your things and hurried you back around the truck, shaking his head and trying very hard to look stern despite the smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

“You're a menace,” he murmured, his voice honeyed with affection as he pressed you back against the passenger door. He leaned in again, but instead of kissing you his lips found your neck, trailing kisses along the column of your throat.

“Mhm—does your truck have a bench seat?” You asked, tilting your head back against the window.

He nodded, smirking against your skin. “Leather, too,” he said, nipping at a soft spot he found beneath your ear.

“Steve Harrington,” you gasped, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging his head up. “I had no idea you could be so bold.”

“What can I say? I'm full of surprises.”

“Prove it,” you taunted.

In a quick motion, he pulled you forward and opened the passenger door, then was tossing you up onto the seat.

“Oh, baby. I intend to.”

[jazeswhbhaven]

Wrath Fueled By Victory | Satan Victory Card React | Spoilers

ITS BEEN A LONG TIME COMIN' I'm very sorry for the wait ya'll I was suppose to post this literally like before January was over and it's now nearly mid-February 💀

Ya'll know the drill, since this is a NP card, heavily summarized, a few screenshots, the usual.

Though I will tell you...this card was a MAJOR turn around from his Torture card in terms of pacing, writing, his personality shining through and through. And that date story???

Satan wants me to marry him I guess.

Butttt let's get this show on the road~

Summary

So it seems Satan is upset today because the Explosive Sphere event (wth lmaooo) has had so many victories by Gehenna that they are removing it. Like, no one else gets a chance to win because it's biased toward long-range snipers. (okay yah I guess I get that)

And surprise, surprise we get a cameo from the big granddaddy himself, Solomon! It appears that this card starts with a blast from the past, and Solomon's influence is seen in real time. Like he literally just whispers to Satan and he calms down just like that. Levi is even like >:( sit next to me and being semi-clingy and I'm just here like??? Damn that personality didn't transfer over to MC at all sorry 😭

The narration even pointed out that it wasn't that Solomon used overt logic or strength, he was simply just present, had a nice voice, and was just himself. Literally he's just that guy.

It's official, the Calvary Battles replaced the Exploding Sphere event, we're now in the future and things are underway and Satan is hyping up his men to win. Violence is allowed, so it sounds like the devils from each country are just gonna beat each other's asses until someone passes out essentially.

And the story reflects back to Luci's victory card, which honestly that shit was wild as it is. But it's nice to know that these themed cards are connected and therefore...canon lol (at least for whatever's happening, I imagine this is MC's everyday life and how it would be realistically during their time in Hell aside from the things happening in the main story)

It begins, each country planning out their battle strategies! As we see what Gehenna is up to, basically using 6 devils together in an "iron maiden" like formation with bombs attached to themselves (wild...) we have Hades (who sent Foras to spy on the Gehenna devils...) and they are using the 9 Apostles that will come out from 9 coffins, Levi will be wearing rings (sounds similar to the infinity gauntlet lmao who is he thanos?) to show his bond with them so they can work with Hades.

And not only that ya'll, a fly was spying on Hades...and we go over to Abyssos and they plan on hiring Abaddon devils from the Red Light District as mercenaries! (Nabe's idea btw, Stolas apparently just wanted to shoot everyone too the little angry birb) And then, while folks in Abyssos were placing their votes for a bet...there's this one devil that's confident that Abyssos will lose? Turns out....he's a spy for Tartaros 😭 (this is so wild ya'll)

I want to add that Tartaros had a transforming fortrace and they didn't even have plans for a stage 3 and Mammon was like "Ah pay the devil who suggested stage 3 and we'll get right to it" MAMMON PL SSSSSSSS what do you mean you didn't have more than two stages helpppppp.

And now, we're also looking into Paradise Lost, Gamigin wants to participate so badly to show that healer's aren't weak, even offering to turn into a complete dragon or to lend Lucifer his powers? (I bet he can do that tbh) and this entire display of the other nobles treating Gamigin softly about it, has Luci convinced to join in the battles (seems like he was going to not participate just out of choice, since I mean he won the horse races and got his prize already)

Then we get a visitor??? ZAGAN THE BABES <3 He shows up to Paradise Lost to ask the nobles to not participate this time around, only because he's worried that some devil's may actually die this time because MC is the prize. He doesn't want Satan most of all to get hurt, and it really shows us more of Zagan's personality. He went there of his own accord, is worried about his King and others, and is asking for standby help to prevent a possibly tragedy. Love him.

I'll be very brief about the battle, Satan won lmao. And it wasn't like the other's didn't try it's just...even with all the spying and cheating, Satan still came out on top and he did it so flawlessly too.

And the way he grabbed MC as his prize and whisked them away? I love it when it does that. So cocky, so....him. Phewww

So I'mma just say rn, I needed one of Beleth's cigarette's after reading the smut with Satan. Like ya'll we got backshots, for whatever reason MC was describing being fucked like a bitch in heat, but whatever I might as well be cause I'm a sucker for backshots and that's something Satan should like too because it gives him good range to smack that ass.

Also, so commanding, being mad about MC being so cute, saying that he's in charge so there's no reason MC should be ordering him around. MC gave him head, he was throatfucking, and because he had consumed devil's blood beforehand it seems that made him harder, bigger (more swollen), and just more unhinged and hornier than usual.

Bonus: they came at the same time, after ya know he made them cum like 9 times before that

And one thing Satan is always gonna do? Put MC to sleep. Which happened, he was being cute at the end, and MC just passes out. All of this in an alleyway mind you...Satan freaky asf fucking outside with the possibility of getting caught.

Screenshots!!

Okay Levi didn't let me down, he always got something to say...but this time??? All he's doing is affirming my ship delusions again

And damn Grandpa Solo....okay

He really said "make sure you get that ready for me" meaning....your hole MC...he's got a lot of time to make up since the horse racing event

AYO??????

Masked men are my kink so, Amy and I bout to fuck na s t y yyyyyyyy (though this seems dangerous and he can't see out of the damn thing lmao)

lemme suck them titties

Mammon out here got a damn transformer and bringing it to the fight I'm done lmaooooooo

Oh??? But they say he can't turn back into his devil self if he transforms....but me being me....

i'm down for full dragon Gamigin let's go

this sums up how I felt about this particular thing

Someone get this man some oranges to help him calm down lmaooo

Aight PB stop fueling me with arsenal...good arsenal at that because word on the street is....i might have written a little something something during my away time....

He is so boyfriend, I'm crying like??? This face???

"It's starting to hurt..." and he was referring to his dick....my gawd let me grind on it and make it hurt morrrrreeeeeeeeeeee

IDK IM FEELING SO MUCH EMOTION RN

*also to note this position he's sitting in for this card was my favorite and he kept his shoes on idk I was feeling things*

Date Story and Chat Summary!

I think it's funny that Satan pretty much just says outloud that he had good sex with MC and everyone is like :O and MC is like 🙃🙃🙃💀😭 and I'm over here like??? Okay, now I do understand not wanting your business out there, but???? Lol

Paimon thing: He likes shy ppl and certified hoes who open their legs too, so basically ya'll you're his type no matter what I guess💀

So the date ends up being that he takes MC to his private motorcyle repair shop! He's being so domestic and soft here you almost forget he gets angry and prefers to fuck roughly lmao

But also, a big thing we learn is Satan's love language of physical touch. He doesn't say things with words, it's all actions, so you could even say that Acts of Service, is also another love language for him! He really is very affectionate, and I love that so much about him.

But the main point being that he treated this date like how any regular degular human boyfriend would, and I think...that's really what sets him apart from the other devils! He has that sense of "normal humanity" to him when he feels like it and it brings you back to a sense of comfort. Now, I have yet to observe this behavior from the other devils, as I feel it's touch and go from what we get per story, BUT yes...

Btw it seems that Satan really likes bringing up how good the sex is, because he was doing that in the chats and even had a point in time where he was like "yeah it's big again, I'm going to you now." Like my guy literally was like

my dick hard so, i'mma bout to come fuck you <3

While also texting on his bike at that...like? lmao

Fun fact: During the hell events, the seraphim and the angels used to come down to try and take advantage of that but they pretty much got beaten up and when Luci started participating they pretty much stopped showing up altogether

Also, it seems Levi really was upset about losing twice 💀 but strangely enough, Satan doesn't think he's the petty type (I beg to differ, maybe not petty towards you Satan). And he thinks he's a real man even though others call him feminine. This is interesting to bring up though because I'm like...huh yeah Levi's a pretty boy, that's his thing, though I don't think it's a hinderance to anything. that attitude sure fucking is though.

And there we have it folks!!! That's pretty much everything in the card I can sum up for. It's quite obvious my score on this card is....

10/10 let's go

I really did enjoy this card way more than Satan's Torture one. Again, it's mostly because it had the same writing format at Levi's Torture card. A bunch of build up, some lore thrown in, some comedy, and then it leads up to the smut and it's pretty much it from there. Not solely focused on the smut only, it was pretty long, and we get to see the nobles and kings interact once again. Now, sadly since this was a true NP card, that means if you didn't get him this time around, you'll have to wait for them to bring it back in the future. Which I would recommend getting this card if you're a Satan fan! The date story was super cute too.

Now...it's on to Mammon's Victory card which from a quick glance, it was much shorter? Man they never do that devil justice when it comes to creating card content from him majority of the time, BUT I'll see ya there <3

[quixotickoi]

Knockout Round!!

boxer!sukuna x drummer!reader

Synopsis: You and Ryomen have never had the most cordial of relationships; however, something deep, deep inside your heart burned with a carnal desire to learn the landscape of his body. Your band sets you up for a dangerous rendezvous, and you learned a lot more than you thought you would.

Warnings: Implied sex, hickeys, biting, fingering

word count: 3.7k

------

The amps buzzed angrily, a deafening hornets��� nest of rage and defiance. The sound crackled out, leaving the faint rumble of inactive electricity. Yuji set his guitar against his amp, wringing his hands out. Maki rolled her shoulders out, and you set down your drumsticks. In front of you three, on the couch in the basement of Gojo Hall, Choso had set up a camcorder; Nobara was typing away intently on her phone, and Megumi was playing something on his raggedy PC. Even with his disgustingly loaded godfather, he never let that go. 

“Kamo, cut that,” said Maki. She tweaked her tuning pegs, frowning slightly.

“I thought you sounded good.” shrugged Choso. “Guess I don’t have the ear.” Megumi frowned at the computer, then at the man next to him.

“They sounded like a swamp. I couldn’t hear the bass from the guitar.”

“Hey!” Yuji shouted indignantly. “If Soundgarden did it, why can’t we?”

“You think you’re Chris Cornell?” 

“I assume you think you’re Pharrell; even your producer tag does the beat thing.” 

You and Maki exchanged glances at their bickering. Exasperatedly, you threw a drumstick at Yuji’s head; it bounced off before hitting the ground with a thunk. Nobara looked up, giggling behind her phone as Yuji threw it back ferociously. Catching it, you twirl it in your limber fingers. “We have to get our shit together, guys. It’s not our first gig, but it’s gonna be our last if Yuji won’t start singing worth a damn.”

“I’d like to see you try playing an instrument and singing at the same time.”

“Drums are actually hard, Yuji. Ya gotta use a thing called skill.”

“Didn’t know you used it. Our drumlines are so impossibly easy a million monkeys could do them by accident.” He messed with his dials, strumming over any retaliation. “Besides, we play in a week or so. We’ll have it down by then.”

“We could always play something old,” volunteered Maki. “It’s not like we’re popular enough to get people wanting more.”

“I’ll have you know a girl stopped me to tell me she knows our band!” said Yuji indignantly. 

“Likely from the ear-shattering music under the basement. I doubt she can tell us from the other bands that practice here.” Maki unplugged her bass, packing it into her coffin case, along with her pedal and wire. “I have to go now. Phys project in the works.” She shuffled up the stairs, strong-arming her bass on the way up. The door creaked behind her slightly. You stuffed your drumsticks in a ridiculously large pocket, stretching out your back. Yuji looked mildly disappointed. Smiling sympathetically, you help Nobara off the couch, and Choso turns off the camcorder.

“It’s, like, 2 A.M. right now,” Nobara mentioned callously. She had come with a full face and now was leaving fresh-faced, if you don’t count the smudging on her cheeks. “We should turn in anyway. Lord knows the dark circles I’m getting from these late nights.” She faked a yawn before resting her cheek on your shoulder, stroking your waist tenderly.

“You don’t even have to be here,” Megumi blurted, still working furiously. “All you do is use your TikTok and eat our DoorDash.” He slammed his computer down, to which it protested.

“I’m just here to steal some fame for when you guys get popular or whatever,” she smirked. “And it’s worth it for a chance to see Papa Fushiguro.” Megumi groaned. “Ain’t that right?” She tapped your cheek. Grinning, you look away.

“He is double our age. And then some.”

“Speak for yourself,” you snark.

“You’re barely a year older than us.” Megumi stuffed his computer in his backpack, stalking toward the door. “You guys comin’?” You shake your head at him. Grabbing your keys from your jacket pocket, you dangle them off your middle finger while Nobara follows you out. Choso and Yuji hang back, getting ready to go home on their own.

“If you’re going to be in a bitch mood,” The three of you walk toward your SUV. “At least get your license. Nothing more pathetic than waiting for the person you’re mad at.” You drive off-campus and into town, the path to Megumi’s shared apartment with his father clear in your mind. You park down the street, accompanying him, along with Nobara, to Room 408. 

Knocking on the door, Mr. Toji Fushiguro scans the three college kids at his doorstep. He had no shirt on and looked like he could barely keep his eyes open. “There’s my son,” he says groggily, yanking Megumi by the shoulder back into his apartment. Grunting his gratitude, he closes the door. On the way back to the car, Nobara is fully awake, fully excited. 

“Ugh, he wears being a hobo so well. It’s kinda insane he’s still single. Guess he still loves his wife,” she blurts when you start the engine. “All that man gotta be in there somewhere, waiting for me to find it. Do you think Megumi would be mad if I hooked up with his dad?”

You chuckled, gazing at the blurry lights in front of you. Blinking again, you persevere through the tiredness. Nobara’s now talking on the phone, tapping your shoulder. “Huh?”

“Choso’s car got towed. D’you think we can give them a ride?” she said. Apologetically, she added, “I know you’re tired, but I doubt you want them paying a 60 dollar Über at 3 A.M.” 

“It’s fine, I guess. But they owe me big time.” Turning around, you return to the barren parking lot by Gojo Hall. Choso and Yuji ran toward your car; more accurately, to your headlights. Inside they squeezed next to Nobara, and Yuji began his yammering about the towing.

“I swear Choso parked right! We don’t even know why it was towed. Sure, he sucks at parallel parking,” Choso coughed indignantly. “But that can’t be illegal, right? He didn’t even park in disabled parking or anything, they just took it!” He peered through the gap between the passenger seat and its headrest. “By the way, we need to get Ryomen.”

“Is his car towed too?”

“Nah, in the shop.” Yuji shrugged. “He loves his fender benders. Shocking, for a guy who loves his car more than his family.”

“I think he moonlights as a drag racer,” Choso added. You smiled despite the tiredness. “Also, I’ve sent you the address for where he told me he’d be. Chances are it’s a seedy ass place.” You followed the GPS instructions, passing by a handful of smoke shops, a nightclub, and a crowd of foul-smelling people, all clad in thick clothes, however unidentifiable they were from the darkness and the smog surrounding them. The GPS stopped in front of a stairwell, leading to whatever Sukuna partook in at night.

“Where is he?” you scanned the front, but no hulking, pink-haired man showed. “Can’t you text him or something?”

“Sukuna responds half a year later; we gotta find him ourselves.” 

“Nose goes!” shouted Yuji; he and Nobara held their nose, Choso following suit. You frowned at him. “Sorry babe, too slow.” he jested. You turned to Choso directly behind you, pleading silently.

“I’ll go with you, don’t worry about it.” Smiling gratefully, you hopped out of the car, with the help of Choso, who trailed behind you when you trodded down the stairwell. 

Inside, a rudimentary boxing ring surrounded by all kinds of people carrying drinks or doobies overwhelmed your senses. In the ring, a fight was well on its way to its conclusion; in one corner, a man with a zigzagging pattern in his hair sat, receiving water and getting patted down by an older man you assumed to be his coach. The other corner, the one facing the entrance, facing you, held Ryomen, or “Sukuna” in the circles he ran in. His onyx irises locked onto you, but by the time they had, you were talking to Choso. You didn’t particularly care for boxing, preferring the equally, if not more, chaotic world of underground music.

Choso bent his head down to your ear. “I think I see some friends; get me back when Ryomen’s all done.” Your eyes widened in response.

“The fuck? Choso, no. I don’t know anyone here!” But by then, he had moseyed his way toward a group of men, all tattooed and pierced. You were no stranger to the hardcore, but you preferred the stage, where the distance felt safer. While as a teen, you indulged in the scene, you never liked the people that it came with. You watched the people around you talk, receiving a couple inquisitive looks in response. No doubt you looked out of place; the conservative manner in which you bundled yourself up lended no air of confidence. 

Tentatively, you stepped through the crowd to sidle up to the boxing ring, where Ryomen and his opponent had resumed their fight. A rivulet of blood carved its way down his temple, and his opponent had a bruise blossoming on his eye. Next to you, a wave of men chanted, “S’kuna! S’kuna! S’kuna!” while booing at the other man’s jabs. Fascinated, you watched the men tussle, before you felt a hand slither around your shoulder. A man, sporting a hockey jersey and a row of ear piercings, leered at you.

“Have I seen you here before?” he smiled, barely concealing his sliminess. Stiffly, you tried to escape his grasp, which only became more vicelike the more you struggled. “Aw, hey, don’t be like that,” His scolding read like a veiled threat. A woman in front of you looked at you, sparing a glance at the man who closely resembled a deshelled hermit crab. Turning around, she pulled the man off you.

“I’m gonna need you to let her go, kid.” she warned. In the ring, meanwhile, Ryomen had totaled his opponent, earning a shout of glee from the supporting crowd. The harasser scampered off, and the woman smiled at you before turning to cheer at Ryomen.

 After the ref had confirmed the K.O, he raised Ryomen’s arm in triumph. Cajoling filled the stuffy room, and you scanned the state his body was in. His thick waist and chest heaved, bare and glistening. He tied his boxer shorts low, leaving the slightest prick of hair visible. His meaty thighs and calves flexed to support the sheer mass Ryomen boasted. When you had quite finished ogling the body of your bandmate’s older brother, his handsome, fear-inducing face was the dessert that crowned your eyes’ meal. His long, surprisingly straight nose and furrowed, bushy eyebrows gave him the appearance of a bird of prey. His cheekbones, while high-set, were still filled out with fat, preventing a skeletal appearance. His lips, while not plump, were full and parted by his maroon mouthguard, glistening with sweat. His eyes glowed in the flickering light, while still absorbing the energy around them, as if his gaze was an inescapable black hole.

You barely registered that those eyes were boring into you while you essentially feasted upon him with a desirous gaze. His head tilted up, and then you saw the warlike mind which consumed his being, which was reaching toward you with a need to conquer, to take. Even when he stopped to be led to the locker room, you felt his want burn your stomach, and you felt the unquestionable desire to vomit. But still, you trailed after him, along with his other fans. You fiddled with your phone, when Yuji had called you, asking when he would finish up. You sighed, told him five more minutes, and waited for Ryomen’s reemergence. 

When he came back, he clutched an envelope and towel around his neck, along with a duffle bag. He stopped in front of you, surveying you with an unreadable expression. “All alone, are we?” he grinned, and his oddly sharp canines winked at you. Your mouth immediately felt like it was stuffed with cotton.  “It’s rare to see you so scared, girl.” he teased. “You my driver?”

Behind you, Choso leaned an arm on your head. “Hey…Ryomen.” He gave him a dap before steering you to the exit/entrance. “We’re taking you home.”

“Sweet.” He pushed past you, dragging his shoulder deliberately. This somehow shook you out of your trance, and you tramped in front of them, trying not to appear as vulnerable as you felt.

In the car, Ryomen had parked his ass in the passenger seat before you could say a word about it. “Smelly hoes stay in the back, Ryomen.”

“Sukuna to you, baby.”

“Suck-on-a my dick.” you bit. Swerving off the avenue, you stopped at the Itadori brothers’ complex. All three hopped out; rather, Choso dragged a sleeping Yuji and hoisted him over his shoulder along with his guitar, and Ryomen hauled his gear and gloves to their home. With a parting grin, he slammed the car door shut. Nobara had fallen asleep in the backseat as well, and you silently drove home, snapping her awake to get inside.

***

We’re meeting at my house for a band meeting today :DD show up by 5pm pls and thank youuu.  Your phone buzzed as Yuji texted. It was Saturday morning, and you had barely opened your crusted-over eyes a quarter past two. Rays of late winter sunshine seared into your eyes; you didn’t even get under your covers, opting instead to scrunch the neatly laid out blankets between your fingers. Groggily, you peeled your eyes open and clambered to the kitchen, where Nobara had written a note: At mall. You toss it back on the counter and make yourself a late breakfast: two eggs and a slice of gouda in a bread roll. Squinting again, you checked your microwave clock.

 As you blinked, the two morphed into a five. It was 5:30? Shit! You cursed as you ran to your bathroom, quickly rubbing your full-body deodorant over yourself. You splashed your face with water before tugging on a bra you didn’t even look at and the first pair of panties you found in your drawers. A slip of your jeans past your hips, a tug of your shirt over your neck, and a slide into your slides led you out the door and speeding toward the Itadori brothers’ (and Choso’s) apartment. You chewed gum ravenously on your way there; you’d be damned if you let morning breath near your bandmates. You reached under the cactus that had the spare key for the home. Barging in, you braced yourself for the welcoming, although teasing yells. 

Instead, you saw a vacant couch, loveseat, and ottoman. The kitchen held no rumble of life, and everything was less sloppy than usual. Furiously, you text the group. Sorry!! Went to get food, hope you dont mind :P -Yuji. It’s not OUR fault you were late -Maki. Muttering indignancies under your breath, you plop onto the couch, picking at your nail beds. You felt bad for missing the time, but you were so tired from last night. Who’s even up that late, anyway? The 15-hour nap was well-needed. During the weekdays, you spent late nights trying to squeeze in band practice and the elephant-sized pile of work that graced your cheap IKEA desk. A lady needs her sleep, after all, and moonlighting (daylighting?) as a raccoon did nothing to help your confidence.

Sighing, you traipsed to the kitchen, doubting if the gang would bring you something to eat. While Nobara was usually your saving grace, she was off spending her next findom scheme victim’s couple grand. The fridge was unsurprisingly chock-full of leftovers; an old box of half-eaten chow mein, a lone bag of fries, cold pizza…a bum’s heaven. You doubted any actual ingredients existed in the house. The brothers cooked on occasion, likely so infrequently that they could run out of flour and not bat an eye. You settle for the chow mein, knowing you didn’t give a rat’s ass if it was Choso’s or Yuji’s. They frequently raided your fridge anyway. No, it was Ryomen you were worried about. However, a 66% chance of it not being his was all you cared about. Tossing it in the microwave for half a minute, you poured yourself a glass of water before standing at the counter, twirling the saucy noodles between the fork prongs. The chow mein wasn’t particularly hot, but it was suitable.

Behind you, a man loomed in the kitchen entryway. All six and a half feet of him. You ate happily, until you turned to see the presence you dreaded most. Swallowing thickly, you set the takeout down, hiding it from view. Ryomen stared you down, his heartstopping eyes pierced straight through yours and slid their effect through your body, straight to your stomach. You felt it drop, and your grip on the floor slid. His lip curled when he saw your eyebrows knit together in cowardice, before you shakily regain your composure. “You surprised me,” you blurted. 

“Likewise.” He motioned to the living room behind him. “Where’re your little friends?” Ryomen stepped closer; you stepped away. You tried not to gaze at the strong arm that pushed an island chair out of his way; the loose tee he wore did next to nothing to hide the contours of his bicep. He looked past you, at the opened chow mein container.

“They’re on their way here,” you bluffed; in actuality, you had no idea when they’d end their little excursion. Ryomen tilted his head in mockery. He had been inching closer every second, and he had finally gotten within arm’s reach. You, on the other hand, had nowhere else to go, unless you desired to become one with the countertop. “They’re getting food,” you muttered. The enclosing space made your stomach fall to the floor, surprisingly managing to be more anxious than you thought the human body could survive. Ryomen’s eyes gleamed predatorily; he had dreamt of cornering your cowering body. In a swift motion, he hooked a thick-knuckled finger through your belt loop, whisking you into his body. With an oomph! you felt your brow ridge hit his collarbone.

“Is that so?” Ryomen leered. His smooth rumble let you know you were so fucked. “Then you’d care to explain where my food went, I assume.” His hand snaked around your waist, sliding up and feeling the curve of your spine. It reached your jaw, where he tilted your face up to meet his.

“I only had a bite or two,” you say, wriggling in his grasp. He held your head firm, grinning devilishly when he squeezed your cheeks. 

“I’ll take a ‘bite or two’ outta you.” His hand let your face go. “It’s only fair.”

“Bite my dick, Ryomen,” you sneer, enjoying your burst of egoism. “I doubt an overlarge slob like you knows the first thing about being with women.” For that one, he squeezed your ass hard. You refused to break the stoicism you set yourself to five minutes ago. 

“Oh, woman, you have no clue what's going to happen to you.”

“A dog-and-pony show and a failed orgasm, I suppose.” Your eyes narrow. Ryomen’s expression shifts into something dangerous, a desire so primal, so base.

“Your friends can’t save you now, doll.” With nary a deep breath, Ryomen hoists you over his shoulder, bearing your weight like a sandbag. He opens the door to his bedroom, unceremoniously flinging you onto his messy bed sheets. You land near its edge, and you can’t take a breath before he’s upon you like a whirlwind, ramming his lips into yours and shoving his hands under your shirt. You screwed your eyes shut, trying to keep up with Ryomen’s neediness. You backed up onto the bed, hurriedly followed by Ryomen. Screaming internally, you watch his trail of kisses slide from your lips to your cheek, down your neck, and straight to your collarbone. His eyes lock onto your t-shirt. 

You hear a seam, or four, tear as he wrests it off of you and onto the waiting floor. Ryomen scrutinizes the bra you barely registered choosing; lucky you, the brute liked the lacy detailing on the pearly fabric. However, it comes off, along with half of your dignity. Ryomen kneads your nipple between his fingers slyly, watching them harden from contact. Before you can blink, he returns to sucking on your neck, working an obscene hickey onto your nape. Sharp canines meet your shoulder blade as he bites down. Hard. Your groan of pleasure gives him leeway to taunt you.

“Am I not a slob?” He ruts his clothed, extremely painful boner into your crotch. “Wasn’t I so unskilled? Answer me woman, or are you dumb from a little kiss?” Ryomen’s voice strained. You whimper and grab at his hair, tugging the black roots. Grinding and sucking his way down,  His starving demeanor sent a shot of pleasure through your veins. Oh, you were so fucked.

***

It hadn’t been more than a few hours. Ryomen, who you regrettably called Sukuna (while being fingered into oblivion), was dozing away on top of you, a comforting weight. The analog clock above his door frame read 7:38. Struggling, you push off him and hobble down to the living room, hastily putting on the first pair of pants you saw and your shirt; you had no clue how incredibly disheveled you looked, so covered in blotchy red hickeys and nail marks you appeared to have been pelted with overripe cherries. What a sight it was, then, when you ran into Yuji and Choso lounging in their own home.

“I always took him as a rough guy, but jeez. I’m surprised you got away,” Choso said between bites of his chicken wing. Blearily, you grunt an idea of a retort before stealing a wing. “Glad I didn’t have to hear the…yeah,” he finished lamely as you ate.

“Whuh? Choso,” you mumbled, mouth full. “Y’all knew?”

They both looked incredibly guilty. 

Right then, Ryomen walked in behind you, in his boxers. Before you asked where his pants were, you looked at yours, realizing they were hanging off your hips; you should’ve noticed when the fabric dragged against your ankle as you navigated the apartment. “Got any left for me? I’ve just been,” he glanced your way cheekily. “...exercising.” 

[rottenpumpkin13]

one of soldier either genesis or kunsel maybe decides to try to capture cait sith to dissect him and figure what his fucking deal is how does it go

*Zack finds Kunsel elbow-deep in the back of a limp Cait Sith, wires everywhere*

Zack: What the hell are you doing??

Kunsel: See?? See?! I told you this thing was a robot! And you all said I was insane!

Zack: Maybe because you also think Sephiroth's real dad is a missing Turk named Vincent Valentine who turned into a bat and lives in a coffin?

Cait Sith: Aye, the bastard Hojo shot 'im square in the chest, but 'e lived! He's Sephiroth's da, alright. And he's comin' home. Ye think that jawline came from Hojo? Dinnae be daft. There's bets goin' 'round the Turk lounge aboot it. Reno's slapped fifty gil on Valentine crawlin' out his coffin t' challenge Hojo tae a duel in the Shinra cafeteria.

*Zack and Kunsel scream*

*Reeve appears*

Reeve: Has anyone seen my…emotional support stuffed cat?

Zack, pointing: THAT THING TOLD US SOMETHING WE SHOULDN'T KNOW!

Reeve: *gasp* Did he tell you about the time I pushed President Shinra down the stairs during a power outage that I caused specifically to make an attempt on President Shinra's life??

Zack: …..

[thefreakandthehair]

February 14th, 1987

Eddie barely hears the quick knock, knock, knock on the front door of the trailer over his music: a Dio cassette cranked up to a soothing billion and five decibels. Funny enough, it’s a cassette that Steve had gifted him as part of a group Glad You Didn’t Die present when he left the hospital. Everyone from Corroded Coffin to Nancy Wheeler contributed something, but Steve made sure to get Dio. Eddie likes to think that maybe wearing his vest all that time rubbed off on Steve. 

He hardly registers it, but the knocking continues, a second round of three taps. Eddie sighs and does some quick mental calculations– Steve is on a date, Robin is with Nancy, Jonathan is with Argyle, and Lucas took Max to the movies. No one else has a license or is within walking distance, so unless one of the kids convinced Claudia Henderson to drop them off without warning, there’s only one logical explanation. 

“The Men in Black have finally come to throw me in the back of a van and drag me to their lab,” Eddie mutters to himself, dropping his pen onto the open journal and rolling off his bed. 

Knock, knock, knock, knock. 

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’, Jesus Christ.” He calls out as he makes his way to the door. The two-bedroom trailer is larger than their old one, the hallway longer from his room in the back. 

A cold chill slips in from the cracks around the door before he even gets to the doorknob, but his blood runs warm when he yanks it open. 

Steve Harrington, in his cozy red sweater, dark jeans, and perfectly fluffy, coiffed hair is standing on his doorstep with one hand on his hip. That one hand is gripping a bouquet of roses that match his jumper and for a brief moment, Eddie wonders if his journal has been lifted from a fantasy novel. What he’d just put into words on the page is now standing in front of him— what does one say to their fantasy showing up at their doorstep?

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

Okay, maybe not that. But seriously, what in the name of Molly Ringwald is happening right now?

read the rest of been on fire, dreaming of you here on ao3!

[otomehonyaku]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Eternal Blood Animate Tokuten CD ☽ Vol. 1 & 2 ・A Certain Day at the Mukami Household

Original title: ある日の無神家 Voiced by Sakurai Takahiro (Ruki), Suzuki Tatsuhisa (Yuma) English translation by @otomehonyaku Click here for the audio (as always, BIG thank you to @karleksmumskladdkaka!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This CD was very generous with the fan service, to say the least... I can safely say it's one of my new absolute favourites! The cooing, the teasing, the brotherly banter, Ruki's tired dad energy near the end, and both Ruki and Yuma fawning over you? _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): I hope you have as much fun listening and reading along as I had translating it!

Please do not reuse or post my translations elsewhere or translate my work into other languages without my permission.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

00:00 [The scene starts with Ruki quietly reading in his room.]

Ruki: What a lovely day it is today. A pleasant breeze is coming in from the window, and time is passing ever so slowly... There couldn’t be a more perfect time to read.

[Ruki turns a page.]

Ruki: I see. There’s much more to this book than I thought. I only bought it on a whim to pass the time, but… it’s actually not bad at all.

[Ruki turns another page and continues reading. The sound of rushed footsteps comes from the hallway.]

Ruki: Oh. Those footsteps… Is that Yuma?

[Ruki snaps his book shut with a sigh.]

Ruki: If he’s heading this way, he probably wants something from me. I’d hoped to spend a quiet day alone, but it seems like I’ll have to let that go…

[Yuma bursts into the room.]

Yuma: Hey! This’s bad, Ruki!

Ruki: Do not run in the hallway. Knock. Wait before I answer until I open the door. How many times do I have to tell you all of this?

Yuma: There’s somethin’ much more important that I need you to take a look at. You got time, right?

Ruki: What happened? You came all this way to disturb my reading, so at least tell me why.

Yuma: You’ll know the reason when you just come to the garden ‘n look at it.

Ruki: At what? 

[The scene shifts to the Mukami mansion's vegetable garden.]

Ruki: Ah… What on Earth is this? Hey, you. You were here together with Yuma, right? Explain the situation.

[You try to explain, but you’re so worked up that you keep stumbling over your words.]

Ruki: I shouldn’t have asked you. I can’t have a conversation with you when you can't even string together a sentence.

Yuma: Well… you know how most of the veggies in the garden are pretty much ripe for the pickin’ right now? She was pickin’ them for me, and then she suddenly called out that she saw somethin’ underneath the dirt. So, I got curious and dug it up, and it was… this.

[Yuma pats the box next to him.]

Ruki: This box? It looks like a coffin. You could lock up a full-sized human in there.

02:04 Yuma: Haha. You ain’t wrong. Like you said, it might be a coffin. Might be a vampire inside that was buried while he was sleepin’ or somethin'.

[You definitely don’t like the idea of that.]

Yuma: What, you scared something’s gonna jump out at you? You’d better fight like hell. Heh.

[You ask him what he would do if something were to jump out at you.]

Yuma: Huh? I’m just gonna stand by ‘n watch, of course. I ain’t comin’ to your rescue for free.

[Yuma comes closer.]

Yuma: If you want me to save ya, you got somethin’ to give me in return, right? That sweet stuff that’s flowin’ in your veins… Make me an offer and I might give it some thought.

Ruki: Yuma. That’s enough.

Yuma: Yeah, yeah, got it.

[Ruki steps closer to the box.]

Ruki: Hmm… The lid of the box seems to have a lock on it, but it’s in really bad condition. It looks like it would open easily.

Yuma: So? Let’s take a look inside.

Ruki: Hold on, Yuma. Don’t do anything reckless. Haven’t you read any literature on these kinds of things?

Yuma: Literature?

Ruki: These kinds of boxes are often traps. I’ve read about them in books. For example, there was one case in which a box washed up on a seashore. A man opened the box and smoke poured out, which gathered into the shape of an old man. It’s likely some kind of curse.

Yuma: Those kinds of curses exist?

Ruki: And then there are also these boxes of various sizes, collectively called tsuzura. You’re pressured to choose a single box, and if you choose the biggest one, there’s a trap inside: a monster jumps out of it. There are innumerable examples.

04:01 Yuma: Really? That’s some scary shit.

[You tell them those are probably made-up stories.]

Ruki: Oh? Do you really think they’re mere myths, Livestock? I’ll let you open the box, then.

[You immediately backpedal and try to run away, but Ruki catches you.]

Ruki: Oh, no. Don’t think you can run away now.

[You tell him you don’t want to do it.]

Ruki: You’re the one who said they’re myths. This is an order from your master. Hurry up and open it. If a monster really were to jump out, you’d have nowhere to run. It could easily tear you to pieces. I wonder what happens when it sinks its teeth into this pale skin of yours…

[Ruki’s hands palm your bare skin. You get flustered and try to move away.]

Ruki: What’s wrong? Did you already imagine it just by me touching you? Ah… So you actually prefer pain over pleasure.

[Ruki pulls you closer.]

Ruki: Don’t lie to me. You’re eagerly awaiting it, aren’t you? Your body seems to be trembling in delight, actually. Show me that expression of yours properly.

[Ruki grabs your chin and forces you to look at him.]

Ruki: Oh. I see the colour has completely drained from your face. Fear is not such a bad look on you. Well, then—do as your master tells you and open that lid.

[You tell him you’re scared and repeat that you really don’t want to.]

Ruki: That’s precisely why I’m making you do it, of course.

[You’re on the verge of tears.]

Ruki: Heh. You look miserable when you’re about to burst into tears. It’s quite enjoyable. However, you seem to be misunderstanding something. I’m not doing this to punish you. It’s your reward for helping Yuma. 

[Ruki pulls you even closer while you struggle.]

06:03 Ruki: To have your will completely ignored, your body pinned down until you have no choice but to obey… you actually get off on such wretched situations, don’t you? I’ll make you humiliate yourself. Now, how about you wag your little tail in delight and do as I say?

[You violently shake your head.]

Ruki: Good grief… You really don’t know when to give up, do you? You still have no intention of obeying?

Yuma: You’ve really gotten more stubborn since you started livin’ with us. Or, well, you were prolly already stubborn from the get-go.

Ruki: Livestock who don’t follow orders don’t do themselves any favours in terms of charm. Ah. Let’s do this on different terms, then. If you open the lid, I’ll make you your favourite for dinner.

[That piques your interest. You immediately say you’ll do it.]

Yuma: That makes you agree straight away?!

Ruki: Ah… I’ve clearly been using the wrong methods to discipline you. It’s like I’ve got one more Kou or Yuma in my household…

Yuma: What do Kou ‘n I gotta do with that? Well, fine by me, though. Besides, this lid’s pretty heavy. You sure you can lift it with those tiny arms?

[You try to lift the lid but fail miserably.]

Yuma: It ain’t movin’ at all. Are you even tryin’? Put some more effort into it or Ruki’s just gonna yell at you.

[The lid still doesn’t budge despite your best efforts.]

Yuma: I thought you said you’d do it yourself. How pathetic.

[You give up.]

Yuma: You’re so hopeless it ain’t even funny. Hey, Ruki. It’ll take all day if we leave this to her.

Ruki: It certainly seems that way. It can’t be helped, I suppose. Lend her a hand.

Yuma: Gotcha. Let’s see… I’ll give you a hand, so at least put some effort into it, alright? If you can’t open that lid, I’ll sink my fangs into you so deep you’re gonna beg for mercy. Makes it a bit more thrilling, right? Really, though. You keep yapping about the lid being heavy, but how heavy’s it really?

[Yuma gives a little push and the lid gives right away.]

08:24 Yuma: Huh? The fuck? It ain’t even that heavy. You really are useless. You shoulda been able to lift it lickety-split, Sow. I’ve given you a head start, so you do the rest. I’ll let go, so don’t drop the lid, alright?

[Yuma lets go and you immediately almost drop the lid.]

Yuma: C’mon, hold it up a little higher, Sow! Are you really puttin’ all your strength into it? You look like an idiot. Makes me wanna laugh. If you don’t put in the effort like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, we’ll start from scratch again. Jeez… I’ll teach you how it’s done.

[Yuma puts a hand on your lower back, which startles you.]

Yuma: Here, right here. Focus your strength in your lower back when you brace yourself. What, you ticklish? 

[You shake your head.]

Yuma: Ah, I see, I see. So you’re just weak? Besides, you can’t really fight back when you got your hands full. Even if I were to do this…

[Yuma puts his hands on you again.]

Yuma: Hehe. That’s a great reaction. Doesn’t matter how tough a position you’re in, you still love it, dontcha? You’re workin’ so hard so hold up that lid, but I wonder what’ll happen if I do it again…

[You unconsciously brace yourself.]

Yuma: You’re shiverin’ like a little rabbit. Ah, come to think of it, there’s a lil’ somethin’ on your clothes…

[Yuma puts his hands on your waist and squeezes. You almost drop the lid.]

Yuma: Haha! Don’t let go so easily. Are your sides really that weak? Besides, I think you know already, but if you let go, you lose. Hm… You don’t wanna get punished, do ya? Better fix that attitude ‘n please your owner. Brace yourself ‘n take it. C’mon, c’mon!

[Yuma tickles and gropes you until you finally break and drop the lid.]

10:24 Yuma: Ah, for shame. Now the lid’s closed again. Time’s come for this useless little piggy’s punishment.

[Yuma grabs you from behind and pulls you against him. Your arms are trapped behind you.]

Yuma: Well, you can’t run away when I’ve got you from behind like this. Your chest’s completely unprotected. Should we punish you right here, right now? C’mon, Ruki. Join in on the fun.

Ruki: Good grief. What are you playing around for? However… You didn’t follow your master’s orders. This indeed calls for punishment.

[Ruki walks over to you. You turn your head to the side in embarrassment.]

Ruki: Are you trying to seduce me, exposing your neck to me like that? You really lack discipline.

[Ruki trails his fingers along your neck, causing you to shiver.]

Ruki: Heh. You’re already losing control of your body just from a little touch of my fingers. Did you fail on purpose because you actually want to be punished? Normally, I would’ve sunk my fangs into you right away, but I think I’ll keep you in suspense today.

[Ruki trails his fingers along your skin again—your cheek and your ear this time.]

Ruki: Your cheek, your ear… Where would you like me to bite you?

[You tremble.]

Ruki: What’s wrong? You’re already trembling from my fingers tracing your skin… Does it excite you that much?

[You deny it.]

Yuma: You can deny it all you want, but you don’t sound very convincing. You’re just covered in weak spots, right? I bet you’ll cry out nicely when I touch your back. Let’s see…

[Yuma caresses your back and your voice slips.]

12:00 Yuma: Haha. What was that shameless sound just now? That’s all it takes to turn you on? What a lewd lil' thing you are.

[You struggle.]

Yuma: For fuck's sake... What’re you actin’ all innocent for when you’re clearly beggin’ to be touched?

Ruki: Are you writhing like that because you want it so badly it hurts, then? You’re out of luck, though—I’ll drag it out. You won’t learn discipline if you always get what you want right away, after all. I'll caress you slowly, deliberately, until you’re absolutely flushed with heat...

[You quietly protest, but like Yuma said, you don’t sound convincing at all.]

Yuma: Nah, you’re actually way into this, ain’t you? If you want our fangs, beg for it.

Ruki: Where would you like me to bite you? Tell me. I can't promise that I’ll honour your wishes, though.

[You struggle against them with all your might, kicking and screaming.]

Yuma: Hey, calm down—

[You accidentally kick the coffin in your efforts to get away.]

Yuma & Ruki: Huh?

Yuma: Oh, dammit. Now part of the lid’s broken because you were kickin’ so hard.

Ruki: The coffin itself has deteriorated quite a bit, too. That said, your kicking did most of the damage. Yuma. Let her go. Her punishment is on hold for now. We can’t have her destroy that coffin before we confirm what’s inside.

Yuma: Well, whatever.

[Yuma lets you go and your knees immediately give out.]

Yuma: Haha. What’re you sittin’ down for? Didya really feel that good? Well, we’ll take our sweet time with you when we continue later. I mean, you wanna see what’s inside the coffin too, right?

[You get up again.]

Ruki: Yuma, can you open it up?

Yuma: Yeah, hold on—

[Yuma opens the lid of the coffin all the way.]

Yuma & Ruki: Oh? 

Yuma: The hell’s this?

Ruki: They look like kimono (1) and combs from a long time ago… 

Yuma: There’s a whole bunch of stuff that I don’t really recognise, too…

Ruki: I see. It seems we’ve unearthed a time capsule.

14:08 Yuma: A time… capsule? What’s that?

Ruki: People put various things from their time in a box and bury it. Usually, they’re unearthed after a long time, when someone wants to reminisce.

Yuma: Why’s it buried here in the garden?

Ruki: I don’t know what happened on this land before the Mukami mansion was built. However, whoever buried this box clearly put a lot of thought into it.

Yuma: Huh. So what’re we gonna do with it?

[You suggest burying it again to preserve its contents.]

Ruki: Easy for you to say, considering you were kicking it earlier. However, I have no objections to that idea. Let’s put it back in the ground.

Yuma: Even though we went through all that trouble to dig it up?

Ruki: We have no need for it. 

Yuma: Well, that’s true. Let’s bury it somewhere where it won’t interfere with my garden. I don’t really get it, though. What’s fun about preservin’ the past?

Ruki: I wonder. It’s a human endeavour first and foremost, though. It has little to do with us.

[You shift on your feet.]

Yuma: Huh? What’s up?

[You tell him you understand.]

Yuma: Understand what?

[You explain.]

Yuma: The feelin’ of wantin’ to cherish your memories?

Ruki: Heh. Memories are worthless. It’s truly something for shallow humans to want to convey memories from their own time period to later generations. Do not think there’s any worth in doing that.

[You disagree. You’ve made nice memories with the Mukami family, after all.]

Ruki: What?

Yuma: Haha. Well said. So, even though you haven’t had it easy since you started livin’ with us, you still made some good memories?

[You nod.]

Yuma: Heh. Isn’t that ‘cause we’ve trained (2) you to think that? Well, I do kinda get what you’re sayin’. Everyone’s got at least some precious memories, after all. Right, Ruki? 

16:08 Ruki: Heh. Still, I don’t understand the need to bury them where they’ll never see the light of day.

Yuma: Yeah, I’m with you on that.

[You try to convince them, but…]

Yuma: Nah, it’s alright. Besides, you gotta help me bury this thing again. And after that, we’ve still got harvestin’ to do!

[You’re surprised.]

Ruki: Heh. You unearthed it, so it’s only logical that you have to help burying it again. You’d better work up a sweat while you’re at it.

Yuma: Hey, Ruki. You’re already here anyway, so lend us a hand too, will ya? With the harvestin’ and all.

Ruki: What? You’re seriously asking me that?

Yuma: You’re makin’ her her favourite for dinner, right? We won’t make it in time for dinner if you don’t harvest the necessary veggies yourself.

Ruki: Tch. That’s not something I should need to dirty my hands for. Hey. Harvest whatever you’d like to eat yourself.

Yuma: C’mon, Ruki. Put in the work for once. You’ll be covered in mould eventually if you keep readin’ so much.

Ruki: You might want to consider that we’re vampires. Do you seriously think there are other vampires who think it’s healthy to work outside on days when the sun’s this bright?

Yuma: I like it, so that’s all that matters! You think so too, right?

Ruki: For fuck’s sake... I won’t do it. I refuse!

Yuma: It’s alright, it’s alright! Hurry ‘n c’mere!

Ruki: You two do it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Besides the obvious traditional Japanese clothing, the word kimono literally means ‘things to wear’ and can also be understood as ‘clothes’ more generally. I think the latter may also apply here.

調教（ちょうきょう）refers to the training of animals.

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

"Has anyone seen Eddie?"

It was a question you had asked at least five different people in the space of an hour, and no one seemed to know where he was. He wasn't practicing in Gareth's garage with the rest of Corroded Coffin, he wasn't with any member of the Hellfire Club as far as you had been able to find out, Steve hadn't heard from him...

Uncle Wayne was your next option. Usually would he be the first person whom you would ask, but he had worked the night shift and had been resting all day.

But he was awake now, and the anxiety and want to see Eddie was bubbling up in your chest.

"Hey, dad," you smile into the receiver of the talkie Eddie often left on the kitchen counter, and it saturates your every syllable. The term of endearment for the man who continues to raise your beloved Eddie so beautifully, slips out easily, and you know Uncle Wayne is smiling too.

"Hey, kid," his tone is gruff but welcoming,."y'wantin' our boy?"

Your fingers grip the talkie tighter and you hear the plastic creak in protest. "Mm-hm," you sniffle, suddenly feeling more vulnerable. Uncle Wayne had always had that effect on you.

"He's out runnin' errands, left his talkie here. Comin' over, darlin'?" A pause and then, in a softer tone, "Eddie won't mind and neither do I." Uncle Wayne giving you reassurance before you even knew yourself that you wanted it was such a him thing to do. It really reminded you of Eddie; Uncle Wayne gave Eddie all of himself.

"'Kay. Thanks, dad."

You pictured Uncle Wayne's tender blues crinkling in a smile as the talkie clicked off and you made your way to the Munsons' trailer.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity and yet no time at all, with Eddie's name running through your mind like a mantra, a prayer, the man himself bundled through the front door. His hair floofed about his shoulders as he turned to lock the door behind him, and it was like your body responded to the gravitational pull which attracted lost sheepies to Eddie, the shepherd with limitless capacity for his ever growing flock.

His chocolate browns landed on you and a smile threatened to split his gorgeous face in two as you finally crossed the distance between the two of you and flung your arms around his neck, tugging yourself home and paying no mind to the audience member on the sofa who loved to see Eddie being loved.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

You sighed deeply, instinctively, your entire body relaxed into Eddie. He shuffled his centre of gravity to accommodate you and pressed a kiss wherever he could reach.

"I am now. I just wanted you."

"M'here, sweetheart. I'm right here and I'm not leaving, I promise."

[ranebowstitches]

“My Boyfriend’s Back” by The Angels as a Steve/Eddie song

My boyfriend's back and you're gonna be in trouble / You see him comin' better cut out on the double / You been spreading lies that I was untrue / So look out now 'cause he's comin' after you

Eddie has gone on tour with Corroded Coffin, he wants Steve to go with but there’s only so much room in the van and Steve can’t miss that much work

So Steve stays behind and keeps getting hit on by people now that Eddie isn’t around. Of course Steve rejects everyone, but rumors about ‘playboy Steve’ are on everyone’s lips. But Steve doesn’t care and he knows Eddie won’t believe them.

He's been gone for such a long time / Now he's back and things'll be fine / You're gonna be sorry you were ever born / 'Cause he's kinda big and he's awful strong

The day Eddie gets back, Steve is being chatted up by some guy over the counter at work. Steve can see Eddie through the window over the guy’s shoulder, fresh off the tour and still decked out in his metal gear. Steve just smirks and crosses his arms.

“Oh, look. My boyfriend’s back.”

(If anyone wants to fully write this as a fic, credit me and then send it to me because I would LOVE to read it)

[forgottenspring]

Comin' atchya with more Venture headcanons. Here we go~!

When the ancient cheese, meat, bread, wine, and coffin juice was going around and people were joking about eating them. Venture was very much considering it. Even as they'd respond on social media about how unlikely you could eat them or how dangerous it was to do so through facts.

Of course after a while of pouting around the base the other Wayfinders asked what was wrong and Venture mumbled a soft "I really want to eat the ancient sandwich. But that's breaking so many archeology codes of conduct." as their colleagues laughed and said "It'd kill you." "It'd be worth it!!" They whined back. Sloan isn't a fan of being mistaken for a 15 year old half the time. They know why it's the nonbinary, mixed with their gor~geous face, and their zeal for life! But getting carded at every event they need to go to for work at museum parties or workplace stuff when their colleagues just walk in is getting really annoying for them. And loudly proclaiming you're 26 and you just forgot your wallet, doesn't work as well as it should.

There's a very real possibility that Sloan has adhd and autism. But it took so much effort for them to get the adhd diagnosis and meds to survive college. Also, they assure people they don't feel it really affects them so they haven't truly pursued it. Everyone else is sort of aware, but when Venture was asked about it, everyone realized it does bother them, but they were still coming to grips with the adhd diagnosis so it's best to let them figure it out.

Venture wants to get cursed soooooo bad. They think it would be frickin cool, but they also know the legends of curses aren't real, but also it'd be pretty sick to experience a supernatural situation! Of course when they finally do after the initial excitement in their own words "This suuuuuucks~!!!" to anybody who will listen to them. Aka the whole of the Wayfinders now knows how much it sucks to be cursed.

Thanks for reading~!! This is all I have for right now. I hope I come out with more but who knows. Wish yall all well! :D

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[undead-supernova]

Right Here, Right Now / Masterlist

Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11

plot: corroded coffin's eddie munson agrees to an interview for the first time in three years, alongside a new album that is most definitely about you.

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: talks of familial death, depressing lyricism, angst

wc: 4.1k

note: I also wrote all of the lyrics in this chapter and made the images above of the album's cover and tracklist. I feel so proud of how much my hard work is paying off. DON'T USE THESE LYRICS ANYWHERE ELSE THANK YEW

Just one more mile.

You could do it. No, really, you could.

Tour really was coming up in the next six months and you had to build up your stamina now or else you weren’t going to survive. Things really were better now, though. You’d gotten rid of your personal trainer and switched to someone who did not suggest that you stop eating. It seemed like Sophia was a better fit anyways. If anything, she told you to eat more.

So here you were, on your poor attempt at a night run.

And you promised yourself that you wouldn’t think about him and how his album was dropping any day now.

Definitely, definitely not.

It was nearly midnight anyways, a few out from the witching hour but that’s not how it went for you. If anything, you were cursed with the threat of midnight being the worst hour of each day. It was like some switch flicked on and you were a mess of a woman, splayed out in bed and thinking. Furiously scribbling in a notebook as you lost to the thoughts in your head. Curled up in a ball in the shower, the white noise perfect for your never-ending thinking.

And who could forget sitting in your kitchen with a bowl of Kraft mac and cheese. Don’t forget the thinking.

Thinking about Eddie. His voice. The way he was willing to give you more than you deserved without any rhyme or reason. How desperate you felt to reconnect, to apologize profusely and beg for some semblance of forgiveness.

And now you were here, trying to outrun your problems while watching the headlights passing the windowpane.

Tried to stop thinking about how at any moment, Eddie could show up and you’d fall into his arms without any question. You’d tell him it didn’t matter. None of it did. And he’d say he wasn’t mad anymore and that he missed you and then you’d go on living like you once did.

Before you could lose yourself to wishing on headlights, a notification popped up on your phone.

         Spotify exclusive: Listen to Corroded Coffin’s new album now!

Without any warning, you lost your footing on the treadmill and fell backwards. Hit your head on the floor, stunned. Let the pain throb in your head for only a few seconds before you dragged your body upright and clicked on the album.

Your eyes scanned the track list, heart pumping incessantly as a bead of blood rushed down your forehead. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Quickly, you threw yourself into the shower to wash off before grabbing headphones and padding into your walk-in closet. Situated yourself in the back corner, your body fitting snuggly in isolation. 

And as you pressed that green play button, your grief washed over you at every line you called your favorite.

Welcome Home

         “Dad’s disappearing acts and the award-winning smile 

         saying ‘sure, I’ll be comin’ back’

         Well, I guess we’re both suckers for a little hope every once in a while

         And, mom, is that why you stayed? Waited up praying, decaying all alone

         Just so one day, you’d be able to say, ‘Welcome home’.”

Fever

         “How could you ever fight a fever? God dammit, she’s more than a flame

         Got her pinning me down, locked inside her heat wave

         Sweat dripping, flesh gripping, I melt from her gaze

         Just one more round, promise I’ll behave

         Come on, darling, why don’t you set me ablaze?”

The Cost

         “I ruined all the plans that hadn’t been made

         Loving you as the bellbirds erupted in a haunted chorus

         Rosy pink clouds turned into showers of blood and hate

         I’m trying, baby, I’m trying to find a way out for us

         But isn’t that the cost, darling? 

         Isn’t that the price of being with me?”

Tailor-Made

         “We’re the only ones walking through the neighborhood

         Sweetheart, don’t you think I know how to hide?

         I’d never speak it, but I’d buy every house if I could

         Marry you in secret, raise our kids benevolent and kind.”

Rose Petals (Interlude)

         “Take a boy-turned-man, crucifying himself at your altar

         Convince him your devoted infatuation will never falter

         Paint his skies a vibrant pink then turn him into sheet metal

         Leave him bleeding out, fractured, scattered like rose petals.”

As Good As Dead

         “What’s more cliché than a man saying he’d die without your love

         At least if I had an open vein, I’d feel something better than being numb

         ‘There’s no such thing as fate’ my thoughts screamed so fucking loud

         But there was comfort in blind faith, that ill-fated crowd

         Had a grip on your throat. Shit, maybe it always has

         But now that I’m as good as dead, I can’t help my bitter laugh.”

A Mirage of Lovers

         “There sat Elizabeth and Al,

         on the front porch of their first house

         Blind with momentary affection

         And I swear when I looked at you,

         I thought you were a lasting confection

         But I swear there’s a mirage of lovers

         Blurring in its reflection.”

Deluge

         “It’s all there in my head, all in disarray

         A cesspool of memories, a desperation for change

         Fought for my life, thought it was so I could see you

         Mother, I know that you’re not here, I’m still trying to heal

         But please tell me now that love has always been real

         Yet I wonder if you ever believed it yourself."

Hotwire

         “Al loved a nice Hotwire

         Pull ‘em apart, let them fray, twist ‘em till they go insane

         And, yeah, I guess everyone I love is the same.”

Fallen Hero (Interlude)

         “Every time I pick up a pen

         It’s destined to dry out

         And I refuse to go outside, refuse to call my friends

         What’s the point when they’ll never understand?

         I’ll leave myself behind just to have a pinch of hope

         But I come back down from daydreams covered in blood

         Just gotta learn to change, learn to change

         Learn to accept being the fallen hero."

Intangible

         “There’s beauty in the ways of intangibility 

         Like the touch of a woman in blushing gardens far away

         The curve of her hips blooming in shades of futility

         Laughter billowing like smoke lingering in the archway

         And there’s places she will never be able to evade

         A bouquet, a veil, a lover lying await in the shade.”

Out of My Hands

         “If I could hear your knock, brought back by my revery

         Each rap, each tap still committed to my memory

         But that’s up to you, darling, it’s all up to you

         And it’s the end I’m stalling, just for you

         And I love you, baby. I love you

         I hope you know I always will

         Even if it’s out of my hands.”

Wayne

         “There’s a new family in the trailer, I really wish I could believe it

         'Cause once I thought we'd buckle under the weight of all that labor

         No more scrounging up pennies for another first-aid kit

         And you’re not here, Wayne. No, you’re not here.”

Lighter

         “Give me back my lighter, any excuse to see you

         Let it flicker, sit by the flame from sunrise ’til noon

         Come running back, consider your exile foregone

         I choose you in the low glow of dusk, love you ‘til dawn.”

Makeup starting to smudge, an outrageously expensive crop top and skirt still on, you threw off your pumps and let your aching feet lead you to the kitchen. Your black, white, and neon orange plaid outfit reflected vibrantly off the refrigerator light as you decided instead to make crescent rolls. Why the fuck not? 

You were absolutely exhausted. Sleep hadn’t been an option for you in the last twenty-four hours, what with Corroded Coffin’s album keeping you awake and the promo you’d done all day. When you’d finally arrived back to your small California home, you were irritated and in desperate need of some food.

However, as the oven began to preheat, your jumbled thoughts kept piling on top of one another. The fog was too loud for you, having to rush to your living room to grab one of your many notebooks and pens. Sat at the island and just journaled.

It was hard enough knowing that Eddie had written all of that for you. About you. The disappointment, the self-loathing. The guilt of not feeling good enough. Searching through the past mistakes of his parents to make sense of the way you fell apart. As if that was the inevitable ending to any story he was destined to begin.

You felt sick.

And even though you ate every single crescent roll, your words just sunk into the page. You could’ve sworn a third of the notebook itself was smeared in grease and flakes and the intense shame rising in your chest. It was everything you’d hated about the last six months and more, all the goddamn childish emotions and wails of what was fair and what wasn’t. As if this hadn’t been your decision in the first place.

Enough was enough when you finished your plate.

“Okay,” you mumbled to yourself before letting out a sound of frustration. “Distraction. Now.”

Grabbing your laptop, you threw yourself on your couch and logged onto YouTube. Maybe you’d watch a deep dive on an amusement park. Catch up on some commentary. Look up that one video of baby sloths talking that usually had you crying from affection.

But there on the front page was an interview with Corroded Coffin on the new album. There’d already been over a million views despite being posted that morning. Something pooled in your abdomen as you saw the thumbnail, all the members posing together.

And you knew you shouldn’t.

But fuck it, what’s a little more salt to your never-ending wounds?

As you clicked on the video, some interviewer you hadn’t heard of popped up smiling before he spoke.

“Hi, my name is Marcus Sanderson and today I’m interviewing one of the most successful metal bands in recent history, Corroded Coffin. They have been hitting commercial success lately, after their incredible album, Fire Shroud, held electronic influences which have begun to redefine and evolve the genre for the modern age.

"Their most recent album, Elizabeth & Al, has only propelled them forward. I was given the rare opportunity to talk to Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie about not only their writing and producing process, but their personal lives. 

“First, we’ll open up with a cover of one of the band’s favorite songs of all time, ‘Solitude’ by Black Sabbath.”

It cut to the band and you couldn’t help a frustrated whine leaving your mouth at seeing him again. And, Jesus Christ, Eddie was fit like a daydream, donning a black Guns N’ Roses t-shirt with dark jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt tied at the waist. A shiny leather jacket, some custom-made Converse with Corroded Coffin across the bottom. Rings and bracelets galore, an obsidian choker hanging low on his neck. Black eyeliner that had wings along his lower lash line. 

You didn’t think you’d ever felt so fucking weak for him.

He stood without his guitar for once, his full attention on his singing. Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie were all decked out too, makeup mirroring Eddie’s. All looking refreshed and well-rested. You noticed there was someone else there in the background playing the flute and as they started the song with a gentle solo, it sounded ethereal.

         “My name, it means nothing. My fortune is less

         My future is shrouded in dark wilderness.”

Eddie avoided the camera, eyes darting around the room. You could see his fingers shaking, white-knuckled around the microphone despite the stability of the stand. 

         “Sunshine is far away, clouds linger on

         Everything I possessed, now they are gone

         They are gone.”

Absentmindedly chewing on your lip, you couldn't help but let it sink in. This wasn't just the band's favorite Black Sabbath song—this was Eddie's. He'd told you how the song ripped him apart. How he'd rather die than to ever relate to it personally.

         “Oh, where can I go to and what can I do?

         Nothing can please me, only thoughts are of you

         You just left when I begged you to stay.”

He leaned back as he began to change the notes of the lyrics, his voice building into a belt. Like it was a wail, like he was the most furious man alive.

         “I’ve not stopped crying since you went away

         You went away…” 

The instrumental sounded, the flute having its own solo. Extending the moment, extending the devastation that was demolishing your soul.

Eddie was crying now, wiping the corners of his eyes in the background. Smearing his eyeliner like he didn't care, nose tinged pink through the makeup. And when he came back to the mic, you could see the pain sitting in his eyes. All glassy, all excruciatingly fragile.

         “The world is a lonely place, you’re on your own

         Guess I will go home, sit down and mourn

         Crying and thinking is all that I do

         Memories I have remind me of you

         Of you.”

The footage blurred, fading before cutting to Eddie sitting alone in a chair with the interviewer opposite him. Like they were in a house, all casual and at ease.

“We’re starting off by talking to the front man, Eddie Munson,” Marcus said to the camera, smiling before turning his attention back to Eddie. “It’s nice to see you, man. You look great.”

Eddie chuckled. “Great to be back.”

Marcus nodded. “That cover of ‘Solitude’ was incredible, by the way.”

You could see some color flood into Eddie’s cheeks. “Ah, thanks. Thank you.”

“Do you feel like you’ve been in a period of solitude?”

“Uh, to be honest, kinda. I know people are, like, freaking out just ‘cause I haven’t been in public.”

“Where’ve you been?”

“Just making sure I’m focused on the work,” He gestured to himself before mimicking a pushing motion “and not on the external stuff, you know?”

“As we all should. Would you tell me a bit about your new album? Personally, I’m curious as to why you specifically named it Elizabeth & Al.”

“Yeah, uh, those are my parents’ names. My mom passed away when I was a kid and my dad…well, he wasn’t the best. But I just couldn’t stop thinking about what happens when two people who love each other just end up falling apart. Like, you just feel like you’re as good as dead, you know? And I wondered if my parents had that sort of crash and burn before she died.

“I don’t talk about it much, but my dad had a lot of issues with addiction and gambling and crime after my mom died. I didn’t grow up with the generic parent bleep. It was more like I was his friend than a son and sometimes I was a business partner. And, I don’t know, I grew up thinking that love could’ve been so simple if he gave just a little bit of effort. But I still thought he and my mom had a simple love.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t.”

Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, no. My dad was never really good at maintaining, like, any kind of control. And it’s so weird ‘cause all he ever did was try to have control over things. But it was self-sabotage, I think. He was never in control over his life. It felt so predestined.”

“What about your mom?”

He shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I think she just wanted love. Like, grasping for that shred of love that he provided every once in a while. ‘Cause it’s not like my dad was incapable of love. Just incapable of giving her everything. Maybe I’m projecting now, but you know what I mean.”

“So, is this album from the perspective of your parents?”

“Not exactly,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “They’re kinda just the reflection, you know? Like what I say on ‘A Mirage of Lovers’. Our parents end up being a kind of mirror we hold up to ourselves. And I think it’s up to us to decide if we’ll continue that cycle or not—especially in the face of heartbreak and loss. ‘Cause you can easily sit there and accuse yourself of being like your father or your mother. But ultimately, you’re just you. You’re not your parents.”

“And you wrote all of this within the last six months, correct?”

“Yeah, it was weird. Like, I just couldn’t stop writing. I was in such a dark place and the only thing I did was sit and write. And the band is so bleeping incredible. I showed them what I was thinking, and they were super, super receptive to it. And we got to work and got it done faster than anything else we’ve made.”

Marcus smiled, something genuine and real, shaking his head in disbelief. “That timeline really does shock me, just because it’s so seamless. There’s all these tiny details and every song just flows into one another.”

“Thanks, man. That means a lot. We kinda thought that having all the songs connect was sorta like, um, a stream of consciousness, essentially.” He started gesturing with his hands and you knew he was getting more comfortable. It almost made you smile. “Like, these thoughts all run together in a big loop. Like having one of those corkboards with all the evidence and red strings, you know? All of it just ends up running together and there’s no concrete answer. It just is.

“And, man. Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie are just the best. They know me better than almost anyone and they seemed to automatically get what they needed to do. Just, like, boom, boom, boom. One after the other, we just got everything right. No one else helped produce this album and I think it shows just how much we’ve learned and evolved over our careers.” 

You felt something freeze inside you when the interviewer mentioned your name.

Eddie tried his best to seem unaffected, but you knew he was starting to squirm. You could see the top of his knee as it bounced.

“Are you two still together?” Marcus asked. “What’s the story there?”

Eddie’s eyes wandered the room, probably trying to calculate the best way to go. You selfishly wanted him to say nothing about the breakup, to refuse to confirm that it was truly over. 

He cleared his throat before scratching his temple. 

“My relationship with her is private and just between us. It always has. But I guess since I finally have a chance to say whatever I want to say, I want to make it very clear that the way the media has treated her has been just disgusting and unwarranted. She is not some plastic, shiny doll for everyone to point and laugh at."

Eddie then straightened his posture as he looked straight into the camera. "Oh, and let me be clear. If you’re sitting there talking about her bleeping body, then you are a piece of bleeping bleep and I hope you burn in hell.”  

Just like that, Marcus Sanderson moved on, the shot cutting away to a shot of the rest of the band sitting on a couch. But you weren’t listening anymore. Your head was swirling with a concoction of disbelief and epiphanies. Something…clicked.

Because you’d never had a partner mention you on a public scale. Never had a partner willing to scream your love from the top of the world and still retain privacy. Never had someone so willing to defend you despite your faults. Despite your arguments and downfalls.

And you were realizing that you…had done none of that for Eddie.

You’d sat there, in a dreamy haze because Eddie gave you everything he had. But had you really done any of those things back? Had you given him an ounce of what he gave you? 

You thought back to the AMAs, when you walked around your answers. Nearly yelled at him for standing up for you. Dropped his hand when he wanted to tell you how proud he was. Hell, you even broke up with him because of what other people said. He thought you wanted nothing from him, that you weren’t interested anymore. 

You never even said you loved him to his face.

You treated him exactly the way all your past partners treated you.

Eddie Munson had given you his world and you’d given him a fraction.

“I fucked up,” you whispered before you really processed what was happening. “I FUCKED UP!” you screeched, scrambling to stand up and check your phone. 

1:13am.

Immediately dropped it, watching it slide under the couch.

“FUCK!” you screamed again.

Dropping to your knees and enduring the carpet burn, you reached down and felt around for your phone. But you froze as you felt something else, something smaller in size. Pulled it out, recognizing Eddie’s lighter immediately. 

You flicked the lighter on, only encountering sparks the first two times. But when you watched it transform into a flame, something in your chest began to ache. It was the kindling of a once-wet fireplace, the first stroke of fire you’d felt in months. Teardrops fell freely down your chest as you found the will to fight.

Fight for what you knew you could never live without.

Fight for Eddie.

Give me back my lighter, any excuse to see you

Come running back, consider your exile foregone

Without any thought, you stuffed it into your top, found your phone, and popped up to search for some socks. Barely registered the color before yanking them on. You didn’t care how dressed up you were or how oily your face felt. How exhausted your body was or the residue of a crescent roll sticking to the side of your mouth.

You had to get to wherever Eddie was, and you had to get there now. If you didn’t talk to him tonight, you didn’t know if you’d make it to daylight.

But where was he?

The thought made you pause, hands shaking as you thought.

And before the panic could completely consume you, you called the one person who seemed to know everything.

“Woah, hello there.”

“Jeff.” 

“Hey, long time no see. Where you been?”

“Jeff, I’m sorry, but I really need you to tell me if Eddie is in California right now.”

“Uh, yeah, he is.” You tugged your white Keds on, breathing a sigh of relief. “He’s been holed up in his place for the last few days. Why?”

“I just need to talk to him,” you said, nearly out of breath as you started sprinting to the garage. “I need to talk to him.”

“Ever thought about calling?”

“Nope.”

Jeff’s laughter rang through the receiver. “You’re crazy, girl. I’ll give you that one.” A huff left your nose as you climbed into your car. “You gonna tell him you’re in love with him?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Finally.”

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, dreading any answer he’d give.

“Not at all. Just don’t leave him hanging this time, okay? He hasn’t been okay in a really long time.”

“Neither have I. I’m hoping to fix this and let it stay fixed.”

“Go get your man.”

As the garage door lifted, you noticed the pouring rain.

Of course it started fucking storming within the last hour and a half you’d been home. Of fucking course.

“Bye, Jeff,” you said quickly.

“Bye, girl!”

As you filed out of your driveway, a black SUV was already pulling out behind you. The protection was part of the job. You knew this. But sometimes, you just wanted to tell Scott that you had shit to do on your own.

But there was no time for this.

You just continued to drive, letting the soft hum of “The Long And Winding Road” by The Beatles lead you right back to the very place you knew you belonged.

“Scott,” James acknowledged.

“James.”

It felt like a showdown, Scott stepping in front of you at the gates. As soon as you’d arrived, you’d been prevented from pulling into the driveway. And it was James who’d crossed his arms over his dauntingly ripped chest, staring you down like you’d committed a crime.

You couldn’t blame him.

“What’s the situation?”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “I need to talk to Eddie.”

“It’s two in the morning. Kid finally fell asleep for once.”

“Let her in, James,” Scott said. “They’re people. Just let them figure it out on their own without us.”

“I really want to fix this,” you explained, earning a lifted eyebrow from James. “He’s everything to me and I know I screwed up. I know that. But I want to at least try to mend this. I’m a fucking idiot. Just…please.” Your eyes began to water. “Please let me try.”

James gave you a hard stare for what felt like ten minutes. Like he was assessing the risk. 

But then he opened the gate, stepping to the side. 

“Thank you,” you breathed, rushing past him to the door.

You knocked quite rapidly, your heartbeat matching the pace. Heard it pulse in your ears. Teetered on each foot as the adrenaline continued to catapult you further into madness. Waiting and waiting and waiting until— 

There he was, barely visible in the glow of the front porch light, eyes squinting. Messy curls frizzing, wearing a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. No accessories, no socks on his feet.

It seemed like he finally registered it was you when he straightened his posture. Eddie gazed down at your body and back up again, eyes widening with every passing second. 

“Hey,” you finally whispered.

“Hey.”

bless @strangergraphics for always having the sickest dividers.

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Shame on a plate

Happy St. Patrick's Day, slowpokes!

When -- several minutes after Stuck in a damn bed. , after Shane blew up, and you found out that not only Dale, but Maggie saw, too.

What -- Sophia's still missing, Daryl and Carl have one more day in the house on bed rest, and you're dealing with the aftermath of your big brother Shane's actions in the previous chapter and the fact that others saw. The biggest thing you feel is shame.

Relationships -- Found family you and the gang! Lol, always a slow burn Daryl x Reader, there's also some platonic Glenn, brotherly Rick, and Maggie gets protective her new friend (you), and Papa Dale is there

Perspective -- 2nd You, 3rd Daryl

Pronouns -- none

TWs -- other than the hideous screenshot above, there's some language and discussion of abusive patterns and behaviors

How long is it? -- around 4,000 words

Masterlist -- Official one here and Chronological one here

In this chapter, Reader is struggling with shame, guilt and confusion over how Shane treated them at the end of the previous chapter.

Remember, being hurt by a loved one is not okay. If they are hurting you, they are doing something bad to you. Abuse is not earned or deserved. You are worthy of being safe and unhurt.

For help getting safe, you can call the Domestic Violence Hotline (USA) at 800-799-7233, chat online, or text START to 88788.

-------------------------

“No, nothin’ like it before, ever.”

Her fingers tap tap tapped against the book in her hands. “I don’t like it. Daddy’s been uncomfortable around him, then I see this happen.”

You twisted your mouth. “It was an argument between siblings.”

“If it was an argument, then why didn’t I see you arguin’ back?”

Stupid, stupid idiot. It kept playing in your head, that refrain. It had a different spin than it did at first. See, at first, your brain repeated it because you’d given yourself fault for what happened, how Shane just…you don’t know what happened. But he behaved very badly.

But then, the refrain kept repeating over and over because you didn’t walk away or fight back when Shane started hurti acting like he did.

You did nothing.

It was the one thing you were not supposed to do. The thing Shane and your Mama always warned you never to do when things got scary. The thing Shane had literally just gotten done practicing with you so that you’d know even more than you already know about how and when to fight back.

All that effort and still, you froze.

Stupid, stupid idiot. You stupid, stupid idiot.

You had to clear your throat. “Beth didn’t see, too, right? Just you?” you hushed. The girl was already timid and uneasy about your group, If she saw what happened, it was the nail in the coffin if you couldn’t fix this.

“No, I was the only one by the window.”

“So he wasn’t too loud, then.” Which meant only Margaret and Dale knew. Your shoulders felt lighter.

“Y/N,” Maggie said to you. “You seem more concerned with others not seein’ what went on.”

“Well, yeah, I’m worried they’d overreact.”

She tilted her chin up and placed her hands on her hips. “Oh, is that what I’m doing? Was my comin’ to check on you an overreaction?”

“No, no, not at all!” you quickly apologized. “Not at all! I’m, I’m happy you care enough.”

“You’re a good person and you’re my friend, which is why I don’t want to tiptoe around this. What your brother just did was bad. You know that was abusive, right?”

Maybe scoffing at her heartfelt, caring statement wasn’t your best idea, but 'abusive' was such a strong word…right? “He’s my brother, and it was a one-off, I done told you.”

“I’m not sure I believe it when you say that,” she next had the audacity to claim. “You haven’t even been makin’ eye contact with me.”

Oh, you want eye contact? I’ll give you eye contact, bitch.

Your inner tea kettle was shrieking to be taken off the burner, and you could not have cared less. “You callin’ me a liar? Calling my brother an abuser? Rich words from someone I’ve barely known two weeks!”

Before any more was said, Dale inserted himself into the conversation, the thing he said he wouldn’t do. “If you want to keep your conversation private, I suggest not raising your voices.”

Maggie’s arms were crossed. She stared hard at you, but spoke calmly. “Sometimes when things are unhealthy, those looking in from the outside can see it better. And I know what I saw.”

“A sibling fight,” you whispered as gently as you could, feeling so heated. “You, you, y-you saw a sibling fight, those can get nasty.” She’s wrong, she’s wrong, she’s not, she’s not.

“You know what? I don’t have time for your pushback if you don’t have time to consider what somebody who’s concerned about you says, Y/N.”

More shame was added to your plate.

Her leaving shouldn’t have felt so awful, but it did. You covered your eyes and exhaled, as if that would help get rid of the worst of it. You then told God how much you hated this, immediately followed by the opposite, as you cursed yourself a little more, why not? You stupid, stupid idiot.

Not only did you disappoint (and insult) your new friend, but you worried it was another strike against your group. Lori and Carl need this place, it’s safe, it’s good, it’s — you stupid, stupid idiot!

But just like that, Maggie then called your name again as Dale was stepping toward you. You turned to see her facing you once more, no longer walking away.

“If this was a dating situation, what would you think about how he behaved, what he did?” she challenged.

As unfair as you thought the comparison was, the answer hit you in the face. Pun not intended, shit, um… at any rate, having Dale close by helped to ease you into the checkmate that Margaret just finished you with.

You hated your answer.

Because if you saw Shane behaving toward a romantic partner the same way he just behaved with you, you know exactly what you’d think and how you’d react. It wouldn’t be a gray situation, it would be black and white.

More shame for the plate. More guilt. More unease, more dread.

Eyes to the grass, you swallowed your pride. “I’d see it the way you see it.”

Maggie shifted her weight from the right to left, then back again, uncertain. “Will you tell Rick?”

You hesitated, too. After all, you’re an adult. You could be married with children at your age, you couldn’t just—“Tattle that Shane…got huffy, lost his cool?”

“Don’t oversimplify, kiddo, you’re smarter than that,” Dale muttered. He and Shane don’t get on (zero idea why, since Dale and you get on so well!) so this is just more bad press against your brother and more shame for your plate.

“But it’s, it’s not that dramatic, none of this has to be dramatic,” you insisted.

Dale answered again. “Then talking to Rick about it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Rick’s family,” Maggie agreed. “So, he’s seems like the best person to help.”

A child in a grown-up’s body is what you felt like. Helpless, naïve, clueless. You stupid, stupid idiot.

They were right, though, Rick could fix this, he could talk to Shane, figure out what that was. And even better — agreeing with Maggie and Dale would get them off your back! For real, what were they doing, an intervention? Because Shaney poked you a little, gave you a little push?

The words felt sinful, but you said them anyway.“I-I’ll, um, I’ll talk to him. I’ll talk to Rick.” And, of course, you were then obligated because you despise dishonesty.

Maggie nodded, then put her thumbs in her pockets. Dale nodded and looked at the two of you, then all around. It was very uncomfortable.

It would be nice if instead of real life, this was a TV show or book, you remember thinking. The audience isn’t usually shown the awkward parts in TV or books, would be a waste of time.

“Y/N,” Maggie spoke, breaking the silence. “We have a raspberry thicket by the south-facing property line.” She pointed in the direction. “Completely overgrown. I’m gonna go back in, finish what I was doin’, but let’s go pick some together later, okay? I’ll come find you in a little while?” She smiled hopefully at you, with some pity thrown in.

Returning the smile, you hoped it made you look put-together and self-aware and confident instead of the shameful, idiotic mess you felt like. “That sounds delicious.”

The moment ended, and she went back toward the house. You heard the door open and clack shut again. A desk onto which you could slam you head would be nice, you remembered thinking.

Instead of a desk, though, Dale put a gentle hand on your shoulder.

He sighed. “Alright, troublemaker. Walk with me? We don’t have to talk, let’s enjoy the sunset awhile.”

Not two steps later, and he apologized for his timing in using the nickname that one month ago he’d christened you with. “And Y/N? What Shane did isn’t your fault.”

-------------------------

Him

-------------------------

Today marks one week of being stuck in this bed. Day 7.

He’d failed, that’s it. A weak-ass pussy dipshit who’d failed, and was still stuck in a damned bed after a full week.

Tomorrow, Patricia said he’d be cleared to move out. Not that it mattered much, he still couldn’t do enough to be useful. Not that he wouldn’t; he couldn’t. He’d still be on bed rest.

But hey, at least he’d be able to walk to the woods to find a place to squat and shit by himself now, right? Not even too sarcastic, it would be a step up from feeling like a total invalid.

Carol and Lori were doing a special dinner and cleaning up for the family here to try and thank them for everything. Daryl would just…lay in his bed, he figured. Except, all three of those clucking hens that he wished would stop preening him, Patricia, Carol, and Y/N, kept offering to help him eat with everyone else like they was all some big, happy, family.

This time, it wasn’t that he couldn’t; he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to face them all, not yet, it was too much. He could only take a certain level of shame, and his plate was already full.

The saving grace this past week that stopped him from drowning in his shame was his not seeing the whole kit and kaboodle of them in one sitting. Rick had told him a little over a week ago how it was no problem if Daryl left. Just Daryl, he’s pretty sure nobody else got that little talk.

He’d chosen to stay because of Sophia and Y/N. Sophia needed finding. Still does.

-------------------------

You

-------------------------

Carl is the kind of kid who’s double-digits, yet understands when his mother needs her baby again. Lori had snuggled with him on the bed, and both were sound asleep. Not even you knocking on the door or the door being opened/shut woke them.

Which must be why last night, Rick took the opportunity to bring up what Shane did, right there in the room.

It was a blessing that you didn’t end up having to do the hardest part, bringing it up, you suppose. Shane himself had done it for you. All you had to do was fill in the blanks.

“Said he lost control, acted a certain way,” Rick murmured. “What’d that look like?”

You didn’t want to describe it, it’d sound bad… “Shane didn’t say?”

“I’m interested in what you say.”

“Ah, you want to maintain ‘eyewitness sequeskra — eesh, that’s hard to pronounce. Se-quest-ra-tion?”

Rick did that raised brow squint thing he makes when he’s teasing, as if maybe he was about to call you ‘weirdo.’ But then, his expression faded back to serious and he spoke your name. “We both know he hasn’t been himself. What did that look like today?”

Casually, you told him about the way Shane had gotten intimidating. “You know how he’d talk when he needed to do ‘bad cop,’ it was, it was kinda like that.”

“Anything physical?”

Casually, you mentioned the jabs. “He was pokin’, like, with his pointer finger — and he’s strong, so.”

“Right there?” Rick asked, pointing to his sternum in mimic of how you’d gestured.

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a bruise?”

Your neck tightened.

Maggie had spotted it when you were berry picking. One had fallen down your shirt, so you’d pulled the fabric forward and down to retrieve it, and she (and you) saw the bruise forming. You stupid, stupid idiot.

It was fine, it wasn’t a big deal. Bruises happen.

Casually, you joked to Rick, “I get bruises from random shit all the time.”

He didn’t smile.

It actually lessened the shame, rather than adding more. You were grateful.

Continuing, he questioned, “He told me about that collarbone grab, and how he went like this?” And when he motioned with his hand, slowly pretending to clap it against the side of your head, you felt your cheeks heat.

“Once.” The insult he’d smacked you with at the same time hurt more, to be honest. Which…made it all click that what Shane did wasn’t as small a deal as you’d been thinking. Mouth shut, you licked your teeth and stared into space. “Did it to himself first, way more than once.”

Rick watched his wife and son sleeping on the bed and asked nothing more for a few minutes.

You picked at the string that stuck out of your arm wrap, feeling stupid, stupid, stupid, shameful, stupid. Per usual, then you missed your mom—and out of nowhere got swept by that flash flood of resentment toward Rick again.

Shane and you had left your mother alone to scope out the latest at the hospital, to figure out how to get Rick safely out without him decompensating. While you two were gone, what happened happened. Sometimes, you assign blame to Rick for it, as if comatose Rick was the reason your ma got killed. Sometimes, you assign her dying to Shane’s change in character, as if that made it better, gave it an excuse.

Grief gets sticky like that.

“Is that all, or is there any more?”

“He went like this,” you mumbled, and grabbed the neck of your shirt like Shane had. “That’s it, all the dirt. Happy?”

“Y/N.”

“…Sorry.”

“I know this wasn’t easy. Thank you,” he told you, putting his arm on your shoulder. You didn’t want it there, so you moved away. Rick was patient, not reacting a bit.

That was last night. This morning felt pretty normal when you woke up. Carol had shared your tent again. Shane was off in his, so you didn’t see him.

Coffee in hand, you were in in the middle of coaxing one of the pullets to waddle toward you by holding out dandelion leaves when Glenn came to see you. You’d figured he wanted to feed the baby chickens, too, or, even better, that there was good news about Maggie. (She likes him!, she told you herself the other day. She just isn’t telling, you know, Glenn himself just yet.)

“Y/N? How are you?”

“I’m warmed up good with my coffee, how about you? Sleep well?” You kept your smile in when you asked, “Talk to Maggie today?”

“Yeah, yeah, I slept fine, yeah, but, um—you’re like, okay, though?”

A flutter of dread. “Glenn, what’s up?”

“What did Shane do to you yesterday? I heard him—”

“—What did you hear, and from whom?” reverberated from the back of your throat as if it were a growl.

“Dude, chill. I’m trying to see if you’re okay.”

The way you tried to keep your voice calm ended up sounding snotty and insincere. Most likely because you were feeling very insincere. How many people saw or heard about what happened? Naked, you felt so naked and exposed! “Where. Did. You. Hear about it?”

“I heard your brother talking to Rick.”

The twist in your gut eased. “Okay, um, um — what did he, w-what, um, what did he, what did he say?” And how did you hear, do they know you heard?”

“I had the headphones in, but the battery died on your mp3 while I was going to the bathroom—”

“—Daryl has the mp3,” you thought aloud.

“He let T-Dog borrow it, who let me borrow it. I-I ate something that didn’t agree with me, so…”

Oh my ffing — “Did you sanitize it when you were done?”

“Dabbed it with hand sanitizer, yeah. Oh, also, Shane asked me to ask you if he could borrow it once it was charged again.” Glenn scratched his neck. “I told him it was on really low battery.”

You swallowed.“So he did see you?”

“He and Rick saw me with the earbuds on and I acted surprised to see them.Shane asked if he could borrow it, I told him it needed to be charged, um, hey, I can see it in your face that you’re worried, please don’t be! Shane believed me,” he assured you. “Trust me, he doesn’t know I heard him. I don’t lie, Y/N, you know that.”

“I do,” you admitted, nodding.

“Anyway, I was walking back from the woods and heard Shane and Rick talking. I figured it was about Sophia, but when I overheard something Shane said, I stopped and listened.” Glenn bent his head down and shuffled his feet. “He said that he messed up, like, snapped. Told Rick that he needed to talk to you and be on your side with whatever you told him. Y/N, he said that he,” your friend lowered to a whisper, “hurt you? Like literally ‘hurt’ you, like, did he hit you?”

You smiled to put him at ease, holding up your hands. “He poked me a little and clapped an ear, weren’t hardly no thing.” Y/N, you stupid, stupid, idiot.

It was probably good that he looked so disappointed and cautious, even if it didn’t feel good to see it in his eyes at the time. “Y/N, don’t…joke about this stuff,” he began. “Why would Shane would have gone to Rick in private if it wasn’t serious?”

“’Cause he’s a drama-king.” You made it sound almost like you were patronizing Glenn, the way you said it.

“No. No, this isn’t ‘no thing,’ you literally just confessed he did hit you — does Rick know about that, too? Shane mentioned something about a collarbone, grabbing your shirt, and shoving you, which is also not ‘no thing.’”

As he was speaking, you’d felt more and more defensive and naked and ashamed. You even had to beat down the urge you had to grab his shirt and shove him back, and prove it wasn’t a big deal!

Then, you considered how he’d take it. The look on his face, at a friend doing that to him. How you’d feel about yourself if you did that. How you’d feel if you saw somebody else do that to him or somebody else. A whole lot of rapid thoughts in the several moments where you figured out a way to respond.

The explanation you made was something you’d tried on everyone so far. “We’re siblings. Stuff like that is normal — did you never see your sisters go at it?”

“No, it’s not! And if it is, it shouldn’t be! Dude, if you saw me,” he countered, speaking louder than you’d heard him make since he cried that the bodies of those at the quarry camp weren’t going to be burned with the walkers. “Doing whatever Shane did with you to one of my younger sisters, what would you think of me? How would you react?”

Glenn’s strong emotional response wasn’t expected, so you stood there, dumb. And you knew exactly how you’d react if you saw him doing to his sisters what Shane did.

And yet, you’re still unsure if everyone else is overreacting because it sounded bad or because it actually was.

Either way, Glenn’s question raised your white flag for you. You surrendered, bowing you head in shame and covering your face with your free hand.

“Glenn, there are three other people who know. Four, if you count Shane.” With your injured arm still secured by the upper arm to your torso, you pointed at him. “Dale, Maggie, and Rick know. Which means already there are three others who know. Now, Glenn, don’t go spreadin’ this business any further, hear?”

You didn’t sound half as intimidating as the words may look, mostly you sounded defeated. Ashamed. “Talk to any one of them, talk to me, but do not breathe a word to, to anybody else or around anybody else.”

This is the part where you started to get a little weepy. “And Lori, she don’t need to know about this right now, she don’t need the stress, and not a word around my Carl, oh my gosh, not him.” This is the part where you got a little beg-gy. “Please. It, it ain’t a bad secret because those that need to know, know. Okay?”

The gavel was brought down when he said, “The way you’re scared of the others finding out makes it seem like a bad one.” He was right. Is right.

He then clasped his hands together. “Listen: I wasn’t about to tell anyone else, since Rick knows. Shane told him himself, dude, and I trust Rick. But, if it was a different case,” he went on, and shook his head as if he was telling you that all bets would be off. “Y/N, remember when Ed was around? How that felt? Dude, you literally threw yourself on him when you saw him hurt Carol.”

The comparison of your brother to Ed Peletier stung and wasn’t fair. And did Glenn forget what Shane did to Ed, to? “Glenn, that ain’t equivalent by any stretch.”

“Maybe not,” he accepted. “But just because it could be worse doesn’t make it not bad. Stuff like this starts small.”

“I know,” you whispered.

You raised the white flag higher, half with the plea that this would be over faster if you did. Lord above, you felt so small, stupid, and defenseless. “You’re right,” you ceded, your gaze reaching no higher than Glenn’s belly. “You’re right. And like you said, it’s, it’s b-bein’ handled, Rick’s got it.” Ugh, stress stutter. “And Shane did a much better job than me when he saw what Ed did, don’t leave out that part.”

“He did. That almost worries me more. Just — if anything like this happens again, or if it starts to feel the same, like — ” He raised his hands. “You’re my best friend. That means I’m on your team. Okay? Even if you end up hating me for it.” He then started to leave, give you some space. “We’re on the same search team today, too. Meet by the mailbox by 9:00, it’s in like 40 minutes.”

“Hey, wait,” you called, not wanting to look him in the eye yet but doing it anyway. And you forced the words out because they were true. “Th-thank you.”

He breathed out heavily and made an awkward (but real) smile.“I love you, dude.”

“I love you, too, man. You’re my best friend.”

The uncomfortable, clumsy encounter with Glenn left you feeling more ashamed than you already were. With Daryl, that day where you’d felt as if your very soul had been stripped bare, the vulnerability hadn’t felt shameful afterward. What you’d felt was so close, unbearably close, it was strange.

But yesterday evening and this morning, the vulnerability sucked, dude. And you’d been stuck in a cycle of shame, anger, and feeling stupid, but without those feelings going away once the truth let out.

The good thing was, the target of your anger began to change during the conversation with Glenn. You weren’t thinking stupid, stupid idiot about yourself anymore, no, it became directed at Shane. The one whose blowing up made this mess. Your view of the mess also became clearer. What happened wasn’t just one sibling bullying a little on the other and it getting out-of-hand it was…it wasn’t something to brush aside, you’ll say that. And you’re scared, you’ll say that, too.

But what you were supposed to do with all of it, that still wasn’t clear.

Still isn’t. Because sooner than later, Shane will know about the baby. Sooner rather than later, the situation with Sophia will end. Sooner rather than later, that little power struggle you’re seeing between him and Rick will come to a head.

Nope. You have no idea what to do and all you feel is shame about it.

Speaking of, Daryl’s been feeling ashamed, too, it’s kinda obvious when you look and talk to the guy. He thinks that because he’s bedbound, he’s useless. Might as well pop in before you go on the search this morning, you’ve got like 15 minutes until then.

-------------------------

Him

-------------------------

“Last day in this fine establishment, enjoy it while you can,” Y/N joked.

Yeah, so, he wasn’t in a joking mood and didn’t get why Y/N would be, either. An entire week in this ‘establishment’ was damned shameful. All because he stole (worse, Y/N had told him more than once not to do it) borrowed a horse that got spooked. A dumbass slip and fall. Twice.

If Sophia wasn’t found, it was on his hands.

“Did Carol convince you to come to dinner, yet? Or are you still feelin’ too poorly?”

“Just stop.” He wanted to be left alone, was that so fucking complicated?

And he wanted out of this fucking bed, out of this room, out of this house, off this shit farm, and away from this whole gaggle of dumb fucks.

He wanted Merle back. He wanted Uncle Jesse back.

…He just wanted Sophia back. He'd even prayed about it.

“Sorry, little man, not now. Yeah, nah, he needs some privacy and quiet,” Daryl then heard from out in the hallway.

The door was already closed. He didn’t even hear it shut.

“No, his head is still okay, Carl, his cognition is prolly better than the two of us put together. The man’s healin’ well, thanks be to God,” Y/N cheerfully chirped like a songbird. "Wanna visit the baby chicks again?"

More shame slithered on over, hissing at him for how he’d been a dick to Y/N, of all people.

Daryl tried to rub his chest to get rid of the tugging feeling in Y/N’s direction while trying to shut up the voice in his head that was screaming for a goddamn cigarette so he could smoke and dig the lit end into his skin.

-------------------------

You

-------------------------

So, that was a bust. Daryl kinda snapped at you. It sucked. Felt really awful, not gonna lie. First your brother, now the mangy hick.

Come to think of it, it's actually more on brand for Daryl to have done that, given you literally just referred to him as ‘mangy hick.’

Ugh, you wanna cry again. You wanna run back to Dale the way a little kid runs to their dad. Maybe this time you'd also run into a desk to slam your head against on the way?

Later would have to suffice for finding that desk, however, because now, there’s work to do.

“Aight, let’s roll. We’re headin’ south, looking around a small neighborhood. Tomorrow, Shane and Andrea will be hitting what we don’t cover,” T-Dog announces. “Ready to head out, y’all?”

“Head on back to your ma, okay?” you tell Carl, pecking a kiss on his head and patting your finger along the chick he's still carrying. Carl had walked you to the mailbox, it's his third and probably last ‘big trip’ of the day. He’s wearing Shane’s police baseball hat. “See you later, punk, I love you."

“Yeah, man, all set. Bye, Carl.” Glenn stands up from his crouched position by the mailbox where he was waiting.

You adjust the first aid kit in your backpack, then ease it on and snap the chest clip in place. “Ready, Teddy.”

T-Dog rubs his hands together. “Then let’s roll. See if we can’t bring Sophia back for this big dinner her mama’s got planned tonight.”

------------------------------------------

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[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 14: And the Winner Is...

Word Count: 1000

Rating: T

Pairing: Hellcheer

CW: Language

Summary: It's time for a new generation to take on the talent show at Hawkins Middle School

Song is Mr. Brightside by The Killers

@corrodedcoffinfest

The auditorium at Hawkins Middle looks smaller than Eddie remembered it as he and Chrissy step inside. Though, he had been smaller the last time that he was here for his own talent show in the eighth grade. 

“We are not sitting front and center,” Chrissy says to Eddie, shaking her head. “I won’t do to her what my mom did to me. Stressed the hell out of me to see her there.”

“I remember Wayne sat over here,” Eddie responds, nodding his head towards the right of the auditorium. That night sticks out in Eddie’s mind for a few reasons, but one of the best was seeing the proud smile on Wayne’s face after the original Corroded Coffin’s very first performance. 

“Here is good,” Chrissy agrees, and the two of them take seats right of center, a few rows back. 

The auditorium hasn’t changed much since Eddie went here, a fact he learns as he looks around the smaller-than-remembered space. But something does catch his eye that makes him smile. He taps his wife’s shoulder twice and points up to the catwalk where the two of them bumped into one another over twenty years ago. 

“Think Em is up there looking for us?” Eddie asks.

Chrissy laughs. “I can’t see her dragging her precious darling up there with her. And I doubt she’s going to let it leave her sight.”

Emily Munson’s new purple guitar is the light of her life. Eddie thinks she might even love it more than he loved his Sweetheart back in the day. Honestly, he’s surprised he hasn’t looked into Em’s room and seen the guitar tucked in bed next to her while she sleeps. 

“Her precious darling has a name,” Eddie teases. 

“I am not calling that thing ‘Cobain.’”

“Says the woman who named her car,” Eddie goads.

Chrissy pouts and looks up at her husband.

“Don’t bring Roxy into this.”

Eddie laughs and wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders. 

The lights in the auditorium dim and the principal steps onstage.

“Welcome to the 2004 Hawkins Middle School talent show! I am Principal Newman and I’m so glad that you could join us this evening to witness the extraordinary talent our students have.”

The first few acts are entertaining enough—for a middle school show. Everyone in the audience knows they’re really sitting through everything else until the student they came here for is on. Finally, that time arrives for the Munson’s. 

“Please put your hands together for Guitarfly!”

Matching proud grins grace both Eddie and Chrissy’s faces as the curtains part to reveal their daughter and three of her friends.

Emily stands at the microphone, Cobain ready to go as she adjusts the strap over her shoulder. The young Munson’s dark curly bangs are held to each side by a glittery butterfly clip and a touch of eyeliner makes her blue eyes pop—makeup and eye color both courtesy of mom. Emily is wearing a black Corroded Coffin shirt that’s been cut and altered to hang off the shoulders of her small frame. Her denim skirt is layered over cropped red leggings, trimmed with lace at mid-calf. Her black high tops complete the look as she takes her place center stage. 

The drummer counts them off and Emily licks over her lips right before she puts her pick to the strings and leans in towards the microphone. 

Comin' out of my cage and I've been doin' just fine

Gotta, gotta be down because I want it all

It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss

Eddie watches his daughter in awe. He knows he never looked half as cool as she does on that stage. Pride threatens to choke the emotional father as he sees she’s having an absolute ball. 

Jealousy

Turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies

Choking on your alibi

But it's just the price I pay

Destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes

'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside

He didn’t care that no other act got a standing ovation, when the song ends, Eddie jumps up and applauds. So is everyone else in the auditorium, but his cheering means the most to the teen girl behind the microphone. 

After the final acts, the judges—a teacher, assistant principal, and a lunch lady—converge to discuss the results. 

Eddie knows it’s just a middle school talent show, but he wants this for his daughter so badly. If the judges couldn’t see how talented Emily and her friends are, then Eddie thinks they need to get some sense knocked into them. 

Once the results are in, Principal Newman comes back onstage with the name of the winners on an index card. Eddie slips his hand into Chrissy’s, and she can’t help but smile to herself at how nervous he is for their daughter. The epitome of a doting father if there ever was one. 

“And the winner is…Guitarfly!”

Eddie’s ass is out of his seat before the principal can even finish saying the name of the band.

“That’s my girl!” Eddie cheers.

Emily takes the trophy from the assistant principal and looks over to her parents in the crowd. The louder Eddie applauds, the redder her face becomes. She gives them a small wave before she and her friends lift the trophy up in the air. There’s another smattering of applause and Principal Newman thanks everyone for coming. 

Still grinning from ear to ear, Eddie turns to Chrissy as they stand up and move to leave the auditorium. 

“How did we get the coolest daughter ever?” Eddie asks as he holds the door open for his wife.

“Because she has the coolest parents ever,” Chrissy answers. 

“Hell yeah,” Eddie says and slings an arm around her shoulders as they make their way towards the exit. “A rockstar and a cheerleader? There was no way this kid wasn’t going to be fucking awesome.”

[monsterswithimagines]

Sailor Song (Nathan's pov) - part 6

Nathan Young x Female!Reader

Summary: After Nathan is buried alive, things aren't all rainbows and unicorns for him. One night, after a particularly bad nightmare in which he's back in his coffin all over again, he calls his ex–you.

Masterlist

~

The darkness after his iPod died was impenetrable.

Not the dark of a bedroom at night or even the dark of the community centre on a weekend night, but dark. True dark. The darkness of being buried six feet underground, where the sun could never, ever reach.

It was hell.

As a kid, Nathan had been scared of the dark. But he’d grown out of that. He was afraid of this particular brand of darkness, though.

He could not see the wood mere inches from his face, but he could feel it there, somehow. He could hear the feet of earth above him, crushing him.

Then, after what felt like forever but could not have been, Nathan could no longer breathe. And he choked to death. And choked to death. And choked to death. Over and over and over.

Nathan came awake trashing, his hand hit something solid but warm, and there was a grunt, and then Nathan was scrambling backwards, and Barry was standing over him with his hands raised, as if in surrender.

The community centre was bright with daylight.

“Barry?!” Nathan asked.

They were up on the mezzanine, Nathan had scrambled off his mattress and was sitting with his back against the railing. Barry was standing.

“You overslept,” Barry said. “I was coming to wake you.”

Overslept?!

“Right,” Nathan said, still breathless. “Thanks, man.”

Barry stared at him.

“What?” Nathan asked, impatient.

“Are you alright?”

Nathan snorted, pulling a hand through his tangled curls.

“Obviously.”

Barry did not seem to think this was so obvious. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“Look, not for nothing, but that serial killer stare of yours isn’t really doing it for me. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like a minute to wake the fuck up.”

After another long stare, Barry told him they’d all be in the locker room, and left.

-

It was a completely fucking normal Tuesday for once. Nobody got attacked, nobody died and no living statues walked through walls. At five pm, Nathan realised he felt incredibly uneasy because of it.

The others decided they all wanted to go out for drinks, and Nathan sure wasn’t going to say no to that. He could use a beer or five. Or ten. And hell, if the others wanted to do shots, Nathan was down.

He wanted to stop thinking.

He hadn’t heard from you all day.

Not that he’d expected to hear from you, but still. It made him feel shitty. The way you two had left things made him feel shitty. Nathan wasn’t really used to that. He was more of a ‘piss off a girl, have them slap him and then move on’ kind of guy. But with you, it had always been different.

Well, almost always.

Kelly nudged his shoulder.

“You alright?” she asked.

Alisha had gone outside to smoke, Curtis had gone with her to keep her company, and Barry was getting the next round of drinks. It was just him and Kelly right now.

“You been thinkin’ loudly again.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault, mate…”

They sat in silence a moment.

“I guess you an’ me aren’t gonna happen, then?” Kelly asked.

They both laughed.

It was comfortable. Nathan was glad Kelly was his friend.

“You’re right pissed, Nate,” Kelly told him.

“Since when do you go around calling me ‘Nate’?” Nathan asked, incredulous.

“Dunno. You don’t like it?”

“I don’t mind.”

More silence.

“If ya like that girl so much, why don’t you just tell her?”

“It’s complicated. She finished with me a while ago,” Nathan sighed. “I should’ve seen it comin’, really.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m what people refer to as ‘an annoying little shit’,” Nathan said, grinning.

Kelly laughed.

Barry came back then, carrying a tray of beers, and they let the conversation drop. Once Barry sat down next to Nathan, Nathan threw an arm across his shoulder casually.

“I love this guy,” he told Kelly. “Always buyin’ the booze.”

“It’s because you don’t have any money,” Barry said, smiling a little.

“Oi! I so do have money! It’s just all tied up in, in stocks and shit.”

“Stocks?” Barry asked.

“Yeah. Like, bonds.”

“Do you even know what you’re talking about?”

“Fuck no.” Nathan held up his drink to clink it against Barry’s.

Alisha dropped back into the seat next to Kelly, Curtis next to her, close but careful not to touch her bare skin.

“We should make a toast,” Barry announced, in that way that he had of announcing the most random shit and pretending it was a suggestion.

“The fuck for?” Nathan asked.

“To… friendship, or something.”

They all laughed, but somehow they ended up toasting to it anyway.

-

Five am found Nathan puking in an alley.

He didn’t remember, exactly, how he had ended up in this alley, or where this alley was, or how he’d come to be puking here. He’d had a lot of drinks, he remembered that, and at about two am Barry had offered to walk him back to the community centre, but Nathan had told him to fuck off, and he’d stayed at the pub while everyone else had left.

“Nathan?”

Nathan looked up blearily.

“(Y/n)?”

“Yeah,” you said, putting your hands on your hips. Where had you come from?

“What’re you doing here?”

“You rang me.” You made it sound like a question.

“Did I?” Nathan asked.

“Yeah. You said you were 'too pissed off your arse' to get anywhere.”

Nathan considered this. He could not remember it, but it sounded vaguely like him. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d called you in a completely drunken state. But then again, when he used to call you like this, you’d been his girlfriend.

This was a little weird.

“Sorry. You can go.”

You laughed bitterly. “Yeah, right. Up you go.” He hadn’t noticed you walking closer to him, and he hadn’t realised he was now sitting on the ground either, until you pulled his arm around your shoulder and hoisted him up.

He leaned against you heavily.

“You smell nice.” They were just words. He hadn’t even really smelled you.

“Okay, thanks.” You began to walk him out of the alley.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Dunno. Where d'you live now?”

Nathan considered this, then shrugged.

“Really? You’re not gonna tell me your address?”

“Haven’t got one.”

“You haven’t-” Suddenly, you sounded sad. “Oh, Nathan…”

Nathan opened his mouth to say something–

–and woke up on a mint green couch.

Shit.