#nightmare forest didn’t do that shit to me

[darth-does-stuff]

ok wait why is this recent ep actually fucking terrifying i did not expect it to be this scary

[simcardiac-arrested]

honestly don't even remember what happened in 2017 at all, it was a year. that year is no longer.

what the fuck DIDN’T happen in 2017

[teddypines]

Nighttime Troubles

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Summary: Y/N having trouble sleeping with out their dad while their other parents try to calm them down and get Tony back in bed.

Note: Gn!Reader, around 3 years old. Yes Soap is the name of her sheep plushie, because i love my Soapie to much and he needed to be in my story.

Art/picture is from Pinterest, credits go to whoever made it. I just put it together like this.

Translations: Dorogoy = Sweetheart (And expensive, for some reason, if you know why this is please tell me. Translate is weird.)

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Y/N was having a rough couple of nights, the nightmares they had were getting too much for their little mind. Feeling so many big feelings and seeing scary things in their dreams. This didn’t bother the Avengers however, they all loved the little koala. Their koala was a bit of all of them. Their little miracle in life, their light. After defeating Loki everything went pretty fast for the Avengers and just 2 years later they got married, all 6 of them (Tony bribed the minister and the person that would approve the paperwork) and in 2015 their little koala was born. 

Natasha was walking Y/N around the master bedroom, shushing them as she bounced them a bit in her arms. “shhhh, Dorogoy, it’s okay momma is here. No more nightmares, shhh.” She whispered to the little one as Thor came back into the room with a few extra plushies from Y/N’s room. “I didn’t know which one they would want, so i got them all.” Clint laughed a bit and grabbed the little sheep plushie from the stack in Thor’s arm. “This one, Soap, remember this one Thor. Soap is the favorite.” Natasha rolled her eyes and kissed Y/N’s cheeks.

After a few minutes Steve was done warming up Y/N’s bottle and quickly made his way back to the bedroom. “Any progress?” He asked worriedly as he handed Natasha the bottle. “No, not yet, Bruce is still trying to get Tony to come to bed, but he’s probably dealing with his own nightmares.” Clint answered. They all knew that Y/N slept the best between Bruce and Tony. Probably because they liked being in a science sandwich and Bruce and Tony were the warmest out of the parents. Natasha yawned as she sat down on the bed with Y/N. “Thor? Do you still have that story book somewhere? that one with both folktales and fairytales?” She asked, hoping that reading to Y/N would calm them down.

“Yes! I’ll grab it and read to the little one!” Thor cheered as he walked over to the book shelf and grabbed the book Natasha mentioned. He went to the bed and sat next to Natasha and Y/N before starting to read in the soft tone he only used with Y/N. “This one is called ‘The Forest Bride’. There was once a farmer who had three sons,” Thor read to Y/N, and secretly Natasha. Y/N wasn't crying anymore as they suckled on their bottle while listening to Thor reading their favorite story. 

Steve and Clint smiled at the three of them on the bed. “I’ll go check on Bruce and Tony.” Steve said before stepping away from Clint. Sadly Steve jinxed it, Bruce walked into the bedroom. Clint gave Bruce a worried look and opened his arms for him. Bruce walked defeated into Clint’s arms. “I tried, he just won’t listen to me right now. He’s scared to go to bed and then hurt Y/N if he wakes up” Bruce explained quietly. Steve sighed. “I'm going to talk to him, this is the biggest load of bull shit i’ve ever heard, and that is saying a lot.” he fumed before leaving the bedroom. 

Bruce looked over at the bed and saw Natasha asleep against Thor with Y/N on her lap. Thor was still reading the story to their koala. Clint looked down at Bruce. “Wanna go sit with them?” Bruce nodded and Clint smiled as he helped Bruce to the bed. He made sure Natasha, Bruce and Y/N were okay with Thor, who was now happily reading the next story in the book, before following after Steve.

When Clint was close to the lab he could hear Steve and Tony yelling at each other. He walked around the corner and saw Tony tinkering on one of his suites while Steve yelled from Bruce’s desk. 

“Just don’t Steve, just don’t, okay? I am not going to bed!” Tony hissed as he slammed down his screwdriver. “No, I won't let you stay up like this. You have to sleep, you need sleep to function. How are you supposed to take care of yourself or Y/N if you are not sleeping, not well rested. You know it's safe in the bedroom, you know you won’t hurt us or Y/N. You know damn well that you are just running away right now!” Before Steve could say more Clint put a hand on his back and gave him a look. 

Tony looked over at Steve when he didn’t continue his rant. He saw Clint by Steve's side, he let out a big sigh before responding. “I think I know my own health better than you do Star Spangled Banner. Now leave me alone! I do not need this! I do not need sleep. I do not need you, or anyone else to take care of me! I am fine!” He yelled at both his husbands. He didn’t need them, didn't need to be told he wasn't actually doing fine, but even with a few years of therapy and loving partners, Tony could still fall back into old habits. 

Clint tried to reach out for Tony, tried to tell him he was wrong but yelling came from the hallway before he could. A very angry Natasha, followed by Thor and Bruce came Into the lab. Y/N in her arms. “Anthony Edward Stark! Hold your child!” She hissed before handing Y/N over to Tony. Y/N reached out for Tony and he reluctantly took them from Natasha. “Daddy…” Y/N whispered into Tony's shoulder. This broke Tony a bit, not just a bit, but more than he liked to admit.

“I… I think I might need some help… And Someone to take care of me and take me too bed…” Tony admits as he held the little koala. Natasha smiled and grabbed onto Tony's arms. “Let's get you two to bed. Thor will continue his story and you two can cuddle with Bruce. We'll deal with the rest tomorrow” Natasha said before leading Tony away from his work.

Soon after both Y/N and Tony were on the big bed. Thor reads more of his stories to Y/N, and the others. As Bruce held Tony close with Y/N in between their science sandwich. Y/N was already fast asleep when Thor finished the first story. With Natasha following shortly after. Clint was the next one to fall asleep, somewhere between story three and four, happily in Steve’s arms. Thor fell asleep while reading after Steve fell asleep. But Tony stayed awake, like Bruce. Him keeping an eye on Tony. 

“Want to talk about it?” Bruce asked Tony, he was worried. “Not right now. Is that okay? we will talk about this later?” Tony answered to which Bruce pulled him closer, letting Tony be the little spoon. “Yeah, that is okay. But we are going to talk about this, because we are worried and want to help you, because we love you. Just like we love this little koala.” Bruce said before fixing Y/N’s hair a bit. “Just let us help you like you always want to help them.” Tony nodded his head slowly before kissing Y/N’s head. “We’ll talk after I slept for more than 6 hours.”

“Just close your eyes” Bruce whispered before he felt a small kick against his back. “Go to sleep” Steve whisper yelled tiredly. Y/N hugged Tony’s arm and snored a bit as Bruce and Tony finally closed their eyes to sleep.

<--------------------------------------------------------->

Somewhere in the middle of the night Soap, the sheep plushie, fell out of the bed. This was quickly noticed by Y/N who started to wiggle out of the science sandwich. they crawled to the end of the bed and reached over the end towards Soap. they almost had the plushie before losing balance. With a small thud they fell off the bed and hit their bum on the floor. 

Loud crying woke everyone but Clint, he didn’t wake up since he didn't have his hearing aid on. Yes he forgot to take them out after falling asleep next to Thor and the battery was now dead. Steve was the first to get to Y/N he picked up the little one and the sheep. “shhh, baby doll, it’s okay. Daddy is here, shhh, you’re safe in daddy’s arms.” Steve whispered to Y/N. Thor shifted over to Steve and Y/N and carefully took them from Steve. He gently put Y/N underneath his nightshirt and held them and Soap against his chest.

Thor always thought Y/N was given extra sensitive and given bigger emotions by the gods then normal people, or Asgardians. They were he’s sensitive little angel, who needed a lot of touch to feel safe and deal with the big emotions and feelings. “There we go little poptart. Nice and warm with pappa, no one can hurt you here.” Thor rubbed Y/N’s back as he took them back to the bed. Steve smiled at Thor and how comfortable Y/N looked against him. “Owh look at you, are you comfy with pappa?” Natasha asked the sleepy toddler when Thor lay down next to her. Y/N nodded their head and stuck their thumb into their mouth.

“So no need for a science sandwich anymore I see. Well i'll be back in the lab if you all need me” Tony announced and tried to walk past Bruce and Steve. Only for Steve to grab Tony by his shirt collar and pulls him back towards him and Bruce. “You need sleep, Tony. Back in bed.” Steve said in a stern but caring tone. “Or what?” Tony tried. “Or I will lock the lab and you won’t be able to go in until we think you can go in again. No more new Ironman suites or weird nicknacks. No more Peter Parker coming over for his ‘internship’.” Steve answered. The thing about not doing fun science things with Peter did it and Tony walked back to the bed. Tony liked (Loved) Peter too much, some might say he was his son. 

Bruce and Steve made it back to the bed and lay down besides the others. Y/N was already fast asleep again underneath Thor’s shirt. Clint was still asleep and snoring as Natasha cuddled up to him. The others pulled the covers back up and snuggled up before going back to sleep. Tony did try to sneak out of bed again once when he thought everyone was sleeping. only for Steve to pull Tony back onto the bed and hold him against him.

[samsxowboyhat]

David Shaw Headcannons

David’s canonically bi/ pansexual and had a crush on Asher when he was younger

Darlin and David had a sibling bond and would spend together by themselves at pack meetings or the solstices

David has selective people that he lets touch him in a friendly way

David has pulled Darlin out of fights and always lectured them afterward

David has cologne that smells like the forest, anything that smells like rainwater, trees, or the forest he has a cologne of it

David had an unassigned assigned table at his school for the main 4 pack no matter what grade Darlin was in he’d always make sure that they sat with him if they were alone

David favors Angel's smile over everything he loves everything about them, but their smile is his favorite

David visits Gabe’s grave and talks about Angel often and informs him on things going on in his life(Gabe was the first person he told about his thoughts on marrying angel)

David can’t sleep without Angel next to him, and yes, he will be able to sense when they’re getting out of bed or moving

David got into a few fights growing up whenever someone was bullying Milo for his height

When David was younger, he didn’t talk. Whenever somebody needed comfort he’d be more of a listener

David is the type to hold people tightly to ground them if they are ever having a panic attack

David never cries, and it’s a rare sight when he does

David can’t function without Asher and it’s mutual between them they most definitely sat near each other in school, ate lunch together, and were each other's best men at their weddings

David shifts whenever he cuddles with angel just so that they can pet his fur(his favorite spot is on the side of his face on either side)

David’s rich, but he’s also humble, sure he’ll spend money on whatever Angel wants and not bat an eye, but nobody knows just how rich he is until he buys something expensive

David and the rest of the main 4 would sleep on the couch whenever they had sleepovers because Asher would try to cuddle with him, Milo would follow Asher, and Darlin would just wanna be included

David was anxious when he asked Angel to marry him because he thought they’d reject him

David couldn’t yell at Angel. Even if he tried he’d feel bad the second he raised his voice at them

David has once threatened to kick someone out of the pack that talked shit about angel

Bonus-David wears his dad's old watch. Whether it’s broken or not broken, he doesn’t care and still wears it

David comforts Angel whenever they get jealous of Sweetheart or Tank bc they’re unempowered

David still has nightmares of the inversion and still thinks about how he could’ve lost Asher

Bonus- David is named after his grandfather(don’t ask me how I know I just do)

[st4r-th0ughts]

Lord, give me one more chance.

I wonder, if this will be the last?

Mk1 characters x Liu Kang’s child! Reader

4:00A.M. (Taeko Onuki) ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:47

ׂ╰┈➤

tw/cw: reader is very much feeling guilt for shedding so much blood, this is a nightmare so dw our pookies ain’t dead, reader remembers very very vague stuff from mk11 timeline (aftermath and being Shinnok’s spawn carries onto the next timeline), it’s like not making sense? Ig cause it’s a nightmare lmfao, gorey scenes and descriptors, body horror, light religious? themes, drowning, neck snap, shits painful in general bruv, third person pov (you/yours), dw shits dark but it’s a bit happy at the end. Mostly.

notes: first time writing a fic that delves into gory descriptors and I’m doing research in how to write nightmares lol so forgive me if it’s unrealistic, corny or smth

summary: A nightmare that comes back every time you fall into dream land.

characters in focus: Liu Kang in particular tbh (father figure), Earthrealm champions, Shirai Ryu duo, Edenian sisters, and Syzoth x Ashrah and the rest are just rlly implied but they still are nightmarish in descriptions lol

ׂ╰┈➤

Heavy breathing. You heave as your feet connect with the cold, stone slate as opposed to the smooth, soundless wood of your bedroom floors. It’s the same. The same. The same nightmare tormenting you for weeks.

Everything around you is hazy. Blurred lines of dull clouds gloss over the supposedly clear night skies, the stars whispering words of goodbye as they disappeared from your sight. You blindly reach for them, stumbling forward as your feet loose its footing despite there being solid ground in front of you.

A scream escaped you as darkness swallowed you whole, your yells echoing against the stone around you, your hands mindlessly scraping the walls that seem to grow further from you, your fingers scraping them desperately, the pain searing as you feel your nails peel and scrape away.

You prided yourself for being the level headed one, the one who didn’t scream while everyone else was panicking, a trait your dear father… your father. He was in the distance. No wait, no, you’re falling. You’re supposed to be falling.

A gasp. Your standing in front a temple. Deep in the forest, in front a worn down temple, the walls crumbling ever so slowly as you step forward. You don’t feel good. You don’t feel like yourself. Your legs are stumbling forward onto the stairs.

The incense burner is abandoned. Everytime you came here, to watch the mortals worship the God of Fire, people pile up in lines to pay their dues. The ash is pale and white as you pick it up and let it crumble in your hands.

The temple is too silent. You stumble through empty halls of prayer halls, staring straight ahead. There are eyes in the shadows. They follow you. Judge you. Whisper about you. It makes you feel nothing.

There’s a small pond in the temple. You remember. Orange… blobs… float around. There’s no lily pads. There’s a statue of him in the temple. A dragon accompanies him. His marble eyes make contact with yours, half of his face having crumbling into fine dust.

You feel parched. You grasp your throat with bloody fingers, the nailless fingers clawing the skin so hard you think you’ll tear out your trachea. Your legs stumble mindlessly to the pond, and you can feel the marble statue crumble and his eyes following you.

Your knees slam into the pond’s edge as you feel them crack and snap as you cup algae infested water into your mouth, the liquid tasteless and stale as the familiar man’s marble feet crumble as it fell forward. The crash is loud. Your ears ring and there’s warm liquid leaking out of your eardrums.

Your head turns, and you come face to face with those familiar glowing eyes, blood seeping and dripping where his jaw should be. His teeth are bloody, his tongue moves in a weak attempt to speak, and his eyes are glassy and bloodshot.

A empty wail escapes his mouth, and you scream in pure terror as he reaches out for you with cold, bandaged hands, scrambling back as you crawl and scrape the floor, gagging as you feel bile rise up in your throat, a sob of sorrow for this familiar man and fear as your vision blurs.

You can’t run. Faces stare back at you. Their faces. Their names. Their voice. It’s a blur. There’s so much blood. Too much blood. The blindfolded man’s throat is torn out. There’s blood flowing and dripping in front of your feet like a river. If you could hear past the heavy ringing, you’d guess he’d be straining whatever words he can make out.

There’s black shards in the American man’s face, his face looking like it was torn apart by a serated knife you stare blankly into his lifeless eyes as a duo step out from behind him, one decapitated as it stumbled forward, blood spurting out of his neck, and the other was split in two, crawling towards you as he cried out in agony.

Your knees are broken. The bones are jutting out of your flesh as you writhe away from the familiar, mangled states of people you’re begging forgiveness from. Why are you begging forgiveness? You don’t know. The words are tumbling out of your mouth, you know they are despite the ringing.

Unbeknownst to you, your frantic movements edging you closer to the pond’s edge as flashes of bodies, bloodshed, and carnage as you shake your head in despair. Why do these memories torment you? Is the Elder Gods punishing you?

You feel your body being shocked as freezing temperatures drag you down. The water is disturbed as your legs scrape the floor, trying to surface to scream and breathe the stale, dusty air. Your legs cramp, and with that, the icy water swallows you whole.

You struggle. There’s an invisible force dragging you down, you thrash and writhe in its grip, your eyes forced open as your faced with bodies floating around you, bubbles escaping your mouth as your hands weakly struggle to locate them, or locate anything alive at all.

Your lungs are burning. Your legs are useless, limp and floating along with the force as your hands slowly cease your struggling, the overwhelming feeling of helplessness as your dragged deeper as the surface is further and further out of your grasp.

You turn your head as you come face to face to a bloodied face. Two of them, lifeless and floating limply in the dark depths of the water. A scarred right eye housing empty eye sockets and missing limbs, and another man with bloodied gray hair had his mask floating not far from his mouth. Or whatever it was supposed to be considering his entire lower face was torn off, the loose flesh making you almost vomit.

There’s too many faces around you. Mangled, bloodied, grotesque. They are familiar. Some… some you know well. Friendly. Some are those you can feel are enemies. People you’ve battled against before. People whose blood you’ve splattered before, and people who’ve sunk their weapons into you as well.

You feel your neck strain as your slammed against the stone hard floor, gasping weakly as bubbles escape your mouth, your eyes darting around to search for a futile escape. You see two ladies. One dressed in blue, one dressed in pink. They look similar. Their faces are intact, leaving your to stare at their beheaded forms as the sharp teethed lady’s face passes too close to your face.

You gag, your vision blurring as you gain a burst of adrenaline, your hands scraping hard against the stone and dirt of the water, trying to move against the force pushing your neck harder and harder against the floor.

There’s bodies beside you, their necks wrangled as you see a green cloaked man with tattoos lie beside with a black eyed lady as the force on your neck becomes unbearable, your vision blurring as you feel the last of your life leave you.

There’s a crack, and everything goes silent.

You jolt awake, a strangled gasp escaping you as your hands grip the covers, your nails intact and neatly cut, your knees are still in place, and you’re not being drowned and chased by abominations of the dream.

Your father is beside you, worriedly feeling your forehead as he wipes the cold sweat with a comfortingly warm cloth, a shiver running down your back as you remember the harsh, bitter coldness of the pond’s water drowning you.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Liu Kang’s voice rings out gently as he pats your back, coaxing the fear out of you with ease as he brought you into his arms, kissing your forehead.

You nod barely as you hug him back, flashes of that statue of him staring at you, his jawless form trying to embrace you into his cold hugs. This is warm. And it feels like home.

Blood is not uncommon in your life. Your father has always trained you to be one of the consistent Earthrealm defenders. You just hope your battles don’t end up shedding blood of people you cared about.

fin.

© st4r-th0ughts 2025, I don’t allow reposts, reuploads, translations, or copies.

a/n: would love to hear your opinions and what I can improve on when writing stuff like these next time!

[fee224]

Catching up to your friends

Rafe Cameron x topper thortons baby sister reader

Warnings: manipulation, sex, underage sex. (Not proofread!!). Perspective is spoke in a young and naive perspective on purpose!!

MASTERLIST

You slammed the door of your big brothers forest green jeep as he pulled up to the Cameron residents. Soon you were promised a matching white jeep for you’re sixteenth birthday. Topper was seventeen and so was rafe.

Rafe seemed older but you always put that down to how big he was, being in the gym almost half of his life and his miserable undertone that disappeared when he noticed you staring at him from across the table at Sunday brunch, or midsummers.

“Look I don’t give a shit, You’re a Little snitch and you’ll tell mom and dad I left you and they’ll give me shit�� topper rubbed his forehead and I rolled my eyes as he lead me through the door.

“Topper I’m not a baby! Im fifteen. I don’t need babysitting from you or…” the one boy you want to see you as a woman. You constantly worked your baby status in the family in your favour but that might be your worst nightmare if rafe saw you that way “any of your friends!”

“Hey I’m not any of his friends, am I?” Rafe startled you as you kicked off your shoes at the front door. Walking bare foot, admiring your mani pedi, into the kitchen where rafes back faced you making a drink.

“Yes you are” topper coughed as he stole the drink off the counter “nerves” he winked at rafe as he downs what looks like raw whiskey. Topper never told you where he was going but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You wandered over to his living room making yourself comfortable. A door slams and a few seconds later rafe is plopped down on the couch next to you.

You gulp, attempting to ignore his presence until “you know I’m fifteen, I don’t need babysitting. I do babysitting, this whole arrangement is ridiculous” you roll your eyes and pout with crossed arms.

“Yeah I can fucking see you aren’t a baby y/n” he shakes his head, focussed on his phone, texting someone.

“You gotta girlfriend?” You blurt out and his head spins towards you.

“No” he exhales dropping his phone down on the couch “you gotta boyfriend?” You shake your head with a small smile you’re trying to hide.

“Why not, you’re a pretty girl” he states and you look away to conceal your blush trying to not think about his words. He didn’t mean anything by it, it was a fact more than an opinion, nothing personal.

“Just don’t…… most of my friends do” you admit turning back to him and resting your cheek on the back of the couch. “Everyone’s loosing their virginity to them and I-“ you pause helplessly.

“You’re fifteen…. You’re way too young for that shit”

You raise your eyebrows amused “and what age did you loose your virginity, saint” it rolls off your tongue like an insult.

Thirteen.

“Fair point” he nodded “you’re still too young”

“No! I’m not….” You roll your eyes.

“You want to have sex?” He raised his eyebrows kicking his feet on the plush footrest as if your dangling virginity was amusing.

“Sure why not” you giggled as a joke.

“With what boy? They’re all…. dumb and cocky at your age” he was staring at you as if this conversation should be happening. As if it was about homework.

“I never said a boy my age” you roll your eyes and purposely don’t make eye contact.

“What does that mean” he scoffed shaking his head, as you gulped. Your smile was long gone and now all you could feel was sick to your stomach with nerves.

“Whatever you think it means” you quickly glance at him and then enter into a staring match with his dark oak coffee table.

“I don’t think it means what I think it does” his thumb was toying with his bottom lip. His soft bottom lip that he probably had kissed a lot of girls with.

“We’ll just because I’m two years younger doesn’t mean our brains are on other sides of the universe” you folded your arms, assuming again, making a fool of yourself again.

“I think it means you want to fuck me” he stated confidently and correct. Your mouth gaped staring at him weakly.

“You can’t just say that!”

“Why not!”

“Because I have feelings, and your toying with them!”

“Toying with them because I want to fuck you back?”

“Fuck off rafe, you don’t get to fuck me, and then ditch, and then brag, and be you in your full dick form afterwards” you rambled with a small tear running down your hot cheeks.

“Y/n” he palmed his forehead “just stop with the thinking” he kneeled forward in-front of you, touching your bare thighs with caution as you watched him with wide wild eyes. “Shh, if not going to ditch, kay?”

You gulped. What the fuck.

Rafe Cameron. The boy you’ve liked since forever. Your brothers best friend. The older boy. The in front of you boy who was offering to take your virginity.

“I guess I know you” you bit down “and your not dumb and cocky” you squinted your eyes, a beg for reassurance that he wasn’t.

He nodded agreeing solemnly “like boys your age” he grinned beneath you, his hands inching closer up your thigh.

“And I guess I like you a little” you giggled brushing a hair behind your ear.

“Definitely like you a lot back” he winked. His movements were calm and his words rolled off his tongue with no thought but his breath was shaky, matching yours.

“You do?” You smiled cheesily inching forward.

The moment you did, years of anticipation exploded into a kiss. He picked you up of the living room chair, his hands sliding from your thighs to your ass and scooping you up. His lips hungrily attacking yours and left you in a dizzy haze as you softly kissed him back. Rocking against his hips as he took the steps two at a time.

“You walked past Sarah’s familiar room and then wheezies, not veering this far down the hallway since you were young as his door was kicked open and slammed shut you gasped as he pulled away to place you on the bed, contrasting to give you his gentle side, and the furniture a more normal rafe.

He was in between your legs kissing your neck as you hummed softly, gasping as he gave you purple bruising hickeys. Damaging your heart with every swirl more than anything he could ever do your body.

His massive muscled arms were wrapped around your body holding you still as you shook with temptation and nerves.

“I’ve never showed anyone my body, I- I’m the only person who’s ever seen you know my…. Body” your voice slowly drifted into a lull as you kept talking, feeling dumb. His head was lifted to look at you and give your words attention.

“You trust me right” his head tilted softly. You nodded making eye contact from underneath him. “Kay, then don’t be embarrassed with me, or shy.” His tone was kind and his volume was low. It was seeming more appealing being connected to this boy. Physically intertwined.

You lifted up, as he backed up. You sat across from each other on the bed as your head bowed and reached for the buttons of your top, fumbling but managing. Revealing your rose budded, perky small breasts as he gulped trying to maintain eye contact, any other girl, he wouldn’t remember her face while being inside of her, but you, how you were feeling and making you comfortable was all he could think of. His eyes darted between you to your chest. He practically dived into you, laying you on your back as he kissed everywhere urgently. “So fucking pretty, fucking beautiful” was the only sound filling your ears, blocking out the sounds of your own embarrassingly loud pleasure.

“Rafe when are you going to do it” you muttered, clawing at his neck. His shirt was off and he had scratches on his back you were trying to ignore.

“You want it now pretty girl?” He whispered into your ear, unbuttoning your denim shorts, the feeling made you tingle and squeeze your eyes shut fully.

“Now” you whispered in confirmation as he pulled them down cautiously, bringing your polka dot underwear down with them. Leaving them on the end of the bed.

You watched intensely as his pants came off, followed by his underwear. A thick cock sprang out, hitting of his toned stomach and all you could do was gulp at the sight, praying you wouldn’t break in half. He reached into his drawer as the pair of you looked each other in the eye, smiling soothingly.

His hands were pressed into your hips as he finished you off in one deep thrust. Not moving till your face went back to normal from the current distortion.

“S’okay, take your time, can I put anymore in yet” his thumb was rubbing gently on your hips as you opened your eyes and stared at him.

“There’s more” you panted, before collapsing back into the pillow. “Okay, b-be slow ra…” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as more of him filled you.

He thrusted in and out intensely, he was vocal as you suppressed shudders. “You feel so fucking good around me”

You felt like you were entering another universe, seeing a purple orange haze. Giggling softly as you felt your body shake and almost levitate of the bed.

“Ride it out Baby, just feel it” he was still caressing you as you blinked away tears. Ultimate heaven. If a unicorn flew over this bed, which was actually a magic carpet, you wouldn’t be surprised.

This was so epically strange. You wanted rafe to ask you to do it again, but when he got off the bed and came back with a wet towel, it was all over, all too soon. Holy macaroni.

- fee xxx

[jksprincess10]

Something in the shadows || 5. limbo

Summary: When a girl is found by Ellie just outside of Jackson, covered in what seems to be scratches from a beast, the community realizes that the infected might not be the only monsters out there.

CWs: Dark!Joel, monster!Joel, werewolf!Joel, NOT an omegaverse fic, fated mates, DUBCON, murders, gore, dark and horror themes, overprotective!joel, explicit smut, FMC without a name and a physical description (it's you baby), unspecified age gap, no y/n.

(3k words)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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She woke up to a cold, empty bed. She didn’t know what she had expected from a man like Joel – but part of her was still sad to wake up alone. The only reminders of Joel – bruises on her shoulder and her hips, where he had held her too strongly. As a reminder of her assault, her lip was split, blood had dried on it.

She dressed appropriately and walked slowly to the end of the hallway, where Joel’s room was also empty.

“I think he’s already up, I heard Tommy earlier.” Ellie’s voice startled her.

“Oh, thanks, Ellie.”

The older teen looked at her weirdly, up and down. “No offense, but you look like shit. You okay?”

“Yeah. Rough night… nightmares.” She lied effortlessly.

“Cool. I was just heading to the farm, catch you later.”

And with a last, weird look, the teenager climbed down the stairs. When she was free of her presence, she disappeared into the bathroom. Moving too much hurt.

“You have to tell me what the fuck happened, Joel. You’re scaring me, brother.”

The Tipsy Bison had been condemned when what remained of the bodies had been discovered by Tommy. Joel froze with pure dread as he discovered the bodies. He remembered telling her he would take care of it… and then everything was blurry. He thought he had just… talked to them. But the truth was much, much darker. The boys were disfigured, reduced to pure meat. He couldn’t have done that.

“I don’t know, Tommy.” Joel’s voice was rough, hiding an uncertainty. “I just… I talked to them, okay?”

“Talked to them?!” Tommy responded incredulously. “There is nothing left, Joel.”

The older brother’s hand trailed down his own face as he tried but failed to remember. There was a big gap between the moment where had taken care of her, then had come home to fuck her.

“This can’t be me. Do ya think I’m… I’m some sort of monster? Do ya think I could’ve hurt her and then take her into my own goddamn home?”

They had both done bad things in the past to survive but this – this has taken the cake of absurdity. 

“Okay, okay, I believe you.” Tommy stopped him, his hands before him like an offering of peace. “But now, ya gotta help me clean up this fucking mess, Joel. And I won’t tell anyone about this. Because they probably deserved it.”

“What happened to you?”  Elaine asked once her new friend arrived at the laundry place, letting her bucket of water fall as her mouth opened in horror. She ran up to her, her delicate and pale hands brushing where the skin had broken. The woman jumped at the unexpected touch, but she smiled as much as her split lip allowed.

“Don’t worry. Just… got into a fight.” She gave some of the truth, sparse, breadcrumbs in the forest of her mind.  She saw the mess of water. “Let me help you clean up before anyone gets hurt.”

 While they worked, they talked. Elaine, like last time, did most of the talking. But she could see something was off with her new friend.

“What’s going on with you, sweetheart? I know it must be hard for you to trust people around here but… you can tell me anything.” Elaine had the empathy of a good mother. The kind who would take you in her arms and waited until you stopped crying. The kind she probably had before.

“It’s just… men.”

The woman with the auburn hair hummed knowingly. “Miller?”

She shrugged in response, so Elaine did not push. But she knew.

“I’m just… disappointed. I got what I thought I wanted. But I’m just left… even lonelier somehow.”

“You’re gonna have to stop speaking in riddles if you want my help.” There was no bite behind her words,

“We… had sex, yesterday. I thought we had something going on, but I woke up completely alone.” Her voice was lower, so she wouldn’t attract the local gossipers.

“Mmh. I see. Sometimes… men just need space to sort out their feelings. I wouldn’t worry much about it. Is he the one who…?” She asked as she pointed to her lip.

“Oh god no, he would never… hurt me. I don’t think so.”

But he had hurt her before, hadn’t he?

He was washing away the gore and the blood from his body, but somehow, even as the red liquid flushed down the drain, he didn’t feel cleaner. The beast was dirty, and right now, in the most inappropriate of times, it still wanted. He had left her side this morning, partly because he wanted to let her sleep in, and partly because he was afraid of what he could do to her once the want came back.  Would he hurt her to take what he wanted?

He heard the door open downstairs. She was probably done with her work. He chased the bad thoughts away as he dried himself and got dressed in dark washed jeans, a discolored shirt that was probably black in another life and a flannel that he buttoned almost all the way to the top, leaving two buttons popped open.

Joel climbed down the stairs quietly, and he cleared his throat awkwardly when he found her in the kitchen.

“Oh, Joel.”

He was overly aware of her body language, of the way she jumped slightly at his voice. “M’sorry, didn’t wanna scare ya…” His palm caressed the back of his neck as he approached her.

“I just… I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me after yesterday.”

“What? God… no.” He groaned in frustration. “Listen, I’m very bad at this.” So bad that he couldn’t even tell Tess he loved her, even when she was turning in front of his eyes. “But it has nothing to do with you or what happened yesterday.”

“Okay…” He eyed the way she balanced herself from one leg to the other nervously. “I… when you said you would take care of the guys yesterday, what did you mean?” She asked suddenly.

Something primal in him wanted him to tell her everything. But she would be horrified. So, he did what he did best. He lied.

“I was gonna talk to them… but the poor bastards were already dead when I got to them.”

“Do you think it’s…whatever hurt me?” She asked worriedly as her fingers traced the scar across her face.

He hummed in response. “But… you ain’t got nothin’ to be scared of. I got ya okay?”

And with her bright, innocent eyes, he could see that she believed him completely. She approached him with more confidence now, and her hands laid on his shoulders as her eyes traced his lips.

“Joel… thank you.” She brought her face to the older man’s level and latched her lips onto his. It lit the fire in him, as his hands trailed down her body to hold her hips. He pressed her against his body tightly, and he could already feel himself getting hard. He was insatiable when it came to her.

She let go of his lips with a sweet smile, knowing the way his body reacted to hers. “Come to the winter ball with me. Please.”

“Yeah… okay. I’ll go.” She felt his hands on her ass, and he lifted her up to leave her on the counter. His lips trailed down her jaw, the soft skin of her throat. She smelled so intoxicatingly good, with a mixture of her and… him still somewhere on her body.

“Wait… Is Ellie coming back…?”

“Will be gone all day. Said she’d meet with a friend after work.” He mumbled back, his teeth sucking a bruise into her skin, before he soothed it with his tongue. She moaned in response, her body arching to get closer to him.

“O-Okay.” She’d thought Joel wouldn’t have much of a libido due to his age, but he seemed like he couldn’t get enough, and she couldn’t complain about it. He unzipped her pants as fast as he could before his hand sneaked in her wet panties.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about this pussy.” Joel growled, his fingers already tracing fast circles on her swollen bud. The top of her body fell against his chest, and he held her with his free hand.

“S’yours Joel, all yours.” She slurred, already drunk on pleasure.

“Yeah?” He breathed against her skin. “Good fuckin’ girl.” 

With his fingers, he pushed her over the edge abruptly and embarrassingly quickly, and she let out a load moan as she came in her panties.

“Fuck, come here.” He lifted her and brought her with him, as he sat down on one of the dining chairs. “Need to be inside you.” He hastily undid his belt and freed his member, before pulling her bottoms off. He held the base of his cock so it would sit upright, and with his free hand, he pulled her down on it in a slow movement.

“Joel…” She whined weakly, letting the sound die against his lips.

“Hurts?” He asked as he felt her tight heat more and more. When she was sat still on him, he waited, his hand caressing her hips, where he had left bruises the night before.

“Hurts in a good way.”

Joel cursed under his breath as he guided her hips up and down his thickness, his half-lidded eyes looking at her in wonder. “Look at me.”

When she opened her eyes and looked at his, there was this bestial glint in his gaze that she had seen before. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out as she bounced up and down his dick.

“Yeah, that’s it. Keep goin’.” She felt a harsh slap on her butt cheek that was swollen from the night before, which made her yelp. His fingers then came down to her clit, where he teased her. “Come on my dick.” He ordered in the shell of her ear, before biting her lobe.

His name fell from her lips as he caressed her clit with a purpose, making her gush around his cock and choke him deliciously.

“Atta girl.” She was turning limp in his grasp, so he started thrusting his hips up, giving her a break. He could feel his eyes roll in the back of his head, she just felt too good. She felt… right.  “M’so fucking close, darlin’.”

“Come in my mouth, please…” She begged, and she was already getting off him to fall on her knees in front of his legs. “Please Joel.”

He held the back of her head as he guided his throbbing length in her warm mouth. He kept her in place as he thrusted between her lips. She could feel herself gag, so she breathed through her nose and let the tears fall as he finally came into her throat. Joel pulled her away to let her breathe, and his calloused fingers chased the tears away.

“Thank you for that, darlin’.” He said as he caught his breath again. He caressed her head affectionately, before pulling her up on his lap to kiss her with a newly found softness. For once, the beast felt sated. Calm.

Days later, she stood in front of the mirror behind her bedroom door, uncertain of her choice. The dress fitted perfectly; it accentuated every curve of her body. The color, a blue that was almost white, looked so soft on her. The fabric had a nice sheen to it, that caught the candlelight and made her look like a princess. Elaine had helped her find it, and she was extremely happy to have a friend here, because she had a feeling she wouldn’t find anyone in her vague memories.

But somehow, she felt self-conscious. Even though Joel proved to be a… passionate lover, to say the least, she feared he would find someone better.

“You ready?” Ellie’s voice called, with a shy knock on the door.

She opened the door and brought Ellie inside, panicking. “Please, be honest with me. How do I look?” She whispered; afraid Joel was listening at the door.

“Damn! You look good. You’re gonna give the old man a heart attack.”

Heat rushed to her face, and she smiled shyly as she finally admired Ellie’s outfit. It wasn’t what she had expected for her, but she wore a dark blue dress shirt and black slacks. It fitted her small frame surprisingly well. Her brown curls were loose on her shoulders.

“Watch your language around the old man, yeah? You look good too.” She caressed the top of Ellie’s head playfully, before grabbing her coat and going out of the room with her.

Joel looked at his broken watch while he waited for the girls. Finally, he heard giggles and their steps coming down. He was going to make a comment on how late they were, but when he saw her… he completely froze. His mouth was half-opened, his eyes bright as he admired her shiny blue dress and the way it caressed the body he had gotten to know so quickly.

He finally looked at Ellie too and the hint of a smile formed on his lips as he saw their outfits were matching. His shirt was two shades lighter, but they basically had the same outfit.

“See? Told you, he’s having a stroke.” Ellie mumbled.

“You look good, kid.” Joel cleared his throat, then took the hand of the woman he desired in his. “And you look… wow.” He couldn’t really say his real thoughts, though. How he wanted to tear that dress off her body and see if her underwear was just as pretty.

“Okay, get a fucking room, I’m leaving without you.” Ellie rolled her eyes.

Of course, it had been hard to keep their relationship hidden as Joel always wanted to jump in her pants. Ellie had guessed it pretty quickly.

“No, no. We’re leaving.” She responded with an embarrassed smile.

The room was decorated beautifully in whites and blues, making the green of the natural Christmas tree and the colorful lights really pop. It seemed like the whole community of Jackson was present, and she felt a bit intimidated.

Two men shone by their absence, though. The two who had ambushed her and bruised her. She felt uneasy, as she wondered who had murdered them. Of course, in the deep pits of her gut, she knew who did it. She just didn’t want to give more reasons for her brain to shout “Run”.

On the dance floor, she saw Elaine and her husband. She looked beautiful with her auburn hair in a high bun, two pieces of hair framing her face. They exchanged shy movements of their hands as a salutation, from afar.

She always stayed close to Joel, but the man really seemed out of place. He kept to himself, drinking, and keeping an eye on Ellie, who was dancing with a pretty girl.

“Come on, dance with me, Joel. You won’t stay here moping around all night.”

She extended her hand to him, and he tried to look annoyed as he took it, with a grumbling “fine”.

 The music slowed down, and she wrapped her hands around Joel’s broad shoulders, as his palms embraced her lower back. Her skin, even though she was fully dressed, felt like fire against his hands. He wanted to ruin her.

She admired his face with a smile, noting how his messy curls were slightly slicked back with gel. He looked good, like this. In another life, instead of a survivalist… maybe that’s what he would have looked like as a serious businessman.

“You’re handsome.” The words escaped her lips before she could stop them.

He grinned, the corners of his beautiful eyes forming lines that showed his age. “And you look like a fuckin’ angel.” His lips brushed her lobe as he whispered: “But we both know how you ain’t one, huh?”

Her cheeks heated up as she was reminded of how well he took care of her. She felt that constant pull and want with Joel, her lust never truly filled.

“Follow me, angel.” Joel ordered in a soft voice, his darkening eyes reading her easily.

He locked the bathroom door, and he sat her on the large edge of the sink, before going down to his knees like he was about to worship her. His body protested for a bit, the crack of his bones reminding him of his age. But he didn’t care.

“Makin’ me crazy, lookin’ like this. Want to spend every minute inside ya.” Joel growled as he kissed up her ankle, her leg, her thigh. He sucked and bit the sensitive skin there to remind her who she belonged too.

She let out a sigh of his name, her back arching as he got closer to his target. He helped her pull up the skirt of her dress until she was bare. Her pussy was covered by delicate white lace that was already wet.

“Shouldn’t even have bother to put anythin’ down there, darlin’.”

His rough hands pulled at the fabric until it ripped. She gasped.

“Joel!”

“What’s under is much prettier.” He shushed her and opened her thighs for him. He cursed under his breath as he dove in, the tip of his tongue collecting the wetness already pooling out of her hole. She was already squirming, still sensitive from the way he had fucked her that morning. His wet muscle went back to the top, effortlessly uncovering her clit to put pressure there. He licked, sucked, caressed at the bundle of nerves, until she whimpered, and he felt more nectar coming out of her.

“J-Joel, touch me, please…” She begged as one of her hands grabbed on to his gelled down curls as if to anchor herself so she wouldn’t drown just yet.

He groaned against her pussy, the vibrations giving her even more stimulation as one of his fingers breached her entrance. It was so thick, already filling her up just right as he kept sucking harder at her clit. He plunged his finger deeper until he curled it against that spongy part that he knew made her see stars.

“F-Fuck, please, please, I’m so fucking close….”

“C’mon baby, wet my face.” He mumbled against her, before putting more pressure on his tongue. He felt her grip on his hair strengthen, he heard her heartbeat faster as she came undone, gushing on his face beautifully. He ate her out through it all, until she pushed him away.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, baby.” Joel got up slowly, crowding her against the sink as leaned in to kiss her deeply.

 She moaned against his mouth, and she was about to unclasp his belt, until insistent knocks on the door made her stop. She came back to reality slowly, realizing where they were. Embarrassed, she pulled her dress down and got out of the bathroom. She vaguely heard Joel asking her to wait, but she knew their alone time was up.

Mortified, Elaine stood in front of them.

“Oh, hi.” Her mischievous eyes told her she knew what was going on. “I wanted to talk to you, what a coincidence.” She also acknowledged Joel with a polite nod, who cleared his throat and made up some excuse about going to see if Ellie was okay. Elaine pulled her into the now empty bathroom and closed the door, before taking out a small brown bag out of her purse. She looked at her friend, confused, as she took the bag.

“It’s a tea based on a flower that has contraceptive properties. Drink it once a week, and you’ll be fine. Indigenous women used it to prevent pregnancies. I’ve been meaning to give it to you, but I didn’t see you much these days…”

“O-Oh. Thank you.” Her slick still sticking to her thighs reminded her of how much she needed this.

“You’re welcome.” With a wink, Elaine let her leave.

She hid the bag in her purse, embarrassed that she got caught with Joel, and she went back to the main event. Her eyes looked for him, but it was too crowded. Instead, she found Tommy, Joel’s brother. The younger man looked beautiful; his longer hair tied in a low bun. He wore a blinding white shirt and dark blue pants.

“Oh, hey! I hope you’re liking the party.” He told her loud enough for her to hear.

Awkwardly, she got closer to hear him better. “Yeah… it’s nice. Do you do that every year?”

“Yup, it became a tradition. Was my wife’s idea.”

She nodded and thought the conversation was done, but he stopped her by placing a delicate hand on her bare arm. She almost pushed him away, but his eyes were soft and understanding. “Look… I’ve been meaning to talk to you… about Joel.”

“What about Joel?” She asked, trying to look disinterested.

“I’m… worried for your safety. I know my brother well, but he hasn’t been the same for a while now.”

She stayed silent and let him explain, but Joel stopped their conversation by finally finding her. His hand encircled her arm a bit roughly, and he pulled her towards him while flashing a dark glare to his brother. Tommy retreated.

“Chill, Joel. Was just talkin’ to your girl and see if she was enjoyin’ the party.”

“C’mon baby, we’re leaving.” Joel said as he ignored Tommy.

He pulled her into the dark, cold night, before she could protest. She finally gathered the strength to push him away, her big eyes looking up at him in distress.

“Joel, you’re hurting me. And you’re scaring me.”

The older man stopped in his tracks and pivoted his body so he could look at her. Some of his softness was back in his eyes, but still, something dark loomed behind. “M’sorry.”

“Tommy said… you haven’t been the same. What did he mean by that?” She confronted him.

“Ignore him.”

I was gonna talk to them… but the poor bastards were already dead when I got to them. His words flooded her memory.

“Joel, did you kill them? Josh and Kevin?”

Memories hypnotized his brain, like an out of body experience. He was inside the beast, as it destroyed the men.

“I did what was necessary to protect ya.” He responded darkly.

She didn’t know why, but tears drowned her eyes. They had abused her, badly, but she never intended for them to die like that. “Joel… you can’t.”

“Can’t control it. Forgive me, darlin’.”

She watched as he ran back to the house they shared, alone under the falling snowflakes and the moon mocking her.

[clairifys]

Bastogne - Ronald Speirs x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being in Bastogne was a tiring and hard time for Easy Company. Luckily for (Y/n), a certain hazel-eyed man makes things a little better for her.

TW: Swearing, killing, war, female reader, she/her pronouns, gets a little steamy? not bad at all, kissing, Perconte getting shot in the ass

i don’t own any BoB characters and these fanfics are towards the actors not the actual soldiers, in no way am i trying to be disrespectful.

Word count: 1.8k

If you’d asked anybody who had the misfortune of holding the line in Bastogne, you’d know how much of a terrible nightmare it truly was. No supplies, Christmas creepin’ up, ass biting cold, and the Krauts bombing the forest day and night. 

Sitting in a foxhole watching the front of the line with Perconte, Webb, and Christenson was when I truly thought, ‘What the fuck am I doing here?’ 

I’ll be honest, sometimes I thought I should’ve stayed home with my siblings, and helped the war from home. Right now was one of those times. I was cold, wet, dirty, tired, and worst of all, on my period. It was horrible normally being on my period, but right now? In Bastogne? Absolute shit. I hated staying in the foxholes but Lieutenant Dike made me, Perconte, Webb and Christenson watch the line. 

I was sitting against the wall of the foxhole, squished into Christenson as it was freezing, and I didn’t care who’s body warmth I’d have to steal to warm up. We were all talking about something stupid when all of a sudden, men started walking past our foxhole and talking to us.

“Good luck ladies.” 

“Been nice knowin’ ya.”

“Wouldn’t drink too much if I were you.” 

“Hey, be careful if he offers you a cigarette.” 

Multiple men said as they walked by.

“What are they talking about? If who offers us a cigarette?” Christenson said while slightly smiling. “Speirs.” Webb replied.

“Who?” Christenson questioned, still not understanding.

“You’ve never met him?” I said, shivering.

“Lieutenant Speirs.” Webb replied.

“Supposedly Speirs shot one of his own men for being drunk.” Perconte told Christenson.

“You’re kidding. That’s unbelievable” Christenson said, incredulously.

“Yeah, and there's another one about him giving cigarettes to 20 German POWs before killing ‘em.” Webb said joining in on the conversation.

“He shot 20 POWs?” “Well, actually, I heard it was more like 30.” Christenson and Perconte went back and forth.

“Oh come on. Do you really believe that?” I asked Perconte, shaking my head. 

“Christenson.”

We all whipped our heads around at that.

“Lieutenant Speirs.” Christenson said nervously. 

“I got the name right, didn’t I, Christenson?” Speirs asked while looking at me. We made eye contact and I quickly looked down at my medic bag, pretending to look through it for something. I could feel my face heating up slightly, although it wasn’t my fault. Lieutenant Speirs was a very attractive man and his mysterious personality was hot. 

“Yes, sir.” He replied.

“What are you guys doing out here?” Speirs asked us.

“We’re watching the line, sir.” I replied, pulling my jacket farther up my face, as I didn’t have a scarf. He looked at me with an expression I couldn’t discern then said,

“Well, keep up the good work, while you're at it, you might wanna reinforce your cover.”

“Oh actually sir, Lieutenant Dike said not even to bother, that we're only gonna be here one day.” Perconte spoke up.

“Lieutenant Dike said that, huh?” Speirs asked while me and Perconte nodded back.

“Then forget what I said.. Carry on.” He finished while getting up. 

“Oh, anyone care for a smoke?” He asked, slightly smirking. 

“You?” He questioned Christenson as Christenson was shaking his head.

“How about you little lady?” He asked me. When I saw he had Lucky’s I decided to test my luck.

“Sure, why not?” I replied calmly, although in the back of mind hoping he wouldn’t shoot me.

He looked content as I leaned onto the edge of the foxhole, holding myself up as he gave me a cigarette. High off accomplishment, I decided to push my luck.

“Mind givin’ me a light?” I asked in a sweet tone, hoping it might help persuade him. His already dark eyes got darker as they were fixated on me. He pulled out his lighter, smirking, and maintaining eye contact he lit the cigarette in my mouth. After it lit, he stood up and turned away, walking back to do whatever he normally did.

I turned around and all three men were staring at me, shocked.

“(Y/n)! What the hell! Didn’t you hear what we said? I thought you knew these stories, you've been with Easy since Toccoa!” Perconte said, starstruck. 

“Oh calm down! He offered! You’re just jealous I got a cigarette and you didn’t.” I shrugged my shoulders and playfully stuck my tongue out at him.

He just grumbled and went back to brushing his teeth while the other men, still shocked, went back to doing whatever they were doing.

The next few days weren’t anything special. We had East and West of Foy cleared out, so we were getting ready to attack and capture Foy. The day came and I, along with several other Easy Company men, were going to be led by Dike. I had no confidence in his ability and I was nervous for us all. I was a field medic, so I’d have to be on my A game in making sure these men got their wounds treated. Captain Winters was giving Lieutenant Dike a run down and I was standing next to Speirs, shivering. 

“You seem to be cold a lot Private, colder than most.” He said, looking down at me.

“Well we are in Bastogne, sir.” I replied sarcastically while smirking.

“Oh I’m well aware (L/n).” He said back, smiling albeit barely. At that, he ended up taking off his own scarf and wrapping it around my neck. Feeling my face heating up, I blushed moving to take the scarf off

“Sir! Don’t give this to me, you need it!” I replied, getting ready to hand it back to him. 

“Keep it. I’m not as cold as you.” He said walking away. 

I ended up unzipping my coat and tucking it in, but boy was he hard to understand at times.

“(L/n), you got a boyfriend we don’t know about?��� Luz shouted at me, causing the others to laugh, “Such a shame, you’re quite the beautiful dame.” He said while winking at me. Slightly blushing at the connotation of Speirs being my boyfriend, and at the compliment I just ended up shaking my head and laughing. What I didn’t know was that a certain dark haired man was listening in and blushing as well.

I knew Dike wasn’t a good leader. I had been running around, dodging bullets and mortars trying to patch up men and get them to cover while Lieutenant Dike was sitting on his ass, cowering behind a hay bale. I went over to Dike and started yelling at him about moving so more men wouldn’t keep getting hit.

Suddenly, when we thought all hope was lost, Speirs came running out like a knight in fucking armor and relieved Dike of his position. I gave him a look of relief and he in return gave me a smile. I went back out to go patch up Perco’s ass right after.

After we took Foy, thanks to Speirs, we were stationed in a church for the next few nights. There was a choir singing, as men were either talking or trying to get some shut eye. I was in a different room of the church that had a mirror, alone, busy brushing, detangling, then braiding up my hair when Speirs came over to sit by me. 

“Thanks for saving our asses back there, guess we should start calling you Captain now huh?” I jokingly said to him.

“No problem (L/n). The other men can call me Captain, you can call me Ron though.” He said smiling next to me. My face started heating up at his words.

“Then you have to start calling me (Y/n).” I said shyly, smiling at him. 

“(Y/n)..” He tested out, “Will you do me the pleasure of letting me kiss you?” He asked, a little nervous. Without replying, I pounced on him, kissing him with as much fervor and longing as I could. He kissed back immediately with the same passion. Breaking apart for air, we stared at each other. He went in for another kiss, and I met him halfway. This time, he bit down on my lip, causing me to groan into his mouth and he slipped his tongue into mine. His hands started to roam, slowly crawling up my waist almost cupping my-

Ahem

A voice awkwardly coughed causing us to spring apart. Sergeant Lipton was standing at the entrance awkwardly holding papers.

“I uh, need you to sign these for me.. Sorry to, uh, interrupt.” He said stiffly. 

“Hand them here.” Ron said while digging for a pen. While Ron was busy signing the papers, I took the chance to talk to Lipton.

“This is gonna stay between us right..” I said uncomfortably, face turning red each passing moment. Lipton looked at me, slightly chuckled then responded,

“Of course, just, make sure next time I don’t have to almost walk in.” I gave him an awkward smile and Ron handed him the papers back smirking.

When Lipton left, Ron dug his hand into his right pocket, pulling out a little black box. He handed it to me, and waited for me to open it. When I did, I wasn’t upset. Sitting in the center of the box was a beautiful, small, rhombus shaped diamond attached to a silver, thin chain. It was the most beautiful, and probably expensive, gift I had ever gotten.

“Oh Ron.. this is beautiful!” I said, looking between him and the necklace fondly.

“Will you put it on for me?” I asked, smiling up at him.

“Of course, I’m glad you like it. I found it in Holland and I thought you’d look even more beautiful with it.” He replied while clasping the chain together on me. I blushed, and when he finished, I wrapped my hand around his neck. His arms immediately went around my waist as I slowly swayed us to the muffled choir in the beautiful church.

AN: I am SO sorry it took so long! I've been super busy with Christmas and finals, and I was drained. I'll be trying to post more regularly, I promise.

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 18

you don’t have to believe me right now, i just need you to promise me that if things get bad, you’ll put an end to things before it goes too far.

anytime you say that we’re fine, it means that we’re not fine.

some stains you can’t wash clean.

she’s mean. and hot.

not every story gets a happy ending.

am i too damaged to be with somebody?

when i have something good, i feel compelled to ruin it.

there’s a nightmare happening under my skin.

fear is something that lives inside us. just like hope or joy or love.

there’s some hard choices coming, and no one here seems willing to make them.

i don’t know. and that is fucking terrifying.

how is it that you get to fuck everything up and still have everything, always?

oh, i’m sorry, did i hit a fucking nerve?

we were a safe space on a bad day.

i didn’t think that i could find myself unless i left.

i hate sappy movies. i find them torturous. 

people leave because they find something they like better.

i really don’t like who i’m becoming right now.

don’t get involved in other people’s bullshit. that just gets in the way.

no one in their right mind would want to be with the person you’ve become. 

i washed down a bad day with sex.

why are you so competitive?

you have so much you haven’t dealt with.

i’m really sorry that i fucked your life up.

do you, like, prey on people’s whose lives are already falling apart?

i think you should probably go find yourself a new hero.

it’s safer for you to stay away from me.

being around you right now really messes me up.

don’t ever fuck with me. i will know.

is there any point in fighting it? 

i’m wide awake. i’ve never been more awake in my life.

you asked me out. you know, just saying.

you’re a sucker for a sob story.

i like you, but you’re scary though.

i’m not betting my life on your fucking hunch.

stay alive, you piece of shit.

i stayed because you were hurting, and now i’m hurting. 

you wanna thank me? bury your old self and don’t look back.

what’s the point of being friends if we can’t be friends?

i like you a lot better when you’re not yelling at me.

we’re all gonna fucking die.

i’m the person that when i get too close to someone, i push them away, and i don’t trust myself not to do that to you.

that other night is how i know i lost myself for a minute.

no wonder your family’s a fucking mess.

i’m not planning on dying here tonight, so shut the fuck up.

so you led a pig to shit, and now you’re surprised you made a mess?

i’ve gotta get back to my family.

i want you to be just a little more thoughtful sometimes.

what do i do wrong? why is it so fucking hard to be in a relationship with me?

we can’t sit here hoping for the best.

you met your match. she’s as strong as you are. can you handle it?

i’m so into you, and i can’t handle it. i don’t want to feel this way.

i don’t need a fucking reminder of what’s at stake. 

if this is the end, then i want it to end with you.

my heart’s belonged to you since the moment i met you.

you’re the love of my life, for as long as that life may last.

it’s not your fear that feeds the forest, it’s hope.

what starts in chaos ends in chaos. 

i’m your friend, and i’m not going to let you treat me like shit too.

i have come at it from all the strength that i have.

i don’t want you in my bed anymore.

i don’t need you. i just want you. so, no pressure, or anything like that. 

look at me, i’m disappearing.

you need to work on your own shit. you have deep wounds, and i don’t know who hurt you, but somebody did.

you don’t love me. 

you got people out there that you care about?

today was intense.

since we already did the time, we might as well do the crime.

even your friends think you’re bad news.

you know me more than anyone else in this entire world. you’re my best friend i’ve ever had.

you’re not a waste of time.

how hard is it to be faithful to someone you’re in love with?

every good thing in my life ends up broken because of me. 

i hurt everyone and everything i touch. it doesn’t matter what happens to me anymore.

what is your thing? what’s going to make you happy these days?

it smells like stress sweat in here. is it me?

all i do is give you fucking space.

everybody fucking wants something from me, and it’s exhausting.

we don't have time for this. 

you don’t know how to do nothing.

i’ve had a fuck sandwich of a week.

no one is ever going to love you because you’re incapable of loving anyone but your fucking self. 

what about you? what do you deserve?

that’s shame. you have to address that.

love? i don’t even like myself right now, like at all.

it’s okay, you know. to be sad.

[fuqnia]

Meteor Whispers

craig tucker x reader insert

(❁´◡`❁) | [A/N] hii, this is my tenth and final oneshot that's apart of my ficmas! i wanted craig to be my final oneshot, because I don't really know how to write Craig at all, but I love his character sm ❤️❄️🎄 this is also on ao3!

(❁´◡`❁) | Warning(s) : none

(❁´◡`❁) | Synopsis : Craig takes you stargazing to escape the holiday chaos, and under the meteor shower, you share an intimate moment.

The car rattled softly as it rolled down the snow-covered road, the low hum of the engine blending with the occasional crunch of ice beneath the tires. South Park’s absurd holiday glow was finally behind you, the neon Santas and overdone decorations now just a faint blur in the rearview mirror. The air felt cleaner here, quieter. Like the world had decided to take a breath.

Craig, sitting hunched over the steering wheel, looked about as impressed as ever. His hand rested loosely at the top of the wheel, his other elbow propped on the window ledge as his fingers tapped an uneven rhythm. The glow from the dashboard painted his face in pale shades of green and blue, and his eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, sharp and focused in that way they always were, even when he seemed completely uninterested in what was happening.

“Christmas sucks,” he muttered suddenly, breaking the silence in his usual flat tone.

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the opening line you’re going with tonight?”

Craig didn’t look at you, his gaze still locked on the road. “Just thought I’d set the mood. Y’know, festive and all.”

You grinned, shaking your head as you leaned back in the passenger seat. “You’re a real holiday poet, Craig. Truly inspiring.”

“Don’t start,” he warned, his tone light but laced with that familiar dryness. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking. No one actually likes this shit. They just like pretending they do so they don’t feel bad about how miserable they are the rest of the year.”

“Wow,” you said, unable to keep the laugh out of your voice. “Way to ruin Christmas in one sentence.”

Craig shrugged, unfazed. “It’s a gift.”

The car hit a patch of uneven road, jostling you slightly. Craig didn’t even blink, keeping the wheel steady with one hand as the other stayed firmly propped on the window. You caught his profile in the dim light, the sharp line of his jaw and the faint twitch of his lips that might’ve been a smirk—or maybe just a reaction to the cold air seeping into the car. He was impossible to read, as always, but there was something about the way he was sitting, the way his fingers gripped the wheel just a little tighter than usual, that gave him away.

“Okay, but seriously,” you said after a moment, breaking the silence. “If you hate Christmas so much, why are we doing this? You’re not exactly the ‘watch-the-stars’ type.”

Craig let out a soft scoff, finally glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Because being stuck in town right now would be worse. Do you have any idea how many inflatable Santas are in my neighborhood? It’s like walking through a goddamn nightmare.”

You snorted, biting back a laugh. “Inflatable Santas, huh? Truly terrifying.”

Craig rolled his eyes, shifting slightly in his seat. “And don’t even get me started on Randy Marsh. That asshole’s been shouting about his ‘award-winning lights’ for two weeks. Like anyone gives a shit.”

“Pretty sure he’s just yelling into the void at this point,” you said, smiling. “But, hey, maybe he’ll figure out how to power the lights with a backup generator this year. Progress, right?”

Craig snorted softly, the sound almost a laugh, though he’d never admit it. He turned the wheel as the car veered onto a smaller road, lined with snow-draped trees. The glow of South Park was gone now, replaced by the stillness of the forest and the faint outline of stars beginning to peek through the clouds.

The quiet settled between you again, but it wasn’t awkward. It never was with Craig. He didn’t fill silences just for the sake of it, and you’d learned to appreciate that. Still, there was something about this moment that felt different—heavier, maybe. Like he’d planned more than he was willing to let on.

“You’re quiet,” you said softly, breaking the silence again.

Craig shrugged, his gaze still fixed ahead. “What’s there to say? We’re out of South Park. Mission accomplished.”

You smiled to yourself, leaning your head against the window as snowflakes drifted lazily past. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I guess it is.”

For a while, the only sound was the car’s engine and the occasional rustle of branches as the wind picked up. The stars were brighter now, scattered across the dark sky like tiny pinpricks of light, and you could feel the air shift as the road narrowed into a clearing. The trees opened up, revealing a wide stretch of untouched snow, the world quiet except for the faint hum of the engine as Craig pulled the car to a stop.

“We’re here,” he said simply, cutting the ignition.

The silence that followed was almost deafening, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a warm blanket, heavy but safe. You glanced at Craig, who was sitting back in his seat now, his fingers drumming idly on the wheel as he stared out at the clearing. His expression hadn’t changed—blank and bored, the same as always—but there was something softer in his posture now, like the weight he always carried on his shoulders had eased just a little.

“Better than South Park,” he said, his voice quieter this time.

You smiled, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck as you reached for the door handle. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Way better.”

Craig didn’t say anything, but as you stepped out into the snow and felt the cold bite at your cheeks, you thought you saw the faintest hint of a smile on his face. Just for a second.

The air was sharp and still, wrapping around you like a silent reminder of how far away you were from the chaos of South Park. Snow crunching underfoot as you walked around to the trunk, the stars overhead clearer now, scattered across the inky black sky. The clearing was wide and open, the trees framing it like a picture-perfect holiday card. If Craig wasn’t here, he’d probably scoff at how "picturesque" it all was.

The trunk creaked as Craig popped it open, rummaging through the blankets and thermoses he’d packed with an air of complete nonchalance. He slung one blanket over his arm and handed you another without a word, grabbing a thermos like this was a chore and not something he’d clearly planned.

“Wow,” you said, smirking as you adjusted the blanket in your arms. “So prepared. It’s almost like you care.”

Craig glanced at you, “Don’t get weird about it.”

“I’m just saying, you didn’t have to go all out like this,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow. “Blankets, cocoa, the perfect spot for stargazing—it’s suspiciously thoughtful.”

He rolled his eyes, slamming the trunk shut. “Yeah, well, if you freeze to death, I don’t wanna hear about it.”

You snorted, following him as he trudged through the snow toward the middle of the clearing. His boots left deep tracks in the untouched snow, the rhythmic crunch of each step filling the quiet. He didn’t say anything else, just spread one of the blankets out on the ground, motioning for you to sit down like he hadn’t just trekked you out here to the middle of nowhere in the dead of winter.

You settled onto the blanket, pulling the one he’d given you tightly around your shoulders. The thermos was warm in your hands, the faint scent of cocoa wafting up as you unscrewed the lid. Craig sat beside you, his legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned back on his elbows. His breath fogged in the cold air, but he didn’t look cold. He looked comfortable, in his element. Which, of course, made no sense, because Craig Tucker didn’t have an element.

“So,” you said after a moment, breaking the quiet. “Do you have some big speech planned, or are you just gonna sit there and brood all night?”

Craig glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “Big speech? Who do I look like, Kyle?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Definitely not. But seriously, this is really nice. Thank you for dragging me out here.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, staring up at the sky. His tone was flat, but you noticed the way his fingers tightened around his thermos, the faint twitch of his brow. “Literally. Don’t.”

“Got it,” you said, smiling. “No heartfelt thank-you speeches. I’ll stick to sarcastic remarks.”

“Good,” he said, deadpan. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin the mood.”

The two of you lapsed into silence, the kind of quiet that felt natural instead of awkward. The stars above were brighter now, pinpricks of light scattered across the vast black canvas of the sky. Every so often, one would streak across the horizon, a tiny burst of light that disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Pretty cool, huh?” you said softly, tilting your head back to take it all in.

Craig shrugged. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

“What do you want me to say?” he muttered, glancing at you. “That it’s magical? That I’m moved? That I suddenly believe in holiday miracles?”

You smirked, sipping from your thermos. “You could try ‘it’s beautiful.’ Or maybe just admit that you’re enjoying yourself.”

Craig scoffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting off a smile. “Don’t push your luck.”

You both fell quiet again, the faint whistle of the wind through the trees the only sound. Craig leaned back further, his face tipped toward the sky, and for a moment, he looked completely relaxed. No snark, no eye rolls, no sarcastic remarks—just Craig, quiet and still, the glow of the stars reflected faintly in his eyes.

“You know,” he said finally, his voice softer than usual, “this isn’t… the worst way to spend a night.”

You turned to him, surprised, but his expression didn’t waver. He wasn’t looking at you, just staring up at the sky like he hadn’t said anything at all.

“High praise coming from you,” you said, smiling.

Craig didn’t respond, but you thought you saw it again—that faint, fleeting curve of his lips. And for a second, it felt like the quiet around you wasn’t just the absence of noise. It was something deliberate. Something that made the stars feel brighter and the cold less sharp, like the world had shifted just enough to make room for this moment.

The clearing stretched wide and open, the snow untouched except for the faint tracks left by Craig’s boots. The stars overhead were clearer than you’d ever seen them, scattered like pinpricks of silver across an ink-black canvas. The silence here was different—not the awkward kind, but the kind that made you feel small in the best way.

Craig leaned back on the blanket he’d spread out, his head tipped toward the sky, thermos cradled in one hand. He’s completely silent now, his usual snark giving way to something softer, almost thoughtful. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him like this—focused, steady—but it always caught you off guard. Like you were seeing a different side of him, one he didn’t show often.

Another meteor streaked across the sky, bright and fleeting. You couldn’t help but gasp softly at the sight, watching as it burned out against the dark.

“Cool, huh?” Craig said, his voice breaking the quiet. It wasn’t sarcastic this time, just calm and matter-of-fact.

“Yeah,” you said, glancing at him. “It’s beautiful.”

Craig didn’t look away from the sky. “The Geminids are one of the best showers. You can see like a hundred an hour if the conditions are good. No moon, clear skies—it’s pretty much perfect tonight.”

You smiled, wrapping the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Okay, that was suspiciously informative. You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Not holding out,” Craig said, shrugging. “I just don’t talk about it because people are idiots. They don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

He turned his head slightly, his gaze cutting to you for just a second before flicking back to the sky. “How huge it all is. And how small we are. It freaks people out, so they act like space is just some science class trivia. But it’s not. It’s…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely upward with his free hand. “Everything.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “That’s… actually kind of poetic. Are you feeling okay?”

Craig shot you a look, his expression deadpan. “Don’t ruin it.”

You laughed, settling back beside him. “Sorry, sorry. I mean, you’re right. It is kind of insane to think about. Like, right now, there are planets out there we don’t even know about.”

“Yeah,” Craig said, his voice quieter now. “Or stars that died millions of years ago, but their light’s still traveling to us. The Geminids are dust from a comet that’s probably not even around anymore. It just… lingers.”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the way he said it—calm and unbothered, but with a certain weight behind his words. Craig had always been a bit of a mystery to you, but moments like this made you wonder just how much more was hiding under his usual sarcasm and shrugs.

Another meteor burned across the sky, long and bright, leaving a faint trail in its wake. Craig watched it with the same quiet intensity he gave to everything he cared about, his eyes steady, his expression almost serene.

“You’re really into this, huh?” you said softly.

“Yeah,” he admitted, not bothering to deflect. “I’ve been into space since I was a kid. Probably because it’s quiet. No dumbasses yelling or screwing things up. Just stars and planets doing their thing.”

“Sounds lonely,” you said, tilting your head.

Craig smirked faintly, his lips quirking up at the corners. “Yeah, well, people suck. The stars are consistent. They don’t screw you over.”

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt lighter, more open. You let your gaze drift back to the sky, watching as more meteors flashed overhead. You could feel Craig’s presence beside you, steady and warm despite the cold pressing in around you. He wasn’t a big talker, but when he did open up, it felt like something rare. Something you wanted to hold onto.

“So,” you said after a while, your tone light, “if you weren’t here with me, would you be watching this alone?”

Craig let out a soft scoff, taking a sip from his thermos. “Probably. Or maybe not. Depends on if I felt like dealing with the cold.”

You smirked, nudging his arm. “But you’re dealing with it for me, right?”

He gave you a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t flatter yourself. You just make less noise than most people.”

“Aw, thanks, Craig. You really know how to make someone feel special.”

“Yeah, it’s a gift,” he muttered, but there was no bite in his tone.

Another meteor streaked across the sky, brighter than the ones before. Its light spread across the clearing, casting a fleeting glow over the snow and trees. You turned your head slightly, your gaze catching on Craig. He didn’t move, his shoulders still brushing yours, his head tipped back just enough for the light of the meteor to catch in his eyes.

There was a kind of stillness to him that you couldn’t place, like the world had slowed just enough to let him breathe. His usual tension—the set of his jaw, the way his shoulders always seemed braced for something—was gone. He didn’t look over at you, didn’t fill the silence with one of his usual sharp remarks. He just sat there, his face tipped toward the sky, and something about it made your chest ache.

“Hey, Craig,” you said, your voice quiet, almost hesitant.

He turned his head, his brow lifting slightly, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “What?”

You hesitated, the words caught somewhere between your chest and your throat. The cold seemed sharper suddenly, biting at your cheeks and the tip of your nose, but it was nothing compared to the heat building inside you. “Can I…” You took a shaky breath, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “Can I kiss you?”

Craig blinked, his face shifting just slightly—not startled, but not entirely unaffected, either. His gaze dropped to the blanket between you, and for a second, you thought he might deflect, make some sarcastic comment to break the tension. Instead, his fingers twitched against the fabric, and he nodded once, barely enough to notice. “Yeah,” he said, his voice softer than usual, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours. “If you want.”

You felt the air leave your lungs, the moment heavier than you’d expected. Slowly, carefully, you leaned in, testing the waters. Craig didn’t move right away. He stayed still, his eyes on you, like he was trying to decide how to respond. But when your lips finally brushed against his, he didn’t pull away. He leaned in, just enough to meet you, his breath catching as your hand brushed against his on the blanket.

The kiss was soft at first, barely more than a tentative touch. Craig’s lips were warm, a stark contrast to the cold biting at your skin. He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure what to do next, but he didn’t pull back. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss just enough to let you know he was with you. There was no rush, no urgency—just the quiet, unspoken understanding between you.

His breath hitched when you shifted closer, the movement drawing a fleeting sound from him that you didn’t think he realized he’d made. His hand brushed against yours again, this time more deliberate, the faint pressure sending a spark through you. The kiss wasn’t perfect—hesitant, a little unsure—but that only made it feel more real. More him .

Craig kissed the way he did everything else: carefully, with purpose, even when he wasn’t entirely certain. There was a steadiness to it, a quiet intensity that made your chest ache. He didn’t push, didn’t fumble or try to rush through the moment. It was like he was letting himself feel it, letting you in, one step at a time.

When you finally pulled back, the world seemed quieter, the cold sharper against your skin as your breath mingled with his in the air between you. Craig stayed still, his face flushed—not just from the cold, you realized—as his gaze dropped back to the blanket. His fingers flexed slightly against the fabric, like he was grounding himself.

“That was…” He trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes lifted to meet yours, hesitant but steady. “Good.”

Your chest warmed at the quiet sincerity of his words. “Yeah?” you asked, your voice just as soft.

Craig nodded, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “Yeah.”

You leaned back slightly, giving him space, but you didn’t move far. His shoulder brushed against yours, and he didn’t shift away. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable—it felt warm, like the moment had settled into something solid. Another meteor streaked across the sky, long and brilliant, and Craig tilted his head to follow it, his face calm again.

“You don’t do this much, do you?” you asked quietly, the question slipping out without much thought.

Craig huffed softly, but there was no edge to the sound. “No,” he admitted, his voice steady but low. “Not really. It’s not… something I think about.”

You smiled, your heart softening at the honesty in his tone. “Well, you’re not bad at it.”

Craig glanced at you, his expression unreadable for a moment, before the corner of his mouth twitched. “Thanks,” he said dryly, but there was a faint warmth in his voice that wasn’t usually there. “I’ll add it to my resume.”

You laughed quietly, leaning into his shoulder just enough to feel the warmth radiating from him. He didn’t pull away, didn’t say anything to break the moment. Instead, he just leaned back on his hands, his eyes drifting to the stars.

“I’m glad we came out here,” he said softly, almost like he didn’t realize he was speaking.

You turned to look at him, your chest tightening at the way he said it—simple, understated, but real. “Me too,” you said.

Craig didn’t respond, but he nodded, his gaze fixed on the endless stretch of sky above you. The stars glittered, meteors streaking across the dark expanse in quiet bursts of light. And for the first time all night, Craig looked like he didn’t have anything to guard against. Just him, you, and the stars.

[volklana]

I Could Drown Myself In Someone Like You

Part One

Title Comes From This Song:

You can find my other Biker!Bucky fic here:

Request: Hey girl I literally just found your blog and when I tell you I BINGED your Ride series. Please I beg could we have some more Biker Bucky? Maybe barmaid reader? I really don't mind as long as we get some BikerBuck!

Warnings: Mentions of unwanted physical attention. Future chapters will allude to past domestic abuse. If that isn't for you, please don't read, protect your peace and you can catch me next time xx

Bucky pulled his bike into the parking lot of his bar and grill.

A customer stepped outside to light a cigarette and the light from inside spilled out into the dark, along with the music playing inside. 

Bucky was nothing if not a creature of habit, every night he would ride his bike through winding forest roads, down to the creek, and sometimes he would lay on the riverbank smoking cigarettes like he and Steve used to do when they were teenagers, before they’d gone to war, before he’d been fucked up. Before he became whatever this version of himself was.

And then in the evenings he’d pull up here to his bar and drink nearly not enough whisky to drown out the nightmares in his cabin behind the bar. 

Sighing, he let himself into the bar. Steve as always was pouring drinks and chatting easily in that light hearted way he had, Bucky would have been envious if he hadn’t loved him so much. Steve had managed to hold on to all the best parts of himself, but Bucky’s were buried somewhere in a bunker in the Middle East, and even if he wanted to, he could never get them back. 

Sam was busy flipping steaks at the grill and gave Bucky a wide eyed grin as Bucky passed him by and pushed the swing door into the back office.

He stilled all action at the sight of a girl in his office on top of his chair, on her tiptoes still unable to reach the top shelf as she fumbled to reach something.

“Can I help you?” he said gruffly and god damn if he didn’t startle you half to death and nearly cause you to fall off the chair. 

“I’m looking for the grenadine syrup, Steve said I would find it up here.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Bucky laughed “And did he also tell you it was fine to climb all over my shit in the process?”

“No, Sir,” you offered meekly, stepping gently down off his chair “I’m sorry,” but you couldn’t fight the smile that was threatening to spread across your face. 

Bucky huffed and reached over your head with ease, pressing the bottle of grenadine into your hand.

“Next time Steve sends you on a mission like that, tell him to pull his lazy, tall ass in here and reach the damn top shelf himself,” 

You smiled up at him, and he felt the ghost of a butterfly in his stomach.

“I’m y/n,” you offered with a smile and he couldn’t help but return a lopsided one himself.

“Bucky,” he returned. 

Bucky made your mouth water, his tight black jeans were ripped at the knees, and he wore a well worn leather jacket but it did absolutely nothing to hide his muscular frame, his hair was long and messy and was just begging for you to run your hands through it. You had to shake all thoughts of him from your head as you returned to your shift.

“What’s her story?” Bucky asked Steve, eyeing you as you made your rounds and he sipped on his whisky.

“Why do you assume she has a story?” Steve cocked his head now following you in his line of sight too.

“C’mon Steve, no one ends up here unless they have a story. They’re either running away from something, or someone. Or they’re on their way to somewhere else, and they’re simply stopping off here.” 

“Bucky,” Steve sighed, clapping him on the back “You always assume the worst in people.” 

“And they always prove me right,” Bucky countered while taking another sip.

As you finished mopping the floor, you made your way into the back office, looking shy, wringing your hands, nervously.

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

“Sam said to talk to you about if it would be okay to get this week’s wages upright,” Bucky could see straight away how embarrassed you were “Bucky I wouldn’t ask, but the bnb are asking for payment upright and I’m just 40 bucks short.” 

Bucky was reaching into his wallet straight away and you tried to put out a hand to stop him.

“Please..Please,” Bucky shook his hand and handed you some notes, you scrunched your eyebrow at his kindness.

“Take this for tonight and I’ll get you your full wages for your shift tomorrow.”

“I’ll pay you back Sir,” you said, voice so low it was almost a whisper and he shook his head softly.

“Let me give you a ride back,” he offered and you shook your head profusely.

“You’ve done enough for me tonight,” you reminded him, notes in your hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow for my shift.” 

Bucky watched you go, and again that ghost of a butterfly fluttered in his stomach and he grimaced uncomfortably.

Bucky watched you over the next few nights, always the first to your shift and always the last to leave.

And every night you refused any offer to drive you home from him, Sam or Steve. 

He was filling out papers in his office when he heard a gentle knock and you were before him.

“I wanted to give you this,” you said meekly with some notes in your hand , “I can’t thank you enough Bucky.”

“Doll,” he sighed, surprising even himself with the nickname “Please keep it, consider it a welcome gift.”

“If it’s all the same I would like to give it back to you,” you smiled, placing it on his desk “It was awful kind of you and I’ll never forget it.” 

Before he could even respond you had dipped out of his office and began your shift.

The bar went quiet when a particularly menacing looking gang wandered into the bar, and immediately Steve and Sam stood to attention, you were in the back fetching more pitchers.

They seemed to be scouting the area out before choosing a table at the opposite end of the bar to settle at.

Steve caught your arm as you went to take their orders “Be careful,” he nodded towards them and you went to take their orders gingerly. 

Amid the wolf whistles and cat-calls you finally managed to take their orders, which you promptly relayed to Sam and Steve. 

After you had successfully served their food and first round of drinks, you retreated to behind the bar before they summoned you back again. 

“C’mere baby,” one of them slurred pulling you onto his lap.

You initially tried to laugh off how uncomfortable you were, but when he wouldn’t let you wrangle free, you felt trapped and felt your panic begin to rise. 

“Let me go,” you tried weakly when he began to try kissing your face, trapping your hands in his much stronger ones, you tried to make pleading eye contact with Steve but he was nowhere to be seen.

As he let go of your hands to toy with the waistband of your denim jeans you finally managed to bolt free, but when he grabbed your arm and spun you around you reacted with a swift slap to his face, shocking even yourself, but you were in no way expecting the sharp sting of a returning slap, tears welling in your eyes and hand flying up instinctively to your burning skin. 

Everything else passed by in a blur as you recognised Steve and Bucky kicking into action, you just about managed to get your feet to move before you were collapsing down behind the bar, feeling the all too familiar feeling of a panic attack ripping through your body and the awful sensation of not being able to breath.

It seemed like hours before Bucky was before you where you sat, rocking back and forward, hands covering your ears.

“Doll,” he tried and you cowered away from him, he got down on his hunkers and gingerly reached for you, “it’s me doll, it’s Bucky. Breathe for me. Breathe for me.” 

When you finally felt like you could breathe again Bucky went to fetch a glass of water and leaned up against the counter, arms folded, he examined you over, eyes honing in on the red, swollen skin of your cheek.

“I’m so sorry Bucky,” you finally broke the silence, refusing to meet his eye.

“Hey,” he shushed, dropping down to his hunkers in front of you again “You have nothing to apologise for!” 

You couldn’t help the tears that sprung to your eyes with shame and you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. 

You rolled your eyes and sniffed, “This was meant to be a fresh start, and it seems like trouble just follows me wherever I go.”

“What can I do doll?” Bucky said softly reaching out to put a reassuring hand on your knee, it was only then you realised his knuckles were bloody.

You realised with a startle that he had got his knuckles bloody for you.

“Can you take me home Buck,” you asked swiping your thumb over his knuckles, your silent thank you for the trouble they had gone to on your behalf. 

Bucky pulled into the parking space of the bnb, and helped you take your motorcycle helmet off. 

It had been weeks since you first reached town and Bucky was curious.

“What are you still doing here? You don’t want to find somewhere proper?” 

“Nobody will rent to me,” you said sadly “I’ve tried everywhere. Even that shack out by the creek that’s been abandoned since before we were born. Nobody wants to rent to me because I’m an outsider.” 

Bucky was suddenly angry at how the town had been treating you.

“Thank you for taking me home and I’m so sorry about tonight,” you said softly and Bucky turned to examine your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone, your eyes fluttered closed at the touch and something jolted inside Bucky.

“You sure you’re okay?” he whispered and you nodded softly.

You stood gently on your tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow Buck.” 

Bucky tossed and turned all night. He had briefly fallen asleep only to once again be woken by a nightmare. The same one. That same bunker. That same chair. But then something unexpected, when he tried to close his eyes again, your eyes were staring back at him, and if he was honest that was what was keeping him awake. He knew he was in trouble….

“Keep your coat on y/n,” Bucky ordered as you arrived for your shift.

“What? Why?” you cried, fearing you were being let go, Bucky huffed a laugh at your horrified expression, “Doll, you’re not fired. We’re taking a little road trip.” 

You climbed onto his bike and held on tight to his torso, winding through Californian redwoods, the mountain air all around you.

Bucky finally pulled onto a little dirt track that led up to an opening in the trees and a singular cabin stood against the backdrop of a small lake. 

“Come on,” he motioned, removing your helmet, and leading you inside.

It was cosy, the living room and kitchen were open plan and there was an old cast iron log burner in the middle of the room with logs stacked either side of it.

There was one room off the side which you assumed was the bedroom.

“Well, what do you think?” Bucky asked motioning around.

“It’s beautiful Buck,” you said, still unsure why he had brought you here “It’s a beautiful home.” 

“It’s yours,” Bucky stated simply, back turned to you and  hands on his hips.

“What?” you almost shrieked and he replied in the same nonchalant tone “It’s yours!” 

“Bucky, wait!” you deadpanned, catching his shoulder and forcing him to turn around to look at you, eyes scanning his face until he conceded.

“It was my Mom’s cottage, and seeing as she’s not here anymore and I’ve got my place at the bar, I think you should have it, you can’t stay at that bnb forever. You need a place of your own.Plus it’s about time some life was breathed back into this place ” 

“Buck,” you cried, eyes watering, not letting go of your hold on him “Are you sure?”

“It’s yours doll,” he whispered, eyes flicking briefly down to your lips, “For as long as you choose to stay, and I hope you do stay, it’s yours,” 

You extended your hand out to him “You take the rent out of my wages,” you ordered, waiting for him to shake on your deal.

“Doll,” he sighed “The place was lying empty, I'm not going to charge you rent,” you looked like you were about to argue when he stuck his hand out too, “Counter offer, if you do this place up. Make it somewhere lived in and beautiful. Somewhere my Ma would be proud to look down on, then we’re quits.”

You nodded and shook his hand ferociously, tears threatening to spill.

“Thank you Bucky,” you whispered, pulling him into a hug and relishing in the feel of his strong arms around you, and your heart hammered in your chest when he placed a gentle kiss on your head.

After a month or two of working at the bar you had saved enough to buy a second hand, beaten up old pickup truck, and Sam brought you out to pick it up.

“Are you sure you want this hunk of junk y/n?” he argued but you were enamored and being able to drive it home to your cabin filled you with an enormous amount of peace. 

You had been growing closer and closer with Bucky, sometimes he would stop by on your days off to do some of the diy you pestered him about on your shifts and if you were honest you really enjoyed the company.

The first few nights on your own in the cabin had been nothing short of terrifying. You weren’t used to being alone and on the second night a huge storm knocked all your power out and you shivered in bed all night terrified of the darkness.

Bucky came around the next morning and fixed your generator so that would never happen again. 

“There,” Bucky sighed “All done!” 

You came to join him on the porch and passed him a bottle of beer and he flicked a switch and the fairy lights he had hung all around the cottage flickered to light.

“They’re beautiful Buck,” you smiled, hugging him tightly, eyes lighting up like a child as you looked up at them. 

“Not as beautiful as you,” he said softly, hands coming to rest on your waist, and his breath on your neck made you shiver.

“Bucky,” you tried softly but he cut you off with a kiss. You melted into his touch completely and he gently became more ferocious in the way he clasped your body and kissed your lips. 

He backed you through the open door of the cottage until you collapsed down on the sofa and he climbed on top of you, he was making quick work of your shirt when you finally came to your senses.

“Wait, Wait,” you panted, hands planting on his chest “Maybe we should slow down for a moment.” 

“You want me to slow it down baby doll?” he panted and you nodded gently.

“I’m not ready Buck,” you cried and Bucky suddenly noticed how terrified you looked, feeling guilty that he had pushed you to a place you weren’t ready for yet.

“I can wait babygirl,” he promised, cupping your face in both of his hands “I can wait.” 

“Bucky, no. No.” you cried, pushing him away with your leg and running your hands through your hair, “I can’t do this,” you cried. 

Bucky sat still on your sofa not quite sure what to do for a moment “You don’t want this?”

You shook your head, tears springing to your eyes “It’s not that Buck, it's just I can’t be what you need right now. I can’t be with you like this.”

“What do you think I need?” he rose gently “All I need is you,” he countered

“Hey, hey, why are you crying?” he shushed brushing your hair behind your ears “Don’t cry.”

“Please Buck,” you were pleading, “Please can you just leave, I can't do this. It’s too much for me.”

Bucky was torn between wanting to assure you some more and respecting your request for him to leave. He hesitated just a moment too long for you to take it the wrong way completely, your eyes were wide and ferocious like an animal that had been cornered.

He scratched the back of his neck before he could find his voice “Doll, if I’ve read this wrong-”

“-You have,” you snapped “You’ve read this wrong and I need you to leave now, please,” you paced until you found his leather jacket hanging across the back of a chair and tossed it to him.

He couldn’t help the anger of rejection that rose up in his chest, and the shame for having read the situation so wrong.

“Fine. Fine. I’m going,” he sighed, pulling his jacket on and stomping towards the door.

“You know what..” he started one hand on the handle, but stopping to face you “Forget it,” he deadpanned, pulling the door open and slamming it behind him.

Work the next few days were less awkward than expected, Bucky and his bike were nowhere to be seen. You’d heard Steve mention to Sam that he was worried that Bucky was gone on another whisky fuelled bender and you couldn’t help the pang of guilt that gnawed away at your stomach.

Days turned into a week with no contact from Bucky and the guilt was eating you alive. You had texted him days ago to apologise, and asking if you could talk it out and explain, but he never replied. Not only were you angry with yourself for fucking everything up but now you were really beginning to worry. 

You were closing the bar by yourself tonight, it was a quiet Tuesday night and business was slow. You knew Steve had a date after work so you dismissed him early so he could go buy her some flowers he’d kissed you on the cheek and almost skipped out of the bar.

It gave you the opportunity to pop your headphones in and listen to your music as you mopped and cleaned. 

It was nice to do a deep a clean without Steve or Sam trying to hurry you out. 

And as you made your way into the back office to put away the takings into the safe your heart almost fell out of your chest.

Bucky was laying back in his office chair, eyes squeezed shut while some girl with her skirt hitched up at the sides was grinding her hips on him, her own head thrown back in ecstasy as she rode him. 

You froze on the spot, you couldn't help the way your stomach sank to your toes in a feeling of betrayal, or the way your eyes stung with tears.

Bucky wasn’t yours, you had seen to that with your stupidity the other night so you had no right to feel the way you were right now and when his electric eyes suddenly bore into yours with an expression you honestly couldn’t read you were backing out of his office quicker than lightning. 

He followed you out into the carpark catching you just as you were about to climb into your truck. 

“Doll,” he reached for you exasperated, “Doll wait, please.” 

You turned to face him, tears rolling down your cheeks, and he reached for you gently, relieved when you didn’t bat him away as he cupped your face.

“I have no right to be crying,” you sighed.

“I don’t understand,” He stuttered, somewhere between annoyed and confused,” I thought you didn’t want me?”

“Bucky, of course I-” You were about to answer when Bucky’s name being yelled across the lot caught both of your attention.

“What the fuck is this?”  The girl who had been with Bucky only moments before came storming over and smacked him straight across the face as hard as she could.

“You always fucking do this shit James,” she cried “This is the last fucking time.”

She looked at you genuinely hurt and for a moment you wanted to apologise, until her expression turned to contempt. 

“Seriously, this is who you keep blowing me off for?” she huffed out a laugh, “Good luck with that, you’ll be crawling back to me in no time.” You felt yourself shrink down to half your size under her words.

She took one last seething glare at Bucky before smacking him again and he made no move to stop her, watching guiltily as she stormed away.

“I deserved that,” he said glumly, you made a face to argue when he cut you off, “No doll, I truly deserve it. Hell if you wanted to have a pop too I would understand.” 

 “Buck,I don’t want to slap you” you sighed and he ran a hand through his hair before kicking at the dirt.

“Then what the hell do you want y/n? Goddamn it.”

You were floundering like a fish out of water, trying to grasp at words and coming up short.

“You wouldn’t understand,” you tried and he cut you off with a pointed finger.

“Don’t give me that shit,” he warned “You literally could not throw me out faster the other day and then you turn up crying when I’m clearly fucking trying to get over you so what is it? You don’t want me but you don’t want anyone else to have me?”  

“No,” you scoffed, your own anger rising now too.

“No” he repeated exasperatedly, “So what do you want?”

“I- I don’t know,” you mumbled. 

“You don’t know?” he goaded and goddamn was he intimidating, looking at you like a predator stalks his prey, waiting for an answer to pounce “Well, I sure as shit can’t figure that out for you sweetheart,” he sighed, running the back of his hand across his lips, before spitting on the ground. 

You were not used to this Bucky, this agitated, whiskey drunk version of him. The one most people were used to. But not you.

“Look, just go,” he sighed eventually, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

“I don’t know what you want, but it sure as shit ain’t me. And I'm done with whatever the fuck this is.”

You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, tears welling in your eyes as you reached for the handle of your truck door and pulled it open, gasping back in fright when Bucky slammed it closed suddenly, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked like he was going to yell at you but nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “Please don’t go,” 

Trapped between his body and the door of your truck you melted into his touch, whimpering as he leaned forward to capture your lips with his own demanding ones.

Tagging:

@spookyparadisesheep   @jbbarnesgirl   @salvatoreitmeanssaviour@princesscornbread   @loki-laufeyson-1054 @firstcashheroathlete @missvelvetsstuff     nana1000night   sapphire-rogers   @sarahrogersevans   @steverogerssimpp @spudinthemud   @mrsragnarlodbrok @buckgasms @miss-patriciah-maximoff   @hellomissmabel  @knittingknerdy @shamvictoria11 @buckysberrie @assembletheimagines @dearthofequanimity @wellthatsrandomkek @mitra-k-w @nikkitia7 @fantasticimpaladoctor @feelmyroarrrr @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @andhiseyesweregreen @frickin-bats @buckyywiththegoodhair @iiharu-kunii @bellenuit45-blog @james-bionic-barnes @avengerofyourheart @jaegers-and-kaijus   princess76179   brasspistol  thelittleredrobinhood 

[poppitron360]

Jo couldn’t sleep that night.

That was one of the things about being an immortal hunter- the memories of the years build up and up. Flashes of the things she’d seen peppered her troubled thoughts.

And still the same thought kept circling back.

Why did it have to be that thought?

Why couldn’t it just be a good old fashioned nightmare? They were demigods- immortal demigods at that- that usually came with a plethora of trauma to pick from, and Jo was no different. Okay, Brain, how about that first gunfight in the back alley behind that speakeasy, back before joining the hunters? Blood splattering the walls, brains blown out- all that good shit. Or perhaps seing Dad for the last time? That was usually a popular scene for Jo’s brain to replay.

So why, oh why did she have to keep thinking about that moment three weeks ago? It hadn’t even been anything significant! They’d just gone out in groups on regular patrol, Emmie had just worn that same old silver parka she always wore.

But by gods, she had looked so good.

Which was stupid, and Jo knew that. She’d seen Emmie naked before and it hadn’t bothered her. But with her hair unwashed and her face covered in mud, she had looked phenomenal. Jo had seen her in a new light. And that was bad.

She couldn’t be thinking that way. She was a hunter of Artemis. So was Emmie. They’d both sworn an oath, and they had meant to keep it for eternity. Even if Jo was open to change, even if they could change- Emmie had been a hunter for millennia. There was no way she’d betray Lady Artemis like that.

Jo kept tossing and turning on her bedroll, but eventually gave up, zipped open the mosquito net, and stepped out into the cool night air.

She walked out of their small circle of tents, picked her way through the forest to the nearby lake, hoping to splash her face in the cool water from the waterfall.

She got to the edge of the trees by the bank and froze.

There, sitting on the rocks in the moonlight- her raven hair glistening in the silvery glow reflecting off the water- was Emmie.

Gods, she was beautiful.

Jo tried to quietly slink away, but that ability had never been a perk of her physique. One step back was all it took before a twig went snap!- the sound echoing like a whip-crack around the valley.

Yeah, some hunter. Real stealthy, Josie.

Emmie turned, her dark eyes wide in the moonlight. She let out a soft gasp, but she didn’t look mad to see her. Or was Jo just wishing that?

There was silence for a few agonising moments.

Emmie was surely gonna cuss Jo out for snooping. She’d yell at her to go back to the tents- or worse, run and get Zoë. The Lieutenant was a toughie, and wouldn’t appreciate Jo being out of bed.

But instead, Emmie’s expression softened. She motioned for Jo to come towards her.

She looked like one of those sirens, sitting on that rock by the lake and the waterfall, and for a second Jo hesitated. Then she obeyed Emmie’s call.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Emmie asked.

Jo heaved a sigh, and sat down on the rock- careful to not be too close to her. But close enough. Just close enough. “Not a wink. Tried a couple times, but…”

“Yeah…” Emmie looked down, a little forlornly. Jo wondered what had made her come here, when they should be sleeping. Perhaps the perfect Emmie was plagued with nightmares too.

They stared at the rippling water, not saying anything.

Then Jo decided to open her clumsy mouth.

“Do you ever regret joining the hunters?”

Silence.

Fuck.

Emmie’s face was turned towards the lake, so Jo couldn’t read her expression.

Gods, that silence was deadly.

“Sorry, tha-that’s personal. Sorry,” Jo yelped, her voice quickening, “I-I mean, I definitely don’t regret it. Definitely. I mean, because, like, “regret” is a strong word. Poor choice in my opinion. I don’t know what I was thinking! Artemis, forgive me. I don’t regret it. No siree. Absolutely not-“

“Josephine-“

Emmie had turned to face her, the moonlight falling across half of her face. Her brow was twitching a little- a slight frown. But her voice was kind, and her lips broke into a hint of a smile when she said her name.

“Sorry-“

“It’s okay. I get it. I’ve wondered…” She looked down, so her face was in shadow, “I… I mean… I don’t… but I get wanting to ask others. Because I’ve thought…” She turned back away from Jo, the cold glow of the moonlit lake splashing across her graceful features, “But Lady Artemis has been so kind. She has blessed me with so many wonders. I c-can’t just…” She faltered.

“I thought I was okay with it, y’know?” Jo said, “Giving up love.”

Emmie’s eyes scanned the wide expanse of the lake. “We’re not giving up love,” she said, “We’re giving up romance. We still have familial love. Sisterhood. We have Artemis to guide us.”

Jo felt her fingers creeping closer to Emmie’s hand. She tried to stop it, she really did. But she wanted to feel Emmie’s gentle yet strong hands cupped in her own meaty ones.

“Yeah but what if-“ Jo’s voice was barely a whisper now, “What if we want more?” As she spoke, courage entered her voice. She could talk to Emmie about anything. She could do this, “Th-Than sisterhood, I mean. What if we want romance?”

Emmie turned to look at her. Jo half expected to be met with a look of disgust, but instead Emmie’s eyes scanned Jo’s dark features comprehensively, like she was trying to understand a difficult textbook.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean like-“ Jo grabbed her by the waist and pulled her tight into a side-hug so that they were sitting looking out at the lake. Jo gestured across the sky, laying out the vision in front of Emmie’s eyes, “Family. A house. Kids playing in the backyard. Food on the stove. Dinner around a hardwood table. A workshop in the basement with lots and lots of power tools. And someone-“ she snuck a glance at the girl next to her, “Someone special to spend it with. Someone who smiles and puts their head on your shoulder as you watch your sleeping children through the crack in the door and marvel at how much they’ve grown. Someone who you swore to spend your life with, who- who-“

Jo stuttered, gesticulating wildly, trying to convey the magic of her dream. She waited for Emmie to tell her she was ridiculous. That that could never happen. Not for someone like her.

But to her surprise, Emmie just sighed and rested her head on Jo’s shoulder, nuzzling her neck.

“That would be nice. If we could.”

If only we could, Jo thought.

But they’d both sworn an oath. Made a vow.

So they couldn’t.

Jo didn’t want to be a hunter. She wanted that dream life, that home, that family.

But she could never have it with someone she loved. Not while living openly as who she was. Back when hen she had pretended to be a man, she could get away with the girls and the flirting. But she couldn’t keep pretending. Not forever.

But she couldn’t tell the truth either.

The Hunters had been an escape, a way to run from what Jo really felt, instead of confronting it. Because swearing off the company of men and going celibate was easier than facing the truth.

But that didn’t change who she was.

Emmie looked up at her with her beautiful eyes. “Jo…” She whispered, almost inaudible. But in the stillness of the lake, it seemed to echo off the mountains.

Her face was close. Too close. Not for sisterhood. Not for friends. Not for abstinence, celibacy, the vow they made in the name of the maiden goddess.

Jo had always been loud and hyperactive, her brain running at a million miles an hour. In the few moments between Emmie’s whisper and what happened next, she had run through every possible scenario in her head.

Artemis walks in from the clearing and sees them, too close for sisterhood. The other hunters show up, ready to bathe. One of their hunting dogs spots them while on patrol and informs Zoë. A lovecraftian sea monster rises from the lake and attacks. A poacher mistakes them for a deer and shoots them.

But then Emmie’s lips were on hers, and none of that mattered anymore.

________

So I am aware that I have not posted any sort of fic since August.

Things have been super busy right now (haha I’ve NOT been doing well) and reading TSATS is going slow, and I haven’t had much energy or motivation to write.

That being said, I dug this out of my WIPs and finished it up. I felt in the mood for something sweet and sapphic, and there are virtually no fics about just Emmie and Jo, but they have so much potential- I just had to write something.

Not sure how old they are in this because the Hunters are supposed to be young girls, but Jo’s backstory as a gangster made it sound like she was at least of age (otherwise that’s a VERY concerning backstory). I feel like this is classic “Rick not thinking it through” but it does make it harder to write a longer fic when I don’t have a feasible timeline.

Tagging my usual taglist +fic taglist

@euryvices @deciduowl @lavenderfairiez @ottpopfic @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @demigod-shenanigans @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @imnoturfriend-im-a-swiftie13 @123letsgobestie @kaleidoskuls @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @green-tea217 @puzzled-pegasus @ollieisanerd @twomanyfandomshelp @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @frayna-of-the-hollow @via-rant @daonedaonlyskh @hadeslegacyhephgirl @siimplyapril @pjowasmy1stfandom

Fics might be less of a thing now that I’ve got more on my plate. I’ll keep working on my WIPs but this might be all you get from me in a while.

[artdivadej]

Survivor's Remorse (II)

Part Two

18+ | NSFW | PTSD

Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

How could I?

Peeta didn’t look scared but that didn’t make this ok. He’s a guy, of course his body would react on instinct. I had no right. I immediately bolt from the bed before he can grab me with those powerful hands of his. Always trying to hold me together and I’d violated him.

“I’m so sorry”, I gasped fighting my tears of disgust.

“Sweetness, you did nothing wrong”, he called in that honey sweet baritone.

I must have looked as feral as I did when I was coming off of the trackerjacker venom during my post-torture rescue. He only ever used that tone with me when I was about to lose my shit.

“I just assaulted you Peeta!”

“No. You were sleeping you-”

“Exactly! Just like what Marvel did to me! You were unconscious!”

“It’s not the same”, he tried softly. “You know how I feel about you. Marvel had no right to touch you!”

I forgot how wild the mention of Marvel made Peeta. I’d never watched our games, no intentions on seeing myself suffer in HD when it never left my nightmares. Marvel was the only tribute that Peeta had killed but I’d been unconscious when it happened. I’d woken up 3 days later latched onto Peeta like a tick, refusing to let go. No panties or shirt under my jacket and jeans but very sore. Marvel was nowhere in sight but, there was blood on the left wall of the cave. Peeta told me he’d gotten to me in time but with the soreness I had? It was clearly to keep what little sanity I’d had left intact. I allowed them to think I’d believed the lie.

It took what little good I had left in me. Forever taking what little hope I had to be with Peeta away.

“I was unconscious. So were you. Unconscious people can’t say no”, I snarled taking another step backwards.

“It’s not the same. I invited you into my bed. I lov-”

“Stop it!” I screeched bolting from the room.

I can hear Peeta scrambling to get together to come behind me but I’ve always been faster. And I cared little for pants anyway. I darted out the window and took off to the forest. It’d grown much lusher since the districts can come and go between each other. It was warm out even with night still reigning. I needed to hurt something so I didn’t hurt myself. Going to my hollowed-out trunk I bypassed the bow today, needing more personal methods of killing tonight.

I stayed out until the sky began to turn Peeta’s favorite colors. Taking that as my sign to head back with my haul. I left half of my kill in the ice cooler in the now updated shed out here that the hunters have asked my permission to utilize. They can carry the heavy buck back to town themselves. I’d skinned it. They can do the rest.

After taking a bath in the pond I finally trekked back to the Victors Village, peeking around the homes to make sure Peeta wasn’t in sight. When the coast was clear I slid into the side window of Haymitch’s living room and started a fire, depositing my kill in the sink. He was fast asleep in one of the armchairs in front of the fire with a cup beside him. I fumbled through the middle cabinet in the back compartment for my secret stash. Found em! I grabbed three of the bottles of the clear liquid and plopped down on the loveseat in front of the fire.

“Want some pants there sweetheart?”, he chuckles with a stretch that makes his bones pop loudly.

“No. But I’ll take a blanket”

He removed the black fuzzy blanket from the chair that Peeta usually sits in and draped it over my legs since I was sitting Indian-style on the couch staring into the flames. The smell of his cinnamon wafted into my nostrils hitting me with another wave of guilt.

“You know he was here looking for you last night, right?”

“I’m sure”, I grimace swallowing 1/3 of the first bottle in one swig.

I understood why Haymitch used to drown himself daily to numb the memories. I quite liked the burn of alcohol myself and the dreamy state that I felt when it hit.

“A bit early for you, isn’t it?”

“You’re one to talk”, I snort

“Exactly. I said early for you”

He took the second bottle from my lap and poured half into his teacup. I shoot him a halfhearted smirk. Haymitch was my mentor but he became more of a father to me than I’d ever known. I liked that he was flawed. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone in this. He didn’t judge me. Haymitch just was blunt. Not everyone liked that. I did. We’d grown close in our last 5 years together knowing he wasn’t one to lie to me....normally. We sat in comfortable silence for a little while before it came tumbling out.

“I molested Peeta”, I breath shakily as I take another gulp.

Haymitch choked on his hot toddy and slammed the cup down. He was on the couch beside me forcing me to look at him faster than I could register with his powerful grip. Sometimes I forget just how agile he can be.

“That is not what you did! Don’t fucking say that again!”

“It’s what it feels like! I was never supposed to taint him!”

“Grow up! You’re both adults now. You know good and God damn well if Peeta invited you to sleep in that bed with him, he’s more than willing to take whatever you give him. He wouldn’t have allowed you to sleep beside him anymore once you turned 18 if you both hadn’t known what could come from your little arrangement!”

“Not like that Pops”, I cried wiping my eyes in frustration. “I almost did to him what Marvel did to me. It’s why I can’t with Peeta. He deserves so much better”

“Is that what you really think happened?”

I’d never seen Haymitch’s crystal blue eyes so downhearted. To finally understand that I never once believed any of them when they told me that lie to keep me sane.

That I know they’d all lied to me.

“If you refuse to watch the game, I think you owe it to Peeta to ask him about what happened that night”

“I did”

He knew this entire topic left me feeling as raw as if the gamemakers rubbed me through a grater.

“No, you didn’t. In the games all you did was ask what happened to Marvel. You never talked about it when he told you he got to you in time. You just assumed he meant saving your life”

“Drop it”

“No. Talk to him about it. It didn’t happen”

“Your pussy didn’t hurt for a week!”, I shout into his stupefied face pushing him away from me and stomping to the kitchen to grab another bottle now that mine were empty.

Haymitch is on me in seconds.

“Look, we can drink ourselves blue, but go sit. Get warm. I’ve got this. We’re going to talk about this. Now”

I resign myself to listen, my body already wracked with physical exhaustion. I didn’t want to deal with the emotional draining this topic required. I curl back up under the soft covers, staring into the flames, wishing they’d swallow me whole. The one person I swore to protect, I’d violated. Yet he’d come here looking for me worried about my mental health. Haymitch has made me a hot toddy and it warms my whole body with each sip.

“You were right you know”

“I always am” he huffed indignantly

“I could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve him”

“I was being bitter when I said that”

“Still true”

“Never was. You underestimate him as a man and that’s your problem. I know you’re healing; you’re growing. We all are. But you need to accept that he is a man now. Peeta is fully aware of the consequences to all of the choices you two make. Respect him by accepting that”

“I know full well what an amazing person Peeta is”

“Clearly. I said as a man. If you’re dry humping him in your dreams, might as well accept that you love him too. No point in fighting it sweetheart. Truth be told, I thought this happened years ago”

“Haymitch!”

Either the liquor was kicking in or he just was feeling unusually open today. We never really discussed my private life with Peeta sleeping at my place or me at his. I did feel quite loose but I didn’t feel safe. I eyed the chair warily but decided I would need his scent to sleep comfortably. I dragged the comforter up with me and curled into the plush armchair Peeta always sat in, burying my nose in the arm cushion. It smelled just like him. Bread, butter, whiskey and honeysuckle.

“You love him and it’s time to accept it. Even if you were just friends, you don’t think you owe him a conversation about what happened? No matter how in denial you are about what happened in your games”

“I’m scared”, I admit with a tremble as my body sags further into the chair.

I’d only slept for 2 hours at Peeta’s and I was exhausted, the liquor snatching the rest of my energy that his comforting scent hadn’t. I’d been comfortable pretending to believe the lie without ever having to discuss it.

“You’ll get over it” Haymitch snorts tucking the blanket in tighter around me

I feel a kiss to my forehead before I’m out.

***

Haymitch slipped some morphling in your drink. It was easy to get you to listen when he slipped you some after coming down from a manic episode as your sanity lapsed sometimes. It still happened to him sometimes too. It bothered him that you’d felt this way for 5 years but, hopefully you and Peeta would work that out.

Speaking of which.

Haymitch made his way 5 houses down, not bothering to knock as he strolled into Peeta’s kitchen. He’d been up all night worried about you. It was clear because there was fresh baked bread, rolls and bagels all over the counters. Haymitch pocketed 2 rolls clearly made from District 4’s tropical ingredients. Finnick must have sent some over. He grabbed a loaf of raisin bread that had to have come out recently because it was steaming. Peeta looked up from the sink hearing Haymitch crunch on a bear-claw behind him noisily. He quickly dropped the pan he’d been holding and darted over, his wide brown eyes full of worry.

“Is she ok?”

“You are free to come and pick up your delightful cinnamon roll at your leisure. She’s passed out in your chair. Again”

“Did...did you slip her morphling?”

“Didn’t have much choice after the nonsense she was talking”

“What do you mean?”

Peeta removed his apron and slipped on a hoodie, following Haymitch down the front stairs. Haymitch stopped and let out a sigh that seemed like it weighed his entire spirit down.

“She thinks she molested you. And that Marvel raped her”

Now it was Peeta’s turn to recoil.

“What?”

“Exactly”

It would take at least 6 hours for the morphling to wear off but Peeta was nothing if he wasn’t patient. He waited 11 years just to be noticed by you. He could wait a few more hours to clear this up and truly make you his. He made his way into Haymitch’s living room to see you passed out on his lounge. Nuzzling your nose deep into the cushions to feel as if you were surrounded by his natural smell. This brought Peeta some comfort. You still only wore one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxershorts, but it was clear you’d been out hunting. There were still some leaves in your long, dark curls. There were still some leaves in your long, dark curls. He plucked them out and ran his fingers through them tenderly.

“Sorry about this”

“Don’t be. Just...work this out. Today”

“I will”

Peeta scooped you into his arms with ease, blanket and all, carrying you to his home and lying you down back in the bed. He had at least an hour before you began to fight at the morphling, realizing you were alone.

He had to find that tape.

Then he'd have to wake up an old ally. Hopefully he'd have time for him right now.

It took about 20 minutes of fumbling through the large box from when Effie had sent the previous victor tapes over for the Quarter Quell but he finally found it. It took another 20 minutes to split the particularly unpleasant angles out, Peeta grit his teeth angrily trying to keep his head together as his rage threatened to consume him. Beetee helped him through it, talking deeply and gently through their breathing and processing techniques. Once he had the tape together he took it into the bedroom and lay it on the nightstand. Watching you sleep for a little bit, wanting to climb in beside you so bad.

A few hours of indulgence couldn't hurt.

[starswritewhispers]

your name is your promise- 2

A03

Chap 1

“I could kill you, if I wanted to, y’know,” Gojo sounded far too cocky in Suguru’s opinion, especially considering that he was the one pinned to the forest floor. “Yeah,” the fourteen year old responded with an unimpressed snort, “Sure looks like it,” “I don’t need to use my hands,” Gojo answered with a frown as Suguru rolled off of him, lying next to him in the dirt. “You wouldn’t get it.” “Everyone can buy a gun, you’re not special,” Gojo only let out an amused huff and Suguru turned his head to face him. A soft smile slipped onto his face as he took in Gojo’s content expression. He could feel heat rising to his face, the tip of his ears, and he quickly looked away, focusing his expression on the sky before Sukuna’s cruel words could come back to him. “I don’t want to kill you, anyway,” Gojo’s voice rang through the clearing, announcing the obvious as if it were a gift. “You’re important to me.” “Thanks for not committing a felony,” Suguru commented dryly, fishing his phone out of his pocket when he felt it buzz. Gojo’s eyes were immediately drawn to the device and Suguru pushed his curiosity down. He knew Gojo didn’t have a phone, but the last time he asked, he’d gotten a vague run around about ‘family shit’. “I care about you too, dipshit.” He added, before Gojo could start pouting.

“Who is it?” He asked and Suguru looked over to see a frown on his friend’s face. “Shoko,”  he passed the phone over, watching Gojo’s puzzled expression as he read the messages. Shoko: u with ur imaginary friend again or r u free rn?

Geto: I’m with blue bird, yes.

Shoko: yknow my dad knows some psychiatrists

“Why does she think I’m imaginary–why do you call me blue bird ?” Gojo demanded, eyes darting between the text thread and Suguru. Another traitorous blush rose to his face and he averted his gaze, staring up at the blue sky.“Well, you never leave the forest and,” he shrugged, watching the clouds pass by. “For some weird reason, names seem sacred to you, so whenever someone asks about my best friend, I just call you blue bird.”“Why?” Gojo pressed, but he could hear the smile in his voice.“They remind me of you,” Suguru finally admitted with a swallow, looking over to meet Gojo’s bright smile. “And we’re always in the forest,” He shrugged.“You can take pictures on this thing, right?”Suguru nodded, then yelped as Gojo grabbed him to take a selfie.  After he hit send, a self satisfied smirk made its way onto his face. Up until the phone buzzed again.

Shoko: nvm give the recommendation to ur friend what the FUCK is he wearing

“You people have no taste.” Gojo grumbled as Geto fell back onto the forest floor in a heap of laughter. 

–

Suguru woke up from his dream–memory, really, with a soft smile, slowly sitting up in his bed to– Except this wasn’t his bed.  His eyes widened, looking around the massive room as the events of the previous day slowly came back to him. The bitter taste of betrayal felt foreign on his tongue as his eyes swept over the unknown room. He supposed he should've felt childlike wonder at the knowledge of fae, of magic being real. 

Instead, all he felt was a coldness that felt too similar to the ice in Gojo's eyes. 

“Oh, good!” A voice exclaimed, in a way that made Suguru feel like it wasn’t good at all . “You’re up!” He turned to face the owner of the voice, coming back to face with the largest brown eyes he’s seen in his life. For a moment, he was reminded of an overgrown puppy as the man– fae’s – face broke out into a nervous grin. “I’m Haibara,” the male offered, reaching his hand out. Suguru stared blankly at the hand, scared to move forward and find out he still couldn't.  A large part of him was still waiting to realize this horrible ordeal was all a food-coma induced nightmare from some shitty street vendor Shoko dragged him to.  A pink hue quickly rose to Haibara's cheeks and he quickly retracted his hand, a string of rapid apologies being flung Suguru’s way. “I’m sorry, I thought it was within human customs to–”  “You were right,” Suguru cut off the male’s rambling, a large sense of relief washing over him as his own words flew off his tongue. “I just–” He shrugged, helplessly at a loss for words.

Just can't get over my best friend kidnapping me. Oh and also being a fucking magical creature. Which exist, apparently. “Where am I, exactly?”  He asked again, a fake smile easily plastering its way onto his face. The male in front of him didn't seem inhumane, manners could easily be the best way out of this hell. “The palace?”  Haibara answered with a frown as if it should be obvious. Suguru waited for him to continue. 

He didn’t. 

Suguru groaned, dragging his hand down his face.  “Am I at least in full control of myself again?” He asked, dreading the answer. He didn't even truly understand his own question, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to. Somehow, Gojo had stolen his ability to--well, exist. The reminder weighed heavy within him, his fingers tightly clutching at the sheets as if that would alleviate the emotional turmoil he was drowning under. “I believe so,” Haibara’s tone was off, something almost akin to disapproval lacing it, “The king promised he released his hold on you once you fell asleep.” “How courteous,” Suguru grumbled, voice drenched in sarcasm. "Waiting for me to be unconscious before giving me autonomy."

The two fell into a silence before Haibara’s words truly clicked within his head.

"Did you say king?" Suguru demanded, snapping his head back towards him. "As in Gojo?"

“Uh,”  The brunette chuckled, doe eyes widening even more as he looked around the room, as if to find an escape from this conversation. “He didn’t mention it then, I gather?” “You're telling me that idiotic twink with a god complex is your–” “I am not a twink–”  An indignant voice cut Suguru off and Haibara winced, quickly scooting aside from the bedside to make room for his quick exit. Suguru leveled his angry gaze at Gojo, not bothering to spare the blond man standing behind him a second glance. He paused, briefly looking at Haibara over his shoulder. “I have control over my movements, correct?” Haibara swallowed, looking at the blond man, rather than Suguru or Gojo. There was silence for a tense moment, before a glimpse of amusement flashed over his face and he nodded in Suguru's direction. “Lovely,” Suguru muttered, curling his hand into a fist and quickly moving forward to connect it to Gojo’s jaw, sending the fae king stumbling backwards with a curse. “Send me home.” He spat at him, rage boiling up within him again. “Holy shit,” He ignored the hushed whisper behind him, ignored the common sense screaming within his head, ignroed eveyrthing but the bubbling rage and betryal that was pounding at his heart, scratching at his soul. 

He trusted Gojo and he played him like a fucking fool.

“Turn your infinity back on, idiot,” The blond hissed at Gojo, a hand moving to the sword hilt by his side. Suguru had no idea what infinity was, nor did he care to know, but the sight of the weapon was enough for him to pause his approach. “It’s been on,” Gojo answered with a bright cheery grin that neither matched nor explained the horror and shock on the other two fae male's faces.. “Why'd you think I wanted to bring him home so bad?”

The blond man's lips parted to answer, but Suguru cut him off with a loud clear of his throat. “Sorry, hate to interrupt,” Suguru cut him off, eyes narrowing. “I don’t think you do–” Gojo argued. “But the human who you kidnapped–” He continued, as if the other had never spoken. “With love–” “With magic and force–”

And you say I’m dramatic–” “Just–” Suguru pressed a thumb to his forehead, breathing in deeply. Punching Gojo again would do nothing except temporarily quell his rage and possibly lead to his execution or imprisonment.   He needed to calm down, hopefully get some answers, and then beat his best friend to a bloody pulp for kidnaping him and lying to him for years.

“Explain,” he exhaled. 

“Seems pretty self-explanatory, doesn’t it?” Gojo answered with a grin. “Your home was built on the edge of a fae gate,” he rocked back on his heels, his increased fidgeting the only telltale sign he was anxious as he held up his hand “I wanted to see the human world, met you, got attached, found out you could surpass infinity, brought you home,” with each phrase he lowered a finger.

“You took control of me,” Suguru snapped at him, arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t give a fuck about all this magic shit, but–” That may have been a lie. His mind was whirling with the shock, the impossibility of it all, but the sharp sting of betrayal held more weight over him. “You took away my ability to make a fucking decision .” “Oh,” Gojo shrugged. “That.” “Maybe not the best response,” Haibara whisper- yelled from behind Suguru. “Humans are touchy about consent, try empathy." “Are fae not ?” Suguru demanded, whirling on his heel to glare at the brown eyed boy, who quickly found an interest in the tapestry behind him. “Don’t throw such a tantrum–” Suguru turned his glare back at Gojo but before he could explain that being upset over losing his autonomy was not a tantrum the male continued with a wave of his hand. “My name’s Satoru, we’re even now.” 

The air in the room seemed to still at the admission, as air within Suguru’s own body seemed to return to it. “Your stupidity should be studied by scholars,” the blond behind Gojo deadpanned. “They’d find enough research about morons to write multiple installments.”  Despite the chaos of the morning, and the confusion still running through his body, Suguru couldn’t stop himself from nodding in agreement.

[rain-dom]

[Girl to Femboy Transformation] Coming Out Of His Cocoon.

“Goddammit! No service, still!”

Stacey was holding up her phone into the air, desperately trying to get some sort of connection to the outside world.

Stuck in the middle of the A Thousand Eyes Forest, with no connection to the internet, no way to call anyone, and no way home, this would be a nightmare for the average person. But this was pure hell for Stacey, a popular social media star, who was used to her millions of adoring fans - and haters - watching her every move, either judging and mocking her, or cheering her on and defend her her at every turn. That was company.

Not that she cared about any of them that much, anyway. Blind hate or love was all the same, as long as she kept up her good-girl schtick online and kept growing her audience, it didn’t matter what people online thought. Even her shallow fellow-influencer “friends” only tolerated her so that they could get numbers off of her and vice-versa. Purely transactional. She didn’t need true friends or companions, all she needed were the increasing views and followers, which made her more money, which made her Mom and Manager happy, and that’s all that mattered.

Well, until recently. Stacey wanted to stop being online all of the time for the sake of her mom’s praise, and wanted to go out and find herself. Get a hobby that she liked, go on dates with cute boys - stuff any nineteen-year-old would do.

Let’s just say… her mom wasn’t too happy with her daughter’s newfound sense of self, with her kicking her out of the house indefinitely. So, Stacey would, after joining her “friends” on this camping trip, she would leave her campsite and never come back.

In any case, she didn’t even have them to comfort her. And making matters worse, her phone died, due to the lack of battery.

In the middle of the night.

“Ugh, well isn’t this just terrific!” she yelled as she kicked a rock, which bumped off of a large, nearby tree, scattering a few animals - birds, rabbits, raccoons, and squirrels. Unknown to her, however, her careless actions made this old tree spirit unhappy with her.

“I’m stuck here alone with little food and water, in the middle of some…disgusting forest, walking in circles in the dark. And I can’t see shit! Who even names a forest A Thousand Eyes, anyway?? So creepy…” she said as she ate the last of her chocolate bar, which she then tossed onto the lush, green grass. “And my boots are all dirty, too!” she pouted, gesturing to her $5,000 pink glittery boots, covered in thick, brown mud.

“Know those bitches are gonna have a blast with me out of the picture. They’re probably already making their sad little videos about ‘HoW muCH tHeY mIsS StAcEy’, then a week later they’ll post some expose about me or whatever.” She laughed.

She sat down at the bottom of a large, ancient tree, and sighed. It was starting to rain, and she started to cry with the sky above.

“I guess this is what I get for not getting you enough views, huh, mom? You got what you wanted. Now, you don’t even have to face me! God, you’re so…arghh!! I HATE you!!” She yelled, breaking down in tears.

“I wish I could have seen you for who you were before! But it’s too late for that now. Maybe this is just what I deserve. Not like I’m a saint, or whatever.”

She closed her eyes and decided to at least get herself some shut eye.

Stacey awoke to a voice, one that was deep and ancient sounding.

“Stacey Steinberg. You and your companions have desecrated our home, the Forest of A Thousand Eyes.”

It was morning now, and the rain had long since subsided. “Is the tree… talking to me? Through my head? God, I must be going crazy…”

She knew what this tree was talking about, though. Her and her friends did make a mess at their campsite, leaving all sorts of junk - wrappers, water bottles, and even food.

“So that’s why it’s called the Forest of A Thousand Eyes.” Stacey thought, feeling both embarrassed and fearful of this forest that watched her every move.

She turned to face the tree, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Y-you know, being stuck in the middle of this stupid forest is punishment enough, so if you think-“

“We were thinking of a punishment, yes. But sensing your pain, your frustration, and your anger against your fellow humans who have wronged you - and us - we thought it would be best if you could join us in our great battle against your kind.”

She sighed. “I have literally nothing else better to do so, what do you want me to do, hive-mind?”

“Let yourself be renewed by the vines, and let us mold you into the Protector of the Forest of A Thousand Eyes.”

“Protector?? Of this forest? I hate this forest, but…not gonna lie, I like the title though. Protector. You know…I don’t dislike the sound of that”, she said with smirk.

“So be it.”

The clouds parted, and light beamed down onto the spot Stacey was sitting. The green tree she was sitting on glowed green, its layers in its bark shining brightly. Stacey took a step back, closed her eyes, and turned her head away from the tree, shielding them from the light by holding her hands out.

“Our vines will mold your body to your liking. You will have all the powers of the forest, and will protect all life within it, with your life. Now, remove your clothing and lay on the Home Tree. You will be gagged with the vines as well. This is done so that you can be as connected to nature as possible. But, you will be able to communicate with your voice and your thoughts if you want us to terminate the modifications at any time.”

“…you guys are bunch of perverts.” She said with a disgusting look on her face, opening her eyes as the light dimmed. “But hey, I’ve got nothing more to lose. And…hm, it would be nice to exist in a different body.”

She did as they said. First, she took off her pink and purple backpack. She then took off her clothes - a pink leather jacket, her pink boots, white sweater crop top, her light blue skirt.

Then, she took off her pink panties and bra, and her white socks, and laid on the tree trunk.

Then, the tree glowed again.

“Ugh…I feel so warm-agh!”

She saw as she was being covered in vines, as they one by one started to wrap around her hands, arms, legs, neck, and torso. The vines restrained her arms and legs, pinning her to the tree.

“Eww!” Stacey said, disgusted as more of the vines wrapped around her body. The vines covered up her eyes and shoved themselves into her mouth, gagging her, and squeezed and wriggled around her head and throat, making her face change somewhat, although she didn’t know in what way, but it felt…good, nonetheless. Her straight, neck-length blonde hair felt longer and free.

Meanwhile, she heard her voice deepen, sounding more boyish.

“Mmm..ohh..” she said with her new voice as her muscles began to relax.

“Oh! hah….” The vines squeezed around her chest, pushing down on her breasts, as if they were massaging them. Her shoulder and arms felt like they were pushing out of her body, as if like bubbles of stress were popping out of them.

She felt the vines tighten around her waist and hips, massaging them as well.

“Are you enjoying the changes so far?” Home Tree asked.

”I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…yeah, the feels so good!” She thought, while also nodding in between her muffled moans.

“We have one more change we need to address - would like us to give you a beautiful gift?”

”Mm-hmgh!” Stacey agreed.

With that, she felt the vines quickly spread her legs, as something warm and slimy ran down her thighs from her crotch. Something started to tickle her clit, making Stacey’s body tremble and moan with great pleasure.

After thirty seconds, the teasing stopped.

”H-hey, what’s the hold up—AH!”

After the teasing, it felt like two large vines were inserting themselves into her pussy and her anus, each one taking turns fucking her.

”Oh, fuck yes!” Casey thought, her moans getting loader and loader, the penetrations becoming faster and faster, harder and harder until she finally felt herself squirt.

”Wow…I’d never thought my first time would be with a tree, but…fuck! I don’t care anymore! This feels great!”

Then, she felt the vines, tugging, pulling…something in her vagina.

”Oh god, what’s happening nOwW?!?”

As the vines kept pulling whatever was inside of her out of her, she felt it growing, expanding…twitching. She also felt two other, smaller things being pulled after it, growing size as well.

The vines then wrapped around those unidentified things, then pulled them even harder.

”Gagh!! Ooh!!” Casey groaned. ”What is that thing??”

As the vines kept pulling, the faster those things grew. Faster and faster, bigger and bigger did they grow, until they were…pulled outside of her?

The vines tugged on them three more times, with more and more of them wrapping around it, until they seemed to reach a large enough size.

The largest of them, already feeling like it was about to burst.

Long and hard, twitching and throbbing, Casey didn’t care what it was, as the sensations coming from it were too much for her to bare!

”Oh god! Whatever that thing is, it feels like it gonna explode! Please, do something!” she begged.

The vines answered by rubbing it, the feelings almost pulsating from her crotch, Casey’s body shook as she moaned loudly, her head throwing itself back, reacting to the new feelings down there, as the vines also started to penetrate her ass again.

”It-it feels like lightning…exploding all over my body!”

As the vines kept rubbing it faster and faster, penetrating harder and harder, she could feel the sensations increase, higher and higher, faster and faster, until suddenly-

”Aahmngh!!” she moaned, feeling whatever that was welling up inside of her finally released themselves, as warm, thick liquid shot out of her and onto the vines, and dripped down onto her.

She hadn’t even begun collecting herself, when she felt the vines moving across her body, shuffling and flexing, wrapping tightly around her torso, and getting looser at her thighs and legs. Some of them didn’t even feel like vines anymore, most of them felt like…leaves? And a few twigs?

Afterwards, she felt the leaves release from her body, as they returned to the tree.

“Ack! Hack!” She gasped as she felt the vines leaving her mouth. She pushed her long, brown hair out of her eyes as the vines over her eyes lifted. “Hah, hah...wait cough, cough, is my hair…long again? And why is it- my voice? It sounds so weird now! What the fuck happened to me—oh, my god!!”

She looked down, as her eyes revealed to her her new body: She was wearing nothing but a almost skintight, shoulder-less, and sleeveless green dress, which was made up mostly of leaves and a few brown twigs, the lower parts being shades of a darker green, the edges of which shaped into cute triangles. A few pink and white flowers sprouted on the dress, too. Save for her nipples poking out of dress, her boobs were gone, her shoulders were slightly wider, her arms a little longer, and her hands were bigger. Complete with soft, pale skin, it replaced her fake tanned skin. Her curves smoothed out, and her butt was slightly bigger. And there was something, something hard and leaky poking out under her tight, green dress, between her soft, thick thighs-

“I’m…I’m a boy?? You…you turned me into a…a femboy??"

“This isn’t our doing. While we might have assisted in giving you this body, this is the body you wanted, is it not?”

“A-a mirror! Where the fuck did I put my mirror?!” She looked around for her backpack, but it was gone.

“You wanted to leave your old, filthy life behind, so we removed all of your material possessions that reminded you of it. But, if you want a ‘mirror’, we suppose we do have those here. Go to the nearest lake and see, yourself.”

After she ran to the lake, she bent over to see how much she had changed.

“My…my face…” she said as she touched her more androgynous face, its edges more defined.

She looked at the rest of her newly minted body, and blushed.

It had tiny freckles that danced across her nose and under her eyes. She saw how her nail polish now alternated between green and brown on each nail. She touched her hair, which was finally in its natural color again, brown, something that her mother never liked.

But he did.

Tears started welling up in his eyes.

“H-holy shit…I’ve never really considered being a boy, or any of this ever happening, but now I…think I can totally get used to this.” He smiled, wiping a tear from his face. “God this is…so weird, so confusing, but I also feel…amazing. Thank you, so much!”

“It pleases us that you enjoyed the changes. Now, the real work must be done.”

The animals - deer, birds, rabbits, raccoons, squirrels, butterflies, ants - all moved in around him. He stood back, scared that they might attack him.

“What, what’s happening now??”

“There is no need to fear. These are your fellow members in the animal kingdom. They are the ones you are going to protect.”

He looked at them, now seeing the little details he had never seen before. The way the ants moved together, they way the birds protected their nests, and the way the caterpillar hatched from its cocoon, turning into a butterfly.

That butterfly landed on his hand, softening his tense stance as he recognized himself in its transformation.

“Wow…you are all actually beautiful, in your own…weird way. Like, I-I’m still not completely sold on the dirt and the elements, but…maybe I was a little too quick to judge you guys.” He said, almost about to tear up again.

Casey turned to the tree once again, which seemed teleport wherever he went. He smiled and put his hands on his hips. “I think I’m definitely ready to be the protector of this forest. Now, where do we begin?”

[missybee-writes]

Shadow in the Dark: Chapter Two - Munson Magic

Genre: Sci-fi; Romance; Horror

Warnings: (eventual) sexual content; violence; gore; swearing; alcohol and drug use.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!OC

Summary

In July ‘85, an ambitious realtor sells the crumbling Creel house to a family looking for a new start.

Rose McAllister may be living in a grand and gothic murder house in a small Midwest town, but senior year in high school is the stuff of her nightmares: a last chance at a normal school year without being the odd one out, the sick girl, the weirdo from across the pond. Blend in, make it through the year, and make some friends. Stay unnoticed at all costs.

Hawkins, and one seriously loud-mouthed metalhead, is about to flip that carefully laid plan Upside Down.

Chapter one: Cursed

Ao3 link

---

Chapter Two: Munson Magic

Rose

“It’s the most hellish day of your life,” the words trip off Eddie’s tongue with all the gravitas of a stage actor, his eyes peeping over the demon-painted dungeon master’s screen, boring into her soul. “You’ve been betrayed, abandoned, and left to face danger alone. You have one move remaining; a last gambit. What do you do, Rose? Do you take the potion of invisibility and hide from your enemies, or do you face the dragon Iymrith in its lair, ready to face your demise?”

Fight or flight. Be invisible, or show herself and take on her demons. This first Dungeons and Dragons campaign perfectly mirrored her first day at Hawkins High, and probably her whole life. There was something comfortable about being unnoticed, until you realised no one missed your presence at all. The irony of this choice was not lost on Rose.

She’d stumbled into the lair of Hellfire after school three hours ago, finding herself drawn into a campaign with six very intense, very passionate teenage boys in matching shirts. A party of adventurers, led by a manic, charismatic rocker. He could have been obnoxious with his loud personality, impassioned rants, and a decent-sized ego, but somehow he wasn’t. He was kind, with the prettiest eyes she had ever seen. God, no, she couldn’t be thinking about his eyes right now. Or his lips. Or the glimpse of tattoos on the skin of his forearms, or the ...shit . Compose yourself, McAllister.

Gareth and Mike were talking at a thousand miles an hour about hit points and odds of success as she pulled herself together. The guys were on the edge of their seats, waiting for her next move, each one of them already killed by the dragon; the hopes of the party lay upon her shoulders. Her skin prickled beneath the itchy wool of her mum’s cardigan, far too hot and stuffy for the warm September night. Be brave , she told herself. Take out the sword .

“I take the potion,” she said, defeated. “I drain the glass vial in one gulp, and seek refuge in the thick brambles of the forest. If the ice dragon can’t see me, it can’t kill me, right?”

Eddie gave her time to sweat, ignoring the debate of the Hellfire members in the background. “You sure, Lady Thorn?”

God, it really was warm in here. Rose’s hand toyed with the dice. “Yes, but...maybe...agh. I’m starting to worry that my big, completely unexpected entrance tonight has you thinking i’m brave and cool and capable of slaying a dragon. You’re probably thinking i’m Eowyn, Lady of Rohan, wielding swords and kicking arse, and about to punch the Witch-king of Angmar in the bollocks.”

Gareth, who had taken an ill-timed sip from his can of coke, sprayed it back over the table, choking and coughing until Jeff and Chris both slapped him on the back, just a little too hard.

Eddie didn’t even notice, he was staring like she was on fire, lips parted a little bit. “You read Tolkien?”

Rose didn’t hear him; she was mid-ramble, so hot and flushed she had to pull the cardigan off her head clumsily and scrunch it into a ball in her lap. “I’ve built myself up to be a shieldmaiden, but the truth is, i’m just a hobbit. I want to sit by the fire in Bag End, with a nice cup of tea and a book. So maybe I should just take the potion and run from Iymrith.”

“That didn’t work out so well for Frodo, did it?” Dustin finally broke his silence. “When he wore the One Ring he wasn’t exactly invisible, and it led to him being stabbed by the Morgul-knife, carried by the Witch-king of Angmar himself. You might wanna hide, Rose, but the fight has come to you.”

“Henderson speaks wisely,” Eddie admitted begrudgingly. “The time for self-doubt is over, sweetheart. Iymrith the dragon waits for no woman - be she shieldmaiden or hobbit. His wings beat overhead, stirring the canopy of leaves in the forest. He spies your fiery dark red hair in the tree cover, and takes aim.”

Rose panicked. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...I prize Mike’s single-handed sword from his dead, cold grip and raise it toward the dragon.”

“ Yes , I knew you had it in you,” Gareth choked out, his voice still croaky. “Take the bastard down.”

“But it's madness!” Jeff was spiralling, hyperventilating and shaking his fist. “You can’t just wield a single-handed blade against a dragon with most of its hit points remaining.”

“Jeff’s right, the physics of it would never work,” Dustin agreed, wielding his pencil like a sword. “But we don’t traverse the Forgotten Realms to debate physics, my friends. We do it in the name of adventure. We do it to be heroes!”

The cluttered drama room was buzzing with cheers and applause; Rose lurched to her feet, clutching the edge of the wooden table with her hands. She had no idea what she was doing, but she felt like the moment demanded dramatics.

“I pull back my arm, and launch the sword into the air like a javelin, in the path of the dragon.”

She looked up expectantly at Eddie. He passed the d20, and they all held their breath as she rolled in onto the table. It bounced and clattered, settling on seventeen.

“That’s high, that’s a high number, really high” she babbled. “Did it work?”

“Hold on,” Mike added. “The chances of a random sword hitting the dragon and doing anything other than bouncing off or giving it a little cut is tiny . The DM would have set a ridiculously high target, like 19 or 20. It’s what I would have done.”

Their current DM looked down at a mass of paper and notes behind his demon-painted screen.  He let them sweat, face inscrutable, leaning back in his wooden carved throne. “Kid Wheeler is correct. I’m sorry, Lady Thorn, your sword swings in a parabola through the air, skittering off the dragon’s back.”

“Motherfucker,” Rose groaned and slapped the table, earning a slightly startled look from the younger guys. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jeff says, deflated. “Eddie’s campaigns are sadistic. It’s amazing you even made it to the end alone, especially playing as a nymph. They’re kind of useless, with no-”

“Hold on a minute, did I look like I was finished?” Eddie interrupted. “Cool it for a second. The sword glances off the dragon’s back, but as the blade strikes its scales something flickers...you see a disturbance, and instead of a leathery wing, a humanoid shape takes its place. A humanoid with tentacles coming from its head. Its skin is purple-grey, and covered in a film of mucus, from eating brains!”

“Aw, man, this can’t be happening,” Dustin panicked, pacing around his side of the table. “It’s a goddamned illusion. It wasn’t Iymrith after all.”

“What?” Rose cried out, way too loud.”

“I think Mike’s sword was spelled. It broke an illusion. But that means...” Gareth trailed off.

Dustin sighed heavily. “It’s a Mindflayer.”

“Fuck off!” Mike cried reflexively. “We cannot be doing this again, man. It’s been two months.”

Chris’ mouth gaped open. “Did you guys have a Mindflayer campaign over the summer, or something?”

“Or something alright,” Dustin said, serious as the grave.

Tension quietened the table. They looked at each other over the goblet and flickering candles, working out the consequences of this development. And Rose, as usual, had no bloody clue what was going on, only an instinct to let it play out naturally.

“Wait, this is good news, gentlemen - and lady.” Eddie added quickly. “The Mindflayer is working in your characters’ minds. All your characters are still alive, under the creature’s spell. If the odds are with you, you might just be able to break free and slay it. And thus, the baby-campaign continues next week.“

“Thank the gods,” Jeff sighed. “I’m too attached to my spellcaster to give him up.”

Eddie looked over at her, puppy dog eyes watching her every move, manic energy dialled right down, strangely vulnerable. “ So. That’s the whole Dungeons and Dragons thing. What did you...uh...was it good? I mean, did you enjoy it?”

She couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “Did I enjoy it? That was fucking brilliant. I know my nymph was essentially useless when we had to fight, but I did it...I stood up to the forces of evil; I wasn’t just a hobbit, I was a warrior like Eowyn. I just wished I had been better and actually slain the dragon. Not very impressive, am I...”

They rushed to correct her, all talking at once. “Hold on,” Gareth said loudest. “I saw you humiliate Carver and his letterman assholes within minutes of arriving at school, not just making fun of him personally but undermining the stupid masculine sports-thing, attacking the very pillar of his masculinity. You are totally impressive.”

The Hellfire members were laughing, looking at her in a new light.

“What?” Eddie blustered, head swivelling to look at them all. “What? Where? What? How the fuck did I miss that?”

Gareth shrugged. “This is what happens when you get detention in O’Donnell’s class for ranting about the rigidity of a reading list, man. You miss the best moment of the school year so far. I’ve never seen so many jocks scratch their heads at once.”

Rose snorted with laughter very inelegantly, and flushed red with embarrassment. “It was just like that gorilla impression Eddie did in the cafeteria today.”

Eddie gawped even wider. “You saw me, sweetheart? And here I thought the mouthbreathers juggling their big bouncy balls were the only spectators. Damn. Damn . I am speechless. Words have failed me. And there is never a moment when I don’t have something to say.”

“Clearly not that speechless. You’re still talking,” Jeff mumbed.

Eddie folded his arms over his chest, showing off tattoos, lit by the candles and spotlights. Bats. Intriguing.

“So you liked it?” He asked again. As she glanced at the others, she wondered how many new members they really took on. Six guys, most of whom seemed to know each other well. Admittedly not the type to sit at the top of the food chain in a school environment. Not a single girl amongst them.

“Liked it?” She put her hand to her chest. ��I feel like I've just fought off the hordes of hell itself. My heart is racing.”

Eddie’s eyes dropped to her chest; her laughter died on her lips, as realised what she felt beneath the palm of her hand. Not the scratchy cardigan stolen from her mum this morning - that was dropped to the floor, forgotten in the throes of battle - but instead skin, with a ridge of twisted scar tissue snaking up the middle of her sternum, ending halfway to her collarbones. Shit .

She looked down, and picked up the cardigan, holding it up to her chest, but the nervous looks on their faces told her everything she’d needed to know. They’d already seen it.

“Hey,” Eddie said, soft as velvet. “You don’t need to...uh...hide yourself or anything. And I don’t just mean the badass scar, I mean... you , y’know? We’re the freaks, sweetheart. I was a little worried that this apparently perfect girl had stumbled in here, and we were gonna find out you were a preppy asshole, or something. Which you are not, by the way. Very cool. Very unique.”

Rose dipped her head, her face flushing hot. She dropped the cardigan, mustering up the courage to say something, anything. 

“This is totally unfair,” Dustin burst out, lighthearted and smiling. “Look at you, showing off your collarbones and everything. I don’t even have collarbones. Watch this...”

He flexed his shoulders forward, and they moved at an unnatural angle and almost met at his front, to the surprise of the older guys.

“Cleidocranial dysplasia,” he grinned, metal-clad teeth on display. “Had a few missing teeth, too, but these babies are new. Look out, sophomore year, Dustin Henderson is going to have a full set of teeth. I’ll be unstoppable.”

He did a little tiger-like roar, and it was the lamest, most brilliant thing Rose had ever heard in her life. She collapsed with laughter, holding her aching sides.

“I’ve seen this act more times than I can count,” Mike grumbled like an old man. “It gets old.”

Eddie was beaming at the head of the table at his little freak show. “That is metal, Henderson. Very metal. How about you, princess? How’d you get the battle scar?” His eyes widened and he made a goofy gesture with his arms. “You don’t have to talk about it, not if you don’t want to. Not an order, not that I even can order you, though i’d kinda like...i’d kinda like to shut up now.”

Rose’s head ducked down, and pulled a thread from the cardigan in her lap absentmindedly. “I was born with a congenital heart defect. Everything was fine until I was thirteen, then it wasn’t fine. I’d go blue in the lips and get breathless. They kept me in hospital for almost a year, told me I had a very small chance of survival because the deformity was so rare, they didn’t even have treatment for it yet. Between thirteen and sixteen I was in and out of hospital more than school.”

“That must have been tough,” Mike said quietly, his quiet demeanour and hidden empathy surprising for a boy of fourteen. “My girlfriend missed a lot of school too, for...uh...similar reasons. It was really hard for her to make friends.”

“You find out who your true friends are when things get really bad,” Rose admitted bitterly. “They dropped off one by one. When I was well enough to go to school they weren't mean or anything, but they weren’t really friends any more either. By the time I was sixteen the hospital had developed a very experimental surgery. Cracked me open like a lobster, gave me this beautiful scar, and - despite the bit in the middle where I died on the table - I woke up, and felt...normal. OK, I was shit for a few months, but then I was normal as any person with a heart condition can be. They fixed up the old ticker and sent me on my way.”

“Hold on...you DIED?” Eddie’s strangled voice echoed across the prop room. “Like, heart stopped? Clinically dead?”

“Yep. For quite a long time. It was a miracle that they resuscitated me, actually. I don’t remember anything. No alternate dimensions, no grey purgatory, no light at the end of a tunnel. Just a feeling of weightlessness, like I was floating in water, no sight or sound. Then I was coming around in the ward, off my head on morphine.”

“That is fucking intense, McAllister. That’s goes beyond metal, that’s...that’s fucking magical.”

“Doesn’t feel magical,” Rose glanced down at herself. The scar was the width and length of a pencil; two years had seen it fade from angry red to a pinkish silver, still standing out from the creamy pale skin. When she looked in the mirror it was all she could see, despite her mother’s words of encouragement, telling her to wear it with pride.

“Scars are fucking cool. Look, I pay to get stabbed with needles so I can have something half as cool as that. See?” Eddie dragged down the collar of his shirt; her eyes trailed down his neck - oh my god, his neck - to more ink scratched across his skin, a figure she couldn’t make out, obscured beneath a guitar pick necklace.

“Did they hurt?” She asked tentatively.

“These babies? Not really. More like a very intense tickle. Except when it went over bone, then I was crying like a little girl. Weeping, snotty, begging for mercy, the whole deal.”

Eddie was a lot . Leather chains at his wrist and on his jeans, demon on his shirt, attitude bordering on obnoxious when it came to the jocks in the cafeteria. Yet Rose could see that in the privacy of the drama room he was goofy, patient, utterly enthusiastic, and possibly even a little bit vulnerable. It was almost enough to give her whiplash.

“I thought a dungeon master would be made of sterner stuff.” She teased.

His grin was brighter than the stage lights in the background. “Oh yeah? You haven’t seen what a DM can really do, sweetheart. Next semester's next campaign is going to be mind blowing. My best yet. If you...uh...I haven’t had time to talk to the guys about this, but do you wanna stick around for it, maybe?”

Rose looked at her watch. It was nearly seven; hours had blown by, her mood totally transformed since the incident in the locker room almost four hours ago. “I don’t think I can, my mum is probably outside waiting for me.”

Eddie grabbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I kind of meant next time. We meet on Fridays, same time, same place. If you want to. No pressure; like Gareth said before, hanging out with Hellfire isn’t exactly a fast track to popularity or an easy life around here.”

“You want me to come back? Really?”

“Hellfire has had girls before, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jeff explained. “But not since Ronnie graduated in ‘84. I don’t mind.”

Gareth was also enthusiastic. “If you can voice the female characters we come across on our travels, I'm totally in. It’s not been the same since my voice dropped at the end of freshman year.”

“This is so exciting,” Dustin gushed. “We’re gonna have to create a character for you. We can run you through classes, alignments, preferred weaponry...the possibilities are endless! We could even meet at lunch or in the library or something, to flesh you out before next week’s session.”

Mike snapped his fingers. “As long as it brings balance to the party, right? I’m a paladin, that’s like a knight. Jeff’s a spellcaster, Chris a fighter, Dustin’s a bard...Lucas - you’ll meet him next week - is a ranger. We are really in need of a cleric, though. We haven’t had one since our friend Will the Wise moved to California.”

Rose was trying to piece it all together, but it was a lot of new information. “What do clerics do?”

“They heal,” Eddie said, fidgeting in his seat. “Clerics are conduits of otherworldly power. I can kind of see it, but it’s a little...predictable.”

“Predictable?”

Eddie kept her on edge, gaze sweeping over her, nodding to himself.  He leaned so close she could smell cigarettes, Old Spice, and something musky, uniquely man . Her throat went dry.

“You are anything but predictable, McAllister. You survived death; you’re probably told you should forget it, move on, pretend it didn’t happen. That shit stays with you, but you can take charge of it. Own it. You know, I can see you as a necromancer.”

It was like Eddie Munson, freak, dungeon master, could see right into her mess of a mind. Plucked out her greatest fear and twisted into a strength. 

Dustin took in a shocked breath. “Oooh, that is so perfect. You survived death, and now you raise others from the dead to do your bidding. Liches - or necromancers, same thing - are kinda evil though, and they are not usually part of the adventurers party. And I would have pegged you as chaotic good.”

“Chaotic neutral,” Eddie mused, holding onto his chin. “You’re good most of the time, but you can also be very bad if you want to be.”

He was trying to kill her, wasn't he? Finish off the job, heart beating overtime.

Her lips tugged upward into a reluctant smile. “I like it. I think I really like it. But my Tolkien metaphors are going to be completely confused. I’m a hobbit by nature, I want to be Eowyn of Rohan, but i’m really Sauron the Necromancer himself? Can I even play with you if I'm evil?”

“Eh, we’ll work on it.” Eddie breezed over it, chin propped up on his hands. “I am all powerful after all. Might have to make some adjustments to the upcoming campaign, but I think it's going to work out in the end.”

The clickety-clack of footsteps echoed down the distant hall. “Rose?” A very familiar voice called out. 

“Shit,” Rose launched out of her seat. “I have to go, that’s my mum.”

Eddie looked resigned. “I get it. Parentals will be scared of the princess hanging out with the freaky cultists, huh?”

Rose barked out a sharp laugh, scrambling over to the costume rack, looking for the leather satchel she threw dramatically into the corner on entering the room this afternoon. “That’s a low roll and a miss, dungeon master. She may look like an English librarian, but...you’re the Fellowship, she’s the Balrog.”

“Balrog,” Eddie echoed, leaping over to help Rose. “Scary, Flame of Udun, lurks beneath mountains. Got it.”

“Rosebud, are you here? Is everything alright? ” Her mother called out, voice drawing closer with each step.

Eddie popped up from the costume pile with a satchel in his hand and a curious look on his face. “Rosebud, huh? Cute.”

Oh wonderful, now he knew her humiliating childhood nickname. She snatched the bag from him, and paused, desperate to say something funny, something smooth, or at least something memorable before she left. Instead, she went beetroot red and mumbled incoherently. 

“Huh?” Eddie squinted.

Okay, charisma is lacking. Honesty might have to do.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, to Eddie and all the guys all watching behind him. “This could have been a really bad day, but thanks to you, it was bloody lovely.”

“Rose!”

“The Balrog calls,” she paused at the door, taking one last look at the Hellfire boys over her shoulder. “Wish me luck.”

---

Eddie

“Uh...gentlemen?” Eddie asked, hands running through his hair. “Did I concuss myself under that table, or did that whole session really just happen?”

The prop room was somehow smaller, darker now that she had gone. If it wasn’t for the extra chair squished to the right of his throne, and the incredibly unusual stillness of the six guys behind him, Eddie Munson would swear he just experienced a three-hour fever dream. 

“I like her,” Henderson’s first to break the silence, throwing out his chipper verdict on the freaking angel that just upended Hellfire. “She was neat.”

“ Neat ?” Eddie wheeled around, revved up, no outlet for his thousand-mile-an-hour thoughts. Crap, he needed to dial it down a notch. “Yeah, neat. A little raw, but a lot of potential.”

They were laser-focused on him, but he couldn’t afford to scare the freshmen off now, not when Hellfire had two, three if you counted Sinclair, recruits who were really fucking into the game. 

Worthy apprentices, at last. Kids who could carry Hellfire forward and make sure it didn’t die next year, with only Gareth left. Cause, goddamn it, Eddie had gone through his last first day at the monkey house that was Hawkins High. There was no fourth shot at senior year, not when he’d be turning twenty in the spring, and the school board wouldn’t allow an adult over twenty to re-enroll. Three strikes and you’re out, Munson. Off the bench, out of the team, and a dozen other tired sports metaphors his old man would have used if he were here.

Gareth, Jeff and Chris were being weird. Quiet. Still . Watching Eddie as he packed up the DM’s board and pieces, gathering up his story notes and scoring sheets with a gentle tap, tap, tap of all the papers, fitting them inside the box neatly. The maps were a little smudged from Gareth spitting out all that coke, but he could let them dry out by the overworked little space heater in the trailer tonight, and trace fresh new ones this weekend.

“Well?” He snapped. “Are you gonna help pack up, or sit there like a bunch of drooling cave trolls?”

The rest of the guys were waiting for something to happen, but it was Gareth who broke first. He raised a single mocking eyebrow. “So are you planning a spring wedding? Or wanna cut to the chase, and ask her to elope to Vegas? I can see you in an Elvis jumpsuit.”

Eddie fidgeted, rings tapping against the table, mouth twitching. Keep it together.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Gareth,” he denied casually, shrugging on his leather jacket and battle vest. Armour donned, shields up, ready to deny, deny, deny. “If you really don’t want her to join we can work something out, but I think she’s like us...I think she needs this.”

More raised eyebrows from the older guys. 

A girl called out; Eddie’s heart skipped, but it was merely Wheeler’s big sister, the prissy one who ran the paper. Dustin and Mike threw together their stuff in record time, completely whipped by the voice in the hall.

“That’s Nancy,” Mike explained. “See you guys on Monday.”

“Great campaign, Dungeon Master,” Dustin saluted him at the door, over his ‘Thinking Cap’ , before disappearing into the night.

They really were good kids. It had only been three weeks since he spotted Dustin roaming the cafeteria in his Weird Al shirt, scoping the tables and cliques who sat at them, searching for his own place in the school ecosystem. Eddie had offered them shelter at the freak table, sensing kindred spirits. There was something about Dustin and Mike, they completely owned their nerdiness, in a mature way freshman Eddie had definitely lacked. Lucas was different; sure, he was great at D&D and clearly had a tight friendship with the other freshies, but he was a little less comfortable owning it. He’d watch the jocks table with envy, wince every time someone threw a joke or an insult Hellfire’s way. 

Gareth, Jeff and Chris? They’d been playing together for years. Greatest friends he had in Hawkins, or at all , now that his childhood best friend Ronnie was in the Big Apple, her book smarts earning her a place at NYU after their first senior year. Her Granny Ecker still lived in the trailer behind Eddie and his Uncle Wayne’s. They were stuck together like magnets once, but now their polarity was reversed, distance growing with each phone call; Ronnie talking about law school and all the excitement of living in Brooklyn, Eddie chiming in every now and then with a new campaign plan, the latest class he was failing, the same old crap she had left behind a year and a half ago. Poles apart. Damn, he must have paid attention in Mr Kaminski’s physics class to remember that shit. Either that, or Henderson’s insanely smart brain was rubbing off after barely a month.

But Gareth, Jeff and Chris weren’t just Hellfire, they were Corroded Coffin too. Hours at Hellfire and even more hours practising in Gareth’s garage brought them pretty close, close enough for Eddie to know they were not going to let this go, not without giving him shit about it.

Chris shook his head. “ I couldn’t pull off what you just did in a hundred years. Talking to girls one on one is...kind of my kryptonite. How do you do it, man?”

“Do what, huh?” He fired back quickly. “Make a new potential member welcome to the group?”

Gareth chuckled mercilessly, dropping his voice to imitate Eddie. “You’re good most of the time, but you can also be very bad if you want to be... I don’t recall you saying that stuff to Wheeler or Henderson, or any of us when we joined. And you definitely didn’t call us fairer than the sunrise over the Greypeak mountains .”

Eddie placed the D&D box gently back on the table, and his composure broke. He collapsed forward onto his forearms, shaggy hair shielding him from his friends and their judgement. Hidden, he could give voice to the chaotic new thoughts swirling in his already-chaotic brain. 

“Shit. Jesus H. Christ. I came on too strong. I came on too strong, right? Did I just make myself out to be a grade-A asshole? I...uh...I know i’m lacking an off switch most of the time, but was it too much? Was I bad?”

Gareth wouldn’t let it lie. His face was smug - okay, Eddie couldn’t actually see his face, but he could feel it in his voice, in his friend's aura. “Bad at what ? Say it, Eds. Come on.”

Eddie burrowed deeper into the table, voice muffled beneath all that hair. “Perhaps, maybe, it could be possible that I like the fair maiden Rose. In a...more than platonic way.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Gareth said, matter-of-fact. “It was obvious.”

Eddie sighed like it was the end of the world. “Let me just crawl away and die. Better yet, put me out of my misery, crack me over the head with that goblet. Lights out, goodnight. Nice to have known you. Jeff, you can have my Warlock. Chris, I bequeath to you my tapes and posters. Gareth, you little shit, you get nothing, not even the dirty magazines under my bed. Bury me in my battle vest. Wayne will have to make peace with my untimely death.”

“This is dramatic, even for you,” Chris gave his verdict. “It’s just a girl. I’ve seen you talk to girls before, after gigs and stuff.”

Just a girl. Sure. Just a girl whose smile lit up the room like the fourth of fucking July, fireworks spinning in his head, fizzing in his ears. Who used Lord of the Rings analogies to adorably find her place in the world. A girl who laughed at Dustin’s goofy jokes, threw herself into D&D without judgement or hesitation, totally giving herself over to the adventure. A girl who wasn’t cheerleader-pretty, but timelessly beautiful, like she should be in a fancy laced-up gown on the cover of Granny Ecker’s historical romance novels, the ones that always seemed to have a shirtless guy wearing a kilt. 

He didn’t just have butterflies in his stomach, it was like a horde of winged demons were trying to claw their way out. Brain not yet caught up, body trying to give him a warning. Girls like that don’t wind up with Eddie the Freak, resident of Hawkins’ finest trailer park, the friendly neighbourhood drug dealer. 

Gareth turned to Chris. “So how lame was he, on a scale of one to ten?”

“I thought it was kind of suave,” Chris replied, shrugging on his own leather jacket. “Like James Bond.”

“Oh, come on! Double-oh-seven has a little less verbal diarrhoea than our DM. And far cooler cars and gadgets.”

They bickered back and forth as Eddie waded in his own misery, replaying the whole campaign and how she’d reacted to it. She was nervous, yeah, but she got into it. Great improv skills.

“She likes you back, by the way.” Jeff added nonchalantly. 

Eddie’s head snapped up. “Oh, right, cause you can read minds now.”

Jeff kicked Eddie under the table. “I have three sisters, so yeah, I have insider intel into the female species. She looked at you like Tara looks at Michael Jackson when Thriller comes on MTV.”

Chris’s mouth drops open. “Ew, like the werewolf part? I guess Eddie has a lot of hair.”

“No, dude,” Jeff replies. “The normal part with the girlfriend at the movies, before he turns. Okay, after he turns too. Women are a complicated species, Chris. They’re into all sorts of weird stuff.”

A switch had fried in Eddie’s brain. “Which means?”

“Weird stuff? Like vampires and-”

“No, Jeff!” Eddie launched out off the table and grabbed him by the shoulders. “The look your sister has for Michael Jackson. What does the look mean?!”

Jeff gritted his teeth, like it physically pained him to talk about his irritating older sister, who he heard just moved to college somewhere in Georgia. “It means Rose was all blushing and smiling, hung on your every word. I’m not saying she’s crushing on you, but she isn’t not crushing on you, if you know what i’m saying.”

She didn’t not like him. That’s only one step away from actually liking him. And liking him was just one step away from a hangout, a date, maybe even move in for a kiss - and now all he could picture was her lips. Seriously good lips. Full, cupid’s bow, beauty mark near the corner of her mouth. So pretty when she smiled. Hope flared his heart, like those electric paddle-thingys had just jolted him back to life.

“I knew it,” Eddie said.

Gareth wasn’t convinced. “Weren’t you just doubting yourself?”

“Munson magic,” Eddie ignored him, swooping round the table, Reeboks tapping on the linoleum, moving to the music in his own heart. “Eddie the Bard worked on his charisma for so long, it had to pay off eventually. Ability off the charts...I got it, man. I got the Munson magic.”

Jeff stepped out of his way and almost tripped, looking over at the costume rack in the corner. “There’s something i’ve got to tell you, but first you have to promise any of this isn’t going to make Hellfire weird.”

Eddie crossed his fingers over his heart. “I will not bring girl drama to Hellfire. I promise on my wicked, hellbound soul. Now tell me!”

Jeff tipped his chin toward something in the pink taffeta dress dominating the costume rack, a chunky silver rectangle, with a cord snaking out the top. “Cinderella left her slipper behind. You might wanna give it back to her on Monday, Prince Charming.”

Eddie gasped dramatically, hand slapped to his chest. “A walkman. Rose’s walkman.”

He was over there in a shot, tripping over the costumes, slamming onto his knees by the precious object. He picked it up gingerly; there was nothing remarkable about the lump of plastic, nothing to tell him more about its owner. But what lay inside tempted him beyond belief. He clicked the button, popped open the top of the cassette holder, and inspected its contents. There were no printed stickers on the black cassette tape, only the faint shadow of a permanent marker on the clear part: Study mix.

“Holy shit, it's a mixtape,” he half-squealed at the guys. He felt like a prospector striking gold, nuggets sparkling in his hands. Scraps of information, carefully chosen slices of her mind for him to study. An introduction to the music that makes her tick. And music was the heart of everything, a window into the mind.

“You know who gives out mixtapes? Boyfriends.” Gareth, that goddamn contrarian, said sarcastically.

Eddie pointed at him, skull ring sparking in the light of the now-stubby melting candles. “That’s it, you're out Emerson. Expelled from Hellfire.”

Gareth spread his arms wide, face scrunched up and ready for a fight. “What the fuck? You just said-”

“I’m kidding, i’m kidding,” Eddie interrupted quickly, “Besides, she’s just moved, she knows nobody. I don’t think it's a boyfriend. If she has one back in England...well that would suck, but long distance doesn’t exactly work out for most people, does it?”

“Real classy, Munson,” Gareth shot back.

“Cool it, Gareth. I just wanna talk to her some more, get to know her. No need to invent drama that doesn’t exist.”

“Whatever,” Gareth shrugged. “Are you still okay to give me a ride home?”

“Of course, man. Gotta pay you back for using your garage as our practice room. I need your opinion on some potential W.A.S.P covers for our next set at The Hideout, we can talk about it on the way home.”

That perked Gareth right up. Eddie might have new apprentices, but Gareth was the first freshman he’d sheltered under his tattooed, scrawny wing when Carver and his jock squad singled him out for a beating a couple of years ago. Hobbits have got to stick together, and when they fought together, there was nothing they couldn’t take on, be it a cave troll, Jason Carver, or the disdain and fear of the entire small-minded town.

Still, Eddie slipped the walkman into the pocket of his jacket, and every now and then he would slip his hand in and touch it, just to make sure it wasn’t a fever dream after all.

---

Forest Hills Trailer Park was never quiet, not even on a Friday night. Eddie’s van skittered into the makeshift parking space by the trailer he shared with Uncle Wayne; the whirring engine and glam metal notes of W.A.S.P disappeared as he cut off the engine, and the dusky September night was filled with dogs barking, a screaming match between the couple in the RV round the corner, and a dog chained up somewhere near the forest edge. God knows it wasn’t the finely manicured neighbourhood of Loch Nora, or even the more modest single storey ranch homes that made up most of Hawkins, but it was home.

Eddie launched up the steps and flapped open the door, humming Love Child under his breath and tapping it on his thigh. His battle vest and jacket were thrown onto the wall hook, and he made a quick sweep of the fridge; the remains of the tuna casserole Granny Ecker brought over on Monday were looking a little sad and dried, and Eddie could not be bothered to cook up the eggs and bacon. He grabbed a can of Miller Lite and an apple, and slammed the door shut.

“Now I know your momma didn’t raise you to be a savage, Eddie Munson. Softer next time, please.” A southern drawl came from the corner of the room.

“Holy fuck!” Eddie’s arms flailed about, catching the Miller Lite mid air and dropping the apple on the patterned carpet.

“She didn’t teach you to cuss, neither,” Uncle Wayne muttered from his recliner chair, peering over the paper, lit by a cosy lamp. The trailer was so busy with mugs and hats Wayne had picked up on the road in his truck driver days that he went unnoticed amongst the clutter.

“You’re scaring the life outta me, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie laughed nervously. “It’s Friday, shouldn’t you be at the plant?”

Wayne watched the apple roll across the floor, scooping down to pick it up when it got close. “I swapped shifts with Carl so he can see his granddaughter’s ballet recital next week. Taking a Tuesday shift instead. I was gonna head out to the country bar in Carterville with a couple of old buddies but they came down with the stomach flu, so you’ll have to put up with your old uncle tonight.”

“You’re...uh...you’re no trouble Uncle Wayne. It’s me that you’ve gotta put up with.” Eddie said glumly, catching sight of the pullout bed in the corner of the living room. “I can go out for a while if you want some peace.”

That pullout bed was a squishy, metal-framed reminder that his uncle had given up his bedroom and his freedom full time after the incident a couple of years ago that led to Eddie’s childhood home going up in flames, and his ex-con of a father - okay, definitely still a con - fleeing town. Even before then, when his dad was in the drunk tank or on a bender somewhere Eddie would be left alone for days or weeks, rescued by Uncle Wayne and taken back to the unlikely safe haven of the trailer park for a while. His uncle's unconditional love and endless patience got Eddie through a clusterfuck of a childhood. He’d never be able to thank him enough for it. Guilt remained, even after he started dealing to bring in some money to help keep the dilapidated home together, and ensure he could pay for his own clothes and van, lifting some of the burden of raising a kid you didn’t even ask for.

“Hey now,” Wayne dropped his paper on the side table and fixed Eddie with a serious look. “I ain’t trying to drive you out. Trailers’ not exactly a palace, but there’s enough room for the two of us. There somethin’ on your mind, son?”

Uncle Wayne motioned for Eddie to sit on the couch next to him, so he kicked off his Reeboks and collapsed in the seat, cracking open the Miller Lite and reclining in silence as he took the first foamy hit of it, yeasty and soothing on his tongue. His uncle lit up a Marlboro Red, tip flaring orange red in the dim trailer.

“Do you think i’m like Dad?” Eddie said, looking absentmindedly at the ceiling with its numerous water and tobacco stains.

He hummed thoughtfully. “What makes you ask?”

“I don’t know, I just...I’ve been thinking about him lately. The way he is with people. He’s an asshole, goes without saying. But he’s got that charm about him, something people are drawn to. I guess I think I had something similar, but I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want to hurt people the way he does.”

“Ed,” Wayne says softly, leaning on the arm of his chair. “Al Munson might be able to charm the birds from the trees, but it's a shallow kind of charming. Scrubs off real quick, and by the time people realise what my brother’s truly like, he’s split town and left behind a trail of gambling debts and broken hearts. That included you and your momma more than once, bless her soul. You might have his charm, Eddie, but yours ain’t shallow. It runs deep,” Wayne smiled a crooked smile, etched deep into his weathered skin. “Plus, Al had a receding hairline, and you’ve got a hell of a head of hair. Needs a cut, though. Startin’ to look like a shaggy dog.”

Eddie bit back a smile, touched more than he could say. “Don’t mess with the hair. I’m like Samson, it holds all my power.”

“No, son. That’s all in here,” Wayne taps the space on his plaid-covered chest, right over his heart. 

Eddie dips his head. “Don’t go soft on me, old man.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He sipped his beer, sitting quiet and peaceful as Wayne put on some Western on the little TV by the door. Gunslingers chased each other across the desert, or ran after a runaway train, Eddie wasn’t really focused on movie detail, instead just basking in quiet, comfortable companionship. Wayne asked nothing of him, and that was what made him want to open up.

“There’s a girl,” Eddie ventured, twisting the metal can around in his hands. 

“Is that so?”

“It’s nothing. Stupid, really. But it’s got me thinking about dad, and life and repeating senior year, and...everything.”

“That’s heavy.”

“Yup,” Eddie agreed, draining the can in one last swig.

Wayne cleared his throat politely. “You gonna be bringing this girl around sometime?”

“Woah, hit the brakes, Uncle Wayne. I’ve only known her for about three hours. It was a good three hours though, you should have seen me. I was smooth. She said I made her first day in American high school bloody lovely. ”

Wayne twisted around to face Eddie. “Your girl. She new in town, moved over from England by any chance?”

“How’d you guess?”

A dark shadow passed over his uncle’s face, mouth pressed into a line, eyes narrowed. “Her stepdad is Jerry Gruber, we used to run around in the same group as kids. You’d remember him, he used to head up the engineering office for the plant, left back in ‘81 to work for the Department for Energy. Got himself a job in Europe after that, and a wife and stepdaughter too. Came back last month.”

Eddie’s brows creased; she’d spoken about a stepdad, but he didn’t clock the name at the time. “Yeah, that fits. She said as much.”

“Listen,” Wayne leaned in, voice deep and rumbling. “Jerry bought the old Creel house on Morehead. He’s more foolish than I ever thought...that place ain’t right, Eddie. The only thing that came outta the Creel place is pure evil, and Hawkins ain’t a normal town, no matter how everybody here turns a blind eye to things. I don’t care if you’re sweet on this girl, promise you won’t go there.”

Jesus H. Christ. That place was notorious in Hawkins, a genuine murder house boarded up for years after some gruesome shit went down when he was a little kid. Every middle schooler had been dared to go up to that place and face the ghosts inside, Eddie included. But all that demonic stuff was bullshit. Nothing there but empty rooms, broken glass, and a metric fuck ton of dust. He didn’t even know the place had been sold. He tried to imagine Rose living in a gothic murder mansion, and came up short.

“Have you found my stash, or something? You’re not making sense, unc-”

Wayne grabbed his wrist. “Promise me, son. Promise me you won’t go to that fuckin’ house.”

Wayne didn’t cuss, and he was not physical, not even when Eddie was at his worst. “Alright, Uncle Wayne. I won’t.”

“You mean it?” “I swear on my Warlock,” he added quickly, raising his free hand up, palm splayed wide. “That place is straight out of a slasher movie. No desire to go there.”

“Good,” Wayne gruffed, as he let go. “I’m sorry, son. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie rubbed his wrist. The man’s grip was surprisingly strong, but then he did manual labour at the plant, not some cosy office job. “Don’t sweat it.”

“And Eddie, don’t get caught up in your head with the girl. A bit of that Munson magic does a whole lotta good, son, when it's coming from you . Don’t let anybody tell you that you’re not good enough. Including yourself.”

Eddie scoffed and zoned back in on the TV, cogs whirring like overtime; his uncle had gone back to the paper, totally normal. That was weird...Wayne wasn’t superstitious. He’d probably watched a few too many horror movies. It was nearly that time of year; Halloween coming up, tacky plastic decorations in the window of Melvald’s General Store, leaves crispy and golden. Something in the air, maybe.

An orchestra swelled as the shootout in the western movie reached its peak. The rogue gunslinger got the bad guy, and something about the music clicked in his brain; he’d almost forgotten about the walkman tucked in his jacket. 

Eddie pushed to his feet and crushed the beer can, tossing it in the trash can with a clatter. He padded over to the coat hook, socked feet slipping on the kitchen lino, eager hands pulling the walkman out of the jacket pocket, tapping his fingers against the plastic.

“I gotta go study,” he explained to Wayne. 

His uncle’s face had never looked so confused. “Homework on a Friday night. Are you sick again, comin’ down with a fever? We ain’t got no tylenol, but I can go out to the seven-eleven and get some.”

“I’m sick alright. But the diagnosis is looking good, Uncle Wayne.”

Wayne gawped. “What the hell are you studying, biology?”

He grabbed another beer on the way to his room, shutting the refrigerator door softly this time, little headphones and walkman clutched tight to his chest. He gave his uncle a classic Eddie wild grin. “Music 101: Intro to Fair Maidens.”