#some things will be harder than others to navigate alone

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 | 𝐞.𝐦.

This piece contains brief allusions to smut.

Pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader [friends -> lovers] 

Summary It’s the morning after your first time with Eddie, and the two of you navigate the quiet intimacy of it all [fluff, 1.4k]. 

A/N This is the third installment to the little friends to lovers universe I created. They all work as standalone fics, but I clearly can’t get enough and keep adding onto their story. 

PART ONE | PART TWO 

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Eddie wakes up alone. It's a reality not unlike every other day of his life. Except, the sheets gathered at his waist aren’t black and no heavy metal posters adorn the walls. Everything is neat and airy and bright, softly screaming of you. The only anomaly in the room is his leather jacket hanging on the back of your desk chair. When he reaches out to run his hand over the empty space on the bed beside him, he’s unsure if it’s warm from your body heat or the pale streaks of sunlight streaming in through the flowy white curtains. 

After rolling onto his back, he stretches his arms with a satisfied groan as his muscles pull. That’s when the sound of your footsteps emerge from the hallway, growing closer and closer. As you push your bedroom door open, you catch him quickly shutting his eyes as if getting caught. The faint smile that pulls on his lips exposes his wakefulness. 

He’d been asleep when you first stirred. After a few minutes of combing through his hair and relishing the steady sound of his breaths, you’d slipped out of bed to check the voicemail box. But not before padding to your dresser to put on some clothes. There was a pleasant ache in the muscles of your thighs as you moved, your whole body alight with the memory of him. 

Last night, you’d been too preoccupied with the dizzying proximity of Eddie hovering over you to answer the phone when it rang. 

As you press the playback button, it comes as no surprise when your dad’s voice crackles to life to bid you goodnight and remind you to make sure the front door is locked. For their own sanity, you call your parents back to apologize and assure them that everything had been okay the previous night. 

Back in your room, the mattress dips as you crawl into bed, forcing Eddie to fight a smile. He continues to feign sleep as you settle beside him with a content sigh. Once you’re tucked beneath the sheets, you place your hand on his chest as if swearing an oath to a truth larger than yourselves. 

The tattoos on his skin are so bold and intricate that you can’t help but trace over them. Your featherlight touch makes him open his eyes and turn his head to look at you, blinking slowly. His hair is roused and his eyes are a little puffy and red from sleep. 

There’s a flutter in your stomach upon noticing the faint lines on his cheek. In the few years of your friendship, you’d never had the pleasure of waking up to each other. The intimacy of it all makes it feel like you're buzzing. 

“Sorry for leaving,” you murmur. “You didn’t feel any of that earlier?” 

“Any of what?” His brows furrow, voice a little rough from sleep. 

Before getting out of bed, you’d kissed him as well. Not once, but three times over his face. Admitting to such a tender thing feels harder than just having done it. 

Instead, you shake your head in a shy dismissal. Not the kind of shyness that’s brutal and consuming, but the type that cradles vulnerability gently. After baring yourselves to each other last night, you suppose there's nothing more to be shy about. It’s just that the way Eddie looks at you makes it seem like you’re worth being figured out. Like it’s worth knowing about all the little things you do. 

Everybody talks about the pain of being overlooked, but few consider how terrifying and wonderful it feels to be seen. 

He’s quiet for a moment, searching your eyes. “Tell me what I missed, angel.” It’d probably be better to show him.

When you scoot closer, he instinctively turns to face you, placing a gentle hand on your hip. The fabric of your pajama shorts is too soft to be straight-up cotton, he thinks to himself. Before he knows it, warmth blooms beneath his skin as you lean in to kiss his forehead, the tip of his nose, then the corner of his mouth. 

A hum vibrates in his throat as he runs his hand further down your leg, stopping as his palm reaches the bare skin of your thigh. All of this—your nearness, being kissed, touching you—seems like a luxury that should’ve expired after last night. At the risk of seeming pessimist, he isn’t unaware of how many good things in his life are fleeting. Except this. Except you. What the two have found feels more set in stone than anything else ever has. 

As you pull away, he smiles at you as easily as breathing. 

“How’d you sleep?” he asks. 

“Good. Really good,” you say. 

He begins to stroke your thigh. “Me too. I think you have that effect.” Even now, his body is pleasantly heavy with a bone-deep sense of refreshment. Like he was bearing the weight of being a new person in this morning light with you. 

You open your mouth to say something, but stop yourself. 

“What’s up?” he insists because he somehow catches everything. 

“Nothing,” you huff a weak laugh. “I just feel…” you trail off, and Eddie keeps looking at you with those Bambi eyes. 

His chest shakes with a chuckle when you whine and tuck your face into your pillow. Even though you can’t see it, his gaze turns painfully soft. You peek at him just as he’s reaching out to touch your cheek. 

“You make me nervous.” It’s a quiet admission. “In the best possible way.”

Eddie doesn’t frown or insist you shouldn’t be, he just offers a small smile and strokes his thumb across the apple of your cheek. You press into his touch like you need it to survive. One thing he’ll never get over is how eternally fortunate you make him feel. He’ll spend the rest of his life either relishing the fact that you chose him or forever remembering these small moments. 

Your nerves don’t worry him and neither do his own. It’s how he knew all this meant something. The longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes “nervous” might not even be the right word. Surely, there was another way to describe the feeling of caring about someone and their thoughts so deeply that you didn’t want to risk disrupting a single thing. A care so great it rang true within the innermost parts of you. 

“We should probably get the day started before we end up stuck here,” he says. “I don’t know if you had any plans, but I can go if you want me out of your hair—” 

You take his hand from where he’s still stroking your cheek, and kiss over his knuckles. “Absolutely not,” you say into his skin. 

Eddie waits for you to continue. 

“Will you stay for breakfast?” you ask. “I make really good scrambled eggs.” He’d stay for breakfast even if you couldn’t. 

His eyes sparkle in amusement. “I’ll be the judge of that.” You can’t help the laughter that rises up your throat when he pushes you onto your back and props himself over you. 

Your attempts to stop him from nibbling down your neck are all in vain, and you halfheartedly push at his shoulders as your chest squeezes and flutters. When he pulls away, you’re still hiccuping over your giggles, and you pray you don’t look as silly as you feel. Eddie, however, gazes down at you with the most tender depth in his eyes.

“You’ve got the most killer smile ever, you know that?” he asks. 

You reach up to tuck his hair behind his ears, trying to distract yourself from the warmth rising to your cheeks. 

“Evidently not. It hasn’t killed you.”

With a dramatic inhale, Eddie grips his chest and rolls over to fall onto his back, feigning death. 

You prop your forearms on his chest. “Please don’t die, I need you around.” 

That makes him grin and tap your chin with a gentle knuckle. “Say that again, I didn’t quite hear you.” 

You roll your eyes with a shake of your head. “I need you around, Eddie Munson.” 

He grows a bit more sober. “I think I need you more.” 

You could get used to this feeling of needing and being needed. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see and appreciate them all. 

PART ONE | PART TWO 

MORE

[hiddenworldofmary]

late at night when you’re plagued by thoughts old and new, the only person you could ask for advice isn’t there and all you can do is imagine the conversation you would have if you could

you cry and you journal and life goes on

[radiance1]

Danny owns a ship.

A giant, wonderous piece of technology he is even! He made his ship from scratch!

Well, with a bit of help here and there from his parents, mom with the blueprints, him and his sister with design, and his dad showing how to fit certain pieces with each other that he couldn't do himself.

All of that resulting in the birth of his son, Tempest!

He did wonders on open water, a great ship all around that really only need him and him alone, usually at the very least. If he wasn't inviting a few friends on board, that is.

His ship was also fitted with some very good tech, wouldn't be of Fenton design if it weren't! Ghost shields, ectoplasmic canons, an engine running off of ectoplasm, etc, etc.

After he well outlived his friends and family (discounting Vlad, but that fruitloop would never die on his own anyway) he decided to sail Tempest into various waters, and by various, he meant various. Tempest, a ship unbound by time and able to sail along the timestream as long as he doesn't accidently fuck things up, lest Clockwork get on his ass about that.

It took a while of pleading for him to even agree to allow him to sail a ship as advanced as Tempest into the past, but he managed to do so. On an agreement that he would sail over to changes in time and fix them, which he does, and in the future it's pretty rad he won't lie.

Of course, then everything got kinda fucked up. You see, he was going back to his timeline via the timestream, and was going to drop by Vlad's place to drop off a few of his more recent spoils-

And yes, he dumps various things from his adventures on Vlad, least he could do after that whole trying to get with his mom and kill his dad thing. The dude's chill now, or as chill as he can get anyway, and has quite the interest in appraising the stuff he drops off, so a win-win for both of them honestly. Also, he uses the guy and his resources to upgrade Tempest here and there.

-When he uh, he well. He kinda, fucked up. Now you see, it wasn't his and it obviously wasn't the fault of Tempest either, but something outside the timestream (That Clockwork told him specifically not to look at) dragged his attention for a mite too long and suddenly he wasn't in the timestream at all.

Okay, so maybe it was his fault.

So now he was outside his dimension's timestream, and oh boy was trying to get back to it far harder than he was expecting. No wonder Clockwork constantly told him to be careful and pay full attention to navigating the timestream.

And he kinda, lost his...

He isn't a Master of Time like Clockwork is, though he does hold a good knowledge of the timestream he isn't as capable as Clockwork. So now he's lost navigating... wherever the hell he is, and is kinda hoping Clockwork would realize and find him.

He does manage to get back on a timestream though. He doesn't recognize it, but hell he only recognizes his because it was the only one he's ever entered so far. So he pops off to the present time of this timestream, and thinks that hey, yea, this definitely isn't his timeline.

Because there was a fuck ton of heroes, supervillains, magic, you name it, its here.

So, what was one eternally young-looking captain the Tempest, a time sailing ship, to do?

Explore of course!

[endless-ineffabilities]

So High School (2/2)

Bucky Barnes x f!reader

synopsis : the one wherein the reader and Bucky navigate the initial stages of falling in love, and well, it feels a whole lot like high school <3

themes : friends to lovers, jealousy, tension, mutual pining, fluff, everyone is alive!

word count : 4.3k ▪︎ masterlist ▪︎ part one

Bucky hears you laugh from inside your room, and it immediately lightens something in him. It helps, because the past few days haven't been great.

He hasn’t seen you since the night of his date. The next day, he thought he spotted you leaving the gym right when he walked in, but before he could catch up, you were gone. That felt like a punch to the gut, but he told himself he'd find you later.

Except, he didn’t.

You were ‘out’ according to the others, and for the next few days, it was the same thing. 

It's not you're dating or anything, Steve pointed out. She doesn't owe you her days.

Whatever, Bucky thought. The idea that you were too busy for him didn’t feel right. Maybe it was childish, but he didn’t care. He just didn’t like missing you.

Everything was better when you were around – when you flashed him a smile, even if it was for no reason at all. And now it feels like you’re avoiding him, and he can’t figure out why.

Another burst of laughter from your room pulls him back to the present. He raises his fist to knock on your door but pauses when he hears another voice. Another person’s laugh. 

You have a guy in there with you. Bucky freezes, hand hovering mid-air, but he quickly collects himself and knocks harder than he meant to. It's a relief he didn't use his vibranium arm, or he'll be doing some explaining to Tony.

Inside, the laughter stops. As it should. He hears FRIDAY announce his arrival.

“One sec,” you call out, and then, a soft, playful, “No, don’t – wait!” You laugh again.

You open the door with a smile that falters when you see Bucky. 

“Hey, Buck,” you greet, sounding surprised. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bucky hesitates, eyes flicking past you into the room. The question slips out before he can stop it. “You got someone in there with you?”

Before you can answer, a gust of wind moves past you, and suddenly, Pietro Maximoff is leaning against the doorframe, his arm draped casually around your shoulders.

“Good morning, James,” Pietro says with that slight accent of his, flashing a grin. Bucky’s jaw clenches at how close Pietro is to you.

This – this – is what has kept you so busy? Hanging out with Pietro. His gut twists. Don’t you already spend enough time with the damn speedster?

You notice his reaction, quickly explaining, “We’re just playing video games. The new GTA came out, and Pietro introduced me to it, so we’ve been – ”

“Alone?” Bucky interrupts, immediately wishing he hadn’t. Of course, alone. You just said it was only the two of you.

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, slightly confused. “During our downtime.”

“You can join us if you want, James,” Pietro offers smoothly, stepping back to make room for him.

You hum in agreement, looking at Bucky with those soft, inviting eyes that he can never say no to. But the thought of sitting there, watching you and Pietro joke and laugh together, feels like too much. He’s not sure he could handle it without snapping.

He wants to storm right in there, and stake his claim, like some sort of caveman.

He wants to, and he knows it's ridiculous.

You're not his.

“Uh, I actually have to help Steve with something,” he lies, taking a step back.

Your face falls slightly. You looked disappointed at that. But why? Shouldn't you be glad to spend more alone time with Pietro? “Oh. Well, another time, then?”

“Yeah, another time,” he mutters, waving awkwardly as he turns to leave. He’s only made it a few steps down the hall when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Wait, Buck,” you say, stopping him. “Why’d you come by?”

He's stumped, because why did he? He wanted to see you, he wanted to hear your voice, he wanted to stare at your face until you frown at him and tell him he’s being weird.

“I just wanted to say hi,” he says, though it feels empty compared to what he’s actually feeling. “I haven’t seen you around.”

You smile at that. “Well, hello.”

“Hi.” He's so down bad, because it's just that - just hello - and his heartbeat is doing somersaults.

You start to walk backward, that damned smile still gracing your lips. “Okay, then. I'll see you around, Bucky.”

Before you turn, you pause. “Oh, by the way, how did your date go? You never told me.”

It’s strange. He’d almost forgotten about the date. He didn’t care much about it at the time, and now, it feels even more irrelevant. But you’re standing there, waiting for an answer, so he shrugs.

“It was... alright. She was alright. But I don’t think we’ll be going out again.”

Your expression softens. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Why were you sorry? Did you want him to go on another date? Were you just fine with him being with someone else? Bucky's worried thoughts came flooding right in.

“Don’t be,” Bucky says, more honestly than anything else he’s said today. “I’ve got my eye on someone else.”

For a brief second, your face falters, but you recover so quickly that he almost doesn’t catch it. Almost.

“Okay, then,” you say, your voice a little quieter now. “I’ll see you later.”

You thought you kept your face blank as you walked back in your room, but maybe you've never been the best at pretending, because Pietro immediately corners you with, “What's wrong? It's James, isn't it?”

You sigh dramatically, “Yes... yes it is. Can never hide anything from you, Pietro.”

“Oh, please. I can literally see the tiniest switches in your expression before you even fully realise it.” He pats the spot next to him on the couch, beckoning to you. “Come here, tell Uncle Pietro what's wrong.”

You breathe out a laugh at his silliness, plopping down on the couch in a huff, “Well, Uncle Pietro, I think I may have hinted at this to you before but I – ” 

“ – like James.”

“Y-yes,” you say nervously, the confession enough to speed up your heartbeat. You had been planning to say this to Bucky, and make clear to him what everyone already sees, until he took someone else on a date. Your spirits were crushed, and instead of doubling down and swallowing your pride, you decided to steer clear of him for the time being.

“He likes you, too,” Pietro says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You frown. “He flirts, but that’s just how he is.”

“No, sweetheart,” Pietro laughs, “to everyone else, he's like a grumpy old cat. When he saw me in here, I could swear he was ready to claw my eyes out. He would never catch me of course – ” you roll your eyes at that remark “ – but my point is, that grumpy old cat was jealous.”

“Of us?” you shake your head at how ridiculous it sounds. Pietro's always been like a brother to you, and Bucky would know that, if he chose to spend time with the both of you now and again.

But no. Every time he finds you with him, he's always had an excuse readily mumbled under his breath.

Pietro nods. “Jealous as hell. He probably doesn’t even know about Irina.”

“Your girlfriend?” You furrow your brow. “I guess not. He never sticks around long enough when we’re together.”

“Can't really share anything with Bionic Man because he always glares at me. Thanks to you.”

“How is that my fault?”

“You should make it clear that there's nothing going on between us.” Pietro slings his arm around you as a gesture of comfort. “And you should tell him how you feel.”

“Easier said than done,” you mumble. “Last time we spoke, he went on a date with someone else.”

Pietro responds nonchalantly, “Do you even know how that went? I bet he thought about you the whole time.”

That takes you back to the last thing Bucky said to you, giving rise to a mixture of excitement and apprehension. “Apparently he's interested in someone else.”

“Well, I'll be damned, sweetheart. He means you!”

You want to believe it. But wouldn’t Bucky have told you by now? Why is everything with him so complicated?

“What should I do?” you ask, almost to yourself.

He laughs freely, with the intention of placating your worries. All this unrequited love reminds him of those cheesy high school couples from the movies Wanda loves. He grew to like them, too, but he doesn't need to tell his beloved sister that.

“I think,” he exhales loudly, gearing up to share his advice, “that you two should get your shit together and finally get together.”

Even though you know he's right, with the most sarcastic tone you can muster, you say, “Thanks a lot, Piet.”

He shrugs, “Hey, I'm just saying. I'm sure everyone will agree with me.”

“Whatever,” you shrug, feigning ignorance at what is apparently the most obvious thing in the world. That is, except to you and Bucky. “Let's just play.”

You pick up your controller again, playfully nudging his side. The next hour passes relatively calmly, though filled with profanities shouted at the screen.

Your character robs a bank, steals a helicopter, buys a million-dollar mansion. But such heightened scenarios are not enough to distract you from thinking about him.

Your mind keeps wandering back to Bucky – how he went out of his way to see you, how he seemed jealous of Pietro, how he looked at you when he said he’s got his eye on someone else.

Maybe Pietro’s right. Maybe it’s time you stopped dancing around this.

Meanwhile, Bucky, in an attempt to clear his head, finds himself in the hangar with Steve, working on their motorbikes. Tools are scattered everywhere, but so are Bucky's thoughts.

“Buck, pass me that wrench,” Steve calls out, but Bucky’s mind is elsewhere, staring off into space.

“Bucky!” Steve calls again, louder this time. “The wrench.”

Bucky nearly startles, but he just ends up glaring at Steve. “Here you go, punk.” He hands him the wrench, but with that same blank expression on his face.

“Alright,” Steve sighs after a few moments, standing in front of Bucky with his arms crossed, “what's the matter with you?”

Bucky hesitates, but the frustration boils over. “Why is she always with him?”

Steve blinks. “With who?”

Bucky scoffs, “The white-haired guy who runs fast.”

Steve stares at his best friend for a second, then bursts out laughing. This is the man who faced down Nazis, HYDRA, and alien invaders. This is the guy who survived decades as a brainwashed assassin. And yet, the sight of you hanging out with Pietro has reduced him to a sulky teenager.

“Pietro, Buck,” Steve chides. “The guy's got a name. But you already know it.”

“Yeah. Him. What does she see in him?”

Steve shrugs, biting back another laugh. “Maybe she likes a guy who can make things happen quickly.”

There’s a pause as Bucky gives him the world’s flattest look. He crosses his arms, a faint scowl settling on his face. “This isn’t funny, Steve.”

Steve sets down the rag he’s been using to clean his hands, sighing. “It’s obvious, Buck. They’re just friends. You’re the one she likes.”

Steve tries to rein it in, clearing his throat. “Alright, alright. But seriously, she’s not into Pietro.”

"Could've fooled me."

Bucky’s head snaps up, a flash of surprise on his face. “What makes you think that?”

Steve crosses his arms now, mirroring Bucky. “C’mon, don’t tell me the guy with the sniper instincts can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

Bucky frowns, shaking his head. “You’re imagining things. She’s always with him. They’re always laughing. I mean, they spend so much time together, it’s like… What the hell am I supposed to think?”

“Look, Buck,” Steve begins, his voice more patient now. “You ever notice how when you walk into a room, her whole face lights up? She could be laughing with Pietro or Nat or anyone else, but when you show up, she’s different.”

Bucky opens his mouth to object, but Steve holds up a hand, cutting him off.

“She likes you, Buck,” Steve continues, leaning back against the wall now, more serious. “But if you keep acting like a brick wall and making excuses, she’s gonna think you don’t feel the same. You gotta talk to her before you lose your chance.”

Bucky’s silent for a moment, staring at the ground. He’s never been great at this kind of thing. Before the war, it was easy – go to a dance, flirt a little, share a drink or two. That was it. But this? His feelings for you aren’t simple. They’re big, overwhelming, and he’s terrified of messing everything up. 

He's about to grumble something in response when Sam walks in, oblivious to the heavy atmosphere he's just stumbled into.

“Y’all still messing with these bikes? I thought super-soldiers were supposed to be efficient.” Sam pauses, glancing between Steve and Bucky with a smirk. “What’s up? Bucky got another life crisis?”

Steve snorts. “Something like that.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Mind your business, Wilson.”

Sam raises his eyebrows, clearly sensing the tension. “Oh, this is about her, isn’t it? You still haven’t asked her out?”

Bucky groans. “Not you too.”

“I bet you’re doing that thing,” Sam continues, “where you’re all moody and brooding, thinking too much and not doing anything. You know, like you always do.”

“Wilson – ”

“Nope, don’t even try it. You know I’m right.” Sam smirks, leaning in like he’s got the upper hand. “You gotta make a move, Barnes. Like, yesterday.”

Bucky glares at him, but there’s no heat behind it. “You ever stop talking?”

Sam shrugs. “Not when I’m right.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head as he watches Bucky storm toward the exit, determination finally setting in.

As Bucky reaches the door, Sam calls out one last parting shot. “Remember, she likes you, man! Just try not to screw it up!”

Bucky flips him off without turning around, but his steps quicken.

“He’s gonna screw it up, isn’t he?” Sam grins, turning to Steve.

Steve smiles softly. “Not this time.”

Bucky isn’t sure why he’s ended up in the compound’s common room, but here he is, sitting stiffly on the couch, his metal hand resting tensely on the armrest. Steve’s words keep replaying in his mind like a command he can’t shake off: She’s into you.

He doesn’t know what to do with that. His emotions are wound tight – he’s not used to feeling this off balance. Not over someone else. And yet, here he is, feeling like he’s losing a fight he didn’t even know he was in.

Footsteps behind him break his train of thought, but he doesn’t turn around. He already knows who it is.

“Barnes,” Clint drawls lazily, strolling into the room, eyeing Bucky’s tense posture. “You look like you're one bad joke away from snapping this coffee table in half.”

Bucky barely acknowledges him, staring at the TV without really seeing it. “Not in the mood, Barton.”

���Clearly,” Clint mutters, dropping into the chair opposite him and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. “This about her?”

Well damn, does everyone know?

Bucky’s jaw tightens. Clint isn’t someone he usually talks to about this kind of stuff, but the guy has some sixth sense for sniffing out trouble.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky says, his voice low but tight.

“Right. Sure you don’t,” Clint shoots back, raising an eyebrow. “Listen, man, it’s pretty obvious. I mean, I’m no super soldier, but even I can see that she’s been on your mind. And for the record, she’s not with Pietro right now.”

Bucky’s brow furrows at that. He hasn’t asked, but apparently, Clint’s seen right through him. Again. “Wasn’t worried about Pietro.”

Clint snorts. “Yeah, okay. Sure. That’s why you look like someone kicked your dog every time they’re in the same room.”

Bucky shoots him a sharp look, but before he can respond, you walk into the room, unaware of the conversation you’re about to walk into. You’re holding a mug of coffee, your hair slightly damp, a relaxed smile on your face. 

Immediately, Bucky feels his chest tightening at the sight, his heart going into overdrive. 

“Oh, hey,” you say, your eyes landing on Bucky with a flicker of surprise. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Clint grins, clearly sensing the tension. “Well, I’m gonna go... do literally anything else.” He stands up, gives Bucky a quick slap on the shoulder, and makes his exit, leaving the room feeling somehow smaller.

You glance between the door and Bucky, your expression uncertain. “Everything okay?”

Bucky takes a breath, trying to steady himself. He doesn’t want to play games anymore, and he sure as hell isn’t going to beat around the bush. Steve’s words, Clint’s comments – they’re like a push he didn’t know he needed. An annoying push, but anyway. 

“Depends,” Bucky says, his tone firm but not harsh. His eyes meet yours, holding your gaze. “Are we good?”

You blink, surprised by the directness. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Bucky starts, shifting to stand up, his tall frame casting a shadow over you, “I feel like we’ve been avoiding each other. And I don’t like it, doll.”

Your brows furrow, and you look genuinely puzzled. “I’m not avoiding you, Buck. I’ve just been – ”

“Busy?” he cuts in. “I know. I get it. But you’ve been ‘busy’ a lot lately.” He steps closer, the intensity in his eyes making your pulse quicken. “And every time I try to talk to you, you’re not there.”

You’re quiet for a moment, the weight of his words settling between you. “I didn’t realise you felt that way.”

Bucky lets out a breath, running his hand through his hair. “I’m not mad,” he says, his voice softening. “I just don’t want there to be any misunderstanding between us.”

You hesitate, your fingers tightening around the mug in your hands. “Like… what kind?”

“The kind where I think I’m losing you to someone else,” Bucky admits, the honesty in his words hitting hard. But his tone isn’t desperate, just clear, like a man who’s finally decided to stop tiptoeing around the truth.

Your eyes widen, your face lighting up as you process his words. “Bucky… there’s no one else.”

He tilts his head slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you’re holding back. “So what’s going on then? Why does it feel like you’ve been keeping your distance?”

You swallow, your eyes flicking away for a second before coming back to his. “I thought you weren’t interested in me. After you went on that date – ” 

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “That date?” He almost laughs, shaking his head slightly. “That date was a disaster. I couldn’t stop thinking about you the whole time.”

The confession hangs in the air between you, and Bucky steps closer again, closing the gap between you. 

“You’ve been on my mind for so long, and I didn’t know how to deal with it,” he says quietly, his voice low but certain. “But I’m not going to make excuses anymore. I want this –” he motions between the two of you, “ – to be clear. No more avoiding each other. No more guessing.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you look up at him. “And what if I want the same thing?” you ask, your voice just above a whisper.

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of Bucky’s mouth, the first real sign of relief he’s felt in days. “Then I guess we stop pretending we don’t.”

For a moment, the world outside the room doesn’t exist. It’s just the two of you, standing close, the tension finally lifting as something else settles into place – something that’s been building for far too long.

Bucky’s eyes soften as he reaches out, his fingers cradling the side of your face. “You good with that, beautiful?”

You nod, a small smile breaking through as you look up at him. “Yeah. I’m good with that.”

A week later…

The common room is empty, the early evening sun casting a warm, golden light across the space. Bucky’s metal arm is cool against your waist, his other hand tangled in your hair as he pulls you closer to him on the couch, lips hot against yours. His kisses are insistent, hungry, like he’s trying to make up for all the time he spent keeping his distance.

You let out a soft laugh, gently pushing against his chest. "Buck, slow down. What if someone walks in?"

He pulls back just enough to give you a breath, but his blue eyes are dark, filled with that neediness you've grown to adore. His voice is low, almost a growl. "Don’t care. Let 'em."

You roll your eyes, trying not to give in to how badly you want him too. “I care. You’re acting like you’ve never kissed anyone before.”

His lips curve into a smirk, though there’s a hint of a whine in his tone when he responds. “Not like this, I haven’t.” He ducks his head back down, brushing his lips over your jaw, your neck, causing your heart to race. “C’mon, doll. Just a little longer.”

“Bucky,” you manage to say, “I’m serious. You know Clint has terrible timing, and if Sam – ”

“I’ll take them both down, baby,” Bucky mutters against your skin, his hands tightening on your waist as he presses himself closer to you, almost like he's trying to meld into you. “Let me have this.”

You shake your head, unable to hold back the grin tugging at your lips. “You're ridiculous.”

“Can’t help it. You’re too sweet. Been wanting this for too damn long.”

His honesty makes your heart skip a beat. There’s something so raw in the way he looks at you, and it sends warmth flooding through your entire body. 

“Okay, okay,” you say, laughing softly, giving in a little as your fingers trace the lines of his jaw. “Just... keep it down, alright?”

Bucky doesn’t need any more encouragement. He crashes his lips to yours again, and you melt into the kiss, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, his body pressing you back against the couch. 

“You’re not making it easy.” His voice drops lower, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. “Don’t want to stop.”

“Bucky,” you warn, but your own resolve is crumbling fast. It’s hard to act like you don’t love this – the way he wants you, how eager he is, and how every time you pull away, he looks like he might lose his mind. “I’m not kidding. If we get caught – ”

The door to the common room swings open with a bang. You both freeze mid-kiss, your heart stopping as Steve and Tony walk in, mid-conversation.

Time slows to a crawl.

Steve's the first to notice you, and the moment his eyes land on the two of you tangled up on the couch, his entire face turns a deep shade of red.

“Oh, uh…” Steve stammers, shifting awkwardly as if trying to find the right words. “We didn’t mean to – ”

Tony, however, takes all of two seconds to assess the situation before his mouth curls into a wicked grin. “Well, well, well. Isn’t this cozy.” He claps his hands, clearly amused. "Barnes, didn’t know you had it in you, buddy."

Bucky groans under his breath, slowly detaching himself from you, but he doesn’t move far. His arm still lingers on your waist, like he’s not ready to let go just yet. You, on the other hand, are desperately trying to smooth your hair and fix your shirt, willing yourself to sink into the couch and disappear.

Steve clears his throat. “Sorry, guys. We didn't mean to interrupt.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, the teasing glint in his eyes unwavering. "Interrupt? It looked like Barnes was going to have to reimburse me for a new couch after what they’re about to do on this one.”

Bucky gives Tony an exasperated look, but there's a hint of pride in his smirk as he tightens his grip on your waist. “You’re hilarious, Stark,” Bucky deadpans, but there's a twinkle in his eye that shows he’s not as annoyed as he pretends to be.

“Seriously, guys, can we not make this a thing?” you chime in, cheeks burning with embarrassment. You’re trying to play it cool, but Tony’s relentless grin isn’t helping.

“Oh, but it is a thing now,” Tony says, waggling his eyebrows and reaching for his phone. “The Bionic Staring Man’s got himself a girlfriend and thought the common room was the place for... extracurricular activities.”

Bucky’s grip on you tightens, his voice low with a hint of a growl. “You take one picture, Stark, and you’re gonna find out how fast I can break that phone.”

Tony waves him off dismissively, completely unbothered by the threat. “Calm down, Terminator. I’m just documenting this historic moment. For science.”

Steve, clearly done with the conversation, shoots Tony a sharp look. “Tony, come on. Let’s just leave them alone.”

“Fine, fine,” Tony says, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “But this isn't the last you're hearing about this.” He winks at you both and heads for the door. “You two lovebirds behave yourselves. Or don’t. I really don’t care.”

The door clicks shut, and you and Bucky are left alone again. For a moment, the room is completely silent, the ridiculousness of what just happened hanging in the air.

Then, you both burst out laughing.

Bucky leans his forehead against yours, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Yeah,” you gasp between giggles, wiping at your eyes. “Next time, let’s not pick the common room.”

“Noted.” He leans in, his lips brushing yours softly, but there’s still that needy edge in his touch. “But, uhh, I’m not done with you yet, doll.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. “Seriously? After that?”

He shrugs, the cocky smile returning. “Can’t help it. My girlfriend is a right ol’ dime.”

You roll your eyes, but pull him – your boyfriend – back in for another kiss. 

He pulls away for a moment, only to say something that makes your whole world stop. 

“I’m so in love with you…”

taglist 💙 (commented on part 1): @asha-rahiro @ordelixx @sarah1barnes @geovana37 @cherrybitchh222 @tenderly-hopeful-devastating @cjand10 @dreamybabbyy @bxckybxrnes24 @blackhawkfanatic @buckyb-stan @ze-j @reputationgf-recs @chaotic-wanda @blackwidownat2814 @buckysbaby-doll @thebuckybarnesvault

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

guess we’re not fake dating anymore

pair: Luke Castellan x Hades!reader

requested by anonymous

I love that fake dating trope with Luke Castellan so could you do reader x Luke Castellan, where reader is a daughter of Hades and so people kinda ignore her and are mean and usually she's fine with it and doesn't care but it's slowly starting to catch up to her and Luke sees this and generally feels bad so he offers to fake date her but then they both end up realizing they actually like each other

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The campfire crackled in the cool night air, casting flickering shadows on the faces gathered around it. Laughter and chatter filled the space, everyone wrapped up in their own little world. But you, the daughter of Hades, sat on the outskirts, where the darkness felt a little more at home.

It wasn’t like you were unfamiliar with the way people treated you at Camp Half-Blood. Ever since you first showed up, there was a chill in the air whenever you walked by. Conversations stopped, eyes looked away, and no one ever asked if you wanted to join in on anything. You told yourself you didn’t care—it’s not like you needed their approval. You were fine on your own. You had to be.

But sometimes, like tonight, the isolation got to you. A hollowness crept into your chest, and the more you tried to ignore it, the heavier it became. You hated feeling this way—weak, like you were about to break if someone even looked at you wrong.

You didn’t notice Luke watching you from across the fire. He leaned against a tree, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as he observed the way you sat just a little too far from the group. The way your shoulders slumped slightly, despite the brave face you were putting on. Luke knew a thing or two about feeling alone, and for some reason, seeing you like that hit him harder than he expected.

So, he made his way over, his presence felt before you even saw him. You looked up as he sat down beside you, closer than anyone else had dared in a long time.

“Hey,” he said, voice casual, like it was the most normal thing in the world to be sitting next to the daughter of the god of the underworld.

You blinked, surprised that he was talking to you, but quickly masked it. “Hey.”

Luke didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared into the fire. “You know, people around here can be real jerks.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

He glanced at you, and for a second, his usual confident smirk was gone, replaced by something softer. “It’s not fair. They don’t even know you.”

“Don’t really care if they do,” you lied, though the crack in your voice gave you away.

Luke heard it. He always did. And for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he found himself saying, “What if… we pretended to date?”

Your head snapped towards him, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“I’m serious,” he said, shrugging as if the idea wasn’t insane. “If they see us together, maybe they’ll stop being such idiots. You know, stop treating you like a ghost or something.”

You hesitated, suspicion creeping in. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I know what it’s like to feel alone,” he admitted, surprising you again. “And maybe… maybe I don’t want to see you feeling like that anymore.”

The offer hung between you, and despite every instinct telling you not to, you found yourself nodding. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

The first few days of your fake relationship were weird. People stared, whispered, but no one dared say anything to your face. You and Luke walked around camp together, sat next to each other at meals, trained together. He was always there, with a smirk or a joke, making sure you didn’t feel out of place. It was supposed to be just an act, a way to shut everyone up. But the longer it went on, the more you started to notice things.

Like the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, or how his touch lingered just a little longer than necessary. How he’d go out of his way to find you, even when no one else was around to see. And somewhere along the line, the hollow feeling in your chest started to fade, replaced by something warm and unfamiliar.

One night, after everyone else had gone to bed, you and Luke were still sitting by the fire. The conversation had lulled, and you found yourself lost in thought, trying to figure out when everything had changed. When you had changed.

Luke turned to you, his blue eyes catching the firelight and holding yours with an intensity that made your heart race. For a moment, he was silent, and then he leaned closer, his gaze softening. “You know,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, “I really like you. More than I thought I would.”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance and kissed you gently. It was a sweet, tender kiss that spoke volumes more than words ever could. When he pulled away, there was a shy smile on his face, and he took your hand in his.

Your heart was racing, but it wasn’t from fear anymore. You looked into his eyes, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I like you too, Luke. I really do.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Guess we’re not fake dating anymore”

[anheliotrope]

Rambling About C# Being Alright

I think C# is an alright language. This is one of the highest distinctions I can give to a language.

Warning: This post is verbose and rambly and probably only good at telling you why someone might like C# and not much else.

~~~

There's something I hate about every other language. Worst, there's things I hate about other languages that I know will never get better. Even worse, some of those things ALSO feel like unforced errors.

With C# there's a few things I dislike or that are missing. C#'s feature set does not obviously excel at anything, but it avoids making any huge misstep in things I care about. Nothing in C# makes me feel like the language designer has personally harmed me.

C# is a very tolerable language.

C# is multi-paradigm.

C# is the Full Middle Malcomist language.

C# will try to not hurt you.

A good way to describe C# is "what if Java sucked less". This, of course, already sounds unappealing to many, but that's alright. I'm not trying to gas it up too much here.

C# has sins, but let's try to put them into some context here and perhaps the reason why I'm posting will become more obvious:

C# didn't try to avoid generics and then implement them in a way that is very limiting (cough Go).

C# doesn't hamstring your ability to have statement lambdas because the language designer dislikes them and also because the language designer decided to have semantic whitespace making statement lambdas harder to deal with (cough Python).

C# doesn't require you to explicitly wrap value types into reference types so you can put value types into collections (cough Java).

C# doesn't ruin your ability to interact with memory efficiently because it forbids you from creating custom value types, ergo everything goes to the heap (cough cough Java, Minecraft).

C# doesn't have insane implicit type coercions that have become the subject of language design comedy (cough JavaScript).

C# doesn't keep privacy accessors as a suggestion and has the developers pinkie swear about it instead of actually enforcing it (cough cough Python).

Plainly put, a lot of the time I find C# to be alright by process of elimination. I'm not trying to shit on your favorite language. Everyone has different things they find tolerable. I have the Buddha nature so I wish for all things to find their tolerable language.

I do also think that C# is notable for being a mainstream language (aka not Haskell) that has a smaller amount of egregious mistakes, quirks and Faustian bargains.

The Typerrrrr

C# is statically typed, but the typing is largely effortless to navigate unlike something like Rust, and the GC gives a greater degree of safety than something like C++.

Of course, the typing being easy to work it also makes it less safe than Rust. But this is an appropriate trade-off for certain kinds of applications, especially considering that C# is memory safe by virtue of running on a VM. Don't come at me, I'm a Rust respecter!!

You know how some people talk about Python being amazing for prototyping? That's how I feel about C#. No matter how much time I would dedicate to Python, C# would still be a more productive language for me. The type system would genuinely make me faster for the vast majority of cases. Of course Python has gradual typing now, so any comparison gets more difficult when you consider that. But what I'm trying to say is that I never understood the idea that doing away entirely with static typing is good for fast iteration.

Also yes, C# can be used as a repl. Leave me alone with your repls. Also, while the debugger is active you can also evaluate arbitrary code within the current scope.

I think that going full dynamic typing is a mistake in almost every situation. The fact that C# doesn't do that already puts it above other languages for me. This stance on typing is controversial, but it's my opinion that is really shouldn't be. And the wind has constantly been blowing towards adding gradual typing to dynamic languages.

The modest typing capabilities C# coupled with OOP and inheritance lets you create pretty awful OOP slop. But that's whatever. At work we use inheritance in very few places where it results in neat code reuse, and then it's just mostly interfaces getting implemented.

C#'s typing and generic system is powerful enough to offer you a plethora of super-ergonomic collection transformation methods via the LINQ library. There's a lot of functional-style programming you can do with that. You know, map, filter, reduce, that stuff?

Even if you make a completely new collection type, if it implements IEnumerable<T> it will benefit from LINQ automatically. Every language these days has something like this, but it's so ridiculously easy to use in C#. Coupled with how C# lets you (1) easily define immutable data types, (2) explicitly control access to struct or class members, (3) do pattern matching, you can end up with code that flows really well.

A Friendly Kitchen Sink

Some people have described C#'s feature set as bloated. It is getting some syntactic diversity which makes it a bit harder to read someone else's code. But it doesn't make C# harder to learn, since it takes roughly the same amount of effort to get to a point where you can be effective in it.

Most of the more specific features can be effortlessly ignored. The ones that can't be effortlessly ignored tend to bring something genuinely useful to the language -- such as tuples and destructuring. Tuples have their own syntax, the syntax is pretty intuitive, but the first time you run into it, you will have to do a bit of learning.

C# has an immense amount of small features meant to make the language more ergonomic. They're too numerous to mention and they just keep getting added.

I'd like to draw attention to some features not because they're the most important but rather because it feels like they communicate the "personality" of C#. Not sure what level of detail was appropriate, so feel free to skim.

Stricter Null Handling. If you think not having to explicitly deal with null is the billion dollar mistake, then C# tries to fix a bit of the problem by allowing you to enable a strict context where you have to explicitly tell it that something can be null, otherwise it will assume that the possibility of a reference type being null is an error. It's a bit more complicated than that, but it definitely helps with safety around nullability.

Default Interface Implementation. A problem in C# which drives usage of inheritance is that with just interfaces there is no way to reuse code outside of passing function pointers. A lot of people don't get this and think that inheritance is just used because other people are stupid or something. If you have a couple of methods that would be implemented exactly the same for classes 1 through 99, but somewhat differently for classes 100 through 110, then without inheritance you're fucked. A much better way would be Rust's trait system, but for that to work you need really powerful generics, so it's too different of a path for C# to trod it. Instead what C# did was make it so that you can write an implementation for methods declared in an interface, as long as that implementation only uses members defined in the interface (this makes sense, why would it have access to anything else?). So now you can have a default implementation for the 1 through 99 case and save some of your sanity. Of course, it's not a panacea, if the implementation of the method requires access to the internal state of the 1 through 99 case, default interface implementation won't save you. But it can still make it easier via some techniques I won't get into. The important part is that default interface implementation allows code reuse and reduces reasons to use inheritance.

Performance Optimization. C# has a plethora of features regarding that. Most of which will never be encountered by the average programmer. Examples: (1) stackalloc - forcibly allocate reference types to the stack if you know they won't outlive the current scope. (2) Specialized APIs for avoiding memory allocations in happy paths. (3) Lazy initialization APIs. (4) APIs for dealing with memory more directly that allow high performance when interoping with C/C++ while still keeping a degree of safety.

Fine Control Over Async Runtime. C# lets you write your own... async builder and scheduler? It's a bit esoteric and hard to describe. But basically all the functionality of async/await that does magic under the hood? You can override that magic to do some very specific things that you'll rarely need. Unity3D takes advantage of this in order to allow async/await to work on WASM even though it is a single-threaded environment. It implements a cooperative scheduler so the program doesn't immediately freeze the moment you do await in a single-threaded environment. Most people don't know this capability exists and it doesn't affect them.

Tremendous Amount Of Synchronization Primitives and API. This ones does actually make multithreaded code harder to deal with, but basically C# erred a lot in favor of having many different ways to do multithreading because they wanted to suit different usecases. Most people just deal with idiomatic async/await code, but a very small minority of C# coders deal with locks, atomics, semaphores, mutex, monitors, interlocked, spin waiting etc. They knew they couldn't make this shit safe, so they tried to at least let you have ready-made options for your specific use case, even if it causes some balkanization.

Shortly Begging For Tagged Unions

What I miss from C# is more powerful generic bounds/constraints and tagged unions (or sum types or discriminated unions or type unions or any of the other 5 names this concept has).

The generic constraints you can use in C# are anemic and combined with the lack of tagged unions this is rather painful at times.

I remember seeing Microsoft devs saying they don't see enough of a usecase for tagged unions. I've at times wanted to strangle certain people. These two facts are related to one another.

My stance is that if you think your language doesn't need or benefit from tagged unions, either your language is very weird, or, more likely you're out of your goddamn mind. You are making me do really stupid things every time I need to represent a structure that can EITHER have a value of type A or a value of type B.

But I think C# will eventually get tagged unions. There's a proposal for it here. I would be overjoyed if it got implemented. It seems like it's been getting traction.

Also there was an entire section on unchecked exceptions that I removed because it wasn't interesting enough. Yes, C# could probably have checked exceptions and it didn't and it's a mistake. But ultimately it doesn't seem to have caused any make-or-break in a comparison with Java, which has them. They'd all be better off with returning an Error<T>. Short story is that the consequences of unchecked exceptions have been highly tolerable in practice.

Ecosystem State & FOSSness

C# is better than ever and the tooling ecosystem is better than ever. This is true of almost every language, but I think C# receives a rather high amount of improvements per version. Additionally the FOSS story is at its peak.

Roslyn, the bedrock of the toolchain, the compiler and analysis provider, is under MIT license. The fact that it does analysis as well is important, because this means you can use the wealth of Roslyn analyzers to do linting.

If your FOSS tooling lets you compile but you don't get any checking as you type, then your development experience is wildly substandard.

A lot of stupid crap with cross-platform compilation that used to be confusing or difficult is now rather easy to deal with. It's basically as easy as (1) use NET Core, (2) tell dotnet to build for Linux. These steps take no extra effort and the first step is the default way to write C# these days.

Dotnet is part of the SDK and contains functionality to create NET Core projects and to use other tools to build said projects. Dotnet is published under MIT, because the whole SDK and runtime are published under MIT.

Yes, the debugger situation is still bad -- there's no FOSS option for it, but this is more because nobody cares enough to go and solve it. Jetbrains proved anyone can do it if they have enough development time, since they wrote a debugger from scratch for their proprietary C# IDE Rider.

Where C# falls flat on its face is the "userspace" ecosystem. Plainly put, because C# is a Microsoft product, people with FOSS inclinations have steered clear of it to such a degree that the packages you have available are not even 10% of what packages a Python user has available, for example. People with FOSS inclinations are generally the people who write packages for your language!!

I guess if you really really hate leftpad, you might think this is a small bonus though.

Where-in I talk about Cross-Platform

The biggest thing the ecosystem has been lacking for me is a package, preferably FOSS, for developing cross-platform applications. Even if it's just cross-platform desktop applications.

Like yes, you can build C# to many platforms, no sweat. The same way you can build Rust to many platforms, some sweat. But if you can't show a good GUI on Linux, then it's not practically-speaking cross-platform for that purpose.

Microsoft has repeatedly done GUI stuff that, predictably, only works on Windows. And yes, Linux desktop is like 4%, but that 4% contains >50% of the people who create packages for your language's ecosystem, almost the exact point I made earlier. If a developer runs Linux and they can't have their app run on Linux, they are not going to touch your language with a ten foot pole for that purpose. I think this largely explains why C#'s ecosystem feels stunted.

The thing is, I'm not actually sure how bad or good the situation is, since most people just don't even try using C# for this usecase. There's a general... ecosystem malaise where few care to use the language for this, chiefly because of the tone that Microsoft set a decade ago. It's sad.

HOWEVER.

Avalonia, A New Hope?

Today we have Avalonia. Avalonia is an open-source framework that lets you build cross-platform applications in C#. It's MIT licensed. It will work on Windows, macOS, Linux, iOS, Android and also somehow in the browser. It seems to this by actually drawing pixels via SkiaSharp (or optionally Direct2D on Windows).

They make money by offering migration services from WPF app to Avalonia. Plus general support.

I can't say how good Avalonia is yet. I've researched a bit and it's not obviously bad, which is distinct from being good. But if it's actually good, this would be a holy grail for the ecosystem:

You could use a statically typed language that is productive for this type of software development to create cross-platform applications that have higher performance than the Electron slop. That's valuable!

This possibility warrants a much higher level of enthusiasm than I've seen, especially within the ecosystem itself. This is an ecosystem that was, for a while, entirely landlocked, only able to make Windows desktop applications.

I cannot overstate how important it is for a language's ecosystem to have a package like this and have it be good. Rust is still missing a good option. Gnome is unpleasant to use and buggy. Falling back to using Electron while writing Rust just seems like a bad joke. A lot of the Rust crates that are neither Electron nor Gnome tend to be really really undercooked.

And now I've actually talked myself into checking out Avalonia... I mean after writing all of that I feel like a charlatan for not having investigated it already.

[oleanderscorner]

Thick-skulled, thick-skinned.

Yan!Dr.Ratio x reader x Yan!Acheron

TW: Yandere content and all that comes with that (gore, violence, obsession, ect), biting, fighting and bickering between yans—viewer discretion is advised.

So these two seem like unlikely pairs right? But honestly I think they have the same time—the emotionally intelligent type!

Veritas gets to you first actually—he clocks you as a member of The Express and becomes intrigued as you’re calming down PomPom. It’s something that just barely catches his attention—honestly it would be but a footnote in his thousands of thoughts if it wasn’t for seeing you do so again with other people around this place…

All whilst making a fool of yourself.

See you may not know what you’re talking about in calming down say…a student of his from a bad exam grade that they aren’t used to—it’s clear from your approach that you don’t know the material but somehow you’re able to calm them down anyway so they can see where they went wrong themselves—at least partially so…

That’s when he realizes he has been watching your approach to people and finds it utterly fascinating and yet idiotic how you are.

Just as he does—you’re off to Penacony!

That’s where Acheron catches you…

See Acheron does not know how to open up their heart ever or again…and yet, in the same breath she cannot help but stare at your visage as if the warmth and gentle feel you have radiates off of you.

When she first catches why such a thing can come from your very image, she sees you navigating a conversation with a very upset looking girl—eventually leading to her calming down for a moment and becoming excited over something—likely a new toy or some sort of treat.

She can’t comprehend both how and why you did that—so she watches over you, then it becomes justifying continuing watching over you even when you think you’re alone or not interacting with others—after all she has to keep you safe and in case you do gain an interaction, and then she just never wants you to leave her sight just in case danger happens when she just isn’t there so she continues watching…until not even she realizes she is obsessed.

Too bad Ratio is just on her tail

—

You were making coffee in the little room you had confined yourself in for the day—of course you loved going out and enjoying the day within Golden Hour…but you needed a mental health day—your energy was getting the best of you.

See—it was getting harder to rest when it wasn’t entering this dream. Always feeling like eyes were upon you…even as you kept your eyes glued shut you just couldn’t seem to really sleep for very long. Sure you got an hour or two as finally your eyes being shut for so long forced your brain to let you sleep but it was hardly enough…

Perhaps that was simply what it was like here—honestly you were just surprised that you needed sleep in the first place with being in a dream most of your days. But at least the confines or a room in here were far better than that other room where your body decided to rest.

You had just taken a sip of this dreamy coffee when it felt like a jolt of your mind and soul had brought you out of water—and not just a pool either, like you were dragged from an ocean in but a split second.

You expected to see March or Himeko—maybe Welt even…but golden eyes stared back at you—you recognized this man, Dr.Ratio. He had once been but a figure of intimidation in your life as it seemed he found you as nothing more than a nuisance and perhaps even less—but slowly as he saw you more as a person and not as just a being in the situation, circumstance, and general vicinity he was in he had become somewhat your friend. He clearly needed someone to talk and rang to himself and you provided that—always such a good friend to help…even if sometimes he called you an idiot or an imbecile. He seemed hard-pressed about something and held your arm tight in his hand.

You would freak out, but your immediate reaction to do so had long been suppressed as you quickly assessed the situation. Something was wrong, and he was going to explain it whether or not you asked—so it was better to start making things calm now by getting the situation in order.

“Is anyone hurt? Is everything alright?”

His brow was furrowed as he made a “tsk” sound and quickly pulled you up as he walked you down the hall to explain. You were always too good at keeping calm even when someone was taking your body and dragging it off like it was nothing more than a pebble on a string.

“You haven’t been getting my messages, so I went to check up on you only to see a woman with a weapon exit your room before I could get down the hall. So, obviously for your safety, I’m seeing to it you are located elsewhere until the threat is found and neutralized.”

Panick set in as you listened to his words—he was straight forward and left no room for you to argue. But even still you tried.

“What about the others—“

A quick cut off like chalk hitting a blackboard—he was prepared for this question.

“They are being informed by others, worry not. I wouldn’t be so idiotic to leave them behind.”

You believed him as he continued to drag you out of the vicinity. All seemed well for a moment until a shade of purple whip close to you and you felt the driving force of someone else tug you back out of the man’s grip—the edge of a sword just barely in your view as most of your vision was blocked by a hand.

A familiar and yet unknown voice rang in your ear in an instant as arms held you tight…and yet so gently, like the chains of slumber as you barely wake up on a soft pillowy bed.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

—

Actually living with the two of them is quite a challenge.

After their initial fight, which you were carefully taken care of to be unconscious for, they came to an agreement to share you. So, they both had to move themselves and you to a secure living location.

You being so emotionally intelligent can be damaging as both can easily be turned against the other in this situation, so, to keep that from happening they have to convene once a week on what you told them, even if it was meant to be a secret.

Acheron is with you most of the day, honestly she’s silent but she will teach you self defense if you beg nicely enough. She will accompany you to perform daily tasks and be the one you confide in the most just as she latches to you for her own sanity. She’s far easier to talk to and handle as she will be less willing to tell Ratio everything so long as it doesn’t pose a danger to you or herself—and so long as you don’t ask to leave.

If you do she’s willing to let things slip to teach you a lesson.

However she could never herself physically harm you…

Until it’s late at night, when she’s holding your back to her chest and she’s having night terrors again. She needs something to remind her you’re there and you won’t leave her…

So she bites—hard enough to leave a mark for the morning and to leave a mark to trace her fingers over as a reminder that you’re there.

Just hopefully you don’t wake up screaming and wake Veritas.

Other than that she helps however she can—really, she’s a good cook so she tries to prepare dinner so Veritas isn’t the only one cooking and lunch is always prepared by her—although she does appreciate it if you do make a snack for the two of you to share during the day.

She also does most of the cleaning as she makes sure to guard and watch over you while doing so, really, she can’t have you being hurt by something accidentally breaking or getting sick from the abundance of cleaning chemicals to keep the place spotless, while surely making your bed and such is fine—why lift a finger when she can do it and make sure you aren’t hurt?

She will also take the really hard tests with you—just to make sure you don’t get a headache from everything…

Because goodness knows what would happen if you got hurt even a little…

Veritas on the other hand spends the most time with you in the morning and afternoon. Once he gets up you’re to get up with him and perform a light brain exercise of a standard Calculus I test while you have a nutritionally well-balanced breakfast that he has prepared. In fact, aside from lunch he prepares every meal—even if he doesn’t cook it himself.

He makes sure you read at least 2 books a day and write a summary on each and answer a series of vague questions that allow you to pick the books you read while also making sure you’re using your brain—after all, you can’t be stupid intellectually. He grades these in the afternoons over dinner, which has you doing some light Chemistry or Biology work.

Veritas may not be so easily softened, however he is desperate in his own way as he clings. He rambles on topics and if you get something wrong and come to him and let him explain it, even if he ends up calling you some amount of names you can see the glimmer in his eyes as he gets to talk about the subject. Although if you get too many wrong sometimes there is just a slight bit of extra annoyance.

He starts nearly every bickering fight with Archeron—especially if he doesn’t like her methods. Of course you should be cleaning those chemicals are safe—he can make an assignment about it and you should know how to work an oven and a stove without burning yourself, if not then that’s on you and not them.

He knows Acheron does the biting thing—and everytime he wakes up to it he dresses your wound and once you’re asleep he’ll bicker with her day and night over it. He doesn’t see it as good or ideal…but in the end he knows the arrangement is best. Afterall, he only was able to keep a stalemate due to his statues—and Archeron is a good guard when he’s away.

While they bicker often—it’s really not all that bad.

The times (other than some meals) you all do get together is bath time. You all take a bath together as Veritas insists on it—and honestly them taking care of you during this time of cleaning is just so relaxing…it’s probably the best time of the day. You let them ramble and rant while doing so as you whisper and encourage them and talk with them through the vents and tribulations of their day and such.

Although you’re starting to suspect they may also like eachother in this arrangement…and part of you is worried that if they work together more than this arrangement, they’ll be less inclined to consider your decisions on things when you already get so little…

Afterall darling, what’s two against one?

AN: A little OOC but I hope you all enjoyed!!! Truly an idea I’ve had for a bit now that I just needed to get into text. Lmk any requests!!

[ronearoundblindly]

Steve Rogers, number 4, a kiss where it hurts (imagine him making it stop hurting) xxx

*no pairing listed but could work in Fools Rush In, It Had To Be You, Autumn Is Healing, Threadbare, or as a stand alone. While those series do specify female readers, this is written gender neutral. He calls you 'sweetheart' one time.

A Dark Day and A Bright Night, one of my Valentine's Fics of 2024

Warning only for description of a bad mental health time. (I know not everyone experiences this in the same way, but I tried to cover the gist and focus on Steve's comfort of you.) Otherwise, just sweet, caring fluff! WC 1781

There are invisible barriers everywhere, and they stop no one but you.

No one else can hear the muddled whispers of what else you could have done, what more you should have accomplished, how disappointing it is that anything took so long.

You can’t do any better. You can’t go any farther. There’s a line in the sand no one can see. Sometimes, no one can see you.

Nothing matches up. Work fast-forwards around you in chaos while you slog through, treading water with all the energy of someone who has been out at sea alone for days and days. You grow so tired.

There are moments you power through, mind racing to gain lost ground on an endless, looped track. You grow so tired, and it’s never just one thing. It’s water and sand and nothing all at once, vast forces beyond your control.

What else? What more? Why so long?

There are barriers no one else can see, and it’s not their fault because it doesn’t match up. We move through life at different paces. We experience different struggles. We are stopped by different forces.

“How was work?” Steve asks, a chipper smile on his face as he places dinner in front of you.

“Fine.” There are no other words.

“Really? Seems the project is right on schedule, thanks to you.”

You see him pause before he takes his first bite, and rush to pick up your fork, knowing it’s best to participate, knowing the barriers may be invisible but effort is not.

He eats his mouthful, and you stare.

Dinner isn’t a line in the sand, but it feels like one, another interaction you’ll be disappointing in, another fear you can’t explain.

“Not my best work, but it got done,” you manage, mechanically feeding yourself, showing the effort, making a show of the effort. “How was your day?”

It’s a flat question. The response is muddled by water and wind and doubt.

Why can’t you focus? Why can’t you do better for him? Why does he stay?

Steve can’t see any of it. He can’t get to you because there’s no one place you’re trapped in.

You do the dishes. You watch TV. You start your bedtime ritual, and you’ve participated as little—and as much—as possible because treading water is lonely. You grow so tired.

Tomorrow could be better. You can do better tomorrow. It’ll take effort.

Tomorrow you’ll work harder and you’ll be less afraid. But that’s what you thought the last time you were stuck. That’s what you think each time you find a line in the sand.

You stare at your reflection, still treading, still scared, still misaligned.

“Did you hear me?” Steve loosely holds you with his palm on your hip. Standing behind you, face sullen in the mirror, he asks where you’re hurting.

To Steve, there has to be a solution. Each mission must have a goal.

You spit, rinse, and put your toothbrush in the holder.

“Just tired.” That’s the sand he cannot see.

“Seems like more than ‘just tired,’” he huffs, unsatisfied, and turns you toward him. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing you can help with.” That’s the water he cannot navigate.

You’re on your own.

He smirks humorlessly. “That’s never stopped me before.”

But you don’t have the words. All that comes out is “my head.”

“Headache?” He reaches for the medicine cabinet. “You need some—“

You shake your physically fine skull. “No. It’s not a headache.”

Steve’s face…changes in a way you’ve never seen before. You expected confusion, perhaps pity, but this is something all-together reminiscent. His eyes dart around the bathroom like he’s taking inventory, and for the first time today you aren’t the most distracted person in the room.

Then he returns to you.

“I think I’d like a nice bath. Will you join me?”

He sets it all up, using the best smelling bubbles, setting out the softest towels, and inviting you back into the little spa he created by handing you a lovely chocolate.

When you try to refuse because you’ve already brushed your teeth, he replies, “live dangerously,” and pops a bonbon for himself.

Hopefully, it is dark enough for Steve to miss the tears in your eyes.

He lets you settle in the water against him, playing by splashing warmth over the parts not submerged. He kisses your shoulders and neck, the back of your head. Steve keeps himself attached by the lips, breathing you in but feeling so far away. Your mind wanders to nowhere, thinking nothing.

“Feels good—I mean, bett—feels okay, yeah?”

He suds up his hands and washes a bit of you, but your muscles are tight and curled.

You’re tucked into yourself, small as can be.

“Can you try to relax for me, sweetheart? Can you let yourself float?”

The tub works for a guy Steve’s size. There’s a little space but not enough to stretch out completely.

The tension in your body is slow to release. You manage to let your arms, knees, and feet peak through the bubble clouds.

Steve nudges, “and your neck?”

You didn’t realize you were holding it up.

There is infinite space to lay flat in your endless sea. Floating offers a respite, a view of the sky, the same sky blanketing your beach.

Invisible barriers at least spare the scenery.

You and Steve watch the fragrant foam burst for a while. It takes you much longer to truly relax back into Steve. The quiet of the bath drowns you with the noise in your head.

What else? What more? Why so slow?

It’s never just one thing. It is all things, all at once, and nothing at all. All of the elements to survival and understanding are there if you just focus your attention, if you just put in the effort, but you are so tired.

Steve wraps you in his arms to press you deeper into his chest.

“Sometimes my ma would burn dinner,” he starts quietly, voice rough from holding back all his questions you can’t answer, “and we would scramble around, combing the cupboards. We’d make the oddest meals out of bits and bobs. Maybe half of it, we should’a never touched, but we did what we had to. Ya know what? Those were some of the best times. We did the best we could with what we had—sometimes less—and that’s what made her so amazing. On what she probably considered her worst days,” Steve kisses behind your ear, “I admired her the most. Formed some of the best memories.”

“Let me guess. Because she smiled the whole way through?”

“Nah,” he muses, chuckling enough to shake you in the water, “she threw a pan once. Loosened the door of the stove she slammed it shut so hard. She cried usually until we were sat down eating. Always tried to give me the most food because I was so small… 

“I made it a game. I only took a bite if she did. Win-win.” 

He stays quiet for a beat, assured you’re hearing him.

“You’re not ruining anything by crying,” he says solidly, almost loud in the confines of the bathroom. “Good things can still happen. You still did good today.”

He continues. He details little things he admires about you; how hard you work for yourself, for him, he notices all that. He wants you to see what he sees.

There’s no barrier stopping him.

The water turns tepid, and Steve gets out first to ready a towel for you. There’s a difference between him treating you like a china doll and his doll. His doll is not breakable. He isn’t gentle because you are fragile; he does it to preserve you for the next day, and the next. Steve refuses to place any more burden on you than already falls.

He’s right there, strong, noble, and determined with forces working against him.

He’s scared and he doesn’t understand. He can’t fight. He has to scramble to catch up, to change plans, to make a meal out of nothing, to turn nothing into something. He doesn’t understand why he’s in a different sea, or why he can’t get to you standing on the same damn beach. His hand is right there on the barrier, but his shouts are muddled.

It’s not fair, and it never will be.

He physically lifts you up, wrapped in a plush bath sheet, his hug strong enough to thump against that clear wall that springs from your line in the sand.

That’s when you realize the barrier isn’t impenetrable. You can still see the scenery. You can still hear muddled sounds.

Some of his voice gets through. Sunlight and warmth get through. The water still buoys you up.

If there are directions to go, there are paths to take.

If there are ways in, there are ways out. 

There are invisible barriers everywhere, but they don’t stop Steve from being there for you.

One more chocolate. One more brush of your teeth. You trade the fluffy wrap of a towel with the cozy wrap of a t-shirt, and he makes sure you’re comfortable.

A simple goodnight kiss alone might tip you over into exhausted euphoria, but Steve is not that kind of simple.

He props himself up on an elbow and rolls you onto your back.

Kissing your right temple, he whispers, “I love you.” Kissing your left temple, he confesses, “I love your voice,” the peak of your forehead, “I love your spirit,” between your eyebrows, just above one ear, and the other.

“Miss you when I’m not here. Miss you when you’re not here. I miss you even in my dreams.”

Then, and only then, do you get that simple kiss goodnight. His soft lips melding to yours for a long, soothing moment before you two drift off to sleep.

When you dream of a beach and an ocean and nothing at all, you miss him, too. You remember his presence, and the truth becomes as clear as the sky above.

There are pieces of you to love. You are a loved thing. You are light and heat and sound that can get through, even when misaligned, even when you don’t match up, even when not in the same sea.

Steve’s love is invisible, but you know it’s there. It’s not a limit to fear. It’s not a barrier to turn away from. His love is not an obstacle you want to get past.

Not every invisible force is bad.

Sometimes, barriers slow you down, let you listen, make you rest, and help you float.

There are barriers everywhere, but nothing between you and Steve.

Ransom Drysdale and a kiss out of spite ⬅️ ➡️ Ari Levinson and a kiss out of envy

A/N: oof. *walks away crying* I'm fine. It's fine.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @im-a-slut-for-fluff @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza  @claireelizabeth85 @jamneuromain @shelbygeek @rogersideup @eyebagsanonymous @trudy-shams @saranghaey @awkwardgiraffe726 @rach2602 @royalwritersoftheuniverses @rogersbarber

[riddles-n-games]

TIG Drabble #4-Avery and Jameson

A/N: Hey guys, this story is inspired by the additional photoshoot compilations I found from a little while back. Oh, and enjoy the little surprise at the end.

Breath in.

"Okay, Heiress. Take your stance. Good. Lemme just..." He placed his hands on her waist and adjusted her posture then went around to straighten her back.

One foot in front, one foot back. Equidistant, both facing forward. Make sure they are perfectly aligned in parallel.

Square the shoulders. Tuck in the chin.

"Relax your shoulders." He tapped her shoulder blades until he felt her drop them. She forgot to stop tensing. That was one thing Nash had told her time and time again but she just kept forgetting. It was hard not to. Every time she came here, every time she held a gun, it reminded her of then.

The shooting in the Black Wood, the airplane bomb, Sheffield Grayson... Whenever she heard something near the fireplace when she was alone, her body would freeze or tense. It was clear she developed a trigger reflex. She also avoided the passages. And the nightmares; she hated to be alone at night. She stowed away in Libby's room and if she was feeling bolder, she stayed with Jameson.

It was hard navigating a new relationship while fighting for your sanity and mental stability. But Jameson was supportive through it all and it didn't take her long before she confessed the real truth behind his mother's charges. She'd never seen him more serious or angry than that moment. It was why they were here now.

While Nash and Oren were training her to shoot, Jameson insisted being the one when they weren't available and also started teaching her martial arts and kickboxing. He was rigorous and passionate; she knew he'd been deeply affected. But he was trying and that was enough for her.

Being with Jameson was enough.

"Ok, I know Nash said you were still having some trouble with holding it so I got you one that I used to practice with. It’s a bit smaller too so it should be easier to hold.” He handed her the gun and she turned it over in her hands, taking in every inch, the rust, the scratches and the little dents. He had to have used it a long time. "It's a Col-"

"Colt Python, '95 model." Jameson's brows raised in surprise. Avery shrugged. "I may have been doing a little bit of research since Nash got me started."

"Uh-huh. Well then, you can tell me what kind of pistol that is once we’re done.” Avery turned to the table, locking in on the black glock that was on the edge. She was feeling wary just looking at it but she couldn’t deny the curiosity creeping in. “Now, show me your locked and loaded pose.”

She glanced at him through the safety glasses and pushed them back up before focusing on the target in front of her. Deep breaths. Roll back your shoulders. Your arms should be eye level and most importantly, remember that the gun is an extension of you.

As she was about to pull the trigger, her hands went clammy and started shaking. She tried to wipe away the sweat on her pants. The tremors weren't going away but Avery ignored that and refocused on the target, gripping the revolver tighter than before. She tried tensing her index finger against the trigger but it only started to react and trembled as if it had a mind of its own.

Soon enough, her well-positioned aim was wobbling around the center of the bullseye and the harder she held the gun, the sweatier the handle and looser her hold. She huffed frustratedly and she swiped furiously against her pant leg again. That was when a warm hand wrapped around hers and she looked up, startled, to see Jameson standing beside her. "Allow me."

He didn't make a move until she nodded and gently slid his hand to her wrist then brought his other hand around the handle. His fingers overlapped hers. A little up and to the right, he fixed her aim and with that, her breathing slowed. The tension started to lift.

"Just like that. You're doing great, Heiress," he murmured just as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. She smiled briefly but focused on their entwined hands. He steadied her. The shaking subsided; Jameson must have noticed because he gave her a reassuring squeeze then retracted his hand from hers.

He took hold of her free hand and placed it on the handle where his was previously. As soon as she had a comfortable hold, he let go and slowly unwrapped his other hand from her wrist. Avery looked at him and he nodded at her. "You can do this. I'm right here, Avery."

She nodded back at him and then faced the target again, inhaling sharply and holding her breath. This time her aim was poised and steady. Her finger pulled the trigger.

Breath out.

Bonus:

[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us//Part 2: When Doves Cry vampire!Eddie x supernatural!fem!Reader//True Blood AU

⚠️18+Only pls⚠️ adult themes, blood, drinking blood, enemies to lovers, eventual smut, violence, reader and vampire!Eddie both get physically hurt--but they end up okay, talk of needles, alcohol consumption, talk of addiction, mention of sex, sanguivoriphobia, talk of the supernatural, death. Word Count: 6.7k

Series Masterlist

Summary: You start your first day at Main Vein, the vampire/human crossover bar owned by Bob Newby, flanked by vampire!bartender!Argyle and you learn what a risk humans can be to vampires as you begin to navigate their world. You and Eddie have to rescue each other as you're forced to share an intimate exchange that brings you irrevocably close. Playlist

Important words/phrases for this chapter: Fanger (derogatory term for vampires) Fang Banger (derogatory term for people who like to be bitten by vampires during sex) Sanguivoriphobia (fear of vampires)

✂️

If you are in the group of people who are familiar with True Blood, parts of this chapter will feel familiar. I won't be sticking to the storyline of the show religiously, but there are so many clever elements I wanted to incorporate. Please read the warnings above, as some of the things mentioned in this chapter might not be for everyone. ❤️

--------

Death Becomes Us Part 2: When Doves Cry

For years, you tried to cover your scars up with makeup, but then they ended up looking lumpy and odd, and it made people stare even harder trying to figure out what was under the heavy layers of foundation and powder. You’d never met anyone like you before, and it made you feel a type of deep loneliness that you never talked about because you knew no one would understand.

You’d left some tuna on your porch for Dio before you went to bed, and you were pleased to find the saucer licked clean when you left your trailer the next day. You could tell that she was well fed and that your nasty vampire neighbor was taking good care of her, but you wanted to reward her for proving to Eddie that she did, indeed, like someone other than him.

The white BMW was gone, and the old van was back, parked next to Eddie’s trailer. You were more curious and interested in whatever he was up to than you should be, considering you wanted nothing to do with him.

It was still daylight out when you rolled up early to Main Vein, and Bob got you to work writing out the specials on a sandwich board in your best handwriting, to hopefully attract customers in as they strolled by on the sidewalk. You shadowed Bob as he taught you the basics of tending bar while a couple humans (also known as “breeders” in the vampire world, because vampires, of course, could not procreate) came in for a few simple beers, and one guy ordered a jack and coke.

As a child, you were always an emphatic soul; you could tell what a person was feeling, even if they told you with their words that they were feeling something else. It was a trauma response to surviving in the emotional chaos you grew up in. Now, since the accident, you could read human emotions and intentions with ten times the intensity.

Vampires, on the other hand, were impervious to your gift—or, curse, as you often referred to it.

For instance, you could tell that Bob Newby had a heart of gold; his enthusiasm was not a fake front to hide dark intentions. He truly loved his vampire girlfriend, whom you had yet to meet, and he harbored nothing but the best intentions in the brainstorming of his human/vampire crossover bar Main Vein. He believed that vampires were good people who just happened to be dead, and that we were all equals, despite the fact that they were stronger, faster, immortal, and subsided on blood alone.

You were behind the bar, concentrating on putting the exact amount of alcohol in a drink that the recipe card in front of you called for, when Argyle slid in next to you and bumped your arm. His skin felt like ice.

“Careful!” He snickered. “Don’t spill any,” but half of the liquid had already dripped down your fingers. Since you couldn’t get a read on vampire’s emotions, it was a relief for you to be around them. Feeling other people’s emotions often meant that you had to experience them, and that was not to your benefit in many cases. Being around crowds of people sapped your energy in a way you still struggled to recover from.

Argyle wore his black hair straight and parted down the middle; it was shiny and soft and you wanted to touch it. He had on a colorful, button down shirt, and a blue visor that said Main Vein on it. He nodded at what you were working on, wiggling his eyebrows. “Whadda we got going on here?”

You sighed and told him what the customer ordered. Argyle smiled and waved you off. “I got this, foxy dudette. Let the master take over,” he cracked his knuckles and interlaced his fingers, flexing his palms out before he brought things from the under bar at lightning speed.

You were more than happy to shove off and get to the group at the front waiting to be seated.

When you were half way there with menus tucked under your arm, you realized that this group was mean and anxious and desperate; a combination that made alarms go off inside of you as your skin exploded in a wash of goosebumps.

They were nice enough to your face, though. It was a woman with two men, all dressed in denim and plaid; one of the men had an American flag on the front of his t-shirt. The other one had his greasy hair squished under a trucker cap, and two missing teeth in front. The redhead woman wore an Ed Hardy tube top under her flannel, and she was pretty in a whiskey and Marlboro reds kind of way. Her smile was big and gracious as she smacked her green gum, and they followed you to a booth.

They ordered a round of beers with potato skins from the appetizer menu, and just as you excused yourself to give their order to Bob in the kitchen, the woman grabbed your wrist.

You squeezed your eyes closed until you could calm the surge that went through your body when you felt threatened, waiting for the fire behind your eyes to settle before you met her gaze again.

“Sorry, darlin’ but this is a bar for vampires, too, right?” She was bent forward, whispering to you, her pupils tightly pinned in her dusty blue eyes. There was a faded, long stem rose tattoo on her white freckled forearm.

“Um, yes,” you looked around. “Will there be more with your party? Should I bring over a menu with our plasma options?”

The two men chuckled across the table at each other as if you’d just made a joke.

“That’s okay, baby,” the woman said sweetly, releasing your arm. “But, are there any vampires in here right now? Me and the boys were just hoping to see one up close, is all.”

You thought about what they were asking you, and the fact that their emoting of desperation was getting stronger, and decided not to point Argyle out to them. They’d eventually figure that one out for themselves because he loved to show his teeth. “I’m not really sure,” you lied with a shrug. “I never can tell the difference.”

The woman frowned and turned back to the two men as they started to discuss something.

The other waitress, a human named Erica Sinclair, tucked her Main Vein t-shirt into her shorts as she joined you on the floor, rolling her eyes. Bob introduced the two of you in a rush as he flipped a burger, and Erica gave you a bored look, but her gaze did not linger on your your scars like most. “You’re new here, right? You’re smiling, so you must be. Nothing much to smile about around here.”

You told her you’d only been in town a few days as you grabbed a second round of beers for the table that had been asking about vampires. You weren’t paying too much attention when the front door opened, but then some of the other customers seemed to still, conversations coming to a halt, and Erica’s attention shifted over your shoulder, eyes narrowing.

The song When Doves Cry by Prince was playing on the stereo system as you turned on your heel to witness your neighbor Eddie step across the threshold with ease; one initial invitation was all that was needed, apparantly. According to Bob, invitations could also be reversed if necessary. It was the couple waiting behind Eddie for their invitation that alerted everyone to the presence of something supernatural.

The two behind him could’ve easily passed as “regular” mortals. They had a very mom and pop look about them; she was a brunette in a floral dress and he was in trousers, a dark blue button down, and had a receding hairline. She clutched her white handbag at her stomach, and the man with her had his hand at her back, coaxing her in.

Eddie pretended not to see you there as he cupped a hand to light his cigarette and made his way over to the bar to take his normal seat at the end to order a Fang Tang, not even giving a second glance to the vampires stuck outside. Maybe they weren’t his friends? Not all vampires were friends, surely, as you were not close with all humans.

Bob would’ve been the first to greet them and welcome them in, but he was knee deep in the kitchen, wearing his “Bob the Brain” custom embroidered apron, and when you turned to Erica, she shook her head. “I’m not a fan of the Fangers myself. It’s going to take me a minute to get used to this new world.”

Your eyes snapped to Argyle, but he was busy at the other end of the bar doing a Tom Cruise juggling act with the booze to impress two of the local Fang Bangers.

So you straitened your shirt, squared your shoulders, and made your way over to greet them.

Meanwhile, the redhead woman with the rose tattoo on her arm and the two men with her were hyper focused on the new arrivals; you could feel the cold, wet tug of some kind of rot in their veins, surging though them and clouding their rational thoughts.

At the time, you did not know that there was an underground market for vampire blood, not only for its healing properties, but the euphoric high and transcendent experience it gifted the user. It enhanced sexual performance and gave humans the mental prowess of superhuman strength. Needless to say, it was a highly prized commodity; expensive and addictive.

Hunched at the bar in his leather and battle vest, and a handkerchief hanging from his back pocket, Eddie appeared to be ignoring you as you walked to greet the newcomers. You had never professionally invited a vampire in before, so you might have overcompensated with how cheerful your tone was. “Welcome to Main Vein,” you plastered a smile across your face. “Please enter and follow me. I will show you to your seat,” you also added a slight bow and extension of your arm like you were back in theater class again.

They stepped inside with a swoosh—a sound like they were breaking some invisible barrier you couldn’t see. They asked for a booth, and the only one out of the five that was available happened behind the party that was eager to see vampires up close: now they would get their chance. This vampire couple was not at all what you envisioned when people talked of “bloodsuckers from hell”. They seemed grateful to be able to come out to a bar with regular people---perhaps it reminded them of the human lives they’d once lived.

The guy in the trucker hat with two missing teeth turned around in his seat to get a better look as they sat and you offered them the plasma menus. You explained the different categories for synthetic blood, and how each offered the same taste and nutrients as real human blood. They offered replicas of a whole range of blood types, for those vampires with discerning palettes. You frowned at the guy in the trucker hat to make him turn back around and take his seat.

On your way back to the kitchen, Erica caught you by the elbow, her eyes wide. “What did they say to you?”

“They just wanted menus,” you said with a shrug, glancing over your shoulder at the couple in question. “I don’t think they’re all as bad as they seem on the news.”

“Oh, believe me,” She gave you a dire look. “They are evil. Don’t let the Laura Ashley dress and the Newport loafers fool you.” Truly, Erica had not yet properly met more than a handful of vampires in her life, she’d only heard the rumors.

“Have you ever met one?” You asked, assuming that she’d known plenty.

“I’ve met enough of them,” she promised, hands on her hips, and then she gestured to your neighbor at the end of the bar. “I know Eddie. But that’s only because I met him...before the change. And I’m forced to be around Argyle because I work here.”

When Erica walked off, you made the mistake of glancing over at the Eddie in question, and he tried to lower his eyes to his synthetic blood beverage as if he hadn't been watching you.

Argyle was working a metal cocktail shaker over his shoulder when you came back to the bar, and he nudged his chin at you. “What’s up with the freaks?” He asked, referring to the redhead with the rose tattoo and the two beefy men with her. He filled two martini glasses with a dark red concoction and trimmed each with a tiny pink flower.

You leaned forward a bit so you wouldn’t have to yell, tilting your head. “They specifically asked if there were any vampires here tonight,” you glanced over at Eddie again, but he was engrossed in something he was doodling on a napkin. “Do you think they’re tourists?”

“Nah,” Argyle wiped his hands on the rag at his waist, eyeing the table in question. “That’s Angie Klemp and her inbred brothers. They’ve been around forever.”

You could tell by his expression that he was weary of them, and you knew that he had excellent hearing which probably allowed him to listen in on some of what they were saying as they huddled together at their booth.

Wanting to change the subject, Argyle winked at you. “You’re doing a rad job, surfer girl. These are for the vampire couple that just sat down,” he pushed the two martini glasses toward you. “It’s our signature synthetic blood cocktail. Tell them it’s on the house.”

As the night picked up a bit, you took an order to the wrong table and fumbled a glass that shattered behind the bar. While you were cleaning that up, and mumbling apologies to Argyle, a woman wearing glasses and her honey-streaked brown hair in a bob took a seat at the small table by the window. Erica had a tray of drinks in her hand, so you dumped a dustpan full of glass in the trash and went over to wait on the new guest.

“Do I know you?” You asked as you took your pad and pen out to take her order.

She clamped her top teeth over her bottom lip, tucking hair behind her ear, shyly. “I own the bookstore down the street,” she answered. “You were in earlier, but I never got a chance to introduce myself.”

Of course, it came to you almost as quickly as she said it. You’d been so early for work that you took a walk around the block and ended up wandering into the quaint bookshop on the corner with the wind chimes made from seashells in the window. You had mentioned to her as you purchased a used paperback that you were starting work that day.

“The bookstore with the cats,” you grinned, pointing your pen at her. There had, indeed, been two resident cats in the shop, lazily draped over their carpeted perches in the sun, and sleepy, cream colored bigger dog behind the front counter.

“That’s the one,” she nodded, and then she stuck her hand out to introduce herself. “I’m Robin, in case you ever come back in, you can ask for me,” that seemed to fluster her and she shook her head. “You don’t have to ask for me, I’m usually there, but if you ever come by again, that would be nice.” Her cheeks got pink as she fumbled for the glass of ice water in front of her and took a sip.

You met her eyes and told her that you be back in soon to finish the series you were reading, and then she ordered a glass of wine with her salad. You could tell her heart was racing. She was nervous and excited to see you, as if maybe she’d had to give herself a pep talk before she came in. You noticed there was a certain warmth about her that wasn’t present in other humans. Whereas vampires were abnormally cold; Robin was pumping off heat like she had a temperature, and you were instantly fascinated by her.

----------

A bit later in the evening, Eddie said his goodbyes to Argyle, and you took casual note of his departure out of the corner of your eye while you bussed a table.

What you also noticed was the way Angie Klemp and her brothers paid quickly, and got up to follow Eddie out only a minute behind him. They’d had 6 beers and just as many tequila shots between them, and you got the feeling that they were up to no good. The two men were tapping their knees under the table, and scratching their necks and hands as if being actively attacked by ants.

The pulses of emotional electricity coming off of them instantly made your pores on your scalp blossom with sweat at how panicked they were; how hell bent. But again, what would they want with Eddie? To take their picture with him? That was a common tourist occurrence in Hawkins. But, the tourists in question usually preferred the subject to look like a stereotypical vampire; maybe wearing a cape, or dressed like Elvira. As far as you could tell, vampires usually kept with the same style they had when they were turned.

Eddie did naturally have that “vampire” look, though. He was a loner, he wore all black, he had spooky tattoos, and that long dark hair framing his pale face.

You were refilling someone’s water when you overheard Erica tell a guy at the bar to stop staring at her ass before she stabbed his eyes out with her pen, and it made you chuckle, mostly because you knew she wasn’t bluffing.

Ten minutes or so later, you were grabbing napkins from the storeroom in the back hall when you heard high pitched voices, screaming at each other from the alleyway parking lot. You hesitated with your hand on the shelf, wondering if it was just two people arguing and probably none of your business, but then you heard another scream, and decided to crack the door and peek out.

You had to scan the area at first, but then your eyes widened as they took in what was happening: against the brick wall of the next building, in a parking space between two cars, your neighbor Eddie was on the ground, his neck and wrists wrapped in silver chain, pinning him to the ground. You gasped and swallowed as you saw the steam rise up from where the silver was burning his flesh, his mouth set in a grimace.

Angie Klemp made fast work of jabbing a needle into the crease of each of his elbows draining his blood through tubing into clear bags. The brother in the American flag shirt paced at Eddie’s feet, barely able to contain his need for the drug, and the other one with two missing teeth kicked Eddie in the leg and then spat on him. “Yeah? Whadda ya think about that? Not so tough now, are you, Fanger?”

You stepped inside only to grab the fire extinguisher off the wall before heading back out, careful not to make any noise as the door shut. You tip toed around so that you were hidden behind the van next to them.

Angie seemed to be doing all the work, jerking the port out to fill another bag on the filthy pavement. “Goddamn it, I knew we should’ve taken him home first. This is risky as hell.”

“There’s no time for that!” The brother with two missing teeth took his hat off and scratched his head viciously. “I need some of the blood now, can’t I just have a little bit?”

Angie threw him a disgusted look. “You’re a fuckin’ addict, Clyde. How are we supposed to make money on this shit if you drink up all the profits? Get your shit together!”

You peeked your head out from behind the van, and Eddie saw you. His eyes were black and his fangs were out, but the silver had him rendered completely incapacitated. You could only imagine that the amount of blood they were taking was also making him weak.

You lifted up the fire extinguisher to let him know you were coming to his rescue, but he shook his head, trying to warn you off.

The two beefy men were too caught up in the throws of withdrawals and had their backs to you as you came up behind them. With a mighty heave, you cracked one in the back of the head with the big metal canister, and then when the other one turned around, you sprayed him in the face with the foam that comes out of the nozzle, blinding him. He clapped his hand to his face, yowling, and tripped himself on his own feet, going down hard.

Angie slowly stood, realizing that both men were on the ground, dazed, and she gave you a nasty snarl. “Why, you stupid, cut face whore,” she bit out just before she lunged at you.

You were about to swing the canister at her face when, from out of nowhere, a huge, boxy, beige pit bull terrier lunged from the darkness, barking and growling at Angie, barring its teeth, forcing her to back up. You looked down, a bit shocked: you’d never seen that dog before in your life. Would it attack you next? Hesitant, you let the dog move between the two of you, protectively, as it curled its lip and growled.

You pointed the nozzle at the woman. “Try us, bitch.”

The pit bull started barking a loud alarm that would soon have people coming to see what the hell was going on. Angie clenched her hands in the air as if she wanted to wring your neck, and then she was shouting for the two stumbling men to get in the truck.

“Go, go, go, you dickheads,” Angie demanded, grabbing the one covered in white goo by the collar, dragging him along.

The one with the crack to his skull was bleeding down the side of his head. “But what about the blood? Let’s take the blood!”

You and your new, aggressive pit bull friend stepped in front of Eddie, your weapon ready. “Don’t even think about it, fucker.”

You waited for them to pile in the truck and speed away before you dropped the fire extinguisher to the ground with a thunk and got on your knees next to Eddie, bits of gravel cutting into your shin.

The pit bull licked your cheek and stood guard next to you, looking from you to Eddie as if it understood everything that was going on, head tilting every so often. You were too concerned with how the silver was sizzling on his skin like bacon on a frying pan to wonder about your new companion. There were still needles in his arms and you slipped them out, cringing as you did so. You watched in awe as the hole marks in his arms disappeared and healed right before your very eyes.

“Can you move?” You asked him.

Eddie could barely talk, the pain of the silver was so excruciating. That, and he was extremely low functioning after so much blood loss. If those three had wanted to end him, they very well could have. He wondered how many vampires they had trapped and drained over the past few years.

He managed a scratchy, whispered, “no. It’s...the silver…”

With a gulp, you went to work unwrapping the chain from his neck and then his wrists, peeling layers of skin with it. He was an immortal vampire, but you could only imagine how much it must hurt, and yet, he hadn’t even made whimper.

His eyes never left you as you worked on him so diligently, your brows knitted together with focused determination. His neck was kinked forward, as his head and shoulders were propped up against the brick wall.

Unwrapping the last coil from around his wrist, you noticed that the wounds were staying the same, and you met his eyes. “Why aren’t you healing?”

“I’m too weak right now,” his eyes flicked away from you. “I won’t be able to heal until I feed.”

At that, the pit bull whined, and took its cue to turn and disappear back into the night.

You looked over your shoulder at the door to Main Vein. “Would synthetic blood work?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head once, rolling it against the wall. “Has to be...human,” he breathed, bangs sticking to his clammy forehead.

His once rosy lips were pale and the mangled wounds left from the silver made you feel bad for him, even though you weren’t even sure if you liked him.

“What if I just left you here?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Would you die?”

The corners of his mouth stuck together as he talked. “If I don’t feed soon, I won’t be able to protect myself. More will come to take my blood, and if I’m still out here at daybreak then, yes, the sunlight will kill me.”

Your gaze moved from his ripped throat to his eyes again, hovering there. There was a thick leather cuff on your wrist that you used to cover up your scar, but you undid the buckle, exposing the underside of your forearm. You wondered if he was too weak to expose his fangs, so you used the back of one of your earrings to slice a thin opening across your skin, wincing in pain as you did so.

Eddie’s breath hitched in anticipation as you lifted the bleeding gash to his mouth. He couldn’t lift his arms, so you pressed it there, and his eyes locked on yours as you felt his tongue lick across the cut just before his eye went black and he began to suck, moaning, drinking you as a small trickle of blood dripped down to his chin.

At one point, he got some of his strength back, and his hand with the three silver, chunky rings came up to push your forearm against his eager mouth as he fed, and your heart raced at the sight of it. The passion of his need made your pussy clench around nothing as you knelt there in the grimy parking lot.

When his swallowing finally slowed, you tugged your arm away and clutched it to the underside of your apron. Eddie licked his blood-stained lips and met your eyes again. “Seriously,” he was strong enough now to brace his hands and push himself up so that his back was no longer on the ground. He leaned close as if he could read the answers in your eyes. “What are you?”

Your face was inches from his. “Do I taste different?”

“Yes,” he returned, without hesitation. The mauled skin around his neck and wrists were completely healed. “I’ve never tasted anyone like you before.”

You got to your feet, clipping your leather cuff back on, realizing you’d need to find a first aid kit before you went back to work.

“I owe you big time,” Eddie looked you up and down as he sat for a bit to catch his breath. “If you ever need---”

The back door to Main Vein opened and Erica was standing there with her arms crossed, shouting across the parking lot at you. “What the hell is going on out here? Am I working the floor by myself tonight or what?”

You walked to the back end of the van to tell her you’d be right in, and when you turned back to say something to Vampire Eddie---he was gone.

-------

“What the hell were you thinking?” Erica blanched as she helped you wrap up your arm at the desk in Bob’s office. “You know these Fangers eat people, right?”

She was still yelling, but you were trying not to take it personal. “Well, he didn’t eat me, so I guess there are exceptions.”

“What the hell do you call him drinking your blood, then?” Erica had a very soft touch while bandaging you up, careful to make sure she cleaned the wound and inspected you to make sure you didn’t have a bite mark.

“You girls okay?” Bob came around the corner, flushed, his face red and glistening in sweat from a long night behind the grill.

Erica jerked her thumb over her shoulder at you. “This one decided to play vigilantly in the parking lot to save one of your vampire buddies.”

Bob beamed. “Aw, you made a vampire friend? They’re awesome aren’t they?”

This time, you and Erica exchanged a confused look.

---------

At the end of your shift, Bob and Argyle stayed to finish up with two vampire customers at the bar who were lingering. With a heavy sigh, you took your blue, blood-stained apron off, grabbed things from your wood cubby in the back, and then walked with Erica down to the end of the sidewalk. The two of you had to split up and go in separate directions because your hearse was parked at the curb, and Erica only lived a few blocks away. You offered her a ride home, but she declined. You could feel that she had some personal issues weighing on her heart, and besides that, she had a deep well of emotions inside for the people she cared about, and it took her a while to trust people and open up. If you didn’t have your curse, you’ve might’ve just assumed she hated you.

It was late, but because of growing vampire population in civilized areas, there were several lights in windows, and the low hum of conversations drifting down from higher up apartments. There were streetlamps on each corner, but the dark side of the building cast a heavy shadow on you as you fumbled for your keys.

You were just about to unlock the door when you heard the shuffling of footsteps, and then before you could turn, the hard edge of a rope edge dug into your neck, gagging you, and then you were yanked back, off your feet. You tried to scream, but it only came out as a gargle. Your ass caught most of the fall to the pavement, but then your head clapped back onto the hard surface and it caused a ringing sound in your skull. The person holding the rope around your neck pulled it tighter, and you struggled, kicking your feet, trying to get free.

Angie Klemp and her brother in the American flag t-shirt were standing above you, sneering. She kicked you in the ribs and you wailed at the pain. She squatted down to mock you. “Oh, darn, I guess that fanger boyfriend of yours isn’t around to return the favor now, is he?”

They were dragging you now, pulling you by the neck around into the alleyway where no one could see what they were about to do to you.

Your vision was getting blurry as you heard the woman's voice again. “You cost me five thousand dollars worth of fanger blood, and we’re gonna take it out of your ass.”

The rope burned as it slipped off your neck and you were somehow able to roll on your side and stand, just as one of the men punched you across the face and you went down again, coughing, tasting blood. You were on your hands and knees, trying to catch your breath, and one of them kicked the steel toe of their boot into your stomach, making you double over in pain as they laughed, tears squeezing from your eyes as you tasted bile.

You wondered if you were going to die there.

In a blink, with spots in your eyes, you tried to focus as you swore you saw the guy in the trucker hat get his neck broken right there where he stood. His head twisted all the way around, forced by seemingly invisible hands, and then he slumped to the ground, dead. Before the other two could figure out what was happening, you saw Eddie pick the guy with the American flag shirt up and throw him onto the hood of a car, his head crashing through the windshield with a bloody splat. Angie tried to run, but Eddie caught her by the back of her neck and picked her up off of her feet. With one hand, he threw her into the nearby dumpster and slammed the lid with a bang.

This had all been done in seconds; he moved at the speed of light.

You were on your side, choking on blood, feeling scared as your vision began to tunnel. But then, strong arms were lifting you up as Eddie scooped you against his chest, “I got you, I got you,” he murmured against your bloody head. “You’re gonna be okay.”

You might have blacked out for a bit because when you opened your eyes, you were on the grass in the park across the street, propped up against a tree. You mewed in pain as your head throbbed and you choked on a sticky pool of blood in the back of your throat.

Eddie took his jacket and denim off as he knelt in front of you, revealing the Metallica t-shirt he had on. You tried to hold your head up as he produced his fangs and sank them into his own arm, and then held the leaking bite marks out to you.

“You need to drink my blood, so you can heal,” he said. He didn’t want to scare you in that moment, but you had a serious gash in your skull, and he had no idea how bad that kick you took had affected your internal organs.

You tried to push away from him, your eyes wide. “I don’t want to be a vampire.”

“You won’t be,” he assured you. “Believe me, I don’t want this for you, either.”

There was a tenderness in him then that you were noticing for the first time. You’d been taken by surprise, but under normal circumstances, you would’ve been able to handle the Klemps on your own. You weren’t used to feeling helpless and in need of someone’s care. You could feel the blood dripping down your neck and your vision was starting to fade again.

“Just a little bit,” you breathed, sticky lips parted.

Eddie cupped your head in one hand as he brought his arm over, similar to how you had fed him earlier. The weeping holes from his fang marks were right in the middle of one of his tattoos and you closed your eyes as your mouth latched on, nursing on him like your life depended on it---which it did. It tasted ordinary, like sucking on a penny, but it felt like velvet on your tongue, warming your insides.

Consumed with a sudden lust for the juice in his veins, you sucked harder, whimpering, and you didn’t see it, but Eddie’s eyes went back as he growled in the back of his throat at the pleasure of the sensation. You drank until your brain stopped throbbing, and then you rested your head back against the tree, a smear of his blood across your chin.

You noticed Eddie was close to you, his mouth at your temple as he licked a bit of your blood from a scratch there as it was healing. You jerked to the side, surprised to catch him wanting to sample you again.

Your eyes locked. “What do I taste like?”

He searched your face, aroused by the sight of his blood on your mouth. “Like...memories. Like ice cream and summer breeze and suntan lotion melting on warm skin.”

Your lips were almost touching as he confessed this to you. There was no vocabulary for him to properly explain the many layered depth to your blood; it was sweet and savory, and it also tingled in the back of his throat like pop rocks or fireworks and made him feel alive again if only for a few moments.

You lifted your hand to your throat to find that the rope burn was gone, and your ribs didn’t feel like they were broken. You were just about to ask him another question, but then he was on his feet in a flash, putting his jacket on.

“Also,” he flipped his hair out of the collar of his leather. “Now that you have my blood in you, I’ll always know where you are,” it sounded more cryptic than he meant for it to, and so he added, “just in case you ever need my help again.”

You frowned. “But, how will you know if I need help?”

He busied himself rolling his cuffs up. “I’ll be able to sense your fear.”

You were letting that sink in when he spoke up again. “And don’t be surprised if you have some dreams about me.”

“Dreams?” You raised an eyebrow.

He turned his head and rested his tongue between his teeth as he figured out how to say it. “The sexual kind.”

“Oh,” you looked down, suddenly embarrassed. He stood there shuffling his foot on the grass and you had so many questions for him. How had he become a vampire? Was it something that he chose, or was it forced on him? How long had he been one? You were trying to choose which one to ask when he spoke.

“Hop up,” he said, gesturing for you to get on his back like you were a little girl. “I’ll take you back to your hearse.”

Normally, you hated when men tried to pick you up, but Vampire Eddie carried you across the street like you weighed no more than air. You had your arms around his shoulders and his hands were cupped under your thighs; the vanilla sandalwood of his hair blew across your face in soft tendrils. He lowered you to the ground once he got to the parking lot, and you both looked down the alleyway at the Klemp bodies that Eddie had dropped in his effort to rescue you.

You swallowed. “It’s illegal for vampires to kill humans,” you said in a hush. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for this. I’ll tell the police I was---”

“No police,” Eddie stopped you in a gruff voice. His jaw muscles flexed as he turned to you. “It’s also illegal for humans to drain a vampire for sport,” he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his inside pocket and bit one with his teeth to pull it out of the pack. It bounced there as he talked, squinting one eye at you. “I’ll take care of them, you don’t have to worry about it, princess.”

Since he’d just saved your life, you decided to let him get away with the pet name.

He lit his smoke and took a tight, hissing inhale before aiming the exhale over your head. “I’ll stay here to make sure you get on the road okay.”

You looked down at yourself. “Yeah, I suppose I should get home and take a shower,” you noticed that your bag was in the gutter next to your front tire and you bent to pick it up, along with your keys up. “Guess I’ll see you around the trailer park.”

Inside the hearse, you watched from your rear view mirror as vampire Eddie leaned his back against the wall to smoke and make sure no one bothered you. He picked something off his tongue as you started the engine, and then you lowered your head to shift into gear.

You were not surprised this time to find him gone when you looked up.

-----

"Dig if you will the picture of you and I engaged in a kiss The sweat of your body covers me Can you my darling? Can you picture this? Dream if you can, a courtyard An ocean of violets in bloom Animals strike curious poses They feel the heat The heat between me and you How could you just leave me standing alone in a world so cold?"

-- When Doves Cry//Prince

------

Part 3: The taste of you

——-

Thank you for reading!

[stellocchia]

Killer being incredibly touch-starved is something I've been thinking about for a while. We know very little about monster biology, let alone Killer's who's something in between, so I'm gonna base this on the effect of touch deprivation in the real world (which, yes, is a very real and highly studied thing. And no, the people using it as an excuse for why they're 'owed sex' are still full of shit, because to the human brain the kind of touch, as long as it's positive and well received, doesn't make a difference).

Killer, for his whole time with both Chara and Nightmare, is deprived of any positive touch. Nightmare stabbing him and forcefully manipulating his soul certainly doesn't count as positive, and most Chara did was cut him up for fun (and out of curiosity).

There is a chance for him to receive some affection in an expanded Nightmare's gang situation, as I refuse to believe that people stuck in such awful conditions together would not develop a certain degree of closeness. Still, they live under Nightmare, so they probably cannot afford to indulge in any form of comfort too much. And I don't doubt that, in such a tense situation, fights would also break out often. Meaning he'd most likely get more gaster blasters to the face than pats on the back.

With that out of the way, here are some of the symptoms Killer may experience:

Overwhelming loneliness

Strong cravings for affection

Feelings of depression

Anxiety

Heightened levels of Stress

Difficulty sleeping

Attachment avoidance patterns

He'd also most likely do things to emulate the feeling of touch like cuddling his cats a lot, laying under whatever heavy thing he can find, and taking hot showers/baths. After all, this is Killer we're talking about. These are a lot of feelings and uncomfortable sensations that are entirely out of his control, he's definitely gonna try and reign them in.

I do think that, of course, this would affect every Stage differently. And they'd probably go about dealing with it differently.

Stage 1 would have a conflicted relationship with touch. On one hand, it's hard for him to keep from showing the discomfort he's feeling due to the touch deprivation. On the other, he also always struggles with feelings of guilt regarding the fact that, in his mind, he put himself in this situation. He probably wouldn't think he deserves to feel better. And definitely wouldn't outright ask for a hug or to hold hands unless he was desperate.

He'd probably try to deal with it quietly. Probably running the shower as hot as it can get and hoping it gets rid of the itch in his bones. He has probably begged both Chara and Nightmare for affection before, though I doubt that ended well. I think Chara just pushed him away in Disgust, Nightmare probably made him regret asking.

I feel like later on with Color he's probably gonna need constant reassurances and frequent gentle reminders that he can ask for a hug whenever. And, if that feels like too much, he can sit close to Color, shoulder to shoulder. They can hold hands, and, when that feels like too much, they can interlock pinkies. There are ways for them to navigate around this. And I think Color would be happy to help from the get-go with him.

Meanwhile, with Stage 2 I've always felt like they probably dislike touch (something something they don't allow themselves to show any degree of vulnerability and never let go of control. Both things that would happen if they indulge in any amount of physical affection). To be clear, this does not mean that they're immune to the consequences of touch deprivation, it just means that dealing with them will be even harder for them.

During their time with Chara and Nightmare they'd probably use a lot of the good old "gaslighting themselves into thinking that everything is okay" method. Similarly to how they did with convincing themselves that they actually enjoy being hurt on the regular, eventually, they'd probably start believing it. Also, they'd be highly reliant on their cats if they have any around. Cuddling them does soothe a lot of the symptoms for quite a while, and those little balls of fur at least are not gonna backstab them.

Even once they're with Color, I still feel like Stage 2 would rather cuddle with animals than with other monsters or humans. They'd just be far more free to do so without the threat of Nightmare killing those little critters hanging over their head. Also! A lot of types of dance and stuff like theater can help stave off the touch starvation in a way that may feel more comfortable to them. In a lot of those situations, there's a ton of touch involved, but as they'd be able to remain professional about it, it would probably feel less like giving up control and showing weakness than the alternative of being physically affectionate with Color.

Stage 3 is an interesting one. I feel like it would be the most open to admitting (at least to itself) that they have an issue. However, to solve said issue would mean putting the body in danger and that's not something it's willing to do.

Still, it would try to mitigate the discomfort as much as it can. Trying to find soft things to wrap the body up tightly with. Trying to find small places where it can feel somewhat compressed. It would never try to ask either Nightmare or Chara for help. Ever. It hates them with a burning passion and, besides, it's fully aware that, whatever is wrong with them, is most likely the fault of those two.

It probably also would regard Color with distrust at first, but, eventually, as it comes to trust him, it probably would be more than happy to get some cuddles in with him. I do think its favorite thing would be to sleep all curled up around one another in whatever safe den it has built. And, of course, as it builds trust with more people, those people are gonna be let in too. Though that's gonna take time, because for Stage 3 to trust anyone, Stage 2 and Stage 1 have to trust them first.

Stage 4 my boy... it's suffering. Not only can it not remember any instances of kindness, however rare, the other 3 may have received, but it is also the one that would struggle the most receiving any kind of genuine help even after running away with Color. And, before that, it basically just gets treated like a dog. Though, no matter how much he'd want it, the treat for a job well done is never a hug or a pat on the head for it. Usually, it's just it being allowed some basic necessities like water, food, maybe even sleep if things went particularly well.

And it wouldn't try to soothe any of its needs by itself. Just like it doesn't eat, drink, or sleep if it's not explicitly allowed. If Nightmare or Chara wanted it to get a hot shower or some cuddles from its feline friends, they would have said it. Since they didn't clearly it's against the will of the Players, as they're the Players' mouthpieces. The same would go for Color not saying anything.

And, here's the thing, Color would struggle to show kindness to Stage 4 at first. Both because it starts off as hostile as it doesn't initially recognize him as an owner and because there is something fundamentally unsettling about a being so divorced from humanity and monsterkind wearing the face of his friend. Stage 4's biggest downfall is the fact that it is so other that even the kindest souls would struggle to not dehumanize it. It was created to be a tool and it doesn't recognize itself as anything more than that, so others often fall into the trap of doing the same.

Anyway, Stage 4 would straight-up weep the first time it gets a hug. And, seeing that, Color would undoubtedly feel like shit for ever thinking that Stage 4 wasn't just as lonely, hurt, and deserving of kindness as the other Stages.

[winterrrnight]

hi baby!! congrats you so deserve it!💘💘💘💘

can i request for rafe 6 or 29? whichever you like more💘

hey cami!! thank you sooo much darling 🥹🥹 i really have no words on how much your support means to me; you've been there since almost the beginning and you've never failed to shower love on my fics 🫶🏻 it really means so much to me <3 i hope you like this!! I used both the prompts :)

cherry flavoured

PAIRING: soft!rafe cameron x gn!reader

SUMMARY: you and Rafe have your first kiss, and he tastes just like cherries.

WARNINGS: fluff, kissing, the reader is a little shy and nervous, rafe is a massive softie + ignore any little grammatical/spelling mistakes!

EDITH SPEAKS: I think this came out pretty cute! This girl here hasn't had her first kiss yet (spare me please, I've had zero luck with guys or girls also I want it to be w someone special, not just anyone) so I think when I'll have it this is literally how I'll react :')

PROMPTS REQUESTED: "quit smiling at me. I can't stop messing up my sentences with you looking at me like that." & "should we like, talk about it?" "aboutwhatnothingweirdhashappenedlatelyhaha-" "let me see if I can jog your memory."

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He looks at you, a softer look taking over his eyes as he gazes over the warmth in your cheeks and your slightly swollen lips. You find your mind going in a haze as you think about how you just kissed Rafe for the first time.

You both met each other at one of his parties, you being new to the island, had no idea about anyone at the party except your friend who dragged you there. You had just taken a cup full of your drink and were desperately trying to navigate your way all alone throughout the crowd of people, your friend long gone with some guy.

Even though you were extremely careful, it was not enough, because the exact thing you were dreading happened. You bumped into someone, and you mentally cursed yourself for wearing a white cardigan, because it seeped through the material and stained it, and not to mention how it started to stick to your skin in an ungodly manner.

The guy in front of you, which you learnt is the one who's party you're at, was totally embarrassed with what he did; apologised nothing less than a 100 times, and when his attempt of trying to wipe it off with some paper towels failed, he took you to his room upstairs to give you some of his clothes. Not to forget he kept on apologising to you, and at one point, you forgave him, because you knew it was just an honest mistake (and also because you can only hear the word 'sorry' so many times).

Oh and you were so glad you did forgive him, because his clothes were some of the most comfortable you've ever worn. He let you take any one of his crewneck, and you chose one in your favorite color. It encased you in warmth and his scent of fresh detergent, which provided you immediate comfort.

But instead of going down back, you both sat on the floor next to each other and talked. He made you laugh a lot, but also, made sure to not make you super uncomfortable with questions you may not want to answer. At the end, you had to leave, but he didn't let you go without asking you out on a date and with your number in his phone.

And now here you are, right after one of your dates, where he kisses you with all the courage he has. You knew you've been wanting this for too long now, so when he started leaning back, you pressed your lips back onto his, pulling him closer to you and kissing him deeper, and harder.

When you pull back, he looks at you, and you find your cheeks heating up, red coating you everywhere. After a few moments of silence, Rafe decides to speak up.

"Should we like, talk about it?" He says, you knowing fully well he means the kiss.

A giggle escapes your lips as you start to speak. Well, speak is the wrong choice of word. You ramble.

"Aboutwhatnothingweirdhashappenedlatelyhaha-" you say in one breath, as you feel your hands getting sweaty. Rafe only looks at you with a grin; you getting nervous around him and jumbling up all your words is one of the first things he found cute about you.

"Let me see if I can jog your memory," he mumbles, leaning in to kiss you again. And you don't pull back. Why would you? He tastes so addictive, reminding you of cherries, and you only crave more with each passing second.

When he pulls back again, he's giggling at your expression, your face even more red than before (is that even possible?), your lips shiny and your eyes gleaming with the light of the lamp post you're both standing under.

He absolutely cannot stop smiling at you. You've made him so happy, he cannot fathom it. It's so easy for him to cheer up just the moment he spots you; you're the ray of sunshine falling onto the dark side of his moon.

You want to say something, anything, but your mind is all fuzzy and only random words leave your mouth. Rafe giggles harder as he wraps his arms around you and hugs you close to him.

You look at him, his lips still pulled in a smile, you think he hasn't stopped smiling since the date started.

"Quit smiling at me. I can't stop messing up my sentences with you looking at me like that." Finally, finally a proper sentence leaves your mouth, one which isn't spoken in a single breathe or isn't just necessarily a stack of words.

Rafe presses his lips to your forehead, his laughs slowly dying and your heart rate calming down as you stand hugging under the warm light of the lamp post.

You've never felt so serene.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @ragingsammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @vianwrites

[sodamnradd]

“Give it up, Draco. You found what people spend a lifetime searching for, and you just let her leave without you.” Blaise fell back onto the leather sofa and crossed his ankles, looking pensively into the fire. “What I don’t understand is why. You keep saying that if anyone will win, it’s her. And yet here you are.”

Draco opened his mouth to deny, deny, deny. But what was the point? Blaise had seen them together in the prefects’ bath, and later, when Draco tried brushing it off as a casual hook-up, Blaise had only shaken his head and said, ‘I saw your face,’ as if that was supposed to override any lies that came out of Draco’s mouth.

His stomach had been a tangle of nerves since Granger had kissed him goodbye and disappeared with Potter and Weasley to save the world. That was the issue with Gryffindors, forever killing themselves over the next big heroic deed. He wasn’t like them.

“What would you have done?” sniped Draco. It was easy to cast judgement from afar, but Blaise wasn’t living it. “Would you just turn your back on your mother? On your friends? To hell with everyone if you’re in love?”

Blaise gave him a side-long look, grinning. “Are you in love?”

“You seem to think I am.”

“Do you see a future with her?”

“If the world wasn’t so fucked up?”

“Yeah.”

Draco didn’t really have to imagine it because it’s all he’d been thinking about since he first kissed Granger nine months ago.

It wasn’t just her physical being—the charged, tantalising pull of their bodies like opposing magnets—but a vision of what their life could look like. Granger didn’t need pure-blood persuasion to pave her way into the world. She could be self-made. And Draco would stand proudly beside her, as he did best. He could manage the accounts, pursue his hobbies, while ensuring Granger never felt alone navigating her mountainous ambitions.

Draco lived a satiated life, but with Hermione, all he knew was starvation. She was the one thing he didn’t want to barter or consume in small bites. If he had her, he was going to feast.

“It’s not that simple,” he concluded. “It’s not some playground romance anymore. She’s out there risking her life. I can’t afford to love her how I want if she’s just going to wind up dead.”

“Take this from someone who’s buried seven fathers—death is preventable.”

Draco looked up at Blaise, surprised.

His friend had an eerie look on his face, made worse by the fire casting strange shadows over him, but Draco knew the Zabinis had a complicated relationship with murder. And that’s what he meant: murder was preventable, not death.

“What makes you think I could protect her any better than Potter could?”

“The Dark Lord trusts you, you’re a sneaky fuck, and you’re in love. Nobody will fight harder to win.”

~

Donning a backpack full of survival gear, his wand, and the warmest clothes he owned, Draco used their matching bracelets to Port-Key to Granger the next Saturday morning.

She had woven the bracelets with colourful thread—red and gold for him, green and silver for her—and the next week, Draco had adhered matching charms to them. She didn’t know that he could sense her through it. That when she fingered the cool metal engraved with his constellation at night, he felt her presence. Or that it was a gateway to each other using the right spell.

Maybe he’d known he’d follow her all along.

The bracelet transported Draco to lush, crawling hills and enormous, craggy rocks. The sky hung bright white above him. He could sense Granger’s magic in the air, or maybe it was her perfume drifting in the breeze. He inhaled deeply, feeling closer to her already.

There was nobody around when he heard the gasp directly behind him.

He turned and saw the air wobble. The ward he hadn’t realised was there descended. Granger stood two feet away, eyes wide and lips parted. She was thin and pale and seemed afraid.

Regret washed over him. He should have come sooner.

“How do I know it’s really you?” she demanded, wand clutched tightly by her side, a combination of fear and hope flickering in her eyes.

Draco dropped his bag by his feet, taking three strong strides forward. He framed her cold cheeks in his hands, hoping she saw the look on his face and remembered how much she meant to him. He said, “Because nobody else knows how much I love you.”

He kissed her, and a second later, Granger threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back, sobbing.

“I’m here to stay,” he reassured her, holding her tightly. “I’m here to fight.”

And he thought of Blaise in the Slytherin common room, the only one who knew of Draco’s whereabouts, and their discussions of love and death. And he thought of the future he’d seen with Hermione, and he thought he could have it, maybe even a better version of it. One that didn’t involve him at home, pursuing hobbies, but being worth something, too. He could be that. He wanted to be that.

Draco wanted to feast.

(873 words, inspired by Don't Swallow The Cap by The National)

[heesdreamer]

SILENCED (4)

MASTERLIST

GENRE ➩ enhypen zombie apocalypse au!

SUMMARY ➩ navigating life 1 year post end of the world was already difficult as you avoided rotting corpses with hefty appetites and groups with various bad intentions. things get harder when you run into a group of survivors, 7 boys who make it impossible to run away.

WC ➩ 6k

WARNINGS ➩ death gore blood um zombies and everything the apocalypse brings…

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Hello, me again lol Sorry it’s been so long since the last update on this I’ve had other stuff I was prioritizing but thank you to the people following and enjoying this story! The updates are a lot smaller than my usual works and that bugs me a bit but I have a lot planned and it won’t be such a long gap between each chapter from now on lol. Reminder to check out the playlist for hints and general vibe! NOT PROOFREAD but u knew that

“What are you even talking about dude, I beat you five to one easy. It wasn’t even close.” Jake’s voice was laughing out as he rested back on the couch, swinging an arm forward in emphasis towards his friend.

“No you don’t get it, if we had a rematch I’d whoop you.” Jay was quick to respond, a gloomy look on his face from losing so terribly and the younger boys broke into a fit of giggles at his attitude.

The day had been quiet, picking up each other from school one by one and heading back to Jake’s place. His mom had been out of town for the month on a business trip and it’d become their official club house for the time being, messier than it should’ve been with blankets covering any surface that could serve as a temporary bed.

Heeseung was pushing through the front door with a strange expression on his face, glancing behind in the hallway before locking the deadbolt and peaking out of the peephole. Sweat was coating his face and the other boys stopped laughing as they looked at him.

“It’s that bad out there now?” Jungwon was asking in a soft voice and Heeseung jumped a bit before glancing at him and giving him a solid nod.

News stations had been buzzing for weeks but nobody paid too close of attention outside of the people with particularly raging anxiety. Reports of cannibalisms, first in America and then the neighboring countries.

The boys hadn’t thought much of it, some crazy new drug that would never make it this far or mass hysteria. Then it was announced that it was a disease, something that couldn’t be helped and borders could not stop and things started to get a bit more wary. Some stores were shutting down, families leaving to their summer houses out in the country and yesterday Jay had been cut from work early.

“I don’t know, I don’t think we can wait anymore.” Heeseung was muttering and Jake sat up on the couch, raising an eyebrow in bewilderment.

“You mean like leave? Where would we even go?” He was asking and his question made them all fall silent, knowing he was right and they didn’t have a safe haven to disappear to like others did. They all had families but they weren’t extremely close now that they were older, spending most of their time together and only coming home to get scolded for poor grades.

Heeseung was shaking his head and turning towards them fully to scan the room, freezing up slightly when his head count came up one short. “Where’s Riki?”

“He.. had that exam I think. Must’ve had to stay late.” Sunoo was saying it slowly to try and explain but a feeling of dread settled over everybody at the realization he was out there alone, not yet realizing how quickly things were falling apart.

“Is it really that bad Heeseung?” Jay was asking in confusion, just yesterday they all were walking around casually outside of the few religious nut jobs screaming about the end of days.

Heeseung didn’t say anything for a long time, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to relay what he had saw or if he just wanted to let them think things were okay for a few minutes longer. He knew he had witnessed stuff that wasn’t going to be fixed anytime soon, stuff that would change how they lived from now on and he wasn’t sure he was ready to fully embrace that.

He was clearing his throat to speak but the words fell short and he made his way over to the kitchen counter instead, taking Jungwon’s moms keys and glancing at him for permission.

The younger boy looked confused but he gave him a small nod, eyes widening a touch when the oldest hesitated before going back into the kitchen and returning with the largest cooking knife available.

“Woah, you can’t go out there with that. You’ll get arrested dude.” Sunghoon was rushing out, suddenly paying attention and alert now as he sat up off the couch and raised his hands towards Heeseung.

“I don’t think there’s anybody left to arrest me.” He was spitting out but he wasn’t angry at his friends, just stricken with fear and anxiety at the thought of returning back outside but he couldn’t stand the idea of Riki being out there alone.

“Well I’ll come with you.” Jay was announcing and standing up, wiping off the chip crumbs from his sweater. Heeseung almost denied him and demanded he stayed here and kept the doors locked but he figured he might not be able to make it alone and Jay was definitely the most capable of the two of them, strong and sturdy despite his carefree personality.

“The rest of you need to stay put. I don’t care what you hear, or how long it takes for us to come back, you can’t open that door.” He was warning the group and they all paused in fearful hesitance before slowly nodding, the idea of not searching for their friends after a period of time leaving them unsettled.

The two eldest were making their way out of the apartment building, stopping at the entry door to push a vending machine in front of it. Jay looked confused when Heeseung asked him to do it but he followed suit anyways, not wanting to deny the orders considering the fear in his friends face.

Jungwon’s moms van was large and loud, rattling when you pressed too hard on the gas pedal and squealing every time it forced its large frame to a stop. They didn’t drive it often, outside of trips to the beach and going through drive thru’s, and Heeseung was grateful that the roads were uncharacteristically empty as he amateurly made his way through the city streets.

It was complete silent as they pulled up to their youngest friends school, both holding their breath as they leaned forward to see out of the driver side window and try to catch sight of any sign of life.

Heeseung’s heart was throbbing and he felt sick, almost too scared to go and find the boy in case he saw something he wasn’t able to ever forget, something he wouldn’t be able to move past. Jay’s hand was reaching forward to take his arm and he glanced at the other boy, seeing him give him a firm nod with a look of determination. Heeseung gave him a weary smile in return but it was the boost of strength he needed to open the door.

There was debris around the area from the days of mild chaos leading up to this and Jay bent down to grab a particularly long piece of metal, steadying it in front of him like a baseball bat as they got closer to the school doors.

They were unlocked and they quickly realized something was wrong judging by the papers scattered along the hallway, backpack’s abandoned in classrooms like they had to evacuate fast and Heeseung could smell something foul that caused his nose to turn up in disgust.

“Riki.” It was a yelled whisper echoing through the halls, carrying the noise all the way down the silent building until it was reaching the end and bouncing back towards them.

“Hyung? Is that you?” A scared voice was coming from the end of the hallway, shaky and muffled like he was hidden behind something and the two older boys let out a sigh of relief at the confirmation that he was at least okay enough to respond.

They were swift in their approach towards the room the voice had come from, forgetting to be cautious because of their relief and rush to get out of there but they quickly froze when a figure was coming out of one of the classrooms in the middle of the hallway.

Heeseung automatically recognized the signs of the creatures he had seen earlier, staring at the man who was staggering into the hall and turning towards them with his nose in the air. His eyes were yellow and vacant and he had dark liquid around his mouth, still moving his jaw like he was finishing a large meal. The man groaned loudly in their direction, bordering on a screech and the boys could do nothing but stare.

“What the fuck?” Jay was rushing out in an anxious tone, glancing over to his friend who was remaining still and watching it carefully. “Dude what’s wrong with him, what the fuck?”

“He’s got it.” Heeseung was stating matter of factly and Jay paled at the realization, shaking his head in disbelief and faltering backwards a few steps.

Heeseung was approaching the creature slowly and they both jumped when it reared its head and roared in agitation, sloppily approaching them and not faltering even when it almost slipped and crashed into the floor. They watched it approached speedily and when it got near they both circled around it’s back, confusing it momentarily but not long enough before it was attacking again.

The creature pinned Heeseung back against the wall, his hands flailing in front of him as he tried his hardest to shove it away with cries and groans of fear. It’s strength was double what a normal man’s would be and he was seconds from giving up when it was slumping to the ground.

Heeseung dropped off the wall and scrambled over to Jay who was panting with the piece of scrap metal in front of him, dripping thick syrupy blood now that he had smashed it into the figure.

They both watched in horror, attempting to catch their breath, as it begun to rise off the floor again. Shakily standing back to its full height and snarling again at them, seemingly angrier now.

“Oh you’ve gotta be shitting me.” Heeseung was panting out as he stared up at its cracked skull, half of its face sliding downwards and a bloodied mess from the force of Jay’s swing mixed with days of decay.

Both boys watched it as it started to approach again and then Jay was letting out a loud scream, taking a few steps forward and swinging the metal back down on its shoulder. They both froze in anticipation and then fear when the creature didn’t react to the hit at all.

“Oh what the fu-“ He was cut off as the creature swung at him and he dove out of the way with a grunt. “How do you kill this thing?”

“Why the fuck would I know?” Heeseung was screaming back in bewilderment, glancing around in confusion to try and find a way out of the situation but coming up with nothing as he turned back to keep his attention on the man who kept getting more and more unhinged the louder they avoided him and his gaping mouth.

The creature wasn’t getting winded whilst the boys were barely managing to swing their arms anymore, using this to its advantage and catching Jay off guard. Heeseung watched in horror as it pinned his friend to the hallway floor, listening to his screams of terror and gasp of air from under its heavy frame.

He didn’t think twice before he was rushing forward, and throwing the entirety of his weight into its body. He let out a guttural scream and pulled his arm back as far as it could go before driving the knife forward into its softened skull. Jay was, thankfully, getting the memo and rolling out of the way before the creature slammed onto the floor, now fully lifeless.

Both boys collapsed to the floor in fits of gasps and pants. Nobody spoke for a few minutes from shock and then Jay’s tired voice was ringing out. “Dude… you just totally saved my life.”

It was silent again for a few seconds before Heeseung was letting out a soft chuckle, launching the other into a fit of delirious laughter until they were both cracking up with the body in between them.

“Holy shit.” Both boys were pausing at the sound of Riki’s voice, a lot closer now as he pushed his way out of the classroom and was watching them from the end of the hallway. “You guys totally killed Mr. Kim.”

“And then what?” Your voice was completely enthralled as you spoke, leaning forward towards the campfire so your elbows were on your knees and you thought you saw Jake’s lips curl up from the corner of your eye.

“Well… we went back to get the others. We tried to get to family but..” Jay was trailing off but you nodded in understanding and he gave you a grateful look before sighing and continuing with his story. “Heeseung found a map in the pocket of a dead guy on the highway out of the city and he had circled the general area that you found us in, so we assumed it was safe.”

“And it was.” Jake was adding and it was some of his first words of the night, having remained mostly silent and to himself throughout your trip.

It had been two days since you left and you knew everybody was feeling unsettled by the fact you were heading back home now to the unknown. It was a mostly uneventful journey, not stopping much or sleeping more than a few hours with a shared determination to get there and back as soon as humanly possible.

You felt like the universe had cut you a break when you arrived to the veterinary hospital Jungwon had seen on the map, only encountering a handful of walkers and finding some medicine that should do the trick fairly quickly. But you knew the universe wasn’t kind nor was she fond of handing out breaks so your stomach clenched with the idea of what could be waiting for you back at the camp.

Sunghoon could’ve died from blood loss and infection and passed along the traumatizing act of putting him down before he turned, or he could’ve turned in the night and taken out a few of his brothers before anybody was awake enough to put a stop to it.

You knew the two boys with you were thinking similar things so you’d ask for a story to try and keep their minds off of it, listening to Jay carefully as he recounted the first time they’d killed a walker and how happy Riki was that it was his mean teacher that often stuck him in detention.

“Heeseung was our leader before he was ever our leader.” Jay was remarking as he finished his story, scooting down more into the dirt so his back was fully pressed against the rotted log he was resting on.

Jake hummed in agreement and you didn’t say anything, thinking about the statement and the conversation you’d had with the eldest boy about the weight of his responsibilities. You felt a longing for him suddenly, missing him and the others more than you thought you would and you could tell the two with you were thinking the same thing now that it was falling silent again.

You didn’t say anything as you were standing up to stomp out the fire, knowing it was already a risk to strike it up in the first place but especially to sleep with it roaring.

The three of you followed the same routine as the past two nights, stringing up cans in a circle around where you were sleeping so if anything, dead or alive, bumped into it you’d have some form of warning before it was coming down directly on top of you. You laid your head down in the pile of leaves and tried to ignore the sticks sitting uncomfortably under your shoulder blades, falling asleep to the sounds of the forest and the two boys breathing.

——

You’d been walking for a few hours before seeing anything familiar but your body was alert to the fact you were getting closer to the camp again, this time with a backpack full of supplies and a prayer in the back of your mind that things would be okay.

It didn’t take long for you to realize something was off about your surroundings, the woods unusually silent and resting like all the animals and trees were holding their breath. You raised your hand and folded it, a silent signal for the boys to stop walking and fall into a crouched position behind you.

Your eyes were hurriedly scanning over the forest floor and your heart sank when you noticed multiple pairs of tracks and footprints that wouldn’t have been from your group, having no reason to venture this far out. You waved Jake and Jay closer and they quickly shifted forward in their crouched position.

“Is it a hoard?” Jake was whispering to you when you pointed out the shoe prints in the mud, glancing at you with a worried expression. Jay’s eyes were dark with concern and his face was hard, glancing in the direction of the others and frowning.

“I don’t think so.” You were shaking your head and sighing softly as you trailed your finger around the indented mud to explain to them. “The steps are too direct and pointed, if it was walkers they’d be messy and all over the place.”

“So it’s people then.” Jay was saying matter of factly and you all feel into a heavy silence, knowing you had no choice but to continue on the path back home, regardless if there was anybody left waiting for you or not.

You didn’t bother wasting anytime, falling into fast and silent footsteps and you maneuvered your way through the woods, guns drawn and knives out of your holster in case any of the people were still around and surveilling the surrounding woods.

Jay caught sight of something long before you did and you were grateful for his hand that shot out to stop you from rushing right into the view of the man you could now see, pacing back and forth in the center of the little houses and keeping an eye out for anything out of place.

You lip curled up in a sneer but you weren’t exactly sure what to do. If it was up to you, you’d simply take him out from a distance but you didn’t know how many were inside with the boys and if any more were not here, not wanting to risk the safety of the others or the three of you by acting on impulse. Jake seemed to be thinking something similar considering he was tapping your shoulder to get your attention, indicating down to your knives after you looked at him.

You understood what he was implying but you stared at him for a few seconds to make sure he was certain, realizing you hadn’t yet discussed the groups morals when it came to the living.

His eyes were hard as he gave you a solid nod and he mouthed for Jay to have your back as you moved in silent towards the patrol. The man didn’t have time to react before you were behind him, listening to the sound of Jay whistle and bring his attention forward before you were wrapping your hand around his forehead and tilting his head back so his neck was fully exposed to you.

He let out a gurgled shout as you slid your knife across his throat, grunting softly under his weight as you tried to lower him to the ground as silently as possible.

You looked up at Jay after he was on the ground, watching him carefully as he gave you a small nod of acceptance and you sighed softly before returning it to him and waiting for Jake to come out of the woods and meet you. The three of you ducked against one of the houses, your backs pressed against the wood as you listened to try and get a guess of how many people were inside.

“I say we just kill him already.” It was a woman’s voice and she was speaking in a nasty rasp like she was a heavy smoker, your heart pounding at the sentence she spoke. “He’s half dead already, I’ll be pissed if he turns on us and takes a chunk out of my arm.”

You glanced at Jake after she was done speaking and he was already looking at you, both of you relieved to hear that she was talking about Sunghoon still being alive, immediately followed by the dread of what she was implying they should do.

“Touch him and you’ll have bigger problems than him turning.” Heeseung’s voice was speaking now and it was dropped to an octave you’d never heard it in before, cold and serious and he threatened her in a deadly tone.

You heard an annoyed scoff from a male voice before it was followed by the sound of low groans of pain that you made out to be Sunghoon’s, wincing slightly at the hurt in his cries.

“Do something then.” The males voice was speaking in a teasing manner and you heard Sunghoon groan again, likely being hit or kicked by somebody inside to prove a point towards the other boys helplessness. “Oh.. you can’t, that’s right. I forgot.”

There was more sounds after that but you couldn’t fully tell what they were, feeling sick and helpless where you were sitting until Jay was snapping his fingers and getting both of your attention back on him.

He was making signals with his hand and you swiftly understood that he was implying he wanted to rush inside and take them out before they had a chance to react or take any hostages, using the element of surprise to your advantage. Jake seemed more hesitant in the idea although you figured it was only the two of them inside the small house, seeing the car they had arrived it and doubting it could fit more than four people.

Your eyes wandered over to the body on the ground and you steadied your footing in the dirt before nodding softly to Jay and patting Jake on the back.

It went extremely fast, your mind on complete autopilot and devoid of any extreme emotion to help you get through the terrible act without hesitating or missing your shot. Jake was kicking the door open roughly and then stepping back to allow you and Jay to rush forward, relief rushing through you at the confirmation it was only two people and then followed by horror considering how easily you were able to sink your knife into the skull of the woman.

She’d barely had a second to process your arrival, eyes widening in fear and letting out a painful gasp of shock before her face was lifeless and she was crumbling to the floor.

You felt slightly sick that it had been so easy for you to kill two people in the span of minutes but you glanced up at the scared boys huddled around the house and you realized that you didn’t regret it, that you’d do it 100 times again if it was necessary.

Heeseung was tied to the radiator next to Sunghoon, clarifying the reason he hadn’t even able to stop their assault on the boy and you glanced at him to see him far paler and more lifeless than he had been when you’d seen him. He was still alive however and you were rushing to grab the supplies from your bag when you noticed the horror on the boys faces, eyes over your shoulder.

You froze up but before you could turn to see what they were seeing, a shot was ringing out close to your ear and you were completely disoriented for a few seconds.

It took awhile to process what had happened, turning your body in a panic to see a fourth man laying in the doorway of the house. His knife was still rattling against the floor from where he’d dropped it and you saw the exit wound coming out from the backside of his head. You spun back around and your heart crumbled when you saw who it was that had killed the man, saving your life by taking another’s.

Riki was holding the gun in shaky hands, barely able to keep it steady and his eyes were wide in shock and horror, keeping it pointed in your direction despite the threat being gone now.

“Riki.” You were saying softly, still frozen but raising your hands in surrender and taking a small step towards him. You didn’t necessarily think he would hurt you but he clearly wasn’t thinking straight and his fingers were still dangerously tight around the trigger. “Riki, it’s okay. You got him, he’s dead.”

His eyes shot to yours at the words and his face softened slightly, letting you approach and take the gun from his rigid hands.

He was dropping his shoulders in relief once the metal was out of his hands, shocking you by pulling you in for a tight hug that knocked the air out of your lungs. You returned it after a few seconds, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tightly with your eyes shut. You could hear the others moving around, untying Heeseung and greeting the others.

After Riki let you go and went to sit down in the corner and calm down, you quickly administered the medication into Sunghoon’s veins and sighed softly at the heavy breath he took at the feeling of it entering his system. You pushed his damp hair off his sweaty forehead and smiled softly at him even though he couldn’t see it, happy he had managed to fight for this long.

You were standing up again and immediately bumping into another frame, pausing until you realized it was Heeseung.

His hands were coming up to cup your face and you smiled at him in relief despite the cuts on his face and the noticeable black eye that you imagined had come from the struggle with the looters that had led to him being the only one tied up. “You gave them hell didn’t you.”

He laughed softly at your words and nodded his head, eyes gentle as he looked down at you and you felt your heart clench uncomfortably at both his expression and how much you had missed him.

You thought this about them all as the night continued on, telling them how your run had gone and listening to them laugh and tell funny stories that you didn’t fully understand but you still felt a lightness in your heart just from how excited they sounded about remembering the smallest details of things that had happened to them together in the old world.

Riki was still a but subdued after what had happened, not speaking much and staying in the corner as you all ate dinner and took sips from the liquor bottle the three of you had found on the trip. He seemed a bit out of it and your heart felt heavy after Jungwon had leaned in to whisper and explain to you that he had never killed somebody before.

You felt guilty that he had done something like that to save you, your own mistake for not assuming there was another person still outside or checking the tracks more carefully because you were too worried about them and too focus on getting inside as soon as possible. Your care was making you stupid and making you weak, leaving the youngest to lose a piece of himself to fix your mistake.

It was this that made up your mind for you, solidifying that you couldn’t stay here with them any longer or else things like this would keep happening. You’d have to continue to risk yourself for them and vice versa, you couldn’t take watching them hurt themselves in the name of saving you or each other and you knew now that they were always going to put the others and you over themselves individually.

You kept reminding yourself this as you silently packed your bag, waiting for the others to fall asleep and leave you on watch duty before you were preparing to slip out.

You’d stay in the woods outside the camp for the night and make sure nothing hurt them during your watch cycle and then you were going to disappear into the dark cover of the trees once the next person on the rotation woke up and found you missing. You left them all of the medication and food, taking nothing but your change of clothes and your knives.

The crickets were extra loud as you made your way outside, having carefully stepped over the sleeping boys and left a note with detailed instructions on which medications to give to Sunghoon and when. You included a small goodbye sentence just so they knew you hadn’t been taken and didn’t get hurt trying to find you, although you had a feeling they’d try anyways.

You were barely off the porch, your foot hitting the dirt softly and feeling the cold chill of the night when a voice behind you was causing you to jump and spin around.

“So that’s it then?” You whipped around with wide eyes but your face crumbled when you realized who it was, seeing Heeseung come out of the shadows with a hurt expression and hooded eyes. “You’re not even going to say goodbye?”

You froze as you looked at him, words falling short as your mouth open and closed in silence. He scoffed as he looked at you, turning his head away as his eyes teared up slightly but he shook his head in anger before taking a few steps in your direction with a raised accusatory finger.

“You’re just going to leave after all this?” He was spitting out at you and the tone of his voice, the disgust lacing his words, made your heart drop into your stomach with a crushing weight.

“I have to.” You replied back with desperation, your face curling up in anguish and you tried to get him to understand even slightly what your reasoning was. “Sunghoon almost died Heeseung, and Riki he… these things will keep happening.”

“He didn’t die.” He was almost yelling now and you flinched back at the volume of his voice, having half a mind to shush him softly and watching the way his face curled up in anger at the sound slipping through your lips. “He didn’t die Y/N, and you were the one who made sure of that. You care about us, I know you do.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that, not wanting to correct him especially when he wasn’t wrong.

You did care about them and it was making your skin crawl every time you found yourself smiling affectionately at one of their offhanded jokes or paying extra attention to their wounds and bruises. Even more so with the boy in front of you with the gentle way he touched you to make sure you weren’t injured, when his face was lit up by campfires or his determination to lead a group of boys through a world he himself didn’t understand.

“I can’t watch it happen.” Your voice was breaking and your shoulders sagged in upset, exhaustion wracking through you both emotionally and physically. “And it always happens, Hee.”

“It won’t happen this time.” He was taking more steps towards you and his hands were shakily coming up to hold your face, staring down at you with his own sense of determination to try and help you see his side of things. “Why didn’t you say bye to me?”

He was asking but you knew he already knew your answer and you tried to pull out of his touch to avoid answering, stopping when his thumb was gently rubbing your cheek and shaking his head to try and stop you.

“Because you wouldn’t be able to leave.” He was answering for you, filling in the blank and giving you a soft sad smile that made you break into a sob, your first time allowing yourself to cry for as long as you could remember. “Right? Tell me I’m right.”

You didn’t say anything but you didn’t need to, feeling him pull you in tightly against his chest as you fully let yourself feel the wave of your emotions, restricting them for so long in the name of survival and fighting to make it through the day.

Heeseung was keeping you in his embrace even when your legs were giving out and you were sinking to the floor in his arms, your hands hitting the dirt and feeling it mold between your fingers. You hooked your head over his shoulder and shut your eyes tight when your gaze fell on the body of the man you’d killed so easily earlier.

You let him hold you like that until your sobs were slowing down and the blood was drying in the grass.

You stayed like that far longer than you’d realized, sitting still and frozen until your cries slowed down and his blood had fully dried in the grass.

[yoontoonzzz]

seventeen fics

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ seungcheol ִֶָ ִֶָ ⊹𓂃

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🍓 - fluff | 🫐 - angst | 🍒 - smut | 💌 - social media au |

short fics (<5k words)

⟡ 🍓 Remind me - @milfgyuu

w.c: 2.7 Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Fem!reader Tags: Fluff, humor Summary: You’ve had a little too much to drink at your sister’s wedding and can’t understand how or why Choi Seungcheol of all people is assigned to babysit you.

🍓🫐💌 'THE WAY BACK' - @suhnshinehaos

pairing : rapper!seungcheol x gn!, actor!reader genre/s : mini smau, angst, fluff, some humor mixed in synopsis : fans reminisce on your relationship with seungcheol

🍓 Warmth - @synthetickitsune

w.c: 2k Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x reader Genre: fluff, comfort Warnings: depression, implied suicidal thoughts Summary: It's dark, inside and out. Some things are impossible to navigate alone, which fortunately is exactly what you're not.

🍓 Best Sleepover Ever - @jae-bummer

w.c: 1350 Pairing: Seventeen S. coups x Reader Genre: Fluff Prompt: "You look good in my clothes."

🍓 let me go - @babyleostuff

w.c: 687 “Stop moving so much,” Seungcheol whined, his words coming out slurred due to his cheek being pressed against your stomach.

🍓 [2:17] - @husbandhoshi

w.c: 792 the night presses into your eyes, two indigo thumbs deep in the sockets.

🍓 cruel summer - @wqnwoos

w.c: 1566 you and choi seungcheol have been playing a game since the start of the summer.

🍓 haircut - @haoboutyou

w.c: 646 The sound of the door unlocking and closing causes you to peek out of the kitchen.

🍓 ౨ৎ voicemails choi seungcheol leaves you while he’s on tour - @babyleostuff

w.c: 338 fluff (with a pinch of angst), established relationship, gn!reader (pet names used: baby, darling)

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long fics (>5k words)

⟡ 🍓 HELLO TUTORIAL - @97-liners

w.c: 7.3k frat!s.coups x sorority!reader themes/genres: college au, frat au, fluff, rom com it’s your final year of college, and you’ve been elected president of your sorority. this is all great and fine, but as the semester goes on, you find yourself having repeated run-ins with the president of the fraternity next door in a series of unfortunate coincidences (that might not actually be coincidences, as you come to discover). or: in which you’re trying to deal with your crush on seungcheol in a normal way, but the meddling kids are making it harder than it needs to be

⟡ 🍓🫐 eat. play. love - @husbandhoshi

w.c: 19.4k pairing: seungcheol x f!reader summary: being one of new york's top food critics comes with a lot of perks: free dinners, nice awards, and a linkedin profile your parents could be proud of. that doesn't stop you from wanting a lofty promotion to editor, and the only person standing in your way is choi seungcheol. just one problem: his romance column has half of new york under his grimy little thumb. that, and you hate him. in which your love language is food. seungcheol doesn't have one.

⟡ 🍓🫐🍒 exes and oh's - @toruro

w.c: 15.8k pairing. choi seungcheol x reader description. when your ex-best friend breaks up with your other ex-best friend, you’re stuck between keeping this door (that you never wanted closed) shut tight, and making amends. naturally, choosing to let your heart open to the person who ripped it apart isn’t the easiest of decisions, but then again, life has a funny way of making you choose.

⟡ 🍓🫐🍒 the great war - @amourcheol

w.c: 41k historical! au | enemies to lovers! au | smut, fluff | 41k words s u m m a r y : there was only one thing you hated more than your restricted life, and that was choi seungcheol—the greatest venetian general who has ever lived. when a marriage is arranged between the two of you, you were sure it would end in bloodshed. however, as you and seungcheol are forced to attend balls and share a few hard truths, you realise you have more in common with the mysterious general than you thought.

⟡ 🍓🫐🍒 — inflection point ⟢ - @lovelyhan

series - completed 3/3 ★ FEATURING; jeonghan x afab!reader x seungcheol ★ TAGS; established polyamorous relationship, fluff, angst, smut (MINORS DNI!)

🍓🍒 To You - @cuntycheol

w.c: 7.7k Summary: Silence has always been a long-term paying guest between you and your husband. It took a cohabitation and more, to turn things around for Seungcheol and you, to figure out your true feelings.

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smut -

minors do not interact | each fic has its own tags | read at your own risk

🍒 push it down (sooner or later it all comes out) - @dontflailmenow

series - completed 5/5 w.c: 50.3k pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader genre: smut (18+), enemies to lovers, camboy au summary: thirsting over your ex’s best friend in general is a bad idea. given that you and seungcheol have never gotten along, it’s even worse. when you accidentally stumble across his stream, though, and he finds out? all bets are off.

🍒 cupid - @yoongiseesawmp3

w.c: 9.3k summary: brother’s best friend!seungcheol. you move in with your brother joshua while you look for a new place, so you finally meet his best friend and roommate seungcheol. you’ve only heard stories, so you’re not prepared for the good looks or the charm that he constantly exudes. after a really bad date, you need someone to save you, and with joshua mia, seungcheol comes to the rescue.

if you don't want your work on here, please dm me and I will remove it!

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[daddy-deathslinger]

Hello! I had this idea for a while and what about Caleb Quinn x gn reader who does crochet? For example, Caleb sneaks up into survivor campsite (because he was bored idk) to watch and listen to other survivors and sees reader crocheting something, what looks like his red bandana. Later in trial they wear it and when reader ends up as the last one Caleb just has a little chit chat with them? You know, little talk between artist with weapons and artist with yarn?

If you want you can add other killers! And even reader crocheting specially for them (⁠^⁠^⁠)

Hi there! What a cozy request, I hope you like what I came up with! 🤠

The Deathslinger/Caleb Quinn x GN!Reader - “A conversation between artists”

The desert sun was warm as always, shining its last rays of light over the Dead Dawg Saloon. Caleb was alone, as always, sipping on a glass of whiskey at the bar. He let out a frustrated sigh as he put down the drinking glass on the bar, a little harder than he had meant to. What was the use of this godforsaken place? Sure, he had all the alcohol in the world, he had his weapons he could work on, but he was alone. Always alone. And he got so bored sometimes. Between trials he just sat here at times, just thinking of everything and nothing. He knew he needed something else now, something to perk him up. And he had thought about it for a while, maybe it was time to put plans into action. So without further ado, he downed the last of the whiskey, grabbed his hat from the counter and got up from the chair.

“Here goes nothin’...” he muttered to himself as he ventured out from the saloon and into the evening outside.

The trees were tall and the forest dark. Nothing like the warm desert Caleb was so used to, but he urged on his quest nonetheless. Navigating through the dark woods proved to be a bit difficult, especially since he didn’t really know where he was going. He just hoped that somehow, if he really wanted to, he’d find it. The survivor camp. They weren’t allowed to hunt outside of trials, but hunting was not on Caleb’s mind now, either way. And when he finally could see a faint light behind the trees, he knew he had gone the right way. Very carefully, not making any sound, he sneaked a little bit closer to the light. It was the campfire, and sure enough, sitting around it were some survivors. Caleb could hear them talking quietly to each other, discussing things and laughing occasionally. He decided that he was close enough, and hid behind a big tree, peeking out a little bit to get a good look at the survivors. There were seven of them, all sitting cuddled up around the fire for warmth and comfort. Some were talking, two apparently kissing, but one survivor caught his attention almost immediately. You, sitting a little bit away from the rest, holding something in your hands. It appeared to be two long needles and some yarn. Caleb had seen this handiwork before, somewhere in his childhood. It was called crocheting, if he wasn’t mistaken. But what were you working on? Caleb peeked out a little bit more from behind the tree, trying to get a good look at the handiwork. Was that… a bandana? A red one, it must be. A bandana just like his! Caleb couldn’t help but let out a little grunt of amusement, luckily no one seemed to hear him. That bandana looked way better than the old rag he was wearing, he thought to himself, and a little smile crept upon his lips. You were talented, no doubt. Caleb remained like that, observing, listening, studying. He didn’t know how much time passed, he was completely lost in the everyday business of the survivors, especially you. It brought him some form of comfort, just standing hidden in the shadows and observing. They didn’t know he was there, they weren’t afraid. They talked about trials, life before this, made jokes about the killers, they lived their new “normal”. With a little sting in his heart, Caleb remembered what his “normal” looked like these days. Hunt, torture, kill. Speaking of, he could feel a trial coming up now. He always felt it in his bones somehow, the call of the Entity. He should get back to the saloon, get ready.

The trial went to shits. Caleb didn’t manage to kill anyone. The map of this trial had been the Red Forest, as Anna called it, and it had been dark and damp. Caleb didn’t do well in a dark and wet forest, especially not when he had to hunt for prey. His eyes weren’t what they used to be. So, naturally, they all escaped, save the last one. The last one was hiding somewhere, probably looking for the hatch since Caleb had a pretty good view of both the gates. Caleb tried to find the hatch as well, and he searched inside the hut first. Nothing there, but just as he was about to leave the hut to go back outside, he saw something moving in the dark corner. A person, the last survivor! He turned around to face them, gun ready. Then he saw that it was you that he had caught. You were wearing the red bandana you had crocheted earlier, how could Caleb not have noticed you earlier? You had frozen in your spot, arms up in the air in a defeated pose. Fear was plastered all over your face, but Caleb knew he wasn’t going to hurt you. So he lowered his gun with a chuckle, seeing confusion on your face now. 

“Ain’t nothin’ to worry about, I ain’t gonna hurt you”, he said.

You didn’t speak, you just stood there, eyeing the gun carefully. Caleb put it down to his side to show you he was serious, and you seemed to relax a little. Caleb pointed towards your bandana.

“That’s neat handiwork right there, that is. Couldn’t ever hold a needle myself, but you seem to have mastered this thing.”

You looked at your captor, furrowing your eyebrow a bit. 

“T-thanks”, you eventually said, seeming to relax even more now. “It didn’t take me too long to make this one, I’m planning on making a sweater next. I only need to find more yarn somewhere.”

“Where have you found such nice, red yarn to begin with?” Caleb pondered, and you gave him a shy smile.

“I kind of stole it from the Thompson house. Found it in a drawer upstairs.”

Caleb chuckled and shook his head slightly.

“Old Max Jr ain’t gonna need that yarn for anything, you help yourself!”

You smiled, tucking a bit at your bandana. Then you pointed towards the Redeemer. 

“You made that one yourself?” 

Caleb nodded, trying not to sound like he bragged too much. 

“18 meter long chain, polished everyday. Harpoon travels at 40m/s when fired. Got a wheel right here to reel the prey back in and-”

He stopped mid sentence. What was he doing, explaining to you how he captured you and your friends and eventually killed you? But you didn’t seem bothered, in fact you seemed interested.

“Love the engravings on the handle”, you said, peeking a bit closer at the gun. “You’re really skilled at this, you know!”

Caleb felt some sort of warmth inside his chest, probably pride. 

“Always need something to work on, you know”, he said. “Gotta keep them hands busy.”

You nodded.

“I’m the same! I loved crocheting before… before all this, so finding that ball of yarn at the Thompson house was really a happy moment. I just wish I could find more yarn somewhere…”

Caleb pondered for a little while.

“Have you searched through this place thoroughly? I could have sworn I saw Anna tinkering with some yarn one time…”

Your eyes lit up with excitement.

“I haven’t searched as well as I’d like to, no. This hut, for example, has some adornments on the walls that point towards yarnwork.”

Caleb grinned at you and waved with his hand.

“Well, go on then! Go search for your ball of yarn, I’ll hold the hatch if I find it.”

You didn’t seem to need convincing, giving Caleb a grateful smile before turning around to begin searching through the hut.