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luxaofhesperides · 6 months

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ghostlights prompt with "it's okay, you're safe now" hurt/comfort?

It takes over a month to find Danny.

Thirty seven days of panic and ever growing dread, searching for him every single day. Duke hasn’t felt this way since he was in foster care, running away from whatever home he got placed in to search for his parents.

The first week was spent trying to find any trace of Danny, working on nothing but his last few messages and a voicemail he left Duke, where all he said was a whispered, Call me back when you can. I might just be paranoid, but I think someone’s following me. I’m walking home right now. I… I don’t know, I feel a little sick, Duke, I— And then static before the voicemail ends.

There hadn’t been any sign that Danny made it home. No cameras caught sight of him after he walked past a bus stop. No one around on the streets to tell him what happened.

One moment, Danny was there. The next, he was gone.

He had to recruit the rest of the Bats into searching for Danny, and his guilt of outing Danny as a meta (half ghost, as Danny called himself) was easily buried under his desperation. Duke knows the statistics. The chances of finding someone after three days drop drastically, and after enough time, it’s safe to assume they’re dead even if people keep searching.

Jason promised to interrogate some traffickers moving outside of Crime Alley, updating Duke weekly on any other kidnappings that might be related to Danny’s case. Tim had been checking around Danny’s neighborhood, slipping in and out of spaces to gather information, leaving behind cameras and bugs on the off chance the kidnappers came back to the area. Barbara hacked her way into the messages of traffickers, trying to find any mention of Danny. Even Bruce had gotten involved, looking into Danny’s background to see if there was anyone that might be connected to his disappearance.

Vlad Masters wasn’t a lead. He had no idea Danny was missing when they called, and he ended the call immediately to begin his own search.

Thirty seven days.

Duke didn’t want to lose hope, but all he could think about were the empty spaces in his life where Danny once was.

And now, on the thirty eighth day, Duke jerks awake as his cell phone rings at max volume and he scrambles to get it. He’s not risking another missed call, not after Danny disappeared.

He doesn’t have time to say anything once he accepts the call before Jason is saying, “We found him Duke. Babs is sending the location to the GPS of your motorcycle. Suit up and meet us here.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s…” Jason hesitates. “He’ll live. But these fuckers did a number on him, from what we've read in their files. We’re waiting for you and the others to get here, and then we’ll take them out while you get your boy to safety.”

“I’m on my way,” Duke says, already pulling his suit out to get changed. He hasn’t bothered to bring it to the Batcave for weeks, spending most of his time out on the streets as the Signal. It’s just easier to have it on hand than to go to the Batcave to suit up, or to leave it in the Hatch. He chucks his phone back onto his bed and is jumping out the window of his apartment just a minute later, dropping down to street level just as his motorcycle pulls up on the street.

He’ll have to remember to get Babs a gift basket or something when this is all over. It’s the least he can do after she’s helped him so much over the past month.

“Thanks, Babs,” Duke says into his comm, switching it to a private line with Oracle. She hums an acknowledgement, but otherwise doesn’t respond. Not that Duke has much in him for conversation; all his focus is on Danny, Danny, Danny.

The GPS on the motorcycle leads him to the outskirts of GCU campus, in one of the buildings that had been closed off after a fire earlier in the year that they still haven’t fixed due to the amount of mobsters who liked to pass through it, using it as a drop sight for arms deals. Red Hood leans on the chain link fence surrounding it, watching as he approaches.

Duke all but jumps off the motorcycle to reach Red Hood, barely remembering to turn on the cloaking to hide it from sight.

“Where is he?”

“Basement,” Red Hood answers, and even through the helmet, Duke can hear the tightness in his voice that means he’s doing his best to hold back his rage. “Red Robin and the Batgirls are in there, getting Oracle access to their computers. They’re going to make sure no one slips by us. I’m going to make them wish I had been kind enough to kill them, and you’re going to take your boy straight to the Batcave where the Doc is waiting with Alfred.”

It’s not much of a plan, but Duke trusts the others to do what they need to do. All he cares about is getting Danny out of there.

“Lead the way.”

They scale the fence easily, and there’s no one on the upper levels when they walk in. Not even a single camera to alert anyone to their entrance. Red Hood leads him down a stairwell, ignoring the way the shadows around them move on their own, Duke’s agitation making them twist into some dark nightmare.

He sees the flicker of light as soon as they step out into the basement hallway. All the light bulbs above their head are broken, covering the floor in sharp glass, and doors going down the hall are all left open, some barely hanging onto their hinges. The building is a wreck, graffiti decorating portions of the wall, and it looks abandoned. He would bet even mobsters avoid coming down here; it’s all sorts of health hazards.

Normally, he’d be cautious. He would sneak through the wall, sticking to the shadows and staying hidden as he went deeper in, ready for anything.

Duke hasn’t been thinking clearly in weeks. He sees the light, the soft white glow he associates with Danny, and tears after it like a man possessed.

Distantly, he hears Red Hood curse behind him, and then he’s turning the corner, feeling the familiar burn in his eyes as his powers kick in and let him see the small ball of light flickering weakly as it guides him through the basement level.

Red Robin and Batgirl’s voices fill his helmet and Duke doesn’t waste a second in muting his comm; if there’s a problem, they can work it out with Red Hood. Now that he’s so close to Danny, he’s not letting anything get in his way.

The first guy he runs into is a surprise. Clearly a scientist, judging by the lab coat and the notebook in his hands, paired with the dark circles stamped beneath his eyes. He barely has time to open his mouth, looking alarmed, before Duke slams into him, tackling him to the floor and knocking him out with a quick hit to the temple.

A vent in the ceiling falls down, and Red Robin pops out.

“They’re keeping him in the back, locked in. I’m warning you now, it’s not a pretty sight.”

“I don’t care,” Duke snaps, “I’m getting him back.”

“We’ll clear the way and keep them from stopping you,” Red Robin says.

He whips out his bo staff and sprints away, kicking in a door. Duke follows after him, ignoring the yells from the other scientists gathered in there, leaving them to Red Robin’s tender mercies.

The light leads him to a room hidden away in the lab, a small window in the door that is too dirty to see through. The door is locked, so Duke feels out the shadows around him and uses one to slip into the room.

And Danny’s there.

Danny, never without a smile, glowing and funny and so, so sweet, is lying curled up on the floor. There are shackles around his ankles, keeping him trapped in the room with the chain nailed into the wall. His wrists are bound in meta suppressant cuffs, leaving him weak and vulnerable. That’s not the worst thing.

The worst thing is the visible wounds Duke can see on him, sluggishly bleeding. There are blood stains all over the floor, cuts along his arms and thighs, clothes torn into nothing but dirty rags. There’s a large incision on his chest, going down from his collarbone to his navel, hastily stitched together in a way that only keeps it slightly closed, the stitches loose enough to be pulled out with a single pull.

As if sensing his gaze, Danny blinks his eyes open, staring at the space next to Duke. Slowly, his gaze slides over, eyes hazy with pain and exhaustion. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Duke kneels next to him, pulling off his gloves to cup Danny’s cheek as gently as he can.

“Hey,” he whispers, overcome with both grief at the pain Danny had to go through, and relief at finally finding him. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Danny doesn’t try to speak again. Instead, he closes his eyes and leans into Duke’s touch, relaxing.

“I got you honey, it’s alright. I’m gonna get you out of here and take you to some people who can patch you up.”

He slides his arms beneath Danny’s body, lifting him into his arms.

He doesn’t remember much of what happens next; it’s all a blur of movement and feeling blood slide over his hands. Later, he’ll hear the others give their report, telling of how they found Danny following the trail of a university professor bragging about a paper that would make him famous for a deeper understanding of meta biology. They’ll recount their scouting, the information they stole, how many people they fought and captured. They’ll talk about how the shadows completely overwhelmed the basement when Duke left with Danny, traveling through shadows at a speed he had never achieved before, going farther than he’s ever been able to.

Leslie and Alfred input their own medical reports of the torture done to Danny and how long he’ll need to be in recovery, checking for infection and possible side effects to his powers.

All of that will be important later.

Duke doesn’t care about anything at all when he’s finally able to return to Danny’s side once Alfred and Leslie are done patching him up. The weight that’s been on his shoulders for the past thirty seven days is gone. The sight of Danny’s blue eyes fluttering open is the most beautiful he’ll ever see.

“Hey, honey,” he says softly, holding Danny’s hand as he wakes.

Danny smiles at him. “Duke,” he whispers, “I knew you’d find me.”

“Always, honey. Always.”

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #mostly hurt not much comfort but just imagine duke cuddling danny and hand feeding him after this!!!#thank u for the prompt!! very happy to make this the first prompt fill to buff up the ghostlights tag

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devnmon · 1 year

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Cry.

Warnings: mentions of violence, attempted s/a, gore and blood, descriptions of ptsd and trauma. Do not read if these things trigger you.

word count: 3.3k

A Daryl Dixon x reader comfort/angst fic that is void of pointless plot [except for backstory] and is based off of two things:

The song Cry. by Cigarettes After Sex, and this. [all credit is given to ms. genna dixon, her work creating this audio inspired me to write this, and i hope she enjoys reading this fic as well!]

a/n: This fic has been sitting in my drafts collecting dust and I thought, with the help of madi, that it should finally be given to the fanfic world. I hope you all enjoy, and I'm sorry for whatever feelings arise from reading this. I'm also just really fucking proud of this fic and I really hope everyone enjoys.

Stepping outside, the chilled air from battering rainfall hits your skin, pouring down upon familiar streets. It's about that time of year for cold rain and harsher temperatures, before warmer ones commenced, flipping the forever rain into sunshine.

Pulled away finally from the events going on indoors, the fresh air immediately fills your chest, inhaling until you couldn't anymore. Boots creak under the wooden deck as you saunter closer to the ceaseless precipitation before you back away.

The wooden picnic table a certain archer built was the first thing you spot, up against the wall of the house. You sit, pulling the jean-covered legs in to your chest, to comfort yourself and the way you felt. The pressure of your body scrunched together was relieving for a bit, but it just wasn't working as well as you wanted it to.

Gaze focused on the gravel in the street, a hand rests across your forehead, head reliving a certain memory, one that's kept you sleeping on the couch at night, instead of in bed with your partner. One whom you shared this very house with.

In the moment, it's difficult to distinguish what's real life or imaginary, and the next thing you know, your eyes are squeezed shut to try and shake the images from your mind.

It fails, the man's face already burned into the backs of your eyelids, whether you wanted it to be, or not.

He’s glaring into you, the same way a predator takes notice of it's prey.

With a half-cocked ego and a group of men that listen to his rules, he'd been ruthless.

Your throat dries up, chin trembling with the vulnerability that painted your now shivering body in restless dread. The vile laugh he’d let out reverberated in your mind, pit in your stomach already deepening, the familiar fucking feeling returning to your chest like it was happening all over again.

Though, that could never happen, because the same man whose face had been taunting your sleep ended up on the ground with his throat bitten out by one Rick Grimes.

You owed it to him for saving your lives that night. so much so, that Daryl got more than a little jealous sometimes.

Oh yeah, Daryl.

Your Daryl.

The one you'd fallen for ever since he’d been in the camp, risking his life constantly for the benefit of your group, getting close enough to call you all his family. Especially you.

Daryl, your person, soulmate, best friend, lover, family. He was the only man you saw yourself next to in a world plagued with the dead.

He was there that night, as well. The night of the claimers.

That day the prison fell was one you spent all day and night running with Daryl and Beth to save your lives.

Out of nowhere, Beth was gone, taken in a white car with a cross on the back. You and Daryl ran in the direction the car sped off down for what felt like hours, even after the sun came up.

The powerful sprint the both of you had started off at slowed to a jog, stopping every few minutes until it turned into a walk. You continued going until your bodies downright collapsed on each other's, in the middle of a random road with no idea as to where you were. Your breath wasn't even caught yet before you heard a group of footsteps in the surrounding area.

That's when they came out of the woods and fucked everything up.

The moment they finally came into view, there was something more about the looks on their face that gave away this was premeditated. You figured after a while that they had waited and watched for you both to get worn down from running, that way you didn't have the strength to fight back, even if you wanted to. They moseyed around the both of you, creating a circle of men with no escape.

Which should have been your first sign.

For the next few days, you and Daryl rolled with this group of men that called themselves the claimers, in order to get by on the road before you found your people again. It was part of surviving, making it day to day after the prison fell, determined to find your family again. Daryl thought differently, losing hope in ever finding them, especially after Beth had gone missing.

You stayed extra close to Daryl those days, in fear of what would happen to you if one of the men caught you alone.

The timid act was only to protect yourself, a front you put up so that the men didn't actually speak to or threaten you. When you were spoken to though, you answered to avoid being ‘dropped several times over’, the groups code for being beaten either nearly, or fully to death.

One night, you wondered why there weren't any women in their group, though sooner or later you had figured out why there probably shouldn't be.

Their name is the fucking claimers, what did you expect. It's the way they claim ownership over something, or god forbid.. someone.

All they did when the men realized you two were together was laugh astonishingly loud, calling you a fair share of misogynistic names. Though, nothing changed the way they looked at you.

They didn't back off away from you, either. Only kept staring at you, when you pretended they weren't, muttering sick shit under their breath to entertain the other men.

Daryl came to your defense, threatening each of the men that even stepped too close to you. Those were the nights you were held so close to him, you could've sworn you were part of him now. In a way, you were. But it was one that Daryl wanted to keep for himself, and nobody else.

Daryl was so hell-bent on protecting you those days, he would've done anything. He came as close as starting a fight with one of the men when they wouldn't stop badgering you.

The men didn't back off until Daryl figured out the way to get all of them to leave you and him alone. It was something Joe had said about how the group works, to which Daryl himself said he wouldn't do.

Though he knew in that moment, it was the only way.

"She's claimed."

Most days, you think about what could have happened in that situation way too often. They reoccur in your nightmares, bombarding your brain every time you were finally shut your eyes at night.

Then, it echoes through your head throughout the day, during passing moments when your every being wasn't occupied with some other responsibility.

You had taken up a lot more of those recently, to keep your mind off the whole thing. You had to admit, it was wearing your body out, and the effect of your trauma didn't help at all.

Sure, you had seen every person in your group kill people before, but never the way Rick had that night.

Crimson painted across his face, practically dying his skin with its thickness. There's some on the fur of his jacket, you remember. Recalling the sheer look of terror you held, figure frozen in it's overwhelmed, cathartic state.

At this point in the world, you didn't know if living through a traumatic event as brutal as that one was worse than surviving every day after it, the whole thing reverberating in your head day in and day out.

The most horrific part of it, you think, wasn't the things they said to you days before, and it wasn't the unsettling feeling you got hearing Joe's voice.

It was the moment you hear, "Look, it's the guy who killed Lou."

One of the men in the group speaks out loud, running ahead with some of the group, while you and Daryl trail behind Joe as he catches up with them as well.

Joe had told Daryl about who Lou was a day or so ago, how some guy strangled him in a bathroom. Not curious about why he did it or who the guy was, you'd only listened to him go on about it from afar, aching pit in your stomach again.

The figures of three people camped out in the street were visible, not coming into your eyesight until you follow Daryl into the clearing.

Your eyes finally peel over to the people they've surrounded, and there was Rick and Michonne in the street, weapons aimed at them. There's a car in the road as well, one you realize Carl had been sleeping inside, one of them tapping on the passenger side window with a knife.

The way all three of them looked was terrified, but changed to disbelief when they saw you and Daryl, who pleaded for you to stay back, as he advanced towards Joe.

These people, you're gonna let 'em go. These are good people.

Daryl's words echoed in your head the moment he'd began bargaining with Joe, the nasty feeling you got earlier returning in the form of a racing heart and sweaty palms.

You want blood, I get it. Take it from me, man.

"Daryl, no.." The whisper you speak with is barely loud enough for you to hear over the shakiness of your breath. The only thing you focus on are the words Joe's saying, with the same dreaded feeling in your gut.

"This man killed our friend. You say he's good people. Now that right there, is a lie."

Rick yells out at the same time you do, as one man clocks Daryl in the gut, knocking the fucking wind out of him, another man restraining him as he gets dragged backwards.

Before you can move another foot, you hear the words, 'Teach him boys, teach him all the way.'

They were going to beat Daryl to death, and there was nothing you could do that wouldn't guarantee you wouldn't get the same beating. Backing away as the two men hauled him towards where you'd been standing, a shrill gasp left your chest, covering your mouth in surprise, tear rolling down your cheek.

It wasn't until you get to the other side of the car that you realize Carl's being taken out of it, as you stand at the rear end of the vehicle. As the man noticed you with Carl in his arms, he mutters something under his breath as he reaches for you with a gloved hand.

Feet dragging on the ground, he pulls you both into the clearing lit by the moon against the lanky trees that seemed to tower over the area.

Trying to pull the grown man off of him, you plead endlessly for him to hurt you over the boy. Before you realize he did more to push you off of him than he did to harm you, you'd been shoved to the dirt ground, next to Michonne.

Turning to the woman, your eyes locked in similar terror. These men were nothing like you'd ever met before. Any hope left inside you was washing away with each word out of Joe's mouth.

It isn't long before his cliché comes out, revealing his plan of what his men are going to do to each of you. Joe's talking into Rick's ear, but the tone of voice he used made it feel more like he was explaining to everyone about what was going to happen.

"First we're gonna beat Daryl to death, then we'll have the girls.. then the boy. Then I'm gonna shoot you.. and then we'll be square."

The only thing ringing in your ears was that fucking laugh of his.

Weak eyes pan over to the grunts coming from Daryl as he tries to fight off the two men who have been beating the life out of him for what felt like ages.

Each blow they landed on his torso, legs, face and back was like one to your own body, psyche shattering as Daryl cries out in pain.

"Let him go.."

Rick's hoarse voice speaks, gaze still on the two men beating up his best friend. It isn't until Rick repeats himself, a desperate, dry tone in his voice, that makes you rip your eyes away.

Your vision blurred for a moment before focusing your eyes on Rick again, his dilated pupils filling with rage. In one action, he jolts his head back into Joe's nose, the gun in his hand firing right by his ear.

The shot makes your stomach drop, instinctively flinching, watching him jump up from the ground and finally get a hit on him.

Though, Joe only retaliates with one, two, three blows to the sides of his torso, letting him roll around on the ground before he picks him up off of it. Rick wouldn't have been able to stand without Joe holding him, since beating the hell out of him.

"What the hell are you gonna do about it now, sport?"

You start to hear the same laugh again, before a second passes by and you realize it's stopped. The squelch of flesh rings out, and you realize what Rick's done.

You look up to see his face, drenched in the man's blood, spitting whatever he bit into out of his mouth. The moment settles and he's dropping him to the ground. Then, he goes for the man on top of his son. It isn't long until Rick's brutally stabbing him in the neck over and over, retaliation for hurting his people.

A few more shots fire out as you look over to Michonne taking down the man in front of her and one of the ones on Daryl, before he's punching the other one in the jaw and running to you, pleading to himself that they hadn't done anything to hurt you.

Before you know it, the archer's arms are wrapped around your body, bracing your back, one of his hands caressing the back of your head as well. It isn't until you pull back from his embrace to see the aftermath of being beat on that you break out into tears, his beautiful face bloody and bruised.

"Oh, Daryl.. your face.." your voice breaks on the last word, palms of his hands cupping your face softly, eyes shifting over your face to look for any blood or cuts. A hand wraps around his forearm as his hands cup your face, shushing you quietly.

Michonne holds her arms around Carl's head, and before you know it, Daryl's holding you the same way, one hand rubbing up and down your back.

Though your thoughts run ramped, you take a deep breath, slowly exhaling as the cool air in your lungs calms you the slightest bit.

You've been outside for a while now, long enough to have gotten caught in that traumatic memory. Being in your head for so long blinds you from the fact that Daryl's standing in front of you on the porch now.

Head still dropped, you see the boots he always wears a few feet away from where you were.

"Hey," his gruff voice calls out, your eyes slowly lifting to him, not getting farther than a glance to the side. He can immediately see the state you're in, pupils dilated and glossy from tears leaking down your face.

Eyes glancing back down, not daring to make eye contact, you aren't aware of where the archer is, focusing on the wood porch again.

You know Daryl's seen you like this before, but you only shy away because the event was too overwhelming.

“You alright?” he asks, the low drawl of his voice the first words you’ve heard in a while except for the sound of rain. He’s been sitting by your side, and you haven’t said a word.

Trying to speak, the lump at your throat prevents you from doing so, tongue choking back all the intrusive thoughts that tortured your mind. Your voice breaks in any attempt you had, stopping yourself.

Daryl sees your hesitation, reading your highly unstable state like a book. He scoots closer, more so now that you can feel the heat of his body pursue yours.

“Tell me the truth.” he whispers, his hand rubbing up and down your back, comforting amongst remembering the pain. His touch slows your heart rate and brings you out of your overwhelming head for a moment. The hand on your back is warm, spreading the heat around your entire body.

“I-I can’t..” You choke back the first tears attempting to escape your eyes, trying again to build up the wall that Daryl has so beautifully destroyed, all while he was falling in love with you.

“It’s okay.” He sighs, opening his arms wide to you.

You look to him, another tear falling down your cheek, his thumb swiping it away before your eyes meet his.

“Is it? It doesn't fucking feel like it..” Your nose sniffles as you ask, and when he nods, it’s the most reassuring feeling in the world when he does.

Knowing that everything you're thinking now wont matter one day, grounds you to Earth again. It pulls you from your thoughts, and you try to focus on the man in front of you, wanting to cry into his shoulder as much as you wanted to pepper his face with kisses.

“Come here.” He beckons you towards his body, the warmth of his chest radiating off of him. You climb into his lap, arms wrapping around his neck. Your breath hitches against his chest, and he feels it too, the final push of your walls breaking down around him.

For the first time, you feel free. You feel seen, and you feel loved.

“I know.” He can't fathom the thoughts running through your head, nor what he could do to make sure you never felt this way again.

Daryl has his fair share of trauma from his life experiences before he met you, but after what you've experienced on this constant road together, you find yourselves closer than ever. You and Daryl are both connected through this, intensely and irrevocably.

“Daryl, please dont leave.” You sniffle again, trying to hide the fact that your resolve is breaking and the desire to hide how you really feel diminishes like the crush of an egg shell. It's now that you realize you can’t hide it from him anymore.

“I'm right here.” It’s then your resolve breaks, a muffled sob escaping you as tears drench the cloth of his dark shirt. Your quivering voice fill his ears, one sob after another, making it difficult to breathe at how much you're hyperventilating. Your hands grip at his clothing, palms turning white with how hard you squeeze, nails pressing into your skin to feel something again. Something other than this.

In a moment, Daryl’s touch soothes you in a way you never knew was possible. Nothing else mattered in this moment, other than him being there to comfort you.

All the love and care you had for him were a couple of the reasons your walls that had once been built up began to crack.

“Yeah?” you choke back another sob, and his soft blue eyes meet yours. They're like a deep sea, and with the first glance, you're lost in them all over again. Each time you get caught in his eyes, it's like you're diving into his deep blues like a bottomless pool.

“Yeah.” his hand caresses your cheek softly, palm warm to your touch still, after being in the cold rain.

“Always.” he starts to wipe the tears from your face and you know in that moment he sees you as you truly are. A smile comes easier after a moment of letting yourself feel everything you'd been holding back for what felt like weeks.

“I love you.” He presses a kiss to your hair and you look up at him.

“I love you, Daryl.” Your lips press to his in a delicate kiss, the softness lingering even after you pull away.

“I’ll be here as long as ya need.” Pushing up against his body, the weight of yours lies against him as the rain continued to pour.

a/n: likes + reblogs are appreciated!! it lets me know how much everyone enjoys my writing & sharing to others is a generous thing to do. check out my masterlist

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sweetsweetjellybean · 11 months

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If Tomorrow Never Comes | Part 2 | Never Alone

Summary: Trapped in the Upside Down, Steve is prepared to die alone until he finds you hurt and in need of help. Doing your best to survive while the world catches fire, is there time for one more chapter in your story?

Inspired By: As the world burns by @myeuphoricmindset

TW: FemReader, Smut, Mentions of death, mild violence No Minors 18+ Series Masterlist WC:7607

Even though there is no sun, the light here does change. The black veil of night lifts, leaving the world awash in a pale blue half-light. The sun stays forever banished just below the horizon. Steve doesn't see it change this morning. Thick velvet drapes hung with brass rings cover every window of the cottage, keeping out the Upside-Down. His internal clock wakes him, and for the first time in a long time, it's without the heavy dread, without the emptiness. Instead, he wakes with the soft warmth of you gathered in his arms, with hope blossoming. His eyes trace the delicate slope of your peaceful features, committing them to memory. Goddam, you're pretty. He keeps still, letting the soft puffs of your breath fan over his neck, limbs still woven together as tightly as threads on a loom. Holding you like this, maybe it can be enough. These fleeting moments could be enough to get him through each day. Whatever else happens, he could have this. His lips brush your forehead as his eyes blink closed, and he lets himself drift.

Standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the chipped cast iron kitchen sink, you’ve been brushing your teeth for at least five minutes. Sounds of pleasure escape as the minty foam bubbles inside your mouth. Taking a small sip from the canteen, you swish and spit before running your tongue over your lips. Steve chuckles next to you, taking the canteen and doing the same.

“You really like brushing your teeth,” he teases.

“I will not apologize for good hygiene,” you counter, “Would you like to kiss someone with bad breath?”

“Definitely not.” He sets down his toothbrush and steps closer, tongue poking the inside of his lip as he crowds you against the counter. “It’s good to know that won’t be a problem for us going forward.”

Heat creeps up your neck until it settles into your cheeks. Something has changed with him overnight, like a decision has been made.

“You’ve got a little…” Picking up a knitted dish towel from next to the sink, you dab the toothpaste from the corner of his mouth. His hand covers yours, and your heart beats wildly in your chest. He’s got you off-kilter. You’ve never craved attention until you had a taste of his. A few looks, and you're drunk with it.

He turns your hand over and looks down at the towel with a frown. “Why is everything in this house knitted?”

Your smile widens. “I’m not sure.” Pulling your hand away, you fold the towel and place it back on the worn butcher block countertop next to the stacks of kitchen linens and trivets, all knitted in bright-colored yarn. Copper pots and shelves stacked with dishes and crockery line the ivory-painted walls of the rustic kitchen. The well-used avocado green appliances look at least twenty years old, and cozies knitted to look like potted plants cover the kettle and toaster.

“Do you know who lives here?” you ask, eyeing the table set for two with matching knit placemats and napkins, “I mean, on the other side.”

“No idea.” He leans against the counter, eyes roaming around the room. “Maybe there are some family photos around somewhere. Come on.”

His hand is on the small of your back as you follow the hand-tied rug down the hall to the living room, where folded homemade afghans lie over the backs of the two armchairs and a comfortable-looking sofa arranged around the stone fireplace. The mantel is crowded with a collection of framed photos filled with happy faces.

“I like it here.” Taking a seat on the couch, you imagine curling up with a book and enjoying the warmth of a fire.

“Yeah?” He stands at the mantle, squinting at the pictures, “I do, too,” he says absently as he plucks one of the frames from its spot. "Do you want to stay for a while?"

“Is it safe?” You ask as he sits down beside you, clutching the frame, his side pressing into yours. So far, you haven’t slept in the same house twice. Steve preferred to keep on the move, feeling you were most vulnerable at night.

“This place seems pretty solid, and it’s close to the water. I think it’s as safe as anywhere at this point.”

“Then I’d like to stay.”

It feels like you're building a bubble. A place for only the two of you where you could forget about the reaper that's getting closer to knocking at your door. Even if it’s all an illusion, you’re happy to pretend if he’s with you.

“I do know who lives here.” He hands you the frame containing a photo of an older couple posed in front of the cottage, the man's arm wrapped around the woman's shoulder. Instead of looking at the camera, their faces are turned to each other. “This is Mrs. Willard,” he says, tapping the glass, “When I was kid, she used to yell at us if she saw us hanging around downtown. She scared the hell out of me. She's always dressed in black, so all the kids call her a witch. If she caught me, I thought she would eat me like in Red Riding Hood.”

“I think that was Hansel and Grettle.” Tucking your leg underneath your body, you turn into him, setting the frame on your lap. “Red Riding Hood got eaten by the wolf.”

His brows pull together. “I thought it was all the same story."

Laughing, you shake your head in response.

"Anyway," he begins again, pretending to be irritated with your interruption, "My mom told me that her husband died, and she dresses like that because she’s in mourning."

"How long ago did he die?"

"Well, the first time she yelled at me, I was probably about five, looking at the candy in Melvald’s. She told me all my teeth were going to rot and fall out of my head. So he probably died sometime before I was born."

"And she still wears black?" you ask with wide eyes.

He nods. "She still yells at kids too."

Your lips stretch into a grin, and your shoulders rise as you release a sigh.

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"What?"

"I know that look," he says, shaking his head, "You think it's romantic."

"It is!" Your fingers wrap around his forearm.

"It's depressing," he says, laughing at you.

"No. Imagine loving someone so much that even once they're gone, you think about them all the time. A love you can never get over," you explain, squeezing his arm. "That is romantic."

Shaking his head, he glances down at where you're touching him. "I like the way you look at things," he tells you, taking your hand and slipping his fingers into the spaces between yours. “If we're going to stay, we should go into town and get enough food to last us a few days."

"Alright," you say, admiring the way you fit together. Knowing you'll follow him anywhere as long as he keeps holding your hand.

The walk takes longer than expected. Parts of the asphalt have cracked and given way into deep sinkholes that stretch across entire streets, causing you to backtrack and change routes more than once.

"I think we better take everything we can carry," he says as he ties the red bandanna covering his mouth and nose. "We might not be able to come back." The smell of rotten food is wafting through the shattered glass doors of Bradley’s Big Buy. Unprepared on your first visit, Steve threw a brick through the glass, and the stench left you both gagging.

"I'm ready." Your fingers smooth out the cloth covering your face before you follow him through the shattered door. He makes a quick pass across the store, checking down every aisle to make sure you're the only ones in here. After getting the all-clear, you walk to the opposite end of the store, moving up and down the aisles filling your backpack and duffle with anything you deem as a necessity. It's a cruel kind of race to see which will last the longest – your food or the Upside-Down.

Pushing a few cans around on the shelf, you search for the ones that haven't gotten puffy. The zipper on your duffle will never close, but you slip another can of SpaghettiOs in any way, knowing that Steve likes them. Your arms already ache with the thought of carrying all this back to the cottage.

"I'm done," you call out, lugging your bags to the front of the store, where you leave them to search for Steve. Typically much quicker, he's usually by the door tapping his foot, impatient for you to finish. Today you find him between the moldy bread and crackers, boxes of open Twinkies strewn all over the floor, and loaded bags at his feet.

"What are you doing?" You ask, catching him frowning down at the open box in his hands, its contents a putrid green.

"These things are supposed to last forever," he grumbles, tossing the box over his shoulder and reaching for another.

"You don't even like Twinkies, Steve," you point out, amused by the intensity of his search.

He throws another box on the floor and stops with his hands on his hips, looking at you. "Yeah, but you do."

He's trying. The muscle in the center of your chest swells, pushing against your rib cage, feeling too big for such a small space as its rhythm changes like a record skipping to a new song. Your feet carry you towards him without your permission, a sudden shift catching you in the pull of his gravity. Your I'll Never list has just shortened by one–you have definitely lost your head for this boy.

"It's the last box." He picks it up from the otherwise empty shelf, turning it over in his hands before his gaze shifts to you. "I've got a good feeling about this one." His fingers slide beneath the edge of the cardboard breaking the glue. Opening the box, he thumbs threw the cellophane

packets with a sour look. Finally stopping when a devastating smile takes over his handsome face.

He pulls out a single package, letting the box with the rest fall to the floor. Holding up the pristine cakes proudly, he quirks his eyebrows at you, looking just as smug as when you laid eyes on his other package yesterday in the cave.

"Remind me never to bet against you, Harrington," you say, returning his smile.

He answers with a wink, tucking them away into the breast pocket of his vest. "We'll save these for later."

Later is a decadent concept when it may never come, but delaying will make it taste even sweeter. Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips, and his eyes linger there. He must know that, too.

“We should go.”

“Alright.” He retrieves his bags and accompanies you to the front of the store, where he waits for you to adjust the full backpack on your shoulders. The large glass windows begin to rattle in their frames, and a vibration runs under your feet.

“Shit.” Steve drops his duffle and reaches out to grab your shoulder as sounds of jars smashing and cans falling off the shelves fill the store. The tremor intensifies, sending you careening forward, falling against him. The weight in your pack adds to the force knocking you both to the ground. When you land on top of him the air is driven from your lungs. Strong arms wrap around you, holding you to his chest. One of the big grocery shelves tips over, starting a domino effect. A crack appears on the ground, widening as it lengthens, running straight toward you. Steve rolls you both away as it shoots past, leaving him on top. Then, as quickly as it started, it ends, everything goes still and quiet.

“Are you okay?” He asks a bit too loud, considering your face is inches from his. Sucking in panicked breaths, you manage to nod. He rolls off you onto his back and scrubs his face with both hands. “That was intense. The quakes are getting worse,” he says, trying to regulate his own breathing as the adrenaline leaves him.

“I think I’ve had enough shopping for one day,” you quip.

“Me too,” he chuckles beside you. “Let’s get out of here.”

The street outside Bradley's didn’t fare any better than inside the store. The fissure that started inside zig zags across the road leaving the building across the street torn in two, collapsing into a deep chasm. A look shared between you is easy to interrupt–you were lucky.

The destruction means you can’t travel the same route you used to get there, taking you further into a section of town that was already crumbling. Smoke filling the air from the nearby fire mixes with the low-lying mist that is a permanent resident here, making it harder to see more than a few meters ahead. You're shifting your duffle from one arm to the other when Steve's arm shoots out across your body, halting you in your tracks. With his other hand, he brings his index finger to his lips, then points ahead of you.

Three full-grown Demodogs are becoming visible through the fog, their attention drawn to something squirming between them. Their horrible petal mouths are open, jaws snapping and tearing at the whining creature they're feeding from. Steve hands you his duffle and reaches over his shoulder for the spiked bat sticking out of his pack. He points at an alleyway up ahead and motions for you to follow. Your eyes widen, and you shake your head no, tilting your head back in the direction you came. No, he mouths, pointing at the alley, Trust me. But your gaze moves back to the monsters, the wet squelching of their mouths louder in your ears. He steps in front of you, one hand cupping your jaw, tilting your chin towards him. Trust me, he mouths again. This time you nod, comforted by the deep hazel of his eyes.

A small smile is your confirmation. The warmth of his hand leaves your face as he turns away from you and takes a few steps toward the alley, looking over his shoulder to make sure you're following. Ice water has replaced your blood, your heart pumps overtime sending it through your veins, making each step forward a struggle. There's a voice screaming for you to turn around and run, but you trust Steve, so you follow.

Their growls and chitters drown out the sound of your footfalls as you approach the mouth of the alley. As you round the corner, you catch a glimpse of what they're eating. Fear rushes over you in a dark, suffocating wave, the slick gray spotted body of another dog torn open, washed in its own blood. Your hands start to shake, and nausea sets in. The fog seems to permeate your mind. Every line of thought frays at the ends, leaving the one terrible inescapable truth repeating.

This is the end. This is the end. This is the end.

The ashen color that replaced the glow on your skin is one that Steve is familiar with, along with the blank look and the awkward movements of your steps. You’re going into shock. He had seen it happen enough with the others to recognize the signs. He grips your arm above your elbow and steers you down the alley, needing to get you away in case your feet stop cooperating altogether.

After crossing a few more streets, the smoke starts to thin. There is less damage to this section of town. The rasp that accompanies your breaths is making him nervous. He pries his duffle from your grip, slinging it over his shoulder so he can wrap his arm around your waist, drawing you closer.

“You're okay,” he soothes, “We’re both alright. I’ll get you out of here—just breathe through your nose. Pull down your bandana.”

Relief floods him when you reach up with one hand and yank it off your face. “Good girl. Keep breathing nice and steady. I’m right here with you,” he says, hurrying you along. The streets have become residential, and he directs you through a maze of neighborhoods and backyards, recognizing spots where he played as a child. No, not here. This isn’t home, he thinks, spotting the collection of cracked and broken garden gnomes on Mr. Larson’s front lawn. It’s a nightmare, a cheap knock-off, and as he looks toward the horizon, he realizes nothing could ever replace the real Indiana sky.

The outlines of the angry storm clouds are still evident even as the dim light fades into the velvet of night, but the flashes of red have been replaced by a smooth, rolling emerald light mixing with pinks and violets—an aurora caused by the gasses being released as the atmosphere cracks. Dustin. That little shit. He was right. It’s happening just as he had warned Steve it would. He wishes he could tell him.

He glances at you and sees your eyes fixed on the display above, your breathing faltering. Pulling you against him a little tighter, he quickens his pace.

"No, Steve. Stop," you say, planting your feet, "Just stop."

Your voice startles him. It feels like he hasn't heard it for so long. He lets you pull away and watches as you drop your duffle to the ground.

"Didn’t you see? They were eating each other?" Standing in the near darkness, you rub the ache from your arm.

"I know," he says in a calm voice.

"You know what that means.” The look on your face is one of resignment.

“Don't think about that right now, okay?” He steps closer, wanting to touch you, but runs a hand through his hair instead. “We need to get back to the cottage. We'll be safe there.”

“Safe?”

“I can protect you there.” He gestures in the direction of the woods. The little house is not far now. The disbelief in your voice is making him feel out of control. You’ve never doubted him, and he needs your faith now more than ever. “I'll close the shutters, and we'll move some furniture in front of the doors.”

“Steve,” your tone is feather-light, both hands land on his chest, one smoothing to his shoulder, “There are some things I want you to know-”

“No,” he cuts you off, pushing at your hands with no real force.

Circling his neck, you pull his head down until his forehead is pressed against yours. “You’ve been so brave and strong. I’m so grateful.”

"Stop. Don't talk like that." He straightens up and cups your jaw tilting you back to look into your eyes.

“You deserve to kn-”

“No, not yet. This isn’t the end. It can’t be.” He came to this place ready to die, but you made him take the risk and keep living. He’s not ready to give up and won’t let you either. “I need more time. I'm just figuring it out.”

“What is it?” you ask, gripping his wrist, “What are you figuring out?” The thick cover of clouds has thinned, no match for the colors dancing all around you. He can see their brightness gleaming in your eyes.

“That you're all I need.”

It's not a choice anymore when his lips press against yours. It's just something that is, like the rain or a season. It comes whether it's beckoned or not. He feels a little foolish that he was ever unsure when you kiss him back like you've been his from the start. Always so busy trying to be the hero he almost missed it when someone saved him in return.

Fingers wandering along your jaw, he swallows your sighs and your air, your want until he feels your hands wrapping around his waist, pulling him close, then he gives it right back. The world around you passes in a blur while tongues and swollen lips move languid and deep. This is where he lives now, in this kiss. All along, you've been his reward, and now that he's claimed you, he won't ever let go. He would've stayed here forever until your soft whisper between a series of broken-up kisses.

"Steve, take me home."

The cottage is quiet until you hear the first bang of the shutters being closed, followed by the slide of the bolt. After leaving the bags of food in the kitchen, you stand in the living room wiping your palms on the front of your jeans, counting each strike of the wood against the walls as Steve moves around the outside of the house, knowing that each one is bringing him closer to coming through the front door. Your fingers touch your kiss-stung lips, still feeling how his mouth pressed against yours, creating a loop of electricity, passing from him into you, making your heart glow like a bulb, lighting up every secret place inside you until you had nowhere left to hide the truth. You've completely fallen for him.

He walks inside, his eyes seeking out yours. A lock of hair falls over his brow as his lips turn upward, and he reaches for you. A hand on your waist, the other gripping your chin tilting your face to catch your bottom lip between his.

"Help me move this." He kisses you once more before motioning you to the other end of the heavy oak credenza. It scrapes and catches against the wood-planked floor, but you manage to wedge it up against the door.

The tension feels thicker than the fog rolling over the dry lake bed when you're finally closed in together. His flashlight clicks on, casting a dim beam in the direction of the bedroom. Eyes on each other, you wait to see who will be the first to crack—it's you. Taking his hand with a gentle pull, you lead him down the hall. The uneven floor creaks as you shuffle into the bedroom, letting go of his hand, you stop at the foot of the bed and wait. It's his turn now.

Your fingers fist the cuffs of your sweatshirt while he goes about his routine. Flashlight on top of the dresser. Bat leaning by the door. Knife and Barretta on the nightstand, and then his heavy backpack hits the floor, followed by his jacket and vest. He sneaks glances at you the entire time, checking for signs that you’ve changed your mind, but you’ve never been more sure.

“You left the flashlight on,” you remind him when he moves into your space. He has been like that since you met, always standing a little too close. This whole wide world all to yourselves, and he was never more than a few inches away.

“I want to see you,” he admits. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," comes out breathy as his thumb traces across your cheek. Remembering the way the water dripped down his chest in the cave has you hoping the batteries will last.

His head dips to capture your lips in a slow wet slide while his hands cradle your jaw, angling your head to take the kiss deeper. Dreamy minutes tick by, his attention never leaving your mouth. His controlled pace makes you feel needy and wanton. When you feel the sharp edge of his teeth against your lip, you know you aren't alone. Hands slide down your nape, across your shoulders, skimming down your sides. Fingers coming to rest in the hem of your sweatshirt.

"Can I take this off?"

You're so lightheaded it takes seconds to respond. Nodding your head and raising your arms toward the beamed ceiling. His hands grip the layers of material, riding you of them all at once instead of one at a time. The gold in his eyes turns molten as they pass over every curve and line he's uncovered. His knuckles turn white, fisting your shirt, and how he looks at you makes your knees a bit weak. Pulling your clothes from his hands, you let them fall to the floor.

"You're so goddamn pretty," he says, barely louder than a whisper.

"I know," you tease, earning you an easy smile and his hands on your waist, drawing you close. His head drops to your neck, chuckling against your skin, making your whole body break out in shivers.

"You're funny." His lips move on your skin before placing a wet kiss on a spot that has your toes curling inside your boots. "There were a couple of times I had to try really hard not to laugh.”

“I-I knew…you were holding out on me, Harrington,” you stammer as he moves to the spot below it.

“I wanted you to keep trying,” he says, adding gentle suction.

Whatever you were going to say comes out in a whine, but it was probably something like, please don't stop. He continues down to your collarbone, hands stroking up your back, releasing the catch on your bra. Letting the strap fall down your shoulders, you pull it out from between you as his mouth reaches the swell of your breast. Warm hands cup you as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue, the sensation shooting straight to your core.

“Steve,” you beg when he switches to the other side, not knowing if you want him to stop or give you more. Tugging him up by the collar, you crash your lips into his, but he slows you down with the backs of his fingers along your cheeks and a kiss so gentle it makes you want to cry. He walks you backward until your butt hits the mattress, and he leans forward, laying you down carefully until you're leaning on your elbows. With another soft press of his mouth, Steve straightens and sighs, looking down at you spread out for him.

“I would never have stopped,” you say when he lifts your foot and presses it against his thigh to loosen your laces. He swallows hard, nodding in understanding before he goes back to removing your boots and socks. This feels so different. He's making it different, taking care of every part of you like he wants it all.

Your fingers find their way into the gaps of the knitted afghan you're lying on while you watch him take off his boots and shirt. A dark patch of hair starts at the center of his chest and fans out. Even in this dark place, his skin looks golden. This is really happening. A flutter of nerves mixes with tingles of arousal.

His knee hits the edge of the bed, and you inch back toward the center as he crawls over you, settling into the cradle of your thighs. Skin finally meeting skin, you each release identical sighs.

"I should have kissed you when we were in the cave," he says, lips ghosting a path along your cheek.

"It's okay." Your eyes are heavy-lidded as you run your hands over the dips in his spine, enjoying the feel of him. "You're kissing me now."

"I should have kissed you every day." He places a kiss on the corner of your mouth before pulling back and smoothing the hair at your temples. "I'm sorry I wasted so much time."

"Steve," you cradle his jaw, "You were worth the wait." Your whole life, you've been waiting for him, and the way he's kissing you now, you'd have waited even longer. Every kiss is a poem—pretty words printed on lips and tongues. Every touch is a story all its own.

He toys with the button on your jeans. Your zipper being lowered sounds like a needle dragging across a record. Moving onto his knees, he drags the denim down your legs, kissing each hip and your soaked panty-covered center before removing those too.

Kneeling to join him, your mouth finds the sharp line of his stubbled jaw. He groans, head tipping back, giving you better access to place soft, gentle bites along the column of his throat while your hands open his belt and pants. When you look down, the broad head of his cock is already pushing through the band of his boxers. Grabbing both layers, you ease them off his hips. He helps by pushing them the rest of the way down his legs, sending them to the floor with a kick.

Bared to each other in the yellow glow of the flashlight, you can feel the pages flipping by. Time is a luxury, but you won’t rush to the end. Laying down beside each other, you explore everything you've uncovered. In this moment, he’s yours. It feels decadent to touch him—a layer of softness over lean muscle. You’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.

His hands slide over you, warming your skin, molding to each curve. Every inch of you is admired. When his fingers move between your legs, your vision gets hazy, stars bursting at the edges. He spreads slickness through your folds while his lips stay pressed against yours. The warm blanket of pleasure becomes hotter, heavier—you grip his forearm with a shaking hand.

“Don’t be scared,” he says against your lips, “Tonight is for us.”

“I’m not scared,” you reply, pulling him closer, you can’t think of any place safer than in his arms.

“Why are you trembling?” He asks, brows pulling together.

“Because I’ve never wanted anything this much.”

Your legs fall open as he positions himself between them, lining up with your entrance. No doubts that you both are ready. He's slow and gentle with his first push inside you. Your body stretches and takes, then stretches and takes some more. He's about halfway when you can't help but clench around him, and he thrusts forward with a moan. Your back arches involuntarily, feeling fuller than you've ever been before.

"Sorry." He nudges you with his nose.

"Don't apologize." You kiss wherever you can reach. "Do it again."

He chuckles, and his hips flex enough to have your breath catching, still getting used to his size.

"You feel so good." His eyes briefly close as your walls flutter around him, and he begins to move in slow, shallow strokes. "Like you're made for me, honey."

You're starting to think maybe you were. Maybe you were made for each other. He drops to his forearms, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, bringing his mouth back to yours. His hand slides over your hip and down your thigh, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist so can bury himself deeper. He rocks into you with a steady pace, gazes locked, trading sighs, impossible to be any closer. The ache in your heart swells, spreading through you. A tear spills over your lash line, it's too much for you to contain.

"I love you," you whisper as he wipes it with his thumb. "I thought you should know."

His movements still. He stares down at you and swallows hard, trying to loosen the tightness in his throat. "Tell me again."

"I love you."

Taking your hand, he holds it against the center of his chest. His heart beats against your palm. He's been telling you this whole time. He smiles, and it feels brighter than the sun. Your hand stays pressed against the warm skin over his heart as his head dips, sealing his soft lips to yours.

His kiss is filled with words left unsaid and unrestrained desire. Your hips roll involuntarily, desperate for friction as you whimper into his mouth. He breaks away with a scrape of teeth and hungry eyes.

"I need you," he mumbles, lifting your hips to change the angle. His hand grips the back of your thigh, pushing it toward your chest, using it as leverage as he drives into you with smooth deep rolling thrusts. Jolts of white-hot pleasure bloom from your core and radiate to every cell when he finds that switch inside you. The one that has you crying out. The one that didn’t exist before him. You’re not surprised. He’s good at everything he does.

“That’s it, honey. I want to hear all those pretty noises.” His fingers tighten, pressing into the plush of your thigh as his hips snap forward. The smacks of skin on skin become the baseline for your harmony of moans and pleas. Your heels dig into his backside as your hips rise to meet his thrusts. The chill in the room does nothing to calm the heat between you or the sheen of sweat covering your bodies.

"Steve...I–"

Threads of love and pleasure weave together until they're a single silken cord pulling taunt inside you. He releases your thigh, working his hand between you, his thumb circling your slick clit.

"Please, baby. I want to feel you cum."

The rasp in his voice. The desperate look on his face. You're his, and there's nothing you'd deny him. The cord snaps with you crying out his name, pulsing around him, fingers digging into the muscles that cap his shoulders. Euphoria crests in big surges that go on and on as he thrusts lose their tempo. He groans as warmth starts to fill you, painting your walls white with his release.

He eases onto you, and you take his weight cradling him to your chest.

"I love you. I love you. I love you," you whisper, maybe too low for him to hear, your hands smooth over his back while your legs wrap tightly around him. He kisses along your temple before taking your face in his hands.

"I don't regret a single decision that led me to you."

For an instant, you live a lifetime that could have been in each other's eyes. Then his head lowers, and your eyes close. Tender kisses turn hot, and he’s hard inside you. Distant howls echo through the dead trees while strange winds rattle the shutter of the cottage, but both go unnoticed as you claim the night as yours. Each time he has you, the need for each other only grows. After your bodies have given each other everything there is to give, sleep steals you away a few hours before the light changes.

He's still holding you when the vibrations send the bedside lamp crashing to the floor. Wisps of smoke curl in the air when you wake up in the hazy room with a burning throat and begin coughing. Steve grabs your arm and pulls you from the bed. He braces one arm against the door frame and holds you against his chest with the other. The tremors increase. The sounds of falling things and breaking dishes mix with the rumbling of the earth. A crack forms at the bottom of the far wall and runs diagonally toward the ceiling. A scream rips from your dry throat when the window explodes into a shower of glass, and smoke pours into the room.

“We’ve gotta get out now,” Steve yells when the quake abruptly stops. “Get dressed and grab what you can.”

Grabbing your crumpled jeans from the floor, you slide them over your hips and shove your feet into your boots. Your sweatshirt sticks out from under the bed, and when you kneel to grab it, the black metal handle of the Baretta catches your eye. Steve has finished dressing and is grabbing his pack and bat when you finish pulling the sweatshirt over your head.

“Come on,” he says, holding out his hand for you to take. He leads you into the living room, where half the ceiling has collapsed, spoiling any chance of you moving the heavy credenza that blocks the front door.

“The window,” you cry, backtracking into the bedroom with Steve right behind you. He lifts you through the broken frame but is left with no choice other than to grip the window frame to climb out. Jagged glass slicing his hand in the process.

“Your hand.” Your fingers circle his wrist, trying to assess the damage.

“It’s alright,” he says, pulling a bandana from his pocket and squeezing it into his fist,“We have to go.” His injured hand goes around your shoulder, turning you away from the cottage. Blood flows through the gaps of his fingers, dripping onto your sweatshirt as he keeps you tucked into his side.

The dense, acrid smoke makes finding your way through the trees hard. Smoldering twigs and vines rain down all around you, igniting piles of dry leaves on the forest floor. Your mouth opens with a gasp when your eyes turn skyward to see the treetops blazing and the billows of rolling red and orange flames that have replaced the dark clouds, completely consuming the atmosphere. The smoke thins as you make it out of the woods and into the open center of the dry lake.

Hot tears pour from your eyes, leaving streaks of soot down your face, and you can't stop coughing, trying to clear your distressed lungs. The quarter-full canteen from Steve’s pack is pressed into your hands.

“Drink it,” he rasps, coughing and spitting the black from his lungs.

Twisting the top, you gulp it, careful to drink only half. He shakes his head when you hold it out to him, but you take his hand and wrap it around the bottle, not giving him a choice. With an annoyed look, he finishes the water.

“What do we do?” you ask, panicked, watching his head turn back and forth, trying to decide the best course of action. The smoke and fog make it hard to see more than fifty feet in any direction. He looks down at your alarmed face, the sorrow in his eyes giving you his answer.

No. It can't be over. Pressing the heels of your hands to your forehead, you wrack your brain for any answer.

"The cave," you grasp his arms, pleading.

"Is it deep enough?" He asks, the doubt written on his face.

"I-I don't know." You shake your head with fresh tears filling your eyes.

His face hardens in determination. "Let's go."

Hands locked together, you race through the tangle of vines covering the limestone bed toward the other side of the lake, where the cave is tucked into the side of a hill just beyond the edge of the woods. Glancing back over your shoulder, you can see a wall of flames has crashed like a wave engulfing the houses and the little cottage cutting you off from the way back to town. The smoke thickens as the wind picks up, shortening your field of vision and slowing you down.

"Almost there," Steve reassures as you do your best to keep up with his long strides.

You doubt your ears when you first hear it, thinking it's just a tree snapping and the roar of the fire. It's the high pitch chittering that has terror creeping up your spine. Its outline becomes visible through the smoke. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Petal mouth in full bloom. Your body freezes in place. Your grip on Steve’s hand tightens like a vice.

“Stay behind me,” he tells you, shaking his hand from your clasp as the monster comes into full view. It limps forward, smoke rising from charred skin covering half its body, its damaged clawed limb hanging loosely at its side—sticky strings of saliva drip from its rows of teeth.

Steve waves a hand behind him, motioning for you to stay back while he steps forward with caution. He plants his feet, twirling the bat before catching it with his other hand, holding it up high over his shoulder. His fingers open and close around the handle to adjust his grip. A low growl vibrates the flaps of its open mouth as the thing keeps moving forward.

“We don’t have to do this,” Steve says in a low, calm voice, “You’re already hurt. Just let us walk on by.”

You’re astonished when the monster stops, like maybe it understood him, and for a heartbeat, you think it may have listened.

It charges forward with a deafening roar, claw swiping at Steve's head. Missing when Steve drops into a low batter’s crouch, swinging his bat and connecting with the burned half of its abdomen. It shrieks when the nails tear through its flesh. Black blood pouring from the wound. Steve gives it no time to recover. Hitting it again and again, driving the thing back. It howls, disappearing into the smoke.

Your pulse is drumming in your ears as everything goes quiet. Steve stands there, elbow up, ready to swing. Trees pop and crackle as the fire spreads through the woods. Your eyes strain, trying to see into the smoke, but there's nothing. Adrenaline starts to dissipate, and Steve's arm comes down slowly. He glances over his shoulder, giving you a smug smile, and you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

It pounces from the fog, screeching. Backhanding Steve, sending him flying. He hits the ground hard, rolling, trying to get to his feet, but the monster is already too close, on all fours, ready to strike.

"No!" you scream, drawing its attention. Reaching back, your hand closes over the grip of the Barretta tucked into your jeans. The thing looks at you, and you fire. The bullet punches through the burnt skin of its shoulder. With an ear-splitting scream, it gallops toward you. Your finger squeezes the trigger in rapid succession. Unloading the clip. Missing more than you hit. Its claw rips through your forearm, knocking the gun from your hand. Clutching your arm, you fall backward onto your butt, trying to inch away.

It knows it has you now. Dropping to all fours, it slowly crawls over you, drooling onto your clothes. It blows its wet breath into your face as it chitters. Your stomach rolls at the stench, and your eyes flutter close as it rears back to strike.

Wetness splatters your face. The axe head is logged halfway into the back of the monster's thick neck. With a gurgle, the thing falls to its side. With your good arm and feet, you scurry backward away from it. Blood runs down the side of Steve's face from where the skin is split open on his forehead. Breathing hard, he stomps his boot onto the shoulder of the creature. There's a wet sucking sound as he pulls the axe from its neck. He grunts, bringing it down over and over until the monster's head is separated from its body.

The axe clangs when it hits the ground. Steve wipes the blood from his eyes with the back of his hands. It’s too much, you want to be brave for him, but you can’t hold back the tears.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he says in a soft voice helping you to your feet, “Don’t cry.” He wraps his blood-soaked bandana around your arm and pulls you into his chest. “You’re alright.”

Your hands wrap around his waist, dipping under his shirt so you can feel his smooth skin under your fingers while he rubs reassuring circles up and down your back as your teardrops darken the leather of his jacket.

"Aren't you glad you taught me to shoot?" you ask, sniffing into his shoulder, smiling when you feel his chest vibrating with laughter.

"I guess it came in handy after all," he says with his lips kissing along your temple.

"You saved me, Steve."

"I didn't–"

"You did."

"I didn't, but I wish I had."

"Look at me." He cradles your jaw to tip your head back, and the small motion leaves you dizzy. As you stand in each other's embrace, the haze and smoke have thickened.

“You’re beautiful.” His thumb rubs along your cheek, and you laugh, knowing you're covered with soot and gore. “You are, and you deserve to know.”

“Thank you,” you say, knowing why he’s telling you. While you fought off the monster, the blaze swept through the woods, leaving walls of fire surrounding the lake. The vines covering the bed have started to catch. Soon the flames on the ground will flare higher, joining the fiery sky. The planet will heat and explode. The two of you will become bright lights in the cosmos. Constellations. Star dust. Souls forever wandering the galaxies.

"I love you," he tells you with tears in his eyes, "I do. I love you."

"I love you too." Your throat burns with the effort to speak.

"Close your eyes."

Your eyes close as his head dips and his soft lips press against yours. His hand slides to the back of your neck and you cling to him. Trading breaths, tongues dancing.

This kiss is a thousand words.

This kiss is goodbye.

The heat is at your back and through your closed eyes the light gets brighter. His grip on you tightens before the kiss breaks and you hear him calling out your name. When you look for him, it's too bright to see, like you're staring into the sun. His hands slip as he's pulled away from you, sliding over your shoulders and arms until you're connected by just your fingertips.

"No. El." His voice comes from far away. Echoing down a tunnel. "Not without her."

"Steve," you scream as his fingers slip away. "Steve!" But you're alone with the howl of the wind and the taste of smoke in your mouth. Your hands come up to shield your face as the light gets brighter, and then there's nothing.

Part 3 Here

AN: So what do you think is in store for these two? Are they going to make it? Thanks to everyone who took the time to comment & reblog Part 1. Writing this fic has been challenging, so the comments meant a lot. But even if you're shy and don't like to comment but still took the time to read I'm still very grateful. My asks are always open, (Anon or Not) Do me a soild and reblog if you liked it. 💋 -Jelly

Another big thanks to @myeuphoricmindset for letting me adapt her concept.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction #if tomorrow never comes

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maxybabyy · 5 months

Text

They came down from the mountain yesterday.

Max leaves tomorrow, would’ve left this morning if Christian hadn’t convinced him to wait for the car that comes in the morning with a new round of supplies.

“I can of course walk to the town myself, always it will be not a problem,” he had said as they came down, the horses close behind them. Their rucksacks light on their backs, weary and tired with the signs of a hard summer.

“Nonsense, kid. Seb won’t mind giving you a ride,” Christian said with his arm around Max’s shoulders. “And I mean, with everything you’ve done for us, we best send you off right. Don’t we, Daniel?”

Daniel had barely look at Max as he laughed, agreed with whatever Christian was telling him.

His heart had felt heavy as he walked towards the chicken pen, but it was better like this. One day and Max would be gone, would be a year before he came back, if even that. Maybe he would find a real job in town, something more than the silly convenience store his dad had him working in.

“But what do you wanna do, Maxy?” Daniel had asked, the rain coming down hard around them.

A rare rainpour had taken them by surprise, and by the time Daniel had come into the tent, he had been soaked to the bone. His spare set of clothing had helped little, and it wasn’t until Max had scooted forward, movements slow but confident as he invited him into his space, into his warmth and heat, that Daniel could breathe again.

“I want, I think, to work with horses,” Max had told him, lips pressed against Daniel’s chest. They hadn’t been naked then, but they would be. Soon. “Always, I have liked the farm. But my father, it did not make enough money, and he would rather sell than make it work.”

Daniel has known nothing but farm work.

He used to dream of the big city, of the stories Scotty would tell when he came to visit, of the freedom and lack of responsibility. But he’s in his thirties now.

Christian may have kids, but none that could take over the farm, or at least not now. Not like Daniel could.

“Did something happen between you and Max?” Christian asks when he doesn’t come in for lunch. “I was going to ask him to come back next year but –“

Daniel shakes his head, “Nah, he was fine. Just, a hard run, you know? Lost a few sheep, long nights, that kind of stuff.”

“Because if something did,” Christian continues, hard set in his ways. “You can tell me.”

Daniel licks his lips, looks up from Laurie the cow, tries to look less miserable than he feels. “He can come back. Good effort for the pay, I’d say. A shame we can’t hire him full-time, he would do well around here.”

It’s Max’s second year on the mountain. He hadn’t come last year, but the year before that he did.

A lanky lad with softened hands but a better attitude than most Daniel has worked with. He spoke still with an accent, the lisp even more pronounced than it is now. Daniel hadn’t known what to do with him then; doesn’t know what to do now that he has to leave.

“He came with good recommendations,” Christian says, nods along as they walk through the pasture. “Too bad about last year, yeah? Would have saved us a lot of trouble, I reckon.”

Sergio had been alright. Fine on a horse, experienced, but in a way that hadn’t come to fruition on the mountain. Max had been the better choice, even back before they had started to –

Daniel shrugs, turns to look at the sun. It’s going to be cold soon, the wind will pick up and the leaves will fall, autumn nothing but a wink before winter will be here.

“It’s hard to know what will happen up there, can’t really prepare yourself before you’re in it,” he says. Every year is different, he knows that now.

He’s done eight summers now, and only once has he dreaded the descent.

“If you say so,” Christian says, claps him on the back and leaves. He had been with Daniel for his first two years, just enough time to show him the rope and make sure he wouldn’t have to do it again.

The sun has gone down before he comes inside. Food waits for him in the oven, but Daniel isn’t hungry. The house is quiet as he sneaks upstairs for a shower. It’s his second of the day, but it’s fine, Christian would understand.

He scrubs himself raw, a never-ending itching underneath skin that doesn’t stop; worsens when he thinks of tomorrow – of Max. He misses the cold water of the creek, the two of them drying on the shore, Max’s eyes heavy on his body.

Max had made the move then, knee-deep in water and still only a few feet apart.

Daniel had watched him move with his breath caught in his throat, Max’s hand on his arm, on his waist, his hip and then finally, on his dick. He hadn’t stopped looking at him, eyes steady even as Daniel had started to shake, closer than he’d been before with only a few strokes.

“Will you come?” Max had asked, hoarse but confident. Daniel had known then that he wasn’t Max’s first. Not in this, at least. “For me, Daniel?”

Daniel had, but so would everyone, he thinks. If they had been where Daniel had been.

Max waits for him when he comes back to his room. He hasn’t been there before, not before they left for the mountain, but he looks at home in the bed.

Max reaches for him, and Daniel goes, crawls between his legs, and kisses him like he did the first time: desperate and frantic, unsure if it will happen again.

Sex, he finds, is easier if you aren’t stuck on a mountain, but it isn’t necessarily better.

Max is still just as sweet for him as he opens him up, quicker like this, with something other than repurposed lubricants taken from other scarce supplies. His sounds are the same, quieter now that they share a house with their boss, but still Max falls into the same ecstatic state when he’s close to coming. Begs Daniel for more until he does with a hoarse shout.

Daniel follows quick, a quiet prayer that this won’t be the last time.

“Will you be here next year?” Daniel asks, watches Max as he readies himself to leave. Seb will come by in only a handful of hours, and Max must be back in his room by then. “Will you come back to me?” He doesn’t say.

Max breathes softly as he pulls on his sweater. It isn’t the one he came with, but the one Daniel had worn on the mountain. Soft and knitted by his mother, loose enough in the shoulders that it fits him well.

“I will of course try, but always I have to make sure it is right for me also, for my family.”

Daniel nods sharply, bites his tongue so he doesn’t ask what he shouldn’t.

“Will you go back to the Netherlands this time?”

“I will see after the winter. If I can find good work, maybe. It would be lovely, I think,” Max says, smiles when he meets his stare.

Max had told him about how his sister had given birth to a new son this spring, that he hasn’t been home since he was seventeen when his father brought him overseas to find new work. He knows Max sends part of his salary back home to them, to his mother, knows there’s more to it than just what Max wants. That if Max could, he would of course come back to him.

But life doesn’t always work out like that. Not for guys like them anyway.

“If you do, or like, even if you don’t. You could give me a call sometime,” Daniel says and gets up to follow him to the door. “Let me know how you’re doing, if the tulips are still there.”

“The tulips are there of course every year, Daniel.” Max says, but even he sounds sad, voice soft. “Always they come in spring.”

Daniel laughs, but it comes out hollow. He squeezes Max’s hands that hang between them. “Yeah, well. You go off see the tulips, see your family, Maxy. And when summer comes, then – then you come back to me, yeah? Back to the mountain with me.”

Max kisses him.

It isn’t a yes, but it isn’t a no, and Daniel knows it’s all he can give.

“Goodbye, Daniel.”

#brokeback mountain au #ish #inspired by lana del rays cover of take me home country roads #maxiel #maxiel fic #max/daniel #my fic #my writing #fic

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willalove75 · 9 months

Note

Pls surprise us for a new fic🥹😭

-m

Do I still have to finish writing chapter 13 of Alcina's New Maid? Yes lollll but I've been struggling with writing anything the last few days (my period has been an asshole this month yayy -.-) and this suddenly hit me so lets go!

This is inspired by the incredibly talented @rosalynesimp's artwork Dreadful Love and her latest masterpiece Dreadful Love Part 2

Warnings: Death, blood, just fucking SADNESS

A/n: I cried writing this so before you read this just know I'M SORRY.

It's been one year. One whole year. One year since Alcina last held you in her arms. One year since she made the biggest mistake of her life. One year since she watched the light fade from your eyes.

It was an accident, she never meant to hurt you. You weren't even supposed to be there. You were supposed to still be in the village running errands, you weren't supposed to be back for another hour.

But fate had other plans. The stars aligned in all of the wrongs ways and you were ripped away from her, by her own hands.

Alcina remembers it clear as day, piles and piles of paperwork, phone call after phone call from Mother Miranda, her stress levels were at an all time high. It was a phone call from Heisenberg, of course it was Heisenberg, that sent her over the edge. She can't even remember what he said, whatever he called about didn't even matter the next day. But everything else that happened after that call will stay with Alcina for the rest of her eternal life.

It was the straw that broke the camels back, it was that phone call that made her snap. Her desk went flying, papers scattered across the floor. She was clawing at every painting, every wall. Alcina always had a temper, she was able to keep it under control up until a certain point and that day, she was shoved past that point.

She didn't hear the door open, she didn't know you came in. She didn't even know you were home.

You finished running errands early and you even had time to stop by the bakery to pick up Alcina's favorite pastries as a little surprise. When you got back to the castle you heard a crash and the sound of things being thrown around. As you walked towards her study you debated on going in, you've only seen her like this once before but you were able to calm her down. She only got like this when she was stressed to the max, extremely overwhelmed and you knew she hadn't been sleeping the last few days. Without knowing it you picked the perfect day to surprise her with her favorite comfort foods.

Slowly you opened the door, you knew you had to be careful, especially since you heard her claws ripping through the walls. After taking a step in you saw the carnage, her desk in pieces, papers scattered everywhere. Before you had another second to think you felt something pierce through your skin. Looking down you realize you had four massive claw marks across your torso.

Alcina was swinging her hands and clawing at everything in sight, the frustration and anger had become too much for her to handle anymore. On one backswing she felt her claws go through something, something soft. A chill she will never forget went up her spine.

The scream she let out shook the castle as she saw you collapse with four gashes across your chest. In a blink she was on the floor next to you, cradling you in her arms. She called for maids, for her daughters, praying to every god and deity she knew of to save you. You both knew it was too late.

Even to this day, she doesn't understand how you weren't angry with her. How you didn't hate her for doing this to you. She will never understand how you told her "it's okay, it was an accident." as the blood poured out of you. She never forgot how you seemed to be the one comforting her as you laid in her arms dying. Telling her over and over again how much you loved her, that you forgave her, until your breath was gone.

Apology after apology spilled from her lips, repeating the words "I'm so sorry, I love you so much" like a mantra. Hoping, praying that it would somehow save you or bring you back.

Alcina sat on the floor with you in her arms in a pool of blood and tears until your body was cold. She didn't know how long she sat there for, it could have been hours for all she knew.

Finally, she stood up, carrying your lifeless body. With each step she trembled but said nothing as she passed through the crowd that had gathered. She said nothing to her daughters that stood there, unsure of what to do for the first time in their lives.

She carried you outside to the willow tree, a place so sacred to the two of you. It was there you both confessed your love for each other. Never will she forget the look in your eyes when you looked up at her after she said you should live your life and travel the world. Without hesitation you replied "why would I do that when everything I want is right here? Alcina do you know how much I love you?"

All alone, with your body laying so peacefully on the grass, Alcina dug a grave and buried you under that tree.

One year. One year since the worst day of her very long life. Not a day went by where you didn't cross her mind. Not a day went by where she didn't regret what happened with every ounce of her soul. Never had she loved someone so deeply, so truly, and it's because of her that you were now gone.

At dusk she left the castle and sat against the willow tree. Her tears flowed as she rested her hand on your grave, wishing, hoping she can see you one more time.

"If there is a god, you will be somewhere wonderful, somewhere where you are happy. Somewhere where you are safe from monsters like me." She said through tears, staring up into the beautifully colored sky. "I love you, draga mea. I am so, so sorry."

When the sun finally set and the moon was bright in the sky, Alcina rose from her spot and gently dusted off her dress. She looked out over the vineyard for a moment and felt the wind pick up a bit. A leaf blew past her and she followed it, turning around to see a small swirl of wind and light and color in front of her.

Standing there too afraid to hope, she watched as the swirling took form and you stepped out in front of her.

"I must be dreaming." She said, her hands beginning to tremble.

"I can assure you my love, you are not." You said with that playful smile she loved so much.

"How- how are you- this can't be real." Alcina says as tears stream down her face.

You walk up to her and float up to her eye level. Gently you cup her face and wipe her tears away.

"It is my love. Although we don't have very long." You say, looking into her beautiful golden irises.

Alcina felt your hand on her face, she could see the sparkle in your eyes that she loved so dearly, she could smell you. You were really there.

Without hesitation Alcina wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you tightly into her. She nuzzled her face into the crook of your neck and sobbed as you held her.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I forgive you, it was an accident. Please don't blame yourself."

"I love you, I love you so much."

"I will always love you Alcina, always."

"I've missed you so much draga mea."

"I've missed you too Alci. I am never far away, I will always be with you."

Alcina pulls back and cups your face with both of her hands. You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and she pulls you in for a soft, passionate kiss. All of the air in Alcina's lungs disappeared when her lips met yours. Never again did she think she would be able to feel your lips on hers. Never again did she think she would get the chance to look into your eyes. Never did she think she would be able to tell you how sorry she was.

When the kiss ends you wipe away more of her tears and gaze into her eyes. The wind begins to pick up again and you know your time together is coming to an end.

You slowly float back down and interlace your fingers with hers.

"Our time is coming to an end my love."

Alcina nods as more tears fall. She doesn't want to let you go, not again, but she knows that she has to.

"I will always be with you, and when your time comes, I will be here waiting for you."

"How are you not angry with me?" She chokes out as the wind picks up more.

"Because I know you would never hurt me on purpose my love. It was an accident, I knew it then and I know it now."

"I love you draga mea."

"I love you too, my Alci."

You take a few steps back and your fingers slowly slide out from between hers.

"I will be waiting for you Alcina. I love you."

The wind swirls around you and you slowly fade into a beautiful blue light. As quickly as it happened, the wind dissipates and the light fades away, leaving Alcina alone, standing by the willow tree.

She looks up into the night sky and wipes her tears, thanking every god and deity for one more moment with you.

As she walks back towards the castle your words replay in her mind "when your time comes, I will be waiting for you." Alcina was an immortal being, you knew that. She isn't sure if you just meant you will wait for her forever, or if perhaps you knew something she didn't. Either way, if or when this life ends, she found comfort in knowing that you will be there on the other side waiting for her.

#willalove75 #wlw fanfic #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 fanfiction #re8 lady dimitrescu #re8 village #re8 #re8 alcina #alcina x female reader #alcina x reader #alcina dimitriscu x reader #lady alcina #lady dimitrescu fanfic #lady dimitrescu x reader

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mapileonxputellas · 2 years

Text

Well, well, well (Mapi Leon x Reader Part 1)

Ok so this is my first post. My plan is for this to be a little series. Hope you enjoy, though please stick with me as I get used to writing x 3.4k words x Hoping to generate some requests as well if anyone has any suggestions....

Y/N Y/L/N….. the name everyone knew but no one spoke about. It was like an unspoken rule in the Barcelona and Spain camp, there were plenty of topics they were all very open about but she would not be one of them. The few times her name had been mentioned it was very clear that they didn’t want to talk about her, that she wasn’t one of them – not any more.

….

May 2019

Just a week before the team were set to fly to Paris for the world cup, the Spanish national team were gathered in the meeting room by Vilda for an announcement. However one person was missing, confusion spreading around the camp as you’d failed to report for international duty.

At only 20 years old you was the up and coming star left back, a record number of assists for a full back in the league that season with Barcelona. Newspapers had pinned you as this ‘classy’, ‘stylish’ defender that would be the player of the tournament. Spain had their hopes pinned on you to set the team alight that summer, give them that spark they’d been missing and provide some service for the forwards as well as helping the defensive line.

“Where’s Y/N?” Alexia whispered over to Mapi, the three of you were very close at Barca but they hadn’t been able to contact you when they noticed your absence last night and the two were starting to get worried. You was definitely the quietest out of the three, happy to observe from afar but those close to you got to see the funny, sarcastic side to you.

“I haven’t heard from her, she’s not answering my calls.” Though Alexia was close to the two of you, you and Mapi were inseparable, playing next to each other in the team you completed every drill together, always sat next to each other in the changing room and shared a room for away games.

“Hola everyone.” Jorge Vilda and the staff came out in front of the team and a select few journalists. “I wanted to announce to you all that Y/N Y/L/N will not be joining up with the national team and will not be taking part in the world cup.”

If you’d have looked around at that point everyone had their mouths open, wondering what had happened since they’d last seen you only a week ago seemingly fine after the final league game.

“The details will be staying confidential, but I wanted to tell you all this because of the obvious inconvenience this has caused to us all by her decision to no longer play. For now we have to focus on us and not let negativity cloud our minds before this tournament, we all actually want to be here and we can’t have people in the camp who don’t want that anymore.”

And that is where the tides turned.

…..

August 2022

After that day the calls stopped and for over three years now you’ve not heard from the two people you considered your best friends and you knew it was all your fault. They had every reason to hate you because you’d kept the truth from everyone and it was only now that you felt you could come out of hiding. It was clear that whatever they’d been told they obviously didn’t want to be my friend anymore, unfollowing me on all social media and blocking my number.

You’d never be able to thank Barcelona enough for giving you another chance, during the last season you’d been able to secretly use their facilities to maintain your fitness. You’d proven to yourself that individually you still had that strength and aggression from before and thankfully they’d seen the potential to get you back to where you’d been as part of the team.

For weeks, months even, this has been the day you’ve been dreading. The day you would be re-introduced to the team.

“Hola Y/N.” Jonatan said as he met me at the back door of the training facility before the rest of the team arrived, “Welcome back.”

“Thank you.” You could barely even get those two words out as you were so nervous, your hands becoming more and more clammy as you sat down in his office.

“So the plan is to introduce you to them and then you can join them for the training session, get to speak to them again.”

“I don’t think they’ll want that, but we’ll see.” You admitted.

“You’ve just got to give them time.” When you left you had to be clear to both your managers what was going on, asking for them to keep things confidential and give the team your sincerest apologies. Jonatan was let in on the information on your return and he too was understanding of the situation and respected your decision. “Let’s get you some kit and get out there again.”

Pulling on the kit was a very surreal moment, the shorts and tank top needed in the Spanish heat. Slicking back your beach blonde hair into a bun on the top of my head, you took the time to give yourself a little pep talk in the mirror. “Come on, you can do this. Just tell them…” No you couldn’t, what if they react in the same way, you’d lose your last remaining hope.

“Ready?” One of the physios asked, giving you a reassuring smile.

“As I’ll ever be.” Listening from behind the door as they all walked out.

“Ladies!” Jonatan announced to the group as they met on the grass, welcoming each other back onto the pitch for preparation for the new season. “We’ve already welcomed some new arrivals and I’m sure there will be more to come but we have a player who arrived this morning ready for the training session. We strive for the best and I hope you can see why we’ve made this decision.”

“You’ve got us excited now coach.”

“I hope so, please welcome back Y/N.”

You knew the reaction you’d get but nothing could prepare you for that initial moment, walking outside and being met with a row of shocked faces, but behind that you could see the anger in their eyes, the frowns beginning to form on their faces. Even though she was injured, Alexia was with the squad along with the other injured players and you could see the looks her and Mapi were sharing.

“What’s she doing here?” Ouch, way to kick a girl when she’s down Patri.

“Y/N has shown to us her abilities and we believe she would be a great addition to the squad. This is not up for debate, please welcome her back to the squad and then we can complete the fitness tests.”

The handshakes were forced, the smiles not even appearing on their faces. Of the new arrivals, only Lucy had arrived yet and she along with the other girls you’d never met could obviously feel the tension and kept well away. It was clear that no-one was happy to see you here, most of these girls had either played with you here or with Spain and they obviously had their opinions on you leaving. Even though you should have expected it, the complete lack of a welcome from both Mapi and Alexia hurt the most, neither of them coming over to you or even meeting you eye. But in your eyes you deserved it.

It didn’t get any better during the session, consistently the last one to be chosen and therefore had to work with a member of staff. If you ran alongside someone they would immediately make a gap between us, there was consistently a five metre gap between you and anyone else. You could feel the glares coming from every angle, the little remarks about how you ‘didn’t deserve to be here’, how you ‘looked way more tired’. You was expecting it to be bad but not this bad.

You were thankful that you didn’t have a spot in the changing room yet and could get changed alone but you mustn’t have delayed your exit long enough as waiting by the door were your two ex-best friends.

“Well, well, well….” Mapi gave you the once over, glaring as she met your eye for the first time. “I knew we were struggling at left back but he must be out of his mind.”

“It’s good to see you both.” You ignored the comments. If there was one time you wanted to break the silence over the past three years it was when you learnt of the ACL injury, knowing how devastated she would have been but also knowing, you would have just been making the situation a whole lot worse. “Lex I’m really sorry about the ACL, it must have been….”

“Hell, it was hell. And it’s Alexia to you.” She snapped. “Not like you care anyway.”

“I do…”

“We would have won in 2019 with you, you was the best and you knew it. We needed you but you had to be selfish. I guess we never knew you at all.”

“Please.”

“Save it.” Mapi said. “Just stay away from us, best friends don’t abandon each other.”

“Girls…”

As if you didn’t feel guilty enough already.

…..

The rest of the first week didn’t get any better, though you moved into the main changing room that didn’t mean anyone would talk to you. Occasionally a few of the girls you didn’t know particularly well would give you sympathetic smile but you knew as well as they did that they didn’t want to jeopardise their friendships in the team by talking to you.

“Guys I have organised the team bonding for tonight, first one of the season.” A woman that you’d never seen before announced as she walked into the changing room as you got ready to leave. “7 o’clock at the restaurant I’ve sent to you all, don’t be late. Oh and you all need to be there.”

“I can’t make tonight.” You interrupted.

“Cancel your plans, this is a non-negotiable, one Friday every month we all have to get together.”

Realising there’s not much you could do to get out of this one by the stern face she was pulling, you quickly got sorted and then rushed to get sorted for tonight. You vaguely knew of the restaurant they’d chosen and could only hope that this could help in the peacekeeping act, we all had to be in the same place and they surely couldn’t ignore you all night no matter how stubborn you knew they were.

With sorting everything out you arrived a few minutes late but you knew this would just further annoy them all even though there was nothing you could do about it, they always were anxious about time keeping.

“I’m really sorry I’m late.” You said walking in and having all eyes turn to you though there were only murmurs of a greeting. With being late there were only a few seats available and you didn’t quite fancy taking the wrath of your former friends tonight so you took the safe option on the end next to Lucy Bronze and opposite Frido. “Hola.”

“Hola, you look nice.” What Frido wasn’t much but that could probably be classed as the nicest thing a player had said to you since you returned and it almost brought you to tears.

“Thank you, so do you.”

“I hope you like tapas.”

“I think I have to being Spanish.”

“This might be a weird question but is the blonde hair natural? Or are you just another Mapi?” Lucy asked.

“Ha, no it’s real. Even though I’d consider myself like fully Spanish, I got the blonde hair from my mother, she was English. I always liked to think that Mapi just wanted to look like me, though I don’t think that’s possible with my lack of tattoos.”

“You could have played for England?”

“Could have but I’ve lived here all my life, I’m proud to be Spanish.”

The meal was actually much more pleasant than you thought it would be, you could see everyone further down the table still had that family atmosphere, you just had to be patient and hope you could get back there one day. At your end of the table both Frido and Lucy were making small talk and though the conversation didn’t exactly flow due to the obvious questions they had it wouldn’t be considered awkward either.

…..

Later on in the bathroom you was just washing your hands when the other cubicle opened and Claudia Pina walked out, she joined Barcelona the year before you left and you kind of took her under your wing, she was like a little sister to you.

“How are you?” You whispered, almost frightened that she would also shout at you. “You’re showing everyone how much of a superstar you really are.”

“You’ve been watching?”

“Of course I have, I might have temporarily stopped playing but you were all my family and I was definitely your biggest cheerleader, just from afar.”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this but when you left they were all heartbroken, especially Mapi and Alexia. They used to get super mad in training, they were sad about you leaving but the only way they could express that was just by sort of hating you.”

“I know.” You admitted. “I deserve it though.”

“Why don’t you just tell us what happened, I’m sure they’d forgive you and we can all just go back to how we were?” She almost pleaded. “I missed you.”

“Oh I missed you too.” You said, pulling her into a hug. “Everything is just so complicated right now but I’m working on it. I promise.”

“They’d never admit this either but everyone was impressed by your fitness, you’re still the same player we all know. I can see in your eyes you’re doubting yourself you’ll prove to everyone out there how much you deserve to be on the team.”

“Thank you. You better go out before me, I’ll wait a few minutes before walking out.”

“It’s not that I’m ashamed to be seen with you.”

“I know,” You knew they were all just scared of the other’s reactions and being the first. “I’ll message you if that’s alright?”

“I’d like that.”

…..

Getting a taxi home in the middle of summer in a busy part of Barcelona is not exactly ideal, overbearing men are much more likely to be seen than a girl stood on the roadside trying her best not to get noticed. You were almost about to give up and just walk it even though it was completely pitch black when a car pulled up in front of you.

“Get in.” The one person you wasn’t expecting to be revealed when the window came down was Mapi.

“You sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. You’ve got 10 seconds.”

“Ok, ok. You always were impatient.” This was the first time you got to see her up close tonight, from the jeans to the tight low cut crop top and you could see her doing the same as you did your seatbelt up.

“You still living in the same place?”

“No, I’ll put my address in.” She started the car again and began following the instructions as you sat back. “You know I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d have just left me there.”

“I’m not the type of person to abandon anyone, unlike some.”

“Maps….”

“Not whilst I’m driving.” Luckily your small house was only a short ten minute drive from the restaurant on the edge of the city and you could see Mapi giving it a once over as the gates opened, lights still on inside like you knew they would be.

“You always hated my apartment, said I had to move out.”

“Surprised you listened to me.” She chuckled though more out of annoyance than actual laughter. “You never did like taking orders.”

“Yeah well someone else pushed me. Plus it’s not like I had any friends who wanted to know my location.”

“And who’s fault is that?” She turned to you. “You was the one who dumped us all on a week’s notice, you didn’t answer any of our calls and then you don’t even give us an apology. Nothing, we went from spending every day together to you forgetting we existed.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The only person you told was Jorge and he just told us the truth, how you didn’t want to be with us anymore, how you couldn’t give it your all.”

Now it was all fitting together. “I never liked that guy.”

“What?”

“Mapi you knew how excited I was about the World cup, you was the first person I told and we went and drove to the beach sitting ice cream until it was pitch black. You knew my heart was there.”

“But that’s why I didn’t understand and suddenly I had all this anger about why you made this decision without me, why you suddenly decided you’d had enough and wanted nothing to do with me anymore.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Then tell me what it was like.” She raised her voice, almost banging her hands on the steering wheel. “Because right now it seems like you ruined our chances and now suddenly you’re back three years down the line and you want us to forget about it.”

“Firstly let’s make one thing clear, yes I did withdraw from the squad but I told Jorge to tell you all how genuinely and truly sorry I was, how if there was anything I could do to change the situation then I would. But there was nothing I could do. I told him to tell you that the ball was in your court, if you wanted to message me then I’d always be ready but if you didn’t then I understood how much I’d let you all down and I’d stay away. Especially you and Alexia.” You exclaimed, finally getting the truth out there. “Look me in the eye right now and tell me that you believe I would ever just abandon you for no reason, that I’d give up on my dream just because I somehow didn’t want to play. I was so lost without you why would I ever give that up if I didn’t need to”

“You’re not making any sense. Just tell me everything.”

“I can’t risk losing you forever.” You said, tears rolling down your face.

“I hate seeing you cry.” She whispered, her hands gently coming up to wipe your cheeks before moving down your arm to link her hand with yours.

Nothing had changed, the way her hand fit perfect in your own as her soft fingertips rubbed the back of your hand. Her tattoo covered hands a stark contrast to your plain hands. Her other hand resting on the seat next to you though you could still feel the electricity as they just grazed your thigh.

“I thought you hated me.” You weakly said, meeting her eye once you’d calmed down.

“I could never hate you, not now I’ve seen you like this. I hated the fact that you ran away, the fact that you couldn’t come and just talk to me. Whatever happened we could have got through it together.”

“I had to do this by myself, I should go it’s getting late. Thank you for the lift.”

“I couldn’t leave you like that.”

Just when you thought you’d made it, when you thought you’d got through the whole evening and it had gone as well as you could possibly think it would do. You saw the door open and one big figure and one little figure in their arms come into the light, both with seemingly very distressed looks on their faces as you caught their eye.

“Shit.” You whispered, opening the door and almost sprinting over taking the small crying figure in your arms, immediately forgetting about everyone around you as your sole focus was on the toddler in your arms. “Shh baby.”

“Mama! Mama!”

“I know I’m here now I promise.”

“Mama?”

Shit again.

#mapi leon x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #mapi leon imagine #barcelona femeni #woso x reader #mapi leon #espwnt #espwnt x reader #alexia putellas

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lavenderbradshaw · 1 year

Text

Two Paper Airplanes

You and Bob have never had a hiccup. He was always the same-old Bob, kind and loving and gentle. You think that's all going to change after the birdstrike, after you tell him some news.

Remember when you hit the brakes too soon?

“Eject, eject, eject!”

The sound of Phoenix and Bob’s voices over the radio make you want to hurl. Literally. You feel your stomach twist so quickly you barely know what’s happening until Rooster has a hand on your shoulder. You don’t say anything, the placement of your hand on your abdomen must be enough for him to deduce what’s happening. He calls for Hangman to bring him a trash can, and you almost ask how he can tell, how he just knows you’re going to throw up. You can’t, though, because in a blinding sequence of events, you end up on the floor. Jake’s holding your feet against his stomach, still standing to try and get blood flow back to your head. Rooster is fanning you, almost hilariously, with a chunk of papers. You lick your lips, which are too numb to feel, and Halo sighs.

“You scared the shit out of us,” she gasps out, her hand clutched in yours. “You okay, Dreamer?”

You close your eyes for just a second , opening them again to see Maverick crouched next to you now. You flinch, the memory of him being up in the air with Bob and Phoenix when they-

“Bobby?” You whisper, quiet as a mouse. He nods his head and then shakes it.

“He’s okay. They’re gonna check him out, probably keep them both overnight which is normal,” he says, still shaking his head. “He’s okay. Why don’t we get you checked out?”

20 stitches in a hospital room

Between the two of you, there are 20 stitches. Four in your hand from where you’d sliced yourself with the kitchen knife just a few days ago, and 16 stitches in a small cut on his shoulder from a rock he’d uncomfortably slid on as he landed. Parachute operated fine, canopy operated fine, everything is fine.

Except there are 20 stitches and one test result remaining completely hidden.

You sit at his bedside while he naps off whatever they’d given him. He’s grounded for a few days, just to recover, but you wish he were grounded forever. You’d give everything you had to make sure he never got in another jet.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, his hand in yours. You’re staring off at the wall, or maybe the window, he can’t tell. But he does know you’re out of it, because he’s called your name three times now.

“I’m pregnant,” you whisper, so quietly he shifts to hear you better.

“What, baby? I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

“I’m pregnant.”

When you started crying, I did too

“You’re…” he whispers, pushing himself up in the hospital bed. You don’t stop him—you can’t. “Oh, God.”

“Pregnant. I’m pregnant.”

You aren’t sure what reaction you wanted out of him, but he starts crying. You suppose that’s a suitable reaction, because you start crying, too.

“If you want to… we haven’t even…” you stumble over your own sentences, shaking your head. “We’ve only been dating a few months, less than a year, and if you don’t want this…”

“No!” He gasps, and your heart sinks. He sees the reaction on your face and he immediately wants to fix it. There’s an overwhelming feeling of dread in the pit of his belly, he wonders if this is how you felt when you heard him eject. “No, not like that, baby, no. I want… I want this baby and a wedding and a million more babies with you.”

You look up at him, eyes wide and lip wavering. “Bob, you don’t have to just… say that.”

“Shut up,” he says, his voice more firm. You look at him closer, now. He has your undivided attention. “No, please, God. It’s you. It’s been you since the moment I saw you. I have a ring in my locker on base because I didn’t know where to hide it at our house and- and I was going to propose but this happened and…”

When the sun came up, I was looking at you

He’s there every waking moment. Throughout all the waves of nausea and doctors appointments and midnight cravings, he’s a solid, unwavering force until your baby girl comes into your lives in the middle of the plastic tub in the living room. She doesn’t cry, not at first, quiet just like her father. She just opens her eyes, taking it all in, before a solid tap on her butt makes her curl her hands into fists and wail. The sun was just beginning to rise as she slipped from you after a long night, but you’re suddenly more awake than you had been previously. You’re crying, looking between Bobby who was adamant about getting in the pool right behind you and that tiny little baby girl.

“She looks just like you,” Bob whispers, his hand coming up to meet yours against her back. “She looks like you.”

You just shake your head, leaning it back against Bob. Bob, who was just as exhausted, who had been at work when you called him contracting, who had raced home and changed into swim trunks and got in right behind you in water that was now slightly chilled. “She’s gonna be so much like her daddy. Quiet and kind and loving. She’s gonna be your little girl.”

He can’t stop staring at you, as the sun rises more and peaks into the living room. He doesn’t even stop staring when you’re resting on the couch, curled up in blankets and drifting off to sleep. He just holds your little baby, his little baby, and stares.

God, he loves you both more than he could have ever imagined.

#bob #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob top gun #robert floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #top gun bob #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun imagines #top gun blurb #top gun one shot

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erin-bo-berin · 2 years

Note

i just need a soft blurb about steve telling reader he loves them for the first time

Okay but imagine he gets super serious all of a sudden and you’re scared to death thinking that he’s breaking up with you okay okay I need to write this

The Perfect I Love You

Steve Harrington x Reader

One minute you’d been laughing at a story that Steve had been telling you about Lucas and Dustin getting stuck in a fence last week and the next, you were sitting on the couch trying to keep from fidgeting.

The way Steve went from laughing to super serious in a flash had made you incredibly nervous.

“Maybe you should sit,” he said, pushing you by the shoulders to sit down.

“Oh…okay?” you asked, confusion filling your face and your reply.

Now he was pacing in front of you, running a hand through his hair and mumbling to himself.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, concerned, “Something bad didn’t happen to one of the kids did it?”

“No, no, they’re fine,” he said, waving you off distractedly.

“Okay…then what’s the matter?”

He looked torn, like he was battling over two options in his head as he looked at you. His eyes always held his true emotions. You could take one look at them and it was truly like looking into a mirror of his soul.

“Fuck it. I’m just going to come out and say it. I need to tell you something important,” he said, seriousness etching his features.

You felt cold dread sluice through your veins. Your stomach rolled, the anxiety now gripping you in its menacing claws.

Whatever he had to say, it seemed extremely serious. You couldn’t help but imagine the worst.

“Are you breaking up with me?” you blurted, voicing your worst fear.

For a moment, he seemed shocked. Then he shook his head emphatically, the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead swaying with his movement.

“No, no, of course not, Y/N. Never.”

He knelt in front of you and you held back relieved tears, suddenly embarrassed that you’d been so close to crying—the fear of losing him more painful than any physical injury you could sustain. He took your face in his hands, still shaking his head.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he repeated.

“Then what?” you asked, eyes searching his face.

“I wanted to tell you I love you,” he whispered.

His gaze bore into yours as your mouth opened and closed, just from the pure shock at his words. You’d only been dating for a few short months, but you’d known Steve for a few years before that point and you’d been friends. You’d never doubted your feelings for him, but you never quite expected it to be a reality for him to tell you that he loves you.

“No, before you say anything, just listen. Okay?” he spoke, thumbs stroking your cheeks gently.

You nodded slightly, watching him.

“You know I’m no good at putting how I feel into words. Hell, some days I don’t even feel like I’m worthy enough to have people love me. But I love you, Y/N. So much. You make me feel so much. You make me feel happy, you make me feel loved, you make me feel worthy on my worst days, you make me feel like I matter. You make me want to wake up every day and be a better person for you. You’re the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing I think of before I go to sleep. I know it’s been four months since we’ve started dating and I don’t know what the fuck the timeline is for when I should say it and if it’s late, I’m so sorry but I love you so goddamn much. I think I was afraid to admit it for so long because it scared me. Then it scared me that I’d never be able to put into words how you make me feel. I’m not exactly doing a wonderful job now, am I? Fuck, you thought I was breaking up with you. How horrible is that? I could never. I never want to be without you. You’re the other half of me, sweetheart. You own my heart and I’m so glad it’s you that does. I wanted this to be so much more romantic than it is, but then it happened like this.”

He was still talking, but the coldness from before turned into warmth. A gooey, squishy feeling that only one in love could feel. Your heart constricted because you loved him so damn much you didn’t think you could contain it all.

The fact he’d wanted to make the moment perfect, ironically made this moment perfect. You didn’t need roses, music and a fancy dinner. Just him and the love blossoming between you two.

“Steve,” you smiled, a hand resting against his chest.

He paused his rambling, one hand having fallen from your face at some point so he could gesticulate while he talked, but one hand still cupped your cheek so gently.

You lifted to your face and brought your lips to his, trying to communicate without words just how much you loved him, too. But, in case that hadn’t been enough, when your lips parted from his, you made sure to let him know for sure. You smiled, your words teasing, but endearing.

“I love you too, you goof.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things blurb #stranger things fluff

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alsoitsjunie · 8 months

Text

PATRICK HOCKSETTER X FEMALE BULLY VICTIM PT. 2

ITS MORE THAN BULLYING NOW.

patrick x reader bully victim

again, overall tw and the same ones as last time. also the reader has only a mom in this, so sorry if you don't have one or you dont like yours.

--------

its been a few days, and i genuinely cant figure out what patrick was talking about on friday. what did he mean by 'im real and i think you are too." what does that mean? of course patrick is real, nobody that sadistic could be fake, but then what did he mean that i was too? god why does he have to be so mysterious all the time? i just want an answer to all of this..

--------

i try and shove it to the back of my mind, as i walk downstairs to make something to eat. jesus this is weird. im kind of glad he decided to do that yesterday, so then i could have the entire weekend to think over it. this is so crazy. i have no idea if i'm more nervous to go back to school now or not..

my mind was going 100000 miles per hour as i stretch on my tip toes and grab a box of cereal from the cabinet, and then the milk from the fridge. there was a note from mom on the counter next to the fruit bowl.

hey honey,

i had to go into work early to help mike with a project. maybe go to Emma's house later, but i wont be home until 10 ish. there's a pizza in the freezer.

love you!

i slurped cereal out of my spoon as i read the note and smiled to myself. i should go to Emma's house. i haven't seen her in a minute and it'll help get my mind off this whole 'patrick' situation. i nodded in agreement with myself, then put my empty bowl in the sink and went back to my room.

i fixed up my bedhead, and then grabbed a pair of jean shorts and a large t-shirt, and my chuck taylors. i took a glance at myself in the mirror and sighed, mentally scolding myself for the shit I've let happen over the last 5 years, like i did every morning. i'm so stupid. so vulnerable.

whatever.

i shut off my light and closed my bedroom door, then went downstairs. i grabbed my house keys off the hook next to the door, and then closed and locked it behind me. i felt uneasy the whole walk to Emma's house, constantly checking over my shoulder. eventually i got to Emma's and her mom let me in, and i was thanking god that Emma only lived about two blocks away.

me and Emma spent the day together. we went to the convenience store and got slushies, and then to the park where we met Jonathan and hung out with him for a bit. once the day few by, and the streetlights started coming on, we all agreed that we should go home before it got darker. as soon as i was walking home and i wasn't with Jonathan and Emma, dread crept over my body. it was dark, i was alone, and i had no clue whether or not henry and his gang were out on one of their little 'patrols.' i feel like it took an eternity to get home, but i finally did, and as soon as i unlocked the door and stepped inside, I locked the door and went to the kitchen. I reheated a slice of leftover pizza and leaned against the counter while i ate it. it was dark in the house, with the kitchen counter lights being the only thing lighting up the room i was in. after i was done eating, i turned to the sink and scrubbed a few plates that were sitting in the sink. when i was done, i clicked off the kitchen lights and walked back to my bedroom. halfway down the hallway, i heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor. inside my bedroom. immediately my heart dropped to my stomach, and i became silent. slowly i backed up, sliding my socks along the carpet, never lifting my feet, not making any noise. i slipped back into the kitchen and frantically looked around, somehow forgetting where anything was in my house. i grabbed a bread knife from the first drawer and spun back around, quietly pacing back and forth, trying to get my head on straight.

okay.. theres someone in your room. you dont know who.. but you know that they could be dangerous. shit. okay.

i inched back down the hallway, not breathing. i slowly grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. my room was still. there was nobody there. yet my clothes were scattered all over the floor, my bookshelf was missing three of my favorites, my window was wide open, and there was dried mud on my floor. my jaw dropped in shock and i uttered out a small squeak. i stood there in disbelief as i walked into the room further and closed the door behind me. i flicked on my lights and dropped the knife on my bed. after i stuck my head out of my window and saw nobody, i quickly closed and latched my window, pushing my curtains closed. as my fingertips dragged over the windowsill, my nails caught on a notch in the wood. my brow furrowed as i looked closer and traced the lines. there were two letters engraved in my windowsill. initials.

P. H.

that son of a bitch patrick. terrorizing me at school was one terrible thing, but breaking into my house, my room, destroying my belongings, stealing my stuff and carving his fucking name into my windowsill. carving his name into my life. im fucking done dealing with this.

i threw on a sweater and my working boots, grabbed the kitchen knife again and stormed out of my house. i didn't bother to lock the door. i didn't care if id be back or not. i was going to kill this freak.

author note.

HI IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED BUT IM WORKING ON THE NEXT PART I PROMISE THERE WILL BE SOME ROMANCE BECAUSE IK YOU ASKED FOR THAT!! I LOVE YALL SM

#patrick hocksetter #it2017 #the losers club #losers club #henry bowers #victor criss #belch huggins #patrick hocksetter x reader

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thefallennightmare · 1 year

Text

Broken-Three

Pairings: Barry Keoghan x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff, implied smut, mentions of alcoholism and death.

Summary: A failed marriage wasn't in the cards for Reader, she thought she found her happily ever after with Barry. While trying to overcome the heartbreak, a tragic event brings them back together temporarily. Will the devastating loss bring them back together or be what pushes them apart for good?

Authors Note: nothing to add!

The house I had grown up in that used to be filled with so much love and warmth now felt cold and empty. It wasn’t in my plans that once I finished packing up my apartment back in the states that I would have to jump across the ocean to now possibly pack up my parents house.

I arrived back in my hometown late last night and decided to stay at a hotel once I arrived, not having the energy to walk through the home till after a full night's rest. Not only did I have to get my parents' affairs in order, I also had to plan their funeral. It wasn’t an easy task and I wished that I wasn’t alone in this. Being an only child, everything fell on my shoulders.

The morning had been filled with various amounts of my parents' friends coming by to offer their condolences while dropping off a large casserole dish of some type of meal. Now the sun had begun to set, and I sat at the kitchen table with a large envelope in front of me that I was dreading to open; my parents will.

We never had a close relationship, my parents and I. I left for college right at eighteen and only came back home a few years later to tell them that I met someone while out in Los Angeles and was engaged. They were happy for me and promised to help with whatever I needed for the wedding; and they did. While I was living my own life, so were they, but we still managed to talk every couple of days.

It was only until my divorce that we got really close. My parents allowed me to stay here for the first couple months to get on my feet before I flew back to the states to settle my own things there.

My feet began to pace around the kitchen in hopes that I could gain the courage to open that envelope. I didn’t know what to expect to read, not knowing what my parents had. Tears pricked in the corners of my eyes, knowing that if I did open that envelope, it would become all too real.

I scanned over the bar cart in the corner of the kitchen, a wide variety of alcohol staring back at me, almost tempting me to have a taste; just a small taste.

My sobriety had been on the right track for the last couple of years but the last year had been the hardest, dealing with the divorce and now the death of my parents. I was standing on the edge, ready to jump. The only person that was able to keep me from falling stopped being that person when he signed the papers.

“Fuck it,” I shrugged before snatching the bottle of vodka.

My lips wrapped around it, downing it in seconds. The taste slightly burned my throat but nothing that I wasn’t used to. I tossed the empty bottle onto the ground, crashing to the ground with a loud echo, and reached for another bottle, it being gone just as quick.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. My parents had so much left to live for; retirement, having grandkids, and dying at old age. Not in the car by someone who couldn’t look away from their phone.

“It’s not fair,” I slurred while crashing onto the couch.

Another large swig finished off the bottle and it rolled out of my hand, clanking to the carpet below. I ran a very tired hand over my face and contemplated having another drink or head to bed to prepare for the next few days, alone.

The viewing then the funeral.

Of course there would be other members of my family and friends there but they’re not the ones that I wanted; needed. He was currently on the other side of the world in Los Angeles and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he would leave what he was doing to come here for me.

Barry was over me and I needed to get over him.

Right, like that’ll happen.

My eyes burned a hole into my phone in my lap, knowing that drunk me didn’t care what I was about to do, however, in the morning, sober me would regret it.

I cnt beleaf u lft me. I nED U. the died. Mis u looovee uuuu.

The alcohol consumed me faster than I thought it would, eyes falling heavy, and I was asleep before I could read the new text that buzzed my phone.

There was a soft tune playing throughout the small funeral home as I stood broken, frozen, as people walked past me one at a time, offering me their condolences. It fell on deaf ears, the hangover blocking out the noise. It had been so long that I had to deal with one that I had to bite my tongue whenever my head would pound on the inside.

Thankfully, no one could tell that not only was I dealing with a hangover, they couldn’t tell that I had something different in my water bottle. Whatever I needed to get through the next few days.

“Y/N, sweetheart. Some of the guests are wondering if there are any bottles of water left?”

My tired eyes looked up from the ground and noticed my moms aunt Lori.

“Uh,” I looked around the room we were in. “I think so. Let me go check.”

I excused myself and out into the hallway of the funeral home, hoping to find the person that was helping set this up. There was a large group of people crowding the hallway. My parents death brought out a lot of old friends, but my gaze fell on one person that stood out amongst all of them.

A soft gasp fell from my lips when his eyes bore into me and he wore a sorrowful smile on his face. I felt the breath get knocked out of me and couldn’t stop the stumble over my own feet as I tried to steady myself.

“Hi,” he breathed.

I had to blink a few times to make sure he was actually standing in front of me.

“Barry, wha-what are you doing here?” I asked, confused.

It was his turn to be confused. “Your parents died. I had to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” I gave him a reassuring nod.

“Right,” Barry scoffed. “Then what was with that text last night?”

My cheeks burned red with embarrassment. When I woke up this morning, I remembered the text I sent him last night and with the wave of nausea from the hangover, I hadn’t had the chance to see Barry’s text in response.

“It’s been a very long week and I’ve been exhausted. I must have sent it while I was falling asleep or something,” I lied.

“What was it this time? Wine? Whiskey?” Barry questioned with his arms crossed.

I shook my head, not wanting to have this conversation with him. Especially here and now.

“If I would have known that all it would have taken for you to text me back was to get drunk, I would have done it a long time ago,” I muttered.

Barry looked at me with disapproval; an all too familiar sight when I would fall off the cliff. His hazel eyes bored down at me and as I looked at him closer, I could see that there was a small amount of stubble grazing his chin.

I had always loved the way he looked with hair covering his soft features.

He ran a hand over his chin. “We got divorced, Y/N. Why would I text you back?”

“Then why are you here?”

“For you,” he began.

“I don’t need you, Barry!” I yelled. “You said it yourself, we’re divorced!

After gaining the attention of others around us, Barry gently grabbed my elbow and pulled me towards a quiet corner.

“Why can’t you just accept help when someone is giving it to you?” Barry questioned.

“I’m doing fine. I don’t need your help anymore. I’ve been taking care of myself the last year and definitely can get by without you.”

His nostrils flared slightly and with our new closeness, I knew exactly what he smelled.

“Vodka? In your water bottle? Still doing that trick?”

“Fuck you,” I seethed. “I don’t need this. I have to go bury my parents.”

I ripped my arm out of his grasp and turned my back to him, hoping that it was the last time I would see him.

#barry keoghan #barry keoghan x you #barry keoghan and you #barry keoghan x yn #barry keoghan and yn #barry keoghan x y/n #barry keoghan and y/n #barry keoghan x reader #barry keoghan and reader #barry keoghan reader insert #barry keoghan smut #barry keoghan angst

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professorrw · 2 years

Text

Cheerleader Pt. 8

☆stranger things masterlist☆

Pairing: female reader x Eddie Munson

Summary: Y/n and Chrissy are best friends, but when she dies, she knows things aren’t as everyone seems to think. Maybe Eddie is innocent.

Warnings: SPOILERS for ST4, teen drinking, partying, drugs, death, violence, cursing, fluff, some angst, potentially more

A/N: Just a few more hours until volume 2!! There's probably going to be another part that takes place before volume 2, but I won't get it out until after! Requests open (Stranger Things, Marvel, Harry Potter), taglist open, inbox open! Please like, comment, and reblog!

Sleep came quickly, but that didn’t mean it was comfortable. When you woke up it felt like you had nails hammered into every inch of your body. Your muscles ached, partly from being sore from walking and the other part being how uncomfortable the forest floor was. You hoped that Eddie had slept better, but there was a large chance that he didn’t. When you awoke he was still sleeping, arms still wrapped around you as they had been for the past few hours while you slept. There was no chance he was going to let go of you or move, even if it wasn’t the most comfortable position. Even when he slept he subconsciously wanted to be close to you, touching you.

It felt like there was something crawling on your cheek but you didn’t want to swat at it and disturb the person sleeping peacefully next to you. He breathed in and out evenly, air fanning over your hair through his slightly parted lips. A large part of you wanted to turn around and look at him, to study his features when he didn’t have a worry in the world.

The crawling feeling on your face wasn’t going away and if whatever it was didn’t get off soon you were going to go insane. You tried multiple things: twitching your cheek, blowing air at it through the corners of your mouth, shaking your head slightly. None worked. As a last resort you ever so slowly lifted your hand to swipe at your face, letting out a sigh when the thing finally flew off you and hit the dirt and grass mixed ground.

It was a ladybug. An orange one. When you were a child, ladybugs were “your animal,” or insect technically. Countless hats and outfits that were red with black spots, baby utensils and plastic plates with ladybugs, and vinyl wallpaper with grass, flowers, and the red insects covering your nursery. Your mom would gush about how adorable you were with your chubby cheeks, somewhat resembling the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from the Ghostbusters movie with your fat rolls. Your mother thought it was the cutest thing ever, but she was your mother. She was definitely biased.

Oh how simple it was to be a baby, spending your days eating, sleeping, and shitting. As you get older the world just gets more and more complicated, more and more responsibilities are put on you. That’s life. At the ripe age of eighteen you realized that life wasn’t fair. You had actually realized that at the age of twelve when your favorite cousin, and only friend at the time, moved across the country. That realization was nothing compared to how other people came to the conclusion that life isn’t fair, but to your twelve year old self it was the worst thing that could happen to a kid. Life would continue to remind you that it wasn’t fair, that nothing came without a price and nothing lasts forever.

The best thing to do was be grateful for what you did have, and find the positive in every situation no matter how dreadful it was. Chrissy had died. That was final. She was never coming back. No one could ever replace her, or come close to being as bright as she. However, there was a small light that had come from all this. That light was Eddie.

Just months ago you never thought that any of this would happen. You imagined that you would go on through your senior year, graduate, go to a college that your parents would help you pay for, graduate, get a job, maybe get married and have kids. Now you scoffed at that idea.

A soft groan came from behind you. “Good morning,” Eddie said in a gravelly voice. He lifted one arm and stretched it up towards the sky.

“Good morning sunshine,” you replied. “How’d you sleep?” You shifted and turned around, now just a few inches between your faces. You were so close you could see the peach fuzz that covered his skin, the slight stubble that was sprouting from his chin, how his long eyelashes casted a slight shadow over his eyes, and all the creases and pores that made Eddie’s face Eddie’s face. A beautiful face. He stared at you with his big doe eyes, a small shy smile coming to his face at your proximity and analyzing expression.

“I slept alright,” he said, trying to hold his breath. He didn’t want you to smell his morning breath, which was probably unpleasant from a few days of not being able to brush his teeth. He was so conscious of everything about himself. He didn’t want you to be repulsed. Eddie didn’t know it but that could never happen. You yourself didn’t fully know the extent, but you were too fond of this man in front of you for something as miniscule as his breath deter you.

“Good,” you said with a smile.

God that smile, Eddie thought. How could someone be so beautiful? Since Eddie had met you he had been going through very similar doubts and thoughts. You, from the very beginning, welcomed him with open arms. Despite the fact that you were a cheerleader you didn’t hold any prejudice against him. He had been learning lately, that maybe it wasn’t fair to label people based on the sports they play.

You hadn’t known each other for very long, but after you left Reefer Rick’s house all he could think about was you, you, you. He looked forward to the next time he was going to see you, and when he was finally able to he was almost automatically in a better mood and his spirits were lifted. He could understand why Chrissy loved you so much.

He had accepted the fact that he was indeed falling for you. Every time you looked at him or smiled at him his face warmed up and butterflies erupted in his stomach. Him, a twenty year old, getting butterflies. He thought he was past all that, and that he, Eddie “the Freak” Munson, would never have those types of feelings for someone, and that they would never be reciprocated. But maybe he was wrong. He hoped he was wrong.

“Eddie?” you said, giggling quietly. He had completely zoned out staring at your face.

“Yes?” he asked, snapping back to reality.

You smiled, “Nothing.”

An hour later you and Eddie were scouting the area around you, trying to find something that could be of use. The walkie was busted, so you had no way to contact the gang. You two were on your own. By the grace of God, or whatever was up there, you hit a goldmine. There was a construction lot just two or three miles– you couldn't be sure– away from Skull Rock. It was broad daylight now and the area was crawling with workers and advisors.

“Look at their belts,” you said, putting a hand on Eddie’s upper arm. “They have walkie-talkies.”

“Okay great… but how do we get them?” he asked.

“Umm, I don’t know just yet.” The two of you were crouched down in tall grass, several yards away from a stack of wood planks and a porta potty that were stationed on the outskirts of what you assumed was a house was being built. It was a nice location for a home. Reefer Rick had a nice home too, it was just messy from the vacancy. You watched as various workers walked past, hard hats shading their faces but still sweating.

“Eddie! Eddie!” you said, pointing at a worker that was headed towards the bathroom. He took his belt off and laid it on a table next to the wood planks. It was the perfect opportunity.

Without a word the brunette ran up to the table and very quickly grabbed the walkie-talkie out of one of the slots. Thankfully no one saw him. You backtracked to Skull Rock, taking less time to get back since you weren’t wandering around.

“Okay here we go,” Eddie said. You weren’t sure what he had done, but somehow he got on the same radio frequency as Henderson. He pressed the button, “Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler?”

There was a beep and then you heard Henderson’s fateful voice, “Eddie. Holy shit. Are you okay?”

“Not exactly,” he answered, glancing at you. You were sitting right next to him and listening too.

“Where are you? Is y/n with you?” Dustin crackled through the speaker.

He looked at you with a puzzled look, “Yes she is. And we’re at Skull Rock. Do you know it?”

“Yeah, yeah.” There was static for a second before he spoke again, “Hold tight. We’re coming.”

Eddie put his head down and nodded. You reached over and rubbed his back. “Now all we do is wait.”

“Yeah…” he trailed off. You expected him to be happy but he didn’t seem to be. He seemed sad.

“What is it?” You leaned forward to look at his face but he didn’t meet your eyes. He stared at the ground and chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Eddie?” you asked again softly.

His brown eyes finally met yours, and in the moment he resembled something of a wounded puppy, which made your heart ache. “Y/n… I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of what’s about to happen next. Or what isn’t going to happen. What if-” his eyes got glossy and tears started forming on his water line. “What if the police still take me? A murder sentence would be a long time and I can’t go to prison. I wouldn’t survive in there. I couldn’t leave this all behind. Graduation, my band, Hellfire Club… you.” He looked at you with a glint of something in his eyes, and you wanted to say something, you wanted to reach out, but you weren’t sure if he meant what you thought he did.

“Eddie…” you started, but he raised his hand to stop you.

“I’m afraid that I’ll lose my chance at a future. I never thought that I would amount to much. It’s my third time being a senior and I’m twenty years old living with my uncle in his trailer, selling drugs out of a lunchbox. But now I’ve met you and all of this,” he waved his hand in the air, “has happened and I want to be more than that.”

“You can be. We’re going to set things straight and you’re going to be a free man for good. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure of it,” you said.

“I’m glad you think so and hopefully everything will be okay. But I’m not certain that’s what’s going to happen so I can’t waste my chance. I know we haven’t known each other for very long and that these are really shitty circumstances but I think I like you y/n.” He reached for your hand and you took it. He had never been so vulnerable with anyone before, and his heart was racing at the possibility of rejection.

“I think I like you too,” you said, laughing a little bit when he let out a long breath.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked hesitantly.

You nodded and leaned towards him with your eyes shut. He cupped your face with his hands and you could feel the cool metal of his rings as his lips touched yours. They were surprisingly soft and he kissed you very gently. After a few seconds you both pulled away but kept your faces close together. Eddie had the biggest smile you had seen yet on his face and a tint of pink on his cheeks. You didn’t think Eddie Munson would ever blush.

You let out a content sigh, happier than you thought you could be at a time like this. So Eddie did like you all along and you weren’t crazy. The thought alone made your heart flutter. It had been a long time since you’d felt the way you did towards Eddie. This newfound attraction fueled you to make sure his name was clear even more. The truth was, if he did go to prison, what would you do? You couldn’t just forget about him.

“Are you happy?” you asked, looking over at the brunette.

He laughed, “What kind of question is that? Of course I’m happy. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way but it turns out you do. Y/n Y/l/n, a cheerleader, likes Eddie “the Freak” Munson. Who would’ve thought?”

“You aren’t a freak. Not in my eyes.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he said, grinning.

For another hour the two of you talked and laughed, reminiscing on childhood stories and other things of the sort. Conversation came easy. You bounced off one another like twin flames. Eddie was halfway through talking about a ghost encounter he had two years ago when you heard voices in the distance.

“That must be them,” Eddie said. “I’m going to hide up here on this rock.” You watched as the brunette climbed up on a smaller boulder like a spider-monkey, much more agile than you expected. You followed him but didn’t climb on top of the rock, just stood behind it.

You heard Henderson’s voice talking to another male, presumably Harrington. You peaked out from behind the rock and saw Steve just a few feet away. “You are a massive butthead.”

Eddie jumped down, startling Dustin and the rest of the gang. “I concur. You, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.”

“Jeez we thought you were a goner.” Dustin wrapped his arms around Eddie as you walked forward, becoming visible to everyone. Low and behold, there was Nancy, Robin, Max, and Lucas. All six of them came.

“Oh y/n!” Dustin said when he spotted you. Eddie turned towards you and smiled and you walked up to stand by his side. To your surprise the taller male put an arm around your shoulder.

“Woah woah woah, when did this happen?” Henderson asked, jaw practically on the floor. You took a look around and saw a variety of facial expressions. Steve and Robin looked at each other with raised eyebrows, Max was slightly smiling at you, and Lucas and Nancy were just generally surprised.

“What can I say?” Eddie said. “Y/n couldn’t resist my wicked charm.”

“Uhuh, yeah. It was more like you couldn’t resist mine.” You poked him in the side, focusing only on him. Dustin gagged.

“Henderson I don’t want to hear it. You talk about your supposed girlfriend all the time and how awesome she is,” Eddie said.

“I- That’s because she is. Suzie is amazing and super smart and beautiful. And real,” Dustin added.

Nancy sighed, “Guys as much as I would love to hear about all this, we have things we need to discuss.”

Steve nodded, “Nancy is right.”

Cheerleader Taglist: @felicityofbakerstreet @waifu4lifeu @1twontalwaysbelikethiss @i-bitch-you-bitch @chipster-21 @jay-swoohoo @lydiaveronicasgf @heyyimlaynna @xoyouronlyamorrxo @crunchytoenailsyum @bilesxbilinskixlahey @ljaneyx @bubblebuttwade @captain-satan @mariastaru @vaness20 @are-y0u-sirius @teapartydreams @ollqos @laurykat23

Eddie Munson Taglist: @teenagegoateecollectorposts @linkpk88

Taglist: @23victoria

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cru5h-cascades · 18 hours

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Mat3 Heart of a God Character Bio #1: Zatz

Look, I'm doing Zatz first not because of bias (out of almost all the characters in Mat3 I like his design best; his and Chimi's both ^w^), but because I feel like they could have done a lil' bit more with his character. Ight not gonna add that much fluff to this post's intro, so here we go :D

(also y'all might wanna listen to this while reading this post lmao this Undertale track just seems fitting for this version of Zatz)

In my re-imagining of Mat3, Zatz grew up in the mortal realm instead of basically hell (the realm of the gods). The king of bats (then a full god) was hangin' out in a forest or whatever with some bats, saw his future wife, and was like "damn that's pretty hot", so he goes down there and starts talking to her. And the rest is history. Eventually they do the thing and boom 9 months later came lil' Zatz, the first demigod to be birthed. Now back then, Michlan didn't have his "all demigods must be brought to the realm of the gods" rule, so he was like "um... you wanna raise this kid over here in the realm of the gods...? raising him in the mortal realm might not be the best idea...", only for the king of bats to be determined to give Zatz the best life he could and hopes he can teach his son how to control his godly powers.

As a kid Zatz had decent control of his abilities, however it was when he felt negative emotions (specifically saddness and anger) that things got really out of hand. In these situations, Zatz would become immobilized as hundreds of bats swarm around him. However, before anything else could happen, someone would calm Zatz down or he'd do so himself so the bats would leave, as their prince wasn't in distress anymore. This would happen every now and then and the villagers would gradually get more frustrated about this as the prince of bats got older. Most villagers would try to keep things tame around the boy, but some of the village children really wanted to press Zatz's buttons and see how far they can push him, only to regret this decision after they finally broke him at the age of 13. After being severely harassed by the local children, Zatz snapped, summoning almost every bat in the area and just letting them do what he subconsciously wanted them to do: kill all those who tried to do him harm. This incident took the lives of many of the villagers, including his mum, who was trying to calm him down. After seeing the corpse of his mother lying right next to him, Zatz called off the bats and tore out his own eye out of grief. He'd spend a few minutes just sobbing on the ground by his mother's side until the king of bats returned to retrieve his son and the body of his wife.

Later that night, Zatz and the king of bats got summoned to the realm of the gods by Lord Michlan. Michlan decides to punish the king of bats by turning him into the version of him we see in the OG series and gives Zatz special bracelets that restrict him from using his full power as long as they stay on (he isn't allowed to take them off in fear of Zatz causing more bats to go fucking nuts again). The two are then forced to live in the realm of the gods for eternity and to further punish Zatz for harming a good chunk of his village, Michlan (who originally wanted Zatz dead but walked back on that after noticing that bro fucking tore out his own eye) gives Zatz a special duty. Starting when Zatz is 15 years old, he must go back to the mortal realm to seperate demigods living with their mortal familes from their mortal families when they turn 15 and take them to the realm of the gods, where they'll live in the realm of the gods for the rest of their days. It wouldn't be until Zatz turned 16 where he actually had to seperate a family (with that family being Maya's). Ever since the day Zatz and his father were sentanced to live in the realm of the gods, Zatz got quiet and slightly depressed, dreading the day he'd have to seperate a family. He blames himself for everything that's happened to him and his father thus far and hasn't let go of the events that occured that fateful day when he was 13. Because of this guilt, Zatz vowed to try to confort demigods who have just recently been sent to the realm of the gods the best he can so they don't feel like it's their fault they're there and they've caused their family pain.

Other info:

Zatz and his father live pretty far away from Michlan's palace because they both are looked down upon by almost all the other gods. Instead of living in a palace/mansion like the other gods, their house is similar to that of a typical house in the mortal realm but with a few more improvements.

Because apparently Zatz and Maya are reincarnated as Maria and Manolo in the Book of Life, I kinda want to make the parallels a bit clearer so Zatz, in the rewrite, has an interest in music (he plays flute btw since the aztecs didn't have any sort of string instruments until the Spanish came to Mexico).

Zatz (in this rewrite) has anxiety (specifically agoraphobia and separation anxiety disorder)

Ever since the incident with the bats, Zatz has avoided trying to fight people in general in fear of snapping again.

Zatz doesn't quite know how to interact with others around his age both because it's been years since he's been in the mortal realm and because the local village kids would typically avoid him in cases where they didn't need anything from him.

#maya and the three #mat3 #heart of a god #rewrite #zatz the prince of bats #character bio #SoundCloud

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kylesvariouslistsandstuff · 1 month

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I just noticed...

Warner Bros. has recently dated their all-animated adaptation of THE CAT IN THE HAT... March 6, 2026...

This is the first of their new "Warner Bros. Pictures Animation" initiative, the plan being to have two animated films out every calendar year.

All jokes about this movie possibly being shelved and turned into a tax write-off aside (I don't think any animated movie is safe under the Zas), that's the same day as...

An untitled Pixar movie...

Pixar currently has two animated movies set for 2026, one on this date, and in June. June presumably goes to TOY STORY 5, which is - at this point, per Disney CEO Bob Iger - eyeballing 2026. It being the summer release is a given, I feel. TOY STORY 3 and 4 were June releases in their respective release years, 1 & 2 were Thanksgiving frame releases... Walt Disney Pictures claimed 3/6/2026 first.

Games of chicken in animated movie scheduling are nothing new, in fact... Some high profile animated movies used to open head to head. THE LITTLE MERMAID vs. ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN in 1989, OLIVER & COMPANY vs. THE LAND BEFORE TIME in 1988, A BUG'S LIFE just a few days within release of THE RUGRATS MOVIE in 1998, you get the idea. They don't do that kind of thing now, though... Unless the demographics are wildly different.

But I wonder who blinks. The Pixar movie set for this date is most likely an original movie (it's not "Ducks", that appears to be a hoax), which are playing a different game at the box office these days. Open low (like, say, ELEMENTAL last year w/ $29m) and then leg it out to a solid gross... THE CAT IN THE HAT, on the other hand, is based on a beloved Dr. Seuss book... Which happened to have a live-action version preceding it, which itself was preceded by a half-hour animated TV special...

Just like...

HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS and THE LORAX.

Those movies opened with $67m and $70m respectively. So, I think CAT IN THE HAT is primed to have a pretty good opening weekend come 2026. That is, if it makes it to the finish line and avoids the dreaded beast at the end of the castle, and makes it out alive.

As for the Pixar original, that's a little trickier to predict. ELEMENTAL was the first original Pixar in theaters following shut-downs in 2020. Its $29m opening is on the higher end of non-sequel animated movies released over the past couple of years, though it was foolishly written off. Legs, of course, came to the rescue. ELIO is the next original, which I think could gross around there. Maybe less, because it's an animated sci-fi story. Could be another case of STRANGE WORLD, TREASURE PLANET, etc. Whatever the 2026 original is, the box office prospects are up in the air...

It all boils down to who blinks.

One of them will have to try out February, maybe around Valentine's Day. Probably the Warner movie. Easter's locked up by the MARIO sequel. Not like February can't work for a family-friendly animated movie, look at THE LEGO MOVIE.

Interestingly, Pixar's been trying to do this 2-a-year every other year thing. 2020 had ONWARD open in March, and if plans worked out, SOUL in June. ONWARD got cut right off by COVID's outbreak, SOUL went straight to Disney+. In 2022, TURNING RED went straight to D+ in March, LIGHTYEAR went to theaters in June. This year was supposed to be that situation, too, with ELIO being out this month being followed by INSIDE OUT 2 in June... But ELIO was delayed all the way back to June 2025.

So maybe 2026 is another one of those situations, where Pixar wants to have two movies out, but ends up rescheduling one of them. I have a feeling TOY STORY 5 stays right in its place, but it's possible that could get delayed to 2027. TOY STORY 3 was once thought to be a 2009 release, and it ended up coming out in 2010. TOY STORY 4? Two delays: From its original summer 2017 slot to summer 2018, to summer 2019.

Plus, this could aaaaall be moot within a few months. Animated movies are always moving forward and backwards.

Worth noting, this wasn't the first time Warner Bros. tried stepping on Disney's toes in one of their major corners. Right now it's with animation, last time... It was with superheroes...

That was when - in mid-2014 - an untitled CAPTAIN AMERICA movie was on the boards for May 6, 2016. A follow-up to the very well-liked CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER... (Side note: I refuse to believe that that was a decade ago. A DECADE.) Continuing on, Warner shockingly moved their BATMAN V. SUPERMAN to that same date. Later in 2014, Marvel revealed that the 2016 CAPTAIN AMERICA threequel was subtitled CIVIL WAR... Eventually, Warner conceded, and moved BATMAN V. SUPERMAN up a few paces, to March 25, 2016.

So, we'll see how this one goes... Or if both of them vacate the premises...

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yelena-bellova · 2 years

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Unlucky: (Eventual Steve Harrington x Fem!Subject!Reader

Chapter Nine: Valentine’s Day

Plot: Tini struggles with a new type of loneliness on Valentine’s Day. Hopper shows her that there’s more to a day about love than having a date.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: bullying, no use of y/n

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: The time I have to churn out these chapters is becoming less and less, but I’m dedicated lol. No Stevie boy in this one so hang in there 😉

—————————

FEBRUARY 14TH, 1984

One month into my junior year at Hawkins High and not much had changed.

The one opinion that had changed was on the bell ringing. Dread built up in my belly during class, waiting for it to sound. It meant I had to be plunged back into the hallways, the hardest place for me to navigate. It was like a sign was placed on the back of my head that said ‘Take Your Shot’ and my classmates acted accordingly.

I left English class, still the only class I was thriving in, waiting for whatever was about to happen. In the past month I’d been tripped, kicked, my books stolen and found in the gym balanced on the basketball hoop, soda “accidentally” spilled all over me and a dozen colorful notes passed to me during class that I didn’t read until I was out. As much as every little thing hurt, I was beginning to accept it as part of high school.

As I unlocked my locker, I caught the residue of something around the grates. I opened it to find a hefty amount of marshmallow creme pooling around my books. I bit my lip and took a deep breath, it was by far the most creative my classmates had gotten with the bullying. There was laughter behind me, I turned around to see Tommy H and Carol, Steve’s old pals, pointing and snickering to their friends.

“Figures,” I muttered, pulling my sticky books out. Tommy had been all too thrilled when I’d enrolled, he now had every opportunity to get revenge on me for kicking him during Jonathan and Steve’s fight. I did my best to avoid him and his gang, but little attacks were inevitable.

So, I ended up clearing my locker, getting a cup of water and a rag from the lunch ladies, and spent my lunch break cleaning up marshmallow creme.

The hall was relatively quiet, few students passing by and giving me time to ruminate on the poetry of the prank. It was Valentine’s Day, marshmallow creme was sweet. I could applaud Tommy and his crew for their theming and only their theming.

Valentine’s Day had always seemed like a strange day, a good strange. You spent an entire day showing your partner how much you loved them. It seemed like a beautiful idea, but the concept seemed like a myth to me. How could you love someone that deeply?

“Hey.”

I turned away from my work to catch Jonathan, paper bag in hand. He sighed when he saw what I was doing. “What today?”

“Marshmallow,” I answered, going back to rubbing the stick off, “I suppose they thought they were being cute. Valentine’s Day and all…”

“Tini, when are you going to tell someone about this?” Jonathan pushed, “They’re only getting worse.”

“No, getting them in trouble would be worse,” I argued, “A lot worse. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

Jonathan shook his head and sat down, his back against the locker next to me. He’d been pushing for me to talk to Hopper about the bullying, but I was smart enough to know otherwise. There was a time and place to fight back and I had no advantage in Hawkins High. Keeping my head down was the only option.

I decided to change the subject. “So what are you doing for Valentine’s?”

Jonathan snorted, “Nothing?”

“Really?” I looked up from my history book.

“No reason to celebrate if you’re not with someone,” he shrugged before taking a bite of his sandwich. “What about you?”

“Ha,” I smiled, going back to cleaning, “That’d be hard to do considering no guy has looked at me since I’ve been here. Not unless it’s to watch something like this,” I wiped off a particularly coated corner, “Happen. I was going to ask Nancy about a movie before I remembered what day it was. She’s been going on and on for like a week about what Steve has planned for them.”

Jonathan visibly tensed up. In the three months we’d spent becoming friends, I’d learned a lot about him. One was that as quiet as he was, he wasn’t subtle. It had been clear since the day we’d met that he liked Nancy. At the time, I’d been sure that Nancy felt the same, until Steve entered the picture. I still wondered about her feelings, but I’d never questioned Jonathan’s.

The sad part was, I was jealous of all three of them. Whatever combination, they all felt something for someone.

“Do you ever feel alone?” I asked.

He looked up at me, before ducking his gaze down to his food. “Alone like…?”

“Alone alone,” I sighed, looking down at my marshmallow covered books, “I’ve been alone pretty much all my life. When Hopper took me in, I felt less alone. But since I started here, it’s like I discovered a whole new type of alone I didn’t know existed…not from the bullying or struggling from class. It’s like-“

“Like you want somebody in your life,” Jonathan finished.

“Yeah,” I nodded, sadly. Valentine’s Day had never bothered me before, I’d always been too concerned with surviving. Now that I was out of the woods, I found myself wishing for a lot of things I’d never had the time to. Like a boyfriend.

Jonathan didn’t need to say anything else, if was obvious he knew what I felt. I feared I’d only put him in a worse mood, reminding him that Nancy was out of his reach. He went back to his lunch and I went back to cleaning, both miserable in our own ways.

——————

I was the first one out of the building when the bell rang, exhausted from watching happy couples all day. From the minute I’d walked in the building with Nancy, Steve had pulled out every stop. He’d surprised her with teddy bears, flowers and chocolates in between nearly every class. It made me glad to see Nancy so happy, but each token of Steve’s affection made me fee a little more hopeless.

“Hey,” Hopper greeted me, the car smelling of tropical breeze to cover the cigarette smoke.

“Drive,” I groaned, buckling up and shutting my eyes.

Hopper shifted the truck’s gears, “That bad, huh?”

I smirked, Hopper tried in his own ways to get details out of me about what was happening at school but he knew I didn’t budge. He was a man of action and he’d get me in more trouble by trying to save me.

Once we were on the road, I finally talked. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Do you ever feel…lonely?”

“Lonely?” Hopper repeated.

“Yeah,” I shrugged, it seemed like a straightforward question, “Do you ever wish you had someone in your life other than me and El?”

Hopper thought his answer over for a breath. “Not really. I’ve got you two keeping me plenty busy. We’ve got a good thing going, the three of us.”

“That’s not what I mean,” I shifted in my seat to face him, “Do you ever feel like there’s something missing from your life, even though your life is good? Like even if you have people you care about a-and a job and you’re happy, you know you’re not as happy as you could be?”

Hopper furrowed his brow, “Is there something you’re trying to tell me, kid?”

I sighed, looking down at my fidgety hands, “I don’t know…I just….I think it’s just this day. It just reminds me that I’m alone,” I quickly held up a hand as Hopper inhaled, “Even though I’m not. But I see all these happy couples all day, every day, and I just…I want that. To be happy with someone.”

Silence took over the truck. I didn’t want Hopper to think I was ungrateful for the life he’d given me. It had nothing to do with him or El, it had everything to do with me. It would be nearly impossible for me to ever be in a relationship with anyone. Between my past and the paranoia I’d never come out of, I wouldn’t ever be able to fully settle into something.

The unexpected turn the truck made snapped me out of my thoughts. “Where are we going?”

“I need to pick up something from the store,” Hopper said.

In the grocery store parking lot, he grabbed his wallet from the cupholder and got out of the car. “You can stay here, I’ll be quick.”

I nodded, not really paying attention. While he was gone, I watched the sun begin to set above the building. Sunsets had always given me comfort that I’d survived another day. My days looked different than they had a few months ago, but I still needed that comfort.

After about fifteen minutes, I saw Hopper exit the store carrying…everything red, pink and heart shaped he could. Once he opened the door, I got a better look at everything.

“Look,” he smiled, “I know I’m not captain of the basketball team or whichever name is all over the bathroom stalls with hearts around it-“

I snorted, thinking about both. Jason, the team captain, was constantly hanging around one of the cheerleaders. And as far as bathroom stall graffiti went, Steve reigned supreme.

“But this day’s about love…” Hopper shook his head, “Who says it can only be about one type of love?”

He held up a bouquet of pink flowers, a box of chocolates and a small brown teddy bear holding a heart. I smiled, taking them from him and trying not to let him see that I was moved to tears. No one had ever made a gesture like that. No one had ever been determined to show that they cared about me. Until Hopper. Since he’d taken me in, he’d gone out of his way to show that I meant something to him. What the two of us had went far deeper than a high school romance ever could.

“Thank you,” I whispered, finally meeting his eyes.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled, “And someday someone’s gonna come along and I’m going to…do everything in my power to make sure they don’t get past the front door.”

We laughed heartily, even there was very little joke to what he said.

“You think your sister’ll like these?” Hopper asked, holding up the rest of the goodies. It matched my pile except the flowers were red and the stuffed bear was blonde.

“Yes,” I nodded, smiling as I pictures El’s face. “They’ll be the first real presents she’s ever gotten.”

“Good,” Hopper smiled, he almost looked a little nervous. He was still learning how to deal with El.

“What about you?” I joked, “No flowers or chocolates?”

“Something even better,” he replied, holding up a six pack in one hand and a large frozen pizza in the other.

The two of us arrived home just as the sun disappeared for the night. I tapped out the complex knock with my free hand and El opened the door. I had a feeling that she sat next to it each evening, waiting for the sound of the truck.

Her eyes widened as she saw the goodies Hopper and I were carrying. When he handed her the flowers, she looked at them confused. It occurred to me that I’d spent years seeing them growing on the side of roads or in nurse’s offices while El had probably only seen them in the books we’d read.

“Smell them,” I suggested.

She pressed her nose to them hesitantly and inhaled, pulling back with a little jolt. “It is nice,” she said with a shy smile.

“What about this guy?” Hopper held up the bear.

Each of us had been given one stuffed animal in the lab. I’d left mine, a dog, when I escaped. El’s had been a lion, which felt fitting. She was a fighter, but now she deserved to be a kid.

She rubbed the bear’s soft fur against her cheek, smiling deeply at the sensation. “Soft.”

The rest of the night was spent eating pizza and chocolate decorated Eggos. None of it cured my loneliness, but it showed me something. On my bad days, I didn’t have to stay on the ground. I had people to pick me back up, to make me smile, to tell me that in my worst moments, I still meant something to them. Valentine’s Day suddenly felt a lot more than a day reserved only for people in love.

——————

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