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idyllicwillowtree · 8 months

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How Much Love

Genre: Steve Harrington x fem!reader / gn!reader; angst with fluffy ending, hurt/comfort, established relationship

Summary: Steve has a migraine attack but he’s too stubborn to take care of himself.

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: one curse word, non-descriptive vomiting, migraine symptoms, chronic pain, crying, one use of Y/N, dumb joke, p*rn reference?

Author’s note: I know the migraine thing has been overdone but idc :) I'm pretty sure this could be read as gender neutral but you can lmk if that's not the case

Enjoy!

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Steve knew he shouldn’t have gone to work. The second his eyes opened he knew it was going to be a rough day. The persistent throbbing on the left side of his face and the twist of nausea in his stomach would be enough to convince anyone else that they should take it easy.

Not for Steve though.

He’s done this dance before. The battle in his mind of not wanting to waste one of his precious sick days or if he should stay home and take care of himself so he can make it through the next day. He usually sucked it up and went with the former.

I’ve had worse before, he’d rationalize to himself. I can handle it.

His true motivation for leaving the comfort and warmth of his bed was the date he had planned for you two. Steve went all out with flowers, chocolates, dinner reservation at Enzo’s, and concluding the night snuggled up on his couch watching a rented movie.

But the customers kept coming. Steve could've sworn they were all there, not to rent a movie, but to exacerbate his migraine attack. Tired mothers bringing in their screaming babies, a group of smelly teenagers, and a boisterous man who was trying to convince Robin that The Godfather was the greatest movie ever made. That’s not even mentioning the flickering fluorescent lights that Keith refuses to change the bulbs in.

Robin began to take notice once Steve kept bumping into the shelves as he put away tapes around the store. She watched as he mustered up enough strength to pick up a stack of returned tapes and mindlessly put The Muppet Babies in the Horror section and something called I Dream of Weenie in the kids section.

By 4:30, he was absolutely fried.

“Go home, dingus,” Robin ordered.

All Steve could muster was a small grunt from his spot at the register. His forehead was pressed to the cool counter, toned arms wrapped around his head, trying to keep as much noise and light out as possible.

The bell on the door of Family Video was the final nail in the coffin. People have been coming in and out all day but this time the ring pierced through the side of his head like a burning knife, swiftly penetrating his brain and twisting it for good measure.

Steve’s back stiffened as he sat up too fast, stomach turning when he ran blindly through the store and into the bathroom before emptying out the contents of his stomach. He tried not to think about when the last time the toilet was cleaned as he kept his face in the ceramic bowl, spitting out the rest of the sour bile coating his throat.

Steve barely heard the door creak open through the throbbing in his head and the ringing in his ears, but he did notice the light in the bathroom turn off. “Go away, Robin,” he croaked out.

The disobedient footsteps continued towards him. He just wanted to be left alone, feeling too vulnerable in this state. He felt embarrassment twist in his chest at the thought of not being able to handle a simple headache.

A cold hand landed on the back of his neck and began to massage lightly. It felt comforting but Steve’s mind was rejecting it, “Robin, I said-”

He finally lifted his heavy head, half opened eyes widened slightly as he met your concerned gaze, only for him to start welling up. Steve’s lip trembled as it failed to keep a sob from escaping.

“Oh baby,” you whispered. “Not feeling good?”

Steve hung his head the best he could with his stiff neck and shook his head in response.

“It’s okay, Stevie. Try not to move your head too much.”

You squatted next to him on the nasty bathroom floor and gently brought him into your arms. You let him cry into your shirt, gently rubbing soothing circles on his back and neck. Steve knew that crying would only hurt his head more, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t understand the emotions he was feeling yet, but he knew he was relieved to see you show up. Like a superhero, there to heal and protect him from any harm.

“I’m here now, baby. Let’s get you home, okay?”

_______________________________________________

Steve was so out of it he wasn’t sure how it happened, but the next thing he knew he was snuggled in a cocoon of pillows and blankets. He peeled his eyes open and recognized the dark ceiling of his bedroom.

You were puttering around the room, tidying up a little so Steve would have one less thing to worry about. He admired how natural it looked for you, knowing where everything goes and even avoiding the loud creaking spots on the floor. Steve had the sudden urge to reach out but you tucked him in so well he was having trouble slipping his arms out.

His grunt of protest over the blanket entrapment alerted you and you were by his side in an instant.

“What is it baby?” you whispered gently, “you need some water? Or a new ice pack?”

Only when you removed the cool washcloth from his forehead did he notice the satisfying chill. He must have been practically asleep when you brought him home because he really doesn’t remember anything.

“What time is it?” Steve croaked out.

He leaned into the kiss you pressed gently to his cheek before you answered, “almost midnight.”

“What?!” Steve immediately went to sit up, but in his weakened state you were easily able to push him back down. “We had reservations!”

“I know, Stevie. It was really sweet of you to make plans but nothing we can do about it now,” you tried to reason. “We need to get you feeling better.”

“But I-”

“Stop that,” you demanded, still with a quiet and gentle tone, but it was still enough to cut him off. “Let me take care of you, Stevie. I know you feel bad, but I want to take care of you.”

Steve wasn’t sure if you meant he was feeling bad because he was sick or because of the immense amount of guilt he feels whenever he sees himself as a burden to others. Probably a little of both.

“I just…I was looking forward to tonight,” Steve muttered tiredly. “And this stupid chronic thing just always gets in the way and I don't…I don’t like asking for help.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he was making much sense but your smile showed him you understood. Your expression was soft and comforting as you gently raked your fingers through his hair. “Steve, I love you. All of you. Every single part of you I just adore. It doesn’t matter if those parts are feeling bad or good, I’ll always be here,” you stroked his cheek gently with the back of your hand, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. “I like caring for you Steve. It makes me feel good. So don’t worry about burdening me or anything like that, okay?”

Steve felt his lip tremble again but managed to gulp down his sobs this time. He whispered a quiet, “thank you” before fully relaxing. He lazily pursed his lips, silently asking for affection, which you happily fulfilled. You moved in close and kissed his lips as a way to let him know you will support him during this tough time.

Once you were leaned back you said, “now, on a scale from one to ten, how bad does it hurt?”

“Mm…Eleven.”

“No, it’s Y/N.”

Silence engulfed the negative space until a curious Steve peeled one eye open, only to see your shit-eating grin. He knew you’d be frozen like that until he laughed, but your expression was usually funnier than the joke.

He puffed out a laugh through his nose before shutting his eyes again. “That was horrible,” he said.

“Maybe, but at least I got you to smile,” you said smugly.

“Mm you sure did,” he praised you lightly. “Now c’mere. Cuddling is the best medicine.”

It’s called ‘chronic pain’ for a reason. Sure you can dull the pain with medications and treatments but it’ll always be there. Sometimes all you have to do is deal with it and ride it out, but it makes it so much easier when there’s someone there who loves and supports you.

Love may not be able to cure all kinds of pain but Steve thinks your love comes pretty close.

thank you for reading!

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deancaspinefest · 2 months

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Take The Long Way Home

Author: sidewinder | Artist: caught-a-dragonfly (Sarah)

Posting on Monday April 15

Two months ago, the world didn’t end. But for Dean Winchester, who fully expected to sacrifice not just his life but his very soul in order to stop Amara? The celebration has been clouded by the disappearance of his best friend, Cas—the friend he’d started to realize meant more to him than he’d been willing to accept until now. The last anyone’s seen of Castiel was when he was banished from the bunker by Toni Bevell. The Brits swear they don’t have him. Neither Heaven nor Hell claim to know of his whereabouts. All of Dean’s calls, texts and prayers to the angel have gone unanswered, and Dean can’t help but worry that a "Winchester win" has once again come at a terrible price. One day hope finally arrives in a lead from an unexpected if not always trustworthy ally. However finding Cas might end up being only the first step in saving him—not simply from the forces holding him captive, but from the prison of his own mind.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

As Dean approached the galley, he saw the light on there already, meaning he wasn’t the only early bird up and about today. His mood brightened with a momentary spark of hope—Cas rarely slept, and when he was around the bunker, he usually enjoyed hanging around in the kitchen to read or watch cat videos and shit all night on one of their laptops. But Dean’s bubble of hope burst when he saw it was just his brother, sitting there in his sweatpants and a ratty old t-shirt, chugging a disgusting-looking green smoothie. Sam was no doubt ready to head out on his morning self-imposed torture session—that is, a five-mile run looping around the bunker to Lebanon and back.

Kid seriously had to be the devil’s vessel if he found that kind of physical torment enjoyable.

“Hey,” Dean grunted at his brother.

Sam looked up from his laptop at Dean and nodded. “Hey. You’re up early.”

“You too. Couldn’t sleep?”

“Rarely do.”

Yeah, that was something they had in common. “Anything up?” Dean asked on his way to fill the coffeepot with water.

“Not really. Just restless, I guess. I found a case, maybe. Not that I was looking for one,” Sam added quickly. “But while I was searching for any signs of Cas, or Lucifer, I came across a news story about some strange deaths in Wichita. It’s not far from here, and—”

“If you wanna go hunt whatever it is, go for it,” Dean cut him off. “Take mom. I know she’s itching to get out of here and do somethin’ other than stare at our ugly mugs all day.”

“Dean—”

“No, Sam. I mean it. Until I know where Cas is, I just can’t. My head’s not in the game.” A distracted hunter was a dead hunter. That was the rule their father had drilled into them as soon as they each could carry a weapon, and learn about the things that went bump in the night being real. A week ago, Dean had let Sam talk him into going on a “milk run” hunt to clear out a small vampire nest near Toledo and he’d nearly lost his neck thanks to not fully concentrating on the job at hand.

“Okay, I get it.”

“Do you?” Dean snapped. “Cas has been missing for two months, Sam! We have no idea where he is, if he even—”

Dean cut himself off. He couldn’t say it. Not out loud.

If he even survived.

(continue reading on Ao3 on Monday April 15)

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel art #deancas art #pinefest 2024 #pinefest previews #2024 Dean/Cas Pinefest #author: sidewinder #artist: caught-a-dragonfly (Sarah)#canon divergent #hurt!Cas #alternate season 12

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eddiemunsonssoulmate · 2 years

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Say you'll still be by my side

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 6k

Summary: Eddie made it out of the Upside Down, barely alive. He’s in a coma now but you refuse to let him go.

Warnings: Hurt & Comfort, Fluff, Trauma, Scars, Light Angst

Available on: AO3

A/N: Another Fix-It but this time with the reader taking care of him. The Duffers have to pry him off my cold hands if they want me to let him go because there’s no way this is happening any time soon. Hope this gives you as much comfort as it gave me while writing it. Eddie is alive and I accept nothing else.

“I can’t believe we did it!” Robin said and hugged you while your eyes were fixed on the bloody ground in front the villa. Was that really it? That…easy?

You hugged her back, but your mind was already wandering towards the two people who were supposed to distract the bats. It must have worked because you didn’t see a single one.

“Let’s get back to the others quickly,” you suggested and she let go of you, your eyes finding Steve’s and he gave you a nod.

There was this feeling in your stomach and a painful tug on your heart. The four of you quickly made the way back to the trailer.

They would be fine. They promised they’re not heroes, promised they’d run as soon as it got bad. You would have stayed with them, but Eddie absolutely refused to let you join the ‘Bait Party’ how he had called it.

He had been the bait and yet, he had been so worried about you.

Letting go of his hand as you split up had been the hardest thing you had done in your entire life.

As the trailer park came closer, your steps became faster without even realizing it until you broke out into a full jog.

“Y/N, wait!” Steve yelled after you, but you didn’t hear him. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you felt sick in your stomach.

As you broke through the tree line, you could hear someone crying and your stomach dropped. You looked around frantically until you saw Dustin, holding someone in his arms.

No.

You sprinted over to him. “Dustin! Eddie!”

He looked up at you as you basically fell to your knees next to him, his eyes red and puffy, tears straining his face.

No. No. No.

Eddie was in his arms, not moving, blood covering his face, the bats lying dead all around them. His body was covered in bites and scratches, his clothes were painted in red and it made you so, so sick.

“No,” you whispered in disbelief and Dustin wanted to say something but only violent wails came out of his mouth.

You took Eddie’s head and put it in your lap, moving the hair out of his face, wiping the blood of his cheek. It was only a very faint movement, but you felt his breath on your hand. He was unconscious and barely breathing.

“He’s alive,” you whispered, and Dustin looked at you with big eyes, his wails stopping. “We need to get him out of here.”

Dustin seemed to need a moment to actually realize what you said and then nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be sorry, he will be fine.” You were convinced of that. You needed to believe that, or you'd break apart right here, right now. There was also no way you’d let Dustin take any kind of blame. He was too young for that.

The other three came through the tree line and Steve immediately came running as soon as he saw Dustin’s face, taking him into his arms and then looking down at you and Eddie.

“Is he…?” he carefully started to ask but you shook your head.

“Can you carry him? We need to get him to a hospital,” you said and swallowed, tears in your eyes. The way he lay there, bruised and bloodied, it broke your heart into a thousand pieces.

Your heart was beating in your chest and despite the anxiety eating you alive inside, you tried to stay calm. Hoping that if you were calm around Eddie, he would feel it somehow.

Steve nodded and let go of Dustin, Nancy placing an arm around the young boy instead to comfort him.

Your friend crouched down next to you, and you tried to lift Eddie up on his back so he could carry him better.

It worked, somehow. You stayed by Eddie’s side the whole time, taking one of his hands in yours. “I’m here, Eddie. I won’t leave you.” It was only a soft whisper in the darkness of the Upside Down but you were sure it would get through to him.

Dustin explained what happened as you were on the way to the portal, and you didn’t know if you were sad, angry, worried or everything at the same time. He wasn’t supposed to play the hero, but you understood why he did it.

The anxiety inside of you made it hard to breathe. He had to be okay.

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

The doctors didn’t give you a lot of hope.

‘If he makes it through the next two nights, he might live.’

Eddie was too strong to die, you were sure of that. He couldn’t. You needed him more than anything in your life. He was your home and your heart and there was no way you’d let him go.

They warned you the hospital costs were high, especially for a criminal like that and you wanted to punch them in the face right there. Nancy was already on it, talking to the government about making the murder charges go away.

The medical costs were something you would worry about later; you’d pay them on your own if you had to. Your parents would understand. Hopefully.

In the end, he was in a coma to let him recover from the blood loss and so he wouldn’t feel the pain. The wounds weren’t deep but there were so many of them. Attacked by wild dogs was the excuse. The doctors looked like they didn’t believed you but you couldn’t care less, they would never understand.

This town was fucked anyway.

Your days were filled with visiting him at the hospital. After Vecna had opened the portals through Hawkins, everything was a mess but all you cared about was him and Max. Every time you went to get a coffee, you also checked on Max who was in a room nearby.

She had always been like a little sister to you, especially after losing Billy, but you couldn’t split yourself apart, so you were thankful that Lucas was here for her every day.

At the beginning, the nurses kicked you out at night. No visitors allowed bullshit. Sometimes you sneaked back in. After Eddie was declared innocent, thanks to the whole government relationships you had, the nurses accepted you here around the clock. They know they couldn’t keep you away.

Suddenly it was okay. It made you angry, but you didn’t want to project any bad energy to Eddie, so you always swallowed your anger when you entered the room.

You were always holding his hand, letting him know you were here. You talked to him, sang to him, playing his favorite songs after basically bringing all his cassettes that were intact from his trailer. Sometimes you read to him from your favorite book, the one that he wanted to read just because you told him it was your favorite.

You told him a lot, about yourself, about your friends, about what was happening in Hawkins. All you wanted for him was to wake up and you had heard talking to a person in a coma would sometimes trigger something in them.

There was not a single day that passed where you didn’t tell him you love him. Placing kisses on his cheek, his forehead, his hands but you never got a reaction back.

He just lay there, eyes closed, his body bruised and battered and sometimes you weren’t even sure if he was still breathing. It hurt so much and it felt like a part of your soul was missing.

You frequently brought him flowers, sometimes you bought them, sometimes you just picked them randomly. It was important for you to let him know that someone had been here in case you weren’t present when he woke up.

You had no doubt that he would, one day.

Every time the nurses changed his bandages, you stayed in the room even though they always told you to get out. At this point you could probably change them by yourself from watching them so much.

The wounds were bad and nasty and some of them were even infected. They looked disgusting and would for sure leave some scars all over him. Nothing compared to the little scars he had before from falling off a bike or getting into a fight with someone.

Every time you saw the bat tattoo on his arm it made you sick. He really needed to get that replaced at some point, so you asked the nurses every time to cover it up with the bandage. They did it and you were grateful for that. You were sure if you had to look at it for too long, you’d break down crying.

Twice a week you shaved his beard, the small stubble that was growing. You knew he didn’t like his beard, so you made sure he didn’t wake up with one. One day, you’d ask him why he didn’t like it, he hadn’t told you yet and the curiosity has always been there. You assumed it might remind him too much of his father.

“Please, wake up, I need you.”

It was the plea that followed you through your everyday life now. You needed him so much and not hearing his voice was breaking your heart. The rare times you were at home you listened to the mixtape he made you where he had recorded himself singing songs that he had written for you.

It was the only way to hear his voice at the moment. You didn’t know how long you could do this anymore.

On the day where Hellfire would normally be, you’d bring D&D supplies to his room. You rolled some dice and talked about your characters and new campaign ideas. If he had a list with things he loved most, you were first, his guitar second and D&D was third.

He had promised you to teach you how to play the guitar one day. You kept reminding him of that, saying he couldn’t leave you until he taught you how to play Master of Puppets.

Days became weeks and sometimes there was this little voice in the back of your mind that told you he wouldn’t wake up anymore.

Things you didn’t want to hear. Your anxiety speaking.

You wouldn’t lose hope. He would wake up one day and even if it would take years, you’d be here for him. Moving on was not even an option.

Eddie was your entire life; you couldn’t let him go.

Wayne told you that he couldn’t pay for all the bills after so many weeks, but you just shook your head, telling him you would take care of it. At first, he refused but he loved his nephew like a son so in the end, he gladly took the offer.

It took some time to convince your parents as they hadn’t been fond of Eddie before but now with him in a coma and you barely at home, they realized how much he meant to you, so they agreed. Grateful wasn’t even enough to describe what this meant to you.

“You’re going to wake up,” you whispered to him that night. No matter how long it would take. You believed that he was strong enough to battle whatever was going on inside of him. There was no way he wasn’t able to defeat whatever was holding him captive inside his mind.

After you and Wayne, it was Dustin who came by most. The boy felt so guilty about everything that had happened, but you reassured him that he couldn’t have done anything. Eddie would be fine, no matter what. Dustin was too young to take any guilt inside of him.

The two of you grew even closer when you were sitting in the hospital room, talking to each other about your memories of your Dungeon Master. You hoped he could hear how much Dustin adored him.

“Your hair has gotten longer recently,” you told the boy, and your eyes went towards Eddie, then back to Dustin. “Got inspiration?”

Dustin chuckled and looked a little embarrassed. “Maybe?”

It was clear as day that he was growing out his hair so it could match Eddie’s and you thought it was really adorable. Steve was mostly acting like a babysitter and like a mother to Dustin, while Eddie was a big brother or father figure.

Eddie was a role model for Dustin, they were the same in a way and it was heartwarming to watch. You prayed to God that you could see their interaction again soon.

“He’ll wake up,” you promised Dustin and took his hands in yours, looking at him.

“I know. I just wish he already did,” he sighed, and you gave him a small smile. You understood that.

“On the bright side, your hair has more time to grow,” you teased and tugged a little on one of his long locks.

“Oi!” Dustin laughed and shook his head, eyes finding Eddie’s unmoving face again. “I miss him.”

“Me too,” you admitted and turned towards Eddie. It hurt to see him like that. Even after all this time, you couldn’t get used to it.

Spring turned into Summer and while the gang tried to figure out what the portals were and where Vecna went, the town slowly started to believe that it hadn’t been just an earthquake, starting to make conspiracy theories that the government was behind all of it.

But all you cared about was Eddie.

You didn’t give a shit about the town. You barely cared if any Demogorgons came to eat you alive because life isn't worth living without him anyway. All you wanted was to hear him say your name again.

It had been a long day at the hospital again and you could barely stay awake. You were holding his hand, your face on top of the bed and sleep was slowly washing over you. It was so hard to keep your eyes open and the last few months had left traces on your body and mind.

Coming here every day, caring for him, worrying about him, it was physically and mentally exhausting. Some of your friends from school had asked if you were sure about this, that you should take a break and stop completely but there was no way you’d leave him alone. He needed you. No matter in what dark place his mind was in the void of the coma, he wouldn’t be alone.

Your dreams were filled with memories of you and him. Epic adventures during Hellfire. Him and you hiding from everyone at the beginning of your secret relationship. The first time he told you he loved you. Introducing him to your parents and dealing with their wrath. Running away together for a week without telling anyone. The first time he truly made you his.

While your dreams made you smile in your sleep, you didn’t notice the squeezing of your hand at first. Your dreams were deep and beautiful, and you didn’t want to wake up to a world where he couldn’t tell you that he loved you.

“Y/N.” Your name was a hoarse whisper in your dreams, and it made you smile even more. You missed him saying your name so damn much.

It took a long moment for you to realize that it hadn’t been in your dreams. Slowly but steadily, you woke, not wanting to leave the memories of him in your dreams but when you opened your eyes, you saw him looking at you.

At first, you thought this was still a dream. His brown, tired eyes were fixed on you, his hand squeezing yours and he was smiling a little. This had to be a dream.

“Y/N,” he said your name again and as soon as it fell from his lips, you knew this was real. Tears shot into your eyes and immediately started to fall. You couldn’t believe it. He was awake after all that time.

“Eddie,” you choked out and jumped out of your chair, hugging him. He let out a huff of pain and you almost pulled back, afraid to hurt him more but he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest.

“Don’t let go,” he begged with a rough voice, and it must be so hard for him to talk.

“I never did,” you said and buried your face in the crook of his neck, tears straining the pillow behind him.

The way he hugged you told you that it had been the right choice.

As soon as you were able to breathe again and tears stopped, you moved away, looking at his face. He was also crying; his bottom lip wavering and you placed a soft kiss on it.

“I’ll get a doctor. I must call the others. I-” You started babbling and he laughed weakly.

“Calm down,” he said with a soft smile, and you raised an eyebrow at him for a moment before returning the smile. Hearing his voice felt so good, your whole body was warming up and it still felt like a dream.

“I need a doctor to tell me you’re actually awake.” You sighed and placed another kiss on his lips. They moved slowly against yours, as chipped and broken as they were but you didn’t care. You needed his lips on yours. The soft movement of love.

After you pulled away it looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t, so you just smiled at him before leaving, looking for a doctor.

It was the middle of the night, so you had to look for quite some time to find one that was available but as soon as you told them, they immediately went to check up on Eddie. This time, they didn’t let you into the room as three doctors were swarming him, calling it a miracle and all of that.

Bullshit.

Miracles didn’t exist. Eddie was just so strong he got back here all by himself.

Normally you’d call at least his uncle, but he was working at the moment and there was no way to reach him. Your friends would be asleep and could wait until the morning.

Maybe it was a little selfish of you but right now, you wanted it to be you and him, at least for a little while.

The doctors left his room and told you briefly he looked fine, the few tests they did on him were positive and that they would do more in the morning. He’d need a long way of recovery to get back to a normal life but all of that didn’t matter to you now.

He was awake. After months.

When you entered the room again, he smiled at you weakly, and you sat down at your usual spot.

“You should rest,” you told him, looking at his tired eyes but he just shook his head.

“They told me I was in a coma for months. I think I’ve rested enough,” he said, and it made you laugh. Always so stubborn.

“How’s the pain?” you asked but he just shook his head.

“I barely feel anything. They said it will take at least a day for all of it to come back. Can’t wait for the pain.” He grimaced and you took his hand in yours, placing a kiss to the back of his hand.

“I missed you. So much,” you told him. He just nodded, looking deeply at you. It probably didn’t really hit him yet that he had been gone for so long. It must be so weird for him.

“I know.” He was quiet for a moment. “I…heard everything. Well, maybe not everything but a lot. How you were here every day. How you told me some very embarrassing secrets about yourself. How you talked with Dustin.”

Tears were gathering in your eyes again when he told you what you had hoped. He had known he wasn’t alone all this time. You bit your bottom lip, trying to stop the tears from falling down your cheeks again.

The way he looked at you made you weak and God, you missed this.

“Knowing you were here every day, it made me fight even more. I wanted to come back to you, so badly.” Well, there goes your plan with not crying because those words had you bawling.

He looked at you so softly as he raised his arm, wiping the tears away with his thumb.

“You made it. You’re back,” you whispered between sobs, and he nodded at you. You didn’t even know if you said it to him or more to yourself.

“It’s going to be okay now.”

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

Everyone was so relieved to see him awake and talking, it warmed your heart. The next day you had immediately called his uncle who came by within a couple of minutes, dead tired but just wanting to see his nephew.

Briefly after that you called your friends and they barely fit into the room, bringing him balloons and flowers and all that shit he would normally hate.

Not now.

Now he was just happy to see everyone alive and happy for him. Well, except Max. He asked about her and Lucas took the time to explain. A pained expression was on Eddie’s face afterwards but then he said if he was able to wake up, she would too. You had also explained to him that the cops were not after him anymore, that everything was taken care of.

In the end, not much changed for you. You were still here day and night and didn't want to leave him alone. You were with him through all the treatments and tests he had to go through. He was always so exhausted at night, but you told him you were here for him, watching over him and nothing bad would ever happen to him again.

During the night he would wake you up from time to time. Not on purpose but it was the way his body jerked, how he whimpered and sometimes even screamed. When you finally asked him what all of that was about, he just went quiet for a long time.

“The bats. They follow me in my dreams. They rip me apart again every night,” he admitted, and you felt like crying for him. Of course, the bats. The trauma was sitting deep in his bones and mind, and you weren’t even sure how to handle that.

The next day you bought him a dreamcatcher and tied it above his bed.

“Isn’t that quite superstitious?” he asked you with a raised eyebrow, but you just stuck your tongue out.

“I chose it with love and love will keep the nightmares away, okay?”

In the end, they did. Or he simply started to come to terms with what had happened to him, but he woke you up not as often anymore and you wondered what he was dreaming about instead.

The first time he was able to take a shower he didn’t want you there and it hurt a little.

“You sure? Do you really want me to get an old nurse instead of sexy me to undress you?” you teased, and he groaned as he was sitting at the edge of his bed.

“I just…” He trailed off, running a hand through his greasy hair and you waited for him to finish, your hands on his legs. “I don’t want you to see.”

“See what?” you asked confused, you were quite sure you knew his body quite well at this point in your relationship.

“The scars,” he whispered and then it dawned on you. He was ashamed of all the bitemarks and scratches the bats left behind. It broke your heart to see him like that, thinking that it was something to be ashamed of.

You took his face in your hands and lifted it, so he had to look at you.

“Eddie Munson. I was here the whole time. I saw the bites turn into scars every time the nurses changed the bandages. I saw how infected they were and how they healed. They’re not something you need to hide from me,” you told him with a stern voice, and he smiled slightly at you.

“But they’re ugly and all over me. I hate them, I can’t even look at them,” he admitted before you kissed him, deeply, pouring all your love into it.

“They just prove how brave you were back then. They’re battle scars and that’s pretty metal if you ask me.” You grinned at him and then put your forehead against him. “They prove that you’re a hero. My hero.”

That was enough to make him get up from the bed and accept your help. You walked with him to the small shower in the bathroom, helping him out of the hospital clothes.

When you got a full look at his naked body for the first time, you realized how bad it actually was. Especially his stomach and chests were covered with bites and tiny claw marks but also his legs and arms, even a part of his neck. Scars that would never fade away.

“Don’t look at me like that, please,” he begged, and you noticed how he was watching you run your gaze over him while leaning against the cold tiles, his legs shaking a little.

“What do you mean?” you asked, and he shook his head.

“With pity,” he muttered, and you slightly hit his arm where you knew there were no wounds.

“I’m not looking at you with pity, Munson! I just haven’t seen your naked body in a long time,” you told him with a wink that made him laugh. “Can you stand alone?”

“I can try,” he replied but it was all too wobbly and not safe enough in your opinion.

It was a split second where you decided to get in with him, fully dressed, just holding him, and washing the places he couldn’t reach.

You made sure to touch every single scar on his body, wanting to show him that you weren’t disgusted by them or anything, placing kisses on the ones that you could reach with your mouth while holding him steady.

You weren’t quite sure because of the water pouring down on you but it looked like he was crying. Your heart broke for him, again. You couldn’t express the emotions that were truly inside of you because that would mean you had to explain your love for him and words were not enough for that.

He had been so innocent in all of this and yet, he had suffered the most next to Max. It wasn’t fair and if Vecna showed up again, you’d personally make sure to rip his head off.

“I need to get this covered,” he said as you walked out of the shower, drying him, and then shrugging out of your wet clothes.

You followed his gaze to his arm where he just looked at the bats and you nodded. He was shaking.

While he was asleep after the shower, you already started to draw a new motive, one that would cover it up well enough and had a meaning to you both.

He cried the next day when you showed it to him and you promised him, as soon as he was out of the hospital, you’d find someone to get new ink under his skin.

Recovery was a long and hard road for him. He even admitted that sometimes he just wanted to give up because everything hurt and he couldn’t do this anymore.

Every single time you reassured him that he had been strong enough to pull out of a coma after everything and he would sure as hell be strong enough to get back on his feet.

Even though he didn’t seem to see his own progress, you did. It was better every day. At some point he was even able to play D&D with you at the small table of his room, out of his bed. It was so good to see him as a Dungeon Master again, but you also noticed how he left out monsters he used to love simply because they reminded him of the Upside Down.

Eddie asked you multiple times how Hawkins looked, and it was so hard to explain to him without him being able to see it. You always said that it looked like hell, but you’d figure everything out and he should just focus on his recovery. Everyone would be safe. You needed to convince him as much as you needed to convince yourself with your words.

You knew that he was afraid that things were crawling out of the portals would hurt him again. He was terrified and you understood that; you would be too after everything he had endured. Hell, every normal person would be.

Weeks into his recovery, he started walking on his own again, without help, but wasn’t allowed to leave his room. Dustin had brought his Walkie Talkies so you could talk to each other whenever you went out to run an errand for him. As soon as his appetite had come back, he had been craving different things the hospital wouldn’t let him eat.

Sometimes it was pizza, sometimes just something small like pretzels. The nurses were adamant when it came to his diet, so you were basically smuggling all the different foods into his hospital room. Seeing how he devoured them with the appetite of a teenager during a growth spurt made it all worth it. It was a good sign.

He had been so slim and weak after the coma, him getting his weight and muscles back was such a wonderful thing to see.

When the doctors finally told him he would be released in a week you were ecstatic for him, but he seemed to be bothered by something.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him and tilted your head while he was just looking out of the window as soon as the doctors left.

“My uncle said he lives in a motel for free because he’s working for them after our trailer got ruined.” He sighed and turned to look at you. “I really don’t want to live in a motel.” A frustrated laugh left him, and he shook his head.

“Don’t worry,” you said and put a hand on his cheek. For a moment you pondered how to tell him until you grinned. “You’re going to live with me.”

He frowned at you, clearly confused. “With you?”

You nodded. “I talked to my parents. You can come live with us, your uncle too. They know how much you mean to me, and they also know your uncle is the only family you have left. He still needs some convincing but I’m sure if you ask him then he’ll agree.”

You saw how his brown eyes turned glassy, tears gathering in them.

“I love you so fucking much,” he said and leaned forward, placing a kiss on your lips. “I don’t know how I deserve all of this. Deserve you.”

You felt the little sting in your heart, despite everything that he did for you and the town, he still didn’t believe he deserved any of the good things that were happening to them.

“Because you’re a better man than you think you are,” you breathed against his lips, kissing him again before wrapping your arms around his neck. “And I love you more than anything, so please stop doubting yourself all the time.”

He and uncle moved in with you as soon as he was released from the hospital.

Eddie lived in your room with you, there was no other option you had accepted.

Wayne was offered the big guest room at the end of the hallway, but he chose the small bungalow out in your yard, not wanting to disturb family life too much, just grateful to have a normal roof over his head. He promised to get himself a new trailer as soon as he had the money, but your parents just smiled at that. They would let him live in the bungalow as long as he needed to.

The first night you shared your bedroom with Eddie was also the first night he made you his again. It was slow and full of love, and it made you cry. In the end, you had to take the lead because it was too much for him, but it was all worth it. Just his hands on your naked skin and him inside of you proved how right you had been about staying with him during all those months. He made you feel so alive.

Afterwards you let your fingers run over all his scars again and again like you had done during the last few weeks too. It had been a slow and long process but now he was slowly starting to accept them. They were a part of him and his history and one day, he’d be proud of them, you were sure.

The next day you woke up early to prepare a few things. When you came back to the room, he was still asleep.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” you whispered into his ear before biting his earlobe softly.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled and turned away from you, but you just laughed, ruffling his hair a little until he looked at you.

“I’ve got a surprise.” A big grin was on your lips and your words got his attention.

“What is it?” he asked, sitting up and letting out a big yawn while stretching.

“Remember I promised that as soon as you’re out of the hospital, we’re getting those covered?” you nodded at his arm where he wore a bandage around the bats. He kept the bandage on because he couldn’t stand to see the bats. “I found someone, and we can visit them right away.”

His whole face lit up and he basically jumped at you, tackling you to the bed with joy.

During the whole procedure, he didn’t look at his arm once until the tattoo artist told him that it was done. The beautiful new motive was covering the bats and he had to hold back tears, making you emotional too.

“I love it,” he said and smiled at the inked man in front of him before turning to you. “And I love you.”

“I love you too,” you told him.

As you were making your way back to your place, he couldn’t stop staring at it. All the weeks before, he couldn’t even look at his arm and now he couldn’t take his eyes off.

“It’s fucking perfect,” he muttered, and you smiled at him before taking his wrist, making him stop in his tracks.

“No matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you,” you told him, and you didn’t even know why you had the urge to tell him this now. It just felt right. “No matter if Vecna comes back or what the portals are going to do, I’ll always be by your side.”

He smiled widely at you before stepping into your personal space, pulling you into a strong hug. “And I’ll always protect you, no matter what.”

The words were sweet but also hurt at the same time. The last time he protected you and the rest of the gang, he almost died. You couldn’t go through this again.

“Just promise me you won’t leave me behind. The next time I want to stay with you, let me. I don’t want to be separated from you again,” you choked out, a single tear rolling down your cheek.

He winced a little at your words but nodded. You had told him before that you were mad at him for running out of the trailer like that, basically trying to sacrifice his life.

You had told him that there was no shame in running, repeating his words from a lifetime ago.

“We’ll face that fucker together, I promise,” he whispered into the crook of your neck, placing a soft kiss there. “There’s no way I’ll let go of your hand again.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t stop the rest of the tears escaping.

You’d love this man until your last day.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #hurt/comfort #canon divergent #fix it

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etherealxgenie · 1 year

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What do you mean this isn’t what happened in Desperada?!

Do NOT REPOST!!

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sweet-evie · 11 months

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Ohmygod Satoru and Suguru would be the MOST INSUFFERABLE pair of teachers to ever grace Jujutsu High...and poor Shoko is going to babysit them both!

Suguru would be teaching the 2nd years. Satoru is in-charge of the 1st years. Shoko is the school doctor that doesn't take shit from her two classmates.

Rule #1: Don't mess with Shoko. She will always have 2 special-grade sorcerers watching over her.

Suguru drags Satoru to Shoko's office in the school, because SaShiSu needs their Friday night outings, and somehow, the whole school knows about this... BECAUSE THEY'RE LOUD.

SatoSugu would give Yaga an aneurysm. And the moment Shoko plays along, it's over!

Satoru and Suguru would snicker like children at faculty meetings (unless the issue is super serious ofc)

SatoSugu would 100% pit their students against each other in a sparring match because they had a bet between them about whose students are stronger.

SatoSugu would be sore losers and they would challenge each other to a sparring match that may or may not set off the alarms at Jujutsu Tech because Surugu's curses are going off the rails and Satoru is spamming Amplification Blue in the middle of the forest. Shoko is so done with their shit.

But in sister school goodwill events, SaShiSu would be the best combination of coaches and stand-by medics the kids would ever know.

Suguru would try his best to be a responsible and serious teacher that you could take seriously in the classroom, but then Satoru randomly shows up to ask for chalk, borrow an eraser, deliver sweets to Suguru's unamused students, and just disrupt Suguru's class in general.

"What about your class, Satoru?" Suguru asks, and Satoru dismisses his best friend's concerns completely, because, "My kiddos are out training... unlike yours." Satoru turns to address the crowd (just 4) of exasperated children (teenagers) and says, "Suguru's the worst, isn't he?"

The kids just leave the classroom after that because Gojo-sensei and Geto-sensei are about to fight each other again.

#jujutsu kaisen #sashisu #satosugu #satoru gojo #suguru geto #shoko ieiri #headcanons #au #canon divergent #i need a platonic teacher au #i adore their bromance as much as I love the romance #gojo satoru #geto suguru #ieiri shoko #wbad blog #wbad shit posts

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invalid-prongs · 2 years

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“you’re married.”

james subconciously twists the ring on his fourth finger. “yeah, i am,” he smiles softly. “nearly a year ago now, actually. our anniversary comes up next month.”

“oh, that’s nice,” lily smiles, tilting her head to the side, sounding half geniune. “so, who is she? and when did you get over sirius’ stupid little brother?”

“actually, i got under him,” james’ gentle smiles turns into a smirk. “sirius’ stupid little brother is now my stupid little husband.”

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teencopandthesourwolf · 3 days

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SAME

for the @sterekdrabbles 12.04.24 challenge. the prompt words were: lush, wakeful, and lethal.

Stiles was in for a long, wakeful night.

He was devastated when Derek left after Mexico, but had been doing okay for a while now.

Then the werewolf came back—a lethal blow for Stiles moving on.

It'll always be him.

A huff from his open window had Stiles looking from his bed to see unnaturally blue eyes. The wolf padded silently over, resting front paws on Stiles's comforter, waiting.

Stiles sighed, then sunk his fingers into Derek's lush fur.

Fuck it.

He said, “I love you,” and when Derek whined and licked his face, Stiles realised maybe that was okay.

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shu-box-puns · 1 month

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I never would have given you to them; not for anything (Tsu'tey x Reader)

Last Chapter <- Part 5

Summary: You can choose to stay.

Word Count: 7532

Reader uses they/them pronouns.

Perched upon Eywa’s throne after yet another near death experience, you were officially contemplating if Eywa wasn’t just some neurological connection between the tree of Pandora, and was actually some dormant deity. Because for some reason, She really wanted you alive.

In the last twenty-four hours, you had been released from Bridgehead, captured and interrogated, only to somehow escape the first encounter, only to end up shot and then resurrected over the course of an hour, all so you could be nearly stabbed to death before the day was out. And somehow, you were still fucking alive, despite almost dying more times in one day, than you had in your entire previous life.

You would’ve found it hilarious if you had had the energy to laugh. But instead, you just felt drained. Whatever will to live that had been keeping you going until now, was running on fumes. You were hopelessly hungry and achy from the bullet wounds smarting across your side, and to add insult to injury, you had no idea what was happening.

Tsu’tey seemed to have decided you were returning to camp with everyone, despite how little he clearly trusted you. And for some reason, neither Jake nor Neytiri had objected.

It wasn’t as if you had much of a choice regardless. With Quaritch and the rest of your squad dead and General Ardmore no doubt informed of your betrayal, marching back into Bridgehead would be about as effective as eating a bullet. Not to mention, with your injury, wandering off into the forest would result in a similar situation.

Perhaps if you hadn’t exerted every inch of energy you had left getting Spider out from under Quaritch’s knife, you could’ve managed option two. But that didn’t matter now.

The body of your late comrades remained sprawled across the grass, their blood soaked into the earth beneath them. You felt no remorse for bringing about their end. Spider hadn’t deserved to die so you would have an opening to get away. He was Tsu’tey’s son, and that was enough to make him worth protecting.

At least they would finally be able to rest.

Your gaze flickered away from the bodies towards your own grave. Of course, it hadn’t moved since you found it earlier, where it had silently observed everything that had happened here. Unmoving and indifferent. It offered no answers beyond what had become of your past self.

The skeleton it cradled would not sit up and push the dirt off like a cosy blanket. The corpse would not reanimate and take a seat beside you upon the roots of the Throne. It would not laugh and sigh as it retold its life, filling in all the blanks the Tree hadn’t. Hell, its body wouldn’t even hold the evidence of what had killed it. By now there would be no fingerprints nor injuries to examine.

In your peripheral, Tsu’tey slipped into view, his hands visible and his expression solemn. Without turning your head, you moved your eyes towards him in acknowledgement. The mourning paint from his nose to his forehead had been mostly scraped away, his flying helmet set low above his brows.

“We’re ready to go.” He told you simply, “Jake has room on his ikran for you.”

You hummed, eyes rolling back to the grave. To the source of so many questions and anxieties.

Tsu’tey shifted restlessly on his feet. “Look.” He stepped closer, but at your instinctive shift to keep some distance between you, he quickly stilled himself. His ears lowered in understanding, his hands raised to show his empty fingers again. “I just wanted to thank you for protecting Spider and the others.” Tsu’tey said simply, his tone earnest. “I know I didn’t say so before.” You looked him up and down, finding no ulterior motive in his gratitude.

“It’s what they would have done.” You said simply, knowing that you both understood who you were referring to.

“Yes.” Tsu’tey agreed.

Another beat of silence.

“What happened?” Tsu’tey shifted on his feet, swallowing loudly. “What?” “What happened to them?” You repeated, eyes boring into the carved name of your headstone. In your peripheral, you watched Tsu’tey study you, before he shifted back a step and glanced at the graves. His body was wound tight, as if it pained him to acknowledge them. As if he viewed them as some sort of failure.

“We should head back-” “What happened, Tsu’tey?” You pressed firmly, tearing your eyes from the graves to meet his. “The Tree showed me so much, but it didn’t give me answers. I need you to be honest with me, or I can’t trust you.”

He swallowed. “Okay.”

“What happened to them? What killed them?”

>_<

“What killed them?”

Tsu’tey hated this. He despised the haunted look in their eye. He loathed the pain echoed in their eyes, both mental and physical. All he wanted was to go home. He wanted the safety of the clan surrounding his family. He wanted a warm meal, his comfortable hammock, and the knowledge that this nightmare was over.

“Did She not show you?” Tsu’tey asked instead of responding plainly.

The recom shook their head. “Not all of it. Someone gave me a tea.”

“Yes. It was infused with mucus from the Txumtsa’wll.” Tsu’tey confirmed with a grimace. He hadn’t realised at first, and had found the soiled mug in the compound some hours afterwards, the smell having drawn his attention. “Shit.” The recom breathed, “then why did they stab me?” “The tea alone would have taken too long to kill you.” Tsu’tey replied honestly, “and it is treatable if the patient is given the antidote quickly enough.” He paused to gather himself, stomach squirming as the uncomfortable memories began to resurface easily now that he was talking about it. “Arvok, my brother knew what he was doing. And he knew he would be noticed if he was gone too long. He struck on the night of a meeting between our clan and one of the horse clans. He stole one of their knives and framed their Olo’eyktan for your death. You died in my arms when I tried to get you to Mo’at.”

The recom was uncomfortably silent.

“How did you catch him?” They had finally stopped looking at their grave as if it would offer answers and were instead looking at him. Properly looking at him. Not his ear or the space above his eye, like they had when they feared him before, now they were looking at him like an equal.

Somehow, it didn’t make this any easier to say. “He went after Spider.” Tsu’tey spat, “and it was his last mistake.”

He could still feel the rage of that betrayal simmering beneath his skin, even fifteen years later. Could still feel the chokehold of grief that had blinded him. Forcing him to be reliant on Mo’at and the rest of the clan, to help him care for Spider when the sadness of losing his mate got the best of him.

He could still taste the FURY that had burned the back of his throat when he turned up to Arvok’s hut to pick Spider up, only to find his son suffocating. Arvok had laid the infant out on his back and removed his exo-mask, his face horrifyingly devoid of emotion as Tsu’tey’s son choked to death.

<”WHAT ARE YOU DOING!”> Tsu’tey had snarled, his body moving how he wanted for the first time in weeks. His vision had narrowed down to his son, panic and betrayal making his hands shake as he shoved Arvok aside and dove for Spider. With unsteady but determined hands, he had secured Spider’s mask back to his face.

<”It is for your own good Tsu’tey.”> His little brother had informed him, whilst Tsu’tey had kept his back to him, his attention solely on Spider. With careful fingers, he had combed Spider’s hair back from his face, relief blooming in his chest as colour returned to Spider’s face and his eyes cleared. He was still breathing hard, catching his breath, but humans usually recovered without difficulty at this stage.

At his back, Arvok was still monologuing, basically admitting to the murder he had allowed the visiting Olo’eyktan to take the fall for.

With Spider recovering, Tsu’tey had finally turned his attention to the threat. <”It was you? You did this?!”> Tsu’tey hissed, fury replacing the fear as he turned slowly.

<”Yes.”> Arvok admitted freely. And he was smiling.

<”It was your fault?”> Tsu’tey bellowed, <”I had to bury my mate, because of you? Spider’s other parent is rotting in a grave, because of you? You did this?”>

Arvok nodded again.

<”This nightmare never ends, and it’s your fault!”> He wasn’t entirely sure when he had reached for his knife, but it was in his hand regardless. <”YOU DID THIS!”>

Arvok seemed to have caught on that Tsu’tey didn’t agree with his motive. The coward had startled at his raised voice, his hands rising in surrender as he began to back up.

<”Tsu’tey!”> His mate’s murderer pleaded, <”think about what you’re doing-”> <”NO!”> Tsu’tey snarled, his tail thrashing with rage. His hands ached to kill, his entire body ached actually. From heartache and loneliness and remaining in his hammock for too long. But he was moving. Finally his mind and body were in sync again, listening to him. Willing to help him carry out vengeance. To protect his son from this threat and avenge his fallen loved one. <”I will not think! I will not wait! This ends NOW! I will NOT allow you to hurt ANYONE ELSE!”>

Arvok fumbled to draw his blade, but it was too late, Tsu’tey had already tackled him to the ground. His brother had shrieked and wiggled, pleading for mercy, but Tsu’tey had given up listening. His knife punctured vulnerable flesh with a wet slice, and the body beneath him began to tire.

He recalled the numbness that had followed. How his limbs had refused to cooperate again as he had crawled off the body, tears sliding down his face as grief tore open his chest anew. He had gathered up his unconscious son and crawled towards the hut’s entrance. He had only been able to make it as far as the walkway outside before he was forced to rest, his limbs screaming in exertion as a panic attack threatened to crawl up the back of his throat.

All he could think about was his son choking in his arms. About the promise he had made to his dead mate to look after him. How he had almost failed not even two weeks after they’d died.

He was a terrible father.

He’d curled up outside the hut for what felt like hours, tears slipping silently down his cheeks as he protectively curled around Spiders’s little body. Listening to his heartbeat even out and feeling his breaths with every puff of the exo mask.

Mo’at had been the one to find him. She had always been like a mother to him. Even more so in those moments, when she had peered into Arvok’s hut, and seen his body, but had not flinched away from Tsu’tey. Her voice had been soothing and calm as she had helped him up, coaxing him into keeping a firm hold on Spider as she led him away from the scene.

Within minutes, she’d had him sat in her hut with a cup of tea in hand, whilst she sent hunters to deal with Arvok. By the time Spider had spluttered awake, Mo’at already had food waiting for him and Tsu’tey had stopped shaking.

With a hard blink, Tsu’tey was back to the present. Stood beneath the shade of Eywa’s Throne with his family readying their ikran at his back, as he looked upon the reincarnated form of his mate and finally felt as if a weight was being lifted from his shoulders.

“I dealt with him personally. He will not be a threat to you, should you choose to remain with us once you are healed.” Tsu’tey continued.

“I’m just sorry I wasn’t there.” The recom breathed, “that can’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t.” Tsu’tey replied simply, because it was true. It hadn’t. And several times, he was sure he wasn’t going to pull through. “But you are now. I asked Eywa for a miracle. For you to stop being dead. And you did.” He smiled, small and private, whilst the recom nodded. “And you came home.”

“I wanted to.” The recom admitted. “Getting back to you was my first thought upon waking up. I wasn’t even sure if the clan had survived the Battle for The Tree of Souls, but I had to know anyway.”

“Thank you.” Tsu’tey said again, and they looked up. He did not elaborate, and they did not ask him to.

And this time, when he offered a hand to help them stand, they took it.

>_<

“Hold tight.” Jake called over his shoulder, prompting you to tighten your arms around his waist as he coaxed Bob into a fluid glide under the belly of a colossal mountain. The wind tore at your hair and bullied your ears into lowering tight against your skull. You didn’t have a visor, so you’d been forced to duck tight against Jake’s back so his bulk would block most of it. Your eyes watered as you peeled them open a crack against the sting, to watch the mountain pass.

Far below, the forest sprawled, and you couldn’t help but feel safe. Even if it was Jake doing the driving. As if to prove your point, your pilot unexpectedly rose higher on his stirrups, yanking you up with him thanks to your death grip around his stomach. Crouched awkwardly behind Jake, you winced as he yipped loudly over his shoulder, prompting the other ikran to fall into formation behind Bob.

With another turn and a great swerve, the flock neatly soaring up into the hidden mouth of High Camp’s entrance.

The camp stretched out below you from wall to wall. A living, breathing community of homes and cooking fires, interwoven with the compounds the scientists used to live alongside it all.

Bob circled once above it all before landing on the lip of the rocks as he had before. The rest of the flock followed suit.

Your hands were ice cold from the wind, but somehow, you managed to peel your frozen limbs out of their death grip around Jake. Sitting back heavily in the saddle, you breathed out a sigh of relief now that there was no longer any danger of plummeting to your death.

Jake turned in the saddle, looking back at you over his shoulder with amusement plain on his face. “I’m surprised you didn’t scream the whole way up here.” “You forget I also used to accompany Trudy on her missions.” You replied sharply. “A little rough flying and a maniac of a pilot hasn’t killed me yet.”

Jake raised a brow at the irony, but didn’t push. “Need a hand down?” He asked instead.

“I got it.”

He shot you a look that clearly said he didn’t believe you, but he dismounted alone regardless. Remaining in Bob’s saddle, you watched Jake stride towards Neytiri’s ikran and raise his hands in preparation to help Tuk down.

Then you remembered that there were things to do and a clan to inform, all whilst you were relaxing on someone else’s ikran. Glancing down, you realised that you couldn’t actually judge how high the drop from the saddle to the ground was going to be. Even the flight up had drained you, and you could feel yourself on the cusp of crashing now that your adrenaline rush had well and truly died. Readjusting your grasp on the saddle straps, you yelped when Bob seemed to sense your struggle and smoothly lowered himself to the ground. Stretching your legs down, you scrambled for purchase whilst clinging tightly to the saddle.

Bob was surprisingly patient and remained still until your feet touched cool stone and you slid off him entirely. He cooed softly as you leant against him, the world briefly spinning now that you had moved too much.

At your back, Mo’at’s booming voice echoed throughout the chamber. <”Welcome home!”> Glancing over your shoulder, you found the Tsahik and a good chunk of the clan crowded around the landing area.

Despite how gently you had moved, the movement pulled your torso wound wrong and you hissed in pain, ripping a hand away from the saddle to apply pressure. Which was bloody ridiculous because you’d just endured an entire flight without it complaining more than a dull throb.

Your knees buckled without you focusing hard on keeping them straight, but luckily, Bob was a nice tempered ikran and simply followed you down instead of watching you topple over like Jake probably would have if you had instead allowed him to help.

Bob cooed encouragingly, his big head swinging round to lightly push at your shoulder. His scales were cool against your heated skin; soothing.

Distantly, you could hear Mo’at waxing poetry to the clan, declaring some bullshit about Eywa repaying everyone’s hard work and devotion by offering one of the fallen a second chance. The People ate it up with hums of agreement, blindly trusting their Tsahik as they should. She might have mentioned the other recoms, or dragged Jake’s situation into the mix, but you couldn’t really hear.

White noise had swept in and drowned out her loud, regal voice. Your vision swam, but you could feel the stone you were sitting on and the saddle strap still clutched tightly in your hand. You could hear Bob chirping and feel the vibrations of feet approaching.

Shadows flitted across your unseeing vision as a hand soothed down your back, whilst more checked your forehead for a fever. An even smaller set cupped your cheek, encouraging you to look at a small, pale face locked away behind an exo mask. You blinked slowly, feeling horrendously nauseous.

Someone else dropped to their knees by your side, causing the other hands to retreat. The hands that touched you now were uncertain but supportive, encouraging your crumbled form to lean into them. You felt hands on your kuru, lifting and moving the braid, but it didn’t hurt, so you didn’t bother to fight it.

There was softer, comforting talking happening right in front of your face, but your ears couldn’t figure out the words. Not whether they spoke in Na’vi or English, let alone what was being said, but the sound was comforting all the same as you felt yourself beginning to drift.

There was zing up your kuru that flooded warmth into the base of your skull where your braid connected to the top of your spine. The pain seemed to ebb in its wake, leaving behind a sensation that could only be described as soothing.

I’ve got you. Tsu’tey’s voice promised, although it spoke in your mind rather than out loud. Clearer than anything that was happening in High Camp. He sounded kind, like he had in the memories, instead of angry at your very existence.

Hurts. You thought back, letting out a pained shout as you were abruptly lifted by whoever you were leaning into. Their grasp was firm on you, more grounding than painful now that you were being held steady.

I know. We’re gonna make you better.

Spider? He is here.

More vibrations thrummed through your cheek, which was pressed against a cool collarbone, as the person holding you spoke out loud. Almost instantly, a small hand reached up to grab your limp arm, which hung down. Five fingers squeezed down, sending a bolt of relief through you.

You found yourself suddenly grateful that this inevitable crash hadn’t happened in the forest. If they had decided to leave you behind, you would’ve been vulnerable to predators or detected by the RDA. But here you were instead, hidden within the heart of the clan, concealed within the floating mountains. That is right. Tsu’tey soothed in your mind. You are safe here. We will not allow harm to come to you.

And you believed him.

The rest was a blur after Tsu’tey ducked into Mo’at’s hut. Your strength had almost completely departed now, as you hung limply in Tsu’tey’s grasp. Strangely, the Olo’eyktan continued to be unsettlingly gentle as he sat himself down beside the fire, with you cradled between his knees and your head resting back across his shoulder. His touch burned your over sensitive skin, but it was as soothing as it was unsettling.

You saw the hut through Tsu’tey’s eyes, your own suddenly too tired to stay open. You were in the same hut as before, Mo’at’s herbs hanging from the ceiling whilst a pot of something strong bubbled over the flames. Spider had already moved towards where Mo’at kept her instruments, his back tense as he began pulling out various things. You could feel Tsu’tey searching for something to say to soothe his worries, but Mo’at swept in before he could voice anything.

<”Good.”> The Tsahik breathed as the curtains swished shut behind her. There was an unspoken lightness to her tone as she moved further into the room, ruffling Spider’s dreads as she went. <”I will not have to bully you into creating the bond. That shall allow this to go much more easily.”> She paused to take note of what Spider had already begun to pull from her supply, a proud grin tugging across her lips at what she found. <”You’re learning.”> She praised, to which both you and Tsu’tey noticed some of the tension leaving Spider.

Mo’at squeezed his shoulder, before returning her attention to you and frowning. <”Now, let us see the damage.”> She approached on steady feet, sinking to her hunches at Tsu’tey’s side as she began asking questions about your injuries.

Between the three of them, they began patching you up. Tsu’tey kept you steady and the pain at bay, whilst Mo’at cut away your shirt and the old leaf bandages to get at the wounds beneath. Spider handed over disinfectants and cooling salves that she took great care in firmly rubbing into the fresh wounds. The pressure was even and predictable, allowing you to suck in shaky breaths whenever she withdrew her hand for another dose.

As Mo’at carefully bandaged you up, you felt Tsu’tey beginning to relax on the other end of the bond. Until now, he’d been careful to keep his own emotions in check, so much so that you had barely realised he was tense. But now you could feel it. His anxiety came in waves, ebbing and flowing with no rhythm. As soon as he was calming the first, a second would unexpectedly sweep in to drench him, causing his heartbeat to pound against your back. Stubbornly, his face remained unreadable.

With what little strength you had left, you reached up to cover his hand that was gently curled over your stomach.

I’m fine now. You told him mentally with a tight squeeze to the back of his hand. Good as new.

There was no fresh wave of guilt to challenge your claim, and something visibly loosened in him. Through the bond, you got the vague sense that he wanted to bury his face into your shoulder and cling tightly, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

<”Tsu’tey sit them up higher.”> Mo’at suddenly said from closer than you were anticipating. Dutifully, Tsu’tey obeyed, whilst you cracked open an eyelid to find Mo’at holding a bowl of something steaming and a spoon. <”There you are.”> She said softly, <”try and eat something before you go back to sleep. Today has taken a lot from you. You will need your strength.”> As she spoke, she filled the spoon with warm broth and raised it to your mouth. You opened and hummed in thanks as the warmth flooded from your tongue into your body. It was the most delicious thing you’d had since waking up. Hearty and soothing, sweet but not too much so. Worlds better than RDA rations. It warmed you from the inside out, allowing sleep to make your eyelids heavy.

<”Spider, could you clear some space for a spare hammock, of course we’ll need to monitor them-”>

<”Dad and I could look after them!”> Spider rushed out before abruptly cutting himself off. He cleared his throat. <”I mean, we have room. In our hut?”>

You grumbled softly, content to let them figure it out between them. With the broth heavy in your belly, you could feel sleep finally digging its claws in and refusing to relent. This time, you couldn’t have stayed awake if you wanted to.

>_<

For what felt like weeks but could have only been days, you flowed in and out of consciousness like river water around submerged stones. When the current pulled you higher, you managed to peel your eyes open to find a woven hut roof and a warm bowl of something light to eat waiting for you.

And when it pulled you deep down within yourself, you relied on the comforting presence of Tsu’tey to keep you grounded. During those times you shared Tsaheylu, the pain was relieved better than any painkiller, as if Tsu’tey swept it away through sheer force of will. With the connection also came stories, fond memories that Tsu’tey offered to pass the time. Some you recalled from before everything went to shit, and some that were new.

If you were especially lucky, you would drift up enough to hear Tsu’tey asking Spider for memory ideas. To which the boy would happily and animatedly narrate some fond memory he had, whilst Tsu’tey recalled it from his own perspective and fed it down the bond to you.

It was a simple, repetitive existence. So much so that it was jarring to float upwards again and find yourself staying there.

Your eyes were crusty as you peeled them open, your back smarting from lying still for so long. But you could already tell you didn’t hurt as much. There were still bandages wrapped securely around your torso, slightly restricting your breathing, but you didn’t feel wet under them. Your injuries were definitely on the mend.

The hammock you were tucked in swayed gently as the rest of the hut came into view. It was not one you had been in before.

In the pit, the cooking fire had fizzled out into nothing, whereas the repetitive, slow breathing of someone nearby alerted you to the fact you were not alone. Everything hurt as you eased yourself up into a sitting position, surprised to find yourself stripped of your ratty, RDA issued uniform and instead dressed in the traditional na’vi loincloth. Your hair felt clean for the first time in days, the build up of sweat and grime washed away whilst you were unconscious.

The world swayed as you struggled to haul yourself out of the hammock, dark spots floating across your vision as you grasped one of the supports for dear life. The tent your hammock was strung up in was tidy, but clinical, with hooks lining the ceiling supports in uniformed rows and baskets of healing supplies carefully tucked away against the far wall. A long rug covered most of the uneven stone floor, whereas the entrance to your right was pulled to, but not obstructed.

“Zaza?” A small voice groaned from behind you, heavy with sleep. Your ears pricked as you turned, finding Spider half out of a hammock three times too large for him. “Where are you going?” There was thinly veiled panic hidden in his tone, accented with the way he was holding himself dangerously still. Uncertain whether to approach.

“Where am I?” You asked instead of answering, tail ramrod straight as the boy fully slipped out of the hammock. His stripes were dull now, somehow, you could tell even in the low light.

“In the infirmary,” Spider offered easily, hands plainly in sight as he slowly approached. “I wanted to take you home but Dad said you might not be comfortable with it.”

“I see.” You replied neutrally.

“Are you hungry?” Spider offered when you didn’t follow the sentence up with anything else. You found yourself nodding hesitantly, to which Spider smiled tightly. The cuts Quaritch’s knife had left across his throat had scabbed over.

“Can we go to mine and Dad’s tent? We have ingredients there for breakfast?”

“Only if that is okay with your Dad.” It felt weird to refer to Tsu’tey like that. “He won’t mind.” Spider replied too quickly, flashing you a winning smile. Smiling back, you followed him out of the tent and into the main chamber of High Camp.

The camp was quiet considering the early hour, with only the odd hunter milling around and the ikran perched near the cave mouth.

Spider walked noticeably slow ahead of you, glancing back periodically as if you would slip away between the tents if he didn’t keep an eye on you.

The boy’s tent was surprisingly empty of Tsu’tey when he held the curtain open for you. As you rounded the dormant fire pit to take a seat, you noted the two hammocks strung near the back wall, alongside the knick knacks and keepsakes scattered beneath the one on the left - clearly Spiders. Whereas Tsu’tey’s was neatly tidied with his bow stand empty and his arrows gone. The tent felt homely, and well lived in.

Spider was clearly comfortable navigating it. With confidence, he woke a fire and began pulling all manner of fruits out of the various baskets near the entrance. Pausing to tie back his dreadlocks, he neatly pulled out a spear knife from a box and got comfortable on the opposite side of the fire. WIth a steady grip, he ducked his head and began dutifully cutting the closest thing to him - a yovo fruit.

Between you, the fire popped merrily, and you very quickly realised you had nothing to say to him. Besides sharing a near death experience and a common drive to keep each other alive, you realised you had nothing in common. You didn’t really know him.

“How’s your throat?” “Healing.” Spider replied after a heartbeat of silence. “H-how’s your side?” “Better.” You assured him, with a subconscious touch to the healing injury in question. “I’m assuming I have you and your Dad to thank for that?” Spider ducked his head. “Dad did most of the work, I just helped.” “And yet you were standing guard when I came to.”

Spider flushed this time as if he was embarrassed you had noticed. “I fell asleep.” He admitted with a mumble.

The corner of your mouth tugged up at the quiet admission. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, I’m the exact same when I sit still for too long. You’ve had a difficult-” you trailed off, “how long have I been out?” “Two days.” Spider supplied helpfully.

“Thank you, it’s been a difficult few days.”

“It hasn’t been bad.” Spider admitted absently, using his knife to half and scrape some freshly sliced yovo fruit into two nearby bowls. He was quiet for a moment as he picked up the slightly larger portion and held it out to you. Ducking your head in thanks, you reached forward to take it from him, but Spider didn’t let go.

Meeting his gaze, you found him already watching you with a long look. “Thank you for not dying again.” He said sincerely, “I’d really appreciate getting to know you this time around.”

You smiled bitterly at the sentiment, a look that Spider mirrored easily.

“And I, you.” You replied easily, finding that you meant it as he let you take the bowl. “I’ve heard great things about you Spider, it’ll be nice to get to know you better.” He averted his gaze then, scooping up a bit of fruit and stuffing it into his mouth instead of responding straight away. Taking a page out of his book, you lowered your gaze and did the same. The fruit was delicious. It was sweet and full to bursting. With every bite you had to wipe the sides of your mouth because of the sheer amount of juice in every piece.

“Will you stay?” Spider asked when his bowl was half empty. You paused mid-bite to find him looking at the fire instead of you.

Swallowing your mouthful, you wiped your chin and asked seriously, “do you want me to?”

“Yes.” Spider said without missing a beat. His expression was painfully vulnerable, full of hope and what could only be described as longing. “Dad does too. And Mo’at. Jake and Neytiri too, but they won’t admit it because they don’t want to pressure you.” He paused, “you’ll be safe with us here.”

“I would be.” You agreed, “but I have to see if it’s the right decision first. If I don’t fit here, then I can’t force it. Do you understand?” Spider pouted but didn’t contradict you. “I understand.” He said maturely, and you knew he was being honest.

>_<

Recovery was slow, but you’d never been the kind to remain in bed for long. Even with Mo’at barring you from contributing on hunts, you ensured you rose with the sun and helped out around the camp in whatever way your injuries allowed. Sometimes, that was cleaning or servicing stolen RDA weapons alongside other hunters, or you were washing and prepping Mo’at’s herbs.

In those first few days, the clan gave you a wide berth, which you appreciated. In return, you remained unarmed and calmed yourself by sitting with your back to a wall or against someone’s hut whilst you completed your tasks. You kept your head down, and gradually, their unease faded.

Usually, Spider or one of the Sully kids joined you for an hour or two, talking about anything or everything whilst their parents hunted or contributed with patrols. But today, Tsu’tey sat himself down opposite you, a basket of fruit balanced on his hip. He kept his gaze fixed on his work as he crouched a comfortable distance away, and immediately occupied himself with peeling the fruits.

You said nothing, and as you had the last few days, refused to start up a conversation. As long as neither of you opened your mouths, you tended to be able to exist in the same space without dissolving into insults or painful memories. You knew he was trying.

You knew Tsu’tey was attempting to rebuild some of that trust in the only way he knew how, but it was unsettling. You’d never known him to be this quiet. This comfortable in existing in someone else’s space without having to voice his internal monologue. It was just another reminder of how much he had changed whilst you’d been frozen in time.

And what’s more, some of the things he was doing for you, couldn’t be explained away as an Olo’eyktan looking out for one of his own. Even after you’d woken up and spent that first morning having breakfast with Spider, you had been a long way from recovered.

Moving around without long naps in between chores left you exhausted and oftentimes passed out in the weirdest places, such as Tsu’tey’s tent floor when you had been waiting for Spider to finish making lunch. That time - and every time after - you’d woken up in a hammock instead of on the floor.

When a fever had come for vengeance and your wound had gotten a minor infection, he’d been nothing short of doting. Feeding you light meals to settle your stomach. Braiding your sweaty hair back so it was off your forehead and didn’t cling to your neck. Changing your bandages like clockwork. Adding and taking away blankets where needed.

In a lot of ways, it reminded you of how your parents had doted on one another. Performing thankless acts of service without the other ever having to ask for it.

And through it all, he scowled the entire time. Like constantly. And you definitely shouldn’t have found that as achingly familiar and reassuring as you had. You definitely shouldn’t have started looking into it, searching for the fiery, annoying man you’d fallen head over heels in love with all that time ago.

You were submerged so deeply in your thoughts, that you’d completely forgotten where you were and what you were doing, until you managed to sink your knife into your thumb. With a hiss and a jerk, you dropped the fruit you’d been peeling and jammed your bleeding thumb into your mouth and sat back on your hunches.

Across from you, Tsu’tey clicked his teeth. “Idiot.” He sighed, but not with his usual bite, hell, it practically sounded fond, as if you’d done something endearing instead of pathetic. “Here,” he continued, reaching into the pouch secured across his chest strap and pulling out a river leaf. “Let me.” Slowly, he reached across the distance between you, his expression open and sickeningly kind. You let him take your hand without a fuss. Carefully, Tsu’tey mopped up the blood, a soft tut leaving his lips as he assessed the depth of the injury.

“Do I need to go back to Mo’at?” You joked half-heartedly.

“Luckily not. She’s getting sick of only seeing you.”

“Not for long hopefully.” You interjected, “I’m on the mend for real this time.” Tsu’tey hummed noncommittally. “Have you given any thought into what you will do once you’re healed?” He asked point blank, with no warning or prompt to get him to say it.

You blinked. “What brought that on?” Tsu’tey ducked his head, a gesture you’d noticed Spider doing when he was embarrassed. “I overheard Spider asking about it the other week, and I can’t stop thinking about it.” He admitted sheepishly.

Just to fuck with him, you gasped dramatically. “You were eavesdropping?” “I was not!” Tsu’tey corrected defensively with a scowl. He bit his lip and averted his gaze again. “I was worried when neither of you were in the infirmary when I went to check. Naturally, I checked home before looking anywhere else for him.”

“I see.”

“So?”

“What?” With a firm crack of his tail, he caught your gaze and held it. “I answered your question, so answer mine.”

He was still holding onto your hand with both of his, you realised absently. He was sat close enough now, that the combination of all three hands had fallen into his lap, the river leaf forgotten and your finger beginning to scab. It was such an intimate position, that you almost forgot what his question was.

“If I were to stay,” you started carefully, intending to see how far he would go, “I would need somewhere to live. Mo’at’s going to chase me out of the infirmary one of these days if I stay there much longer.” “We have spare tents.” Tsu’tey said neutrally, ears swivelling to face you, showing just how eager for your answer he really was. “And if you were comfortable, you could even move in with Spider and I if none of them were to your liking.” He paused, before quickly tacking on a panicked, “but only if you wanted to. There is no pressure of course.” “Of course.” You agreed readily, feeling more at ease than you had yet. With a small smirk, you decided to keep fucking with him. “And I would need my weapons back.” “That can be arranged.” Tsu’tey agreed, before glancing up and stalling at your expression. You tilted your head.

“And I would need to negotiate a relationship with my son if his father was open to it.” Tsu’tey went very still causing panic to slam into your sternum. Abruptly, the tables had turned and it was you scrambling to justify yourself. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to step on your toes. I don’t even have to see him that often if you’re not comfortable with it. I can take him out for a day, or we don’t even have to do that. I could be like that distant cousin, or the weird clone twin of his dead- fuck this isn’t coming out how I wanted it to-”

“I think,” Tsu’tey cut in sharply, looking more amused than offended. “That Spider would love to build a connection with you.” Tsu’tey’s hands had gone completely slack around your own. The sluggishly bleeding cut completely forgotten now that the air between you was thick with untold tension.

“And what about his father,” you pushed, studying his expression, “would he be happy with that arrangement?”

Tsu’tey’s gaze dragged across your face and circled at least twice down to your lips. “He could be persuaded.” He said darkly, making your stomach squirm from his tone.

His eyes had fallen to half mast during the little back and forth, his pupils swollen as they looked at you. You could feel your tail wagging at your back, and you hated to think how eager you probably looked.

With a hard blink, you dragged yourself off of that train of thought before it could derail off into dangerous territory. Kissing him would be a stupid idea right now, you reminded yourself. In fact, it would be more stupid than marching into Ardmore’s office and openly admitting to treason. Not only would it jeopardise your position within the clan, but it wouldn’t actually fix anything between you and Tsu’tey and might even end with him pulling away.

No, as gorgeous as he looked right now, and how much you could see he wanted you, you needed to wait. There was no room for this, when you were only just beginning to trust each other once again. Maybe soon, but not now. Not today.

Clinging tightly to that reasoning, you sat back and pulled your hand out of Tsu’tey’s grip.

He blinked and seemed to come back to himself. With a sheepish clearing of his throat, he also shuffled back and out of reach. Ears lowered, he took up his knife again and continued his previous task of peeling the fruit, dutifully pretending like nothing had happened.

You hated it. But you hated that blank expression on his face more.

Scrambling for something to say - anything - to keep the conversation flowing, you blurted out the first thing that randomly came to mind to fill the silence.

“How did we end up adopting, Spider?”

Startled, Tsu’tey’s head snapped up. His brows furrowed as he struggled to process the question, as if bewildered you were still willing to talk to him after pulling away.

“What?” “I mean, if I’m going to be co-parenting with you, then I should know these things.” Something like relief flooded his expression. “I see.” He said easily. “So,” you prodded, with a pointed wiggle of your ears, “how did we end up adopting a human child together?”

Tsu’tey smiled fondly to himself. “It was after the battle. We went to Hell’s Gate to raid for medical supplies. I insisted on coming along because you were so small, and you fought me every step of the way because I had suffered a shoulder injury.”

Instinctively, you knew which shoulder to glance down at. The bullet wounds were old and faded with time. You could only imagine how long it had taken him to heal them, and how long it had taken to rebuild the strength in that arm.

“The corridors were stupidly small and impractical, but echoey. I heard a baby crying and you followed me when I went to investigate. We found Spider in someone’s bunk room, and you told me he was hungry. From there, it was just a matter of no one else having the time to take care of him, and you stepping up. And as your mate, I did too.”

“Huh.”

“Anything else you want to know?” Tsu’tey prodded good naturedly. You thought for a moment. “What was his first word?” Tsu’tey stopped his polishing to laugh. A proper laugh. The kind that started deep in your belly and burst its way out of your mouth and demanded you to tilt your head back from the sheer force of it. A truly gorgeous expression on him.

“What?” You defended yourself with a chuckle, “I need to know the important information.”

“Of course.” Tsu’tey chuckled, the mood light. “His first English word was uh-oh, because he knocked my bow off your desk. And his first Na’vi word was Sempu.”

“Oh, I see how it is!” You mocked, pretending to be offended whilst Tsu’tey shot you a wicked grin as if he’d won. “So his first word was practically ‘dad’, big deal.” Tsu’tey hummed.

“Alright, what’s his favourite food?”

And it went like that for several hours. You and Tsu’tey basking in each other’s company, learning and reliving fond moments from a time long gone. It was easy and familiar, and it finally felt like home.

Taglist: @ducks118@whynotfrogs@kitsunefirewail @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @graniairish@layla2-49@dd122004dd

#tsu'tey x reader #spider socorro #dad!tsu'tey #spider #father-son duo #recom reader #gender neutral reader #part 5 of 5 #final part #may the hopeful ending bring you peace #gonna miss these sillies #taking responsibility for that child you don't remember adopting #found family #avatar #avatar twow #canon divergent #Tsu'tey lives

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goldenamaranthe-blog · 1 month

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She Used to Be Mine: Chaggie

Major Character Death Implied

One year after the exorcists were pushed back into Heaven. The Hazbin Hotel has been rebuilt and is filled with sinners after word got out that Charlie and her friends managed to defeat Adam and the angelic forces. Unfortunately, despite all these successful achievements, something is missing.

Charlie: (sitting in her large, cold bedroom at a grand piano, a picture frame leans against the music stand in front of her, a class of bourban sits on the wooden ledge, and a burning cigarette smolders in an ash tray next to her on the bench)

Charlie: (takes a drink, places her fingers shakily on the keys, and begins to play as she sings)

🎶 It's not simple to say that most days I don't recognize me.

It's not easy to know. I'm not anything like I used to be.

It's not what I asked for. Sometimes life slips in through the back door and carves out a person that makes you believe it's all true. That was when I had you. 🎶

(Looks at the picture and smiles softly as a tear blurs her vision)

🎶 If I'm honest, I know. I would give this all back for a chance to start over... and rewrite an ending or two... for the girl that I knew!

To fight a little harder! To bring back that fire in her eyes! That love that used to be miiiiiiine! 🎶

Charlie: (chokes back a sob as she wipes away the tears and slows her playing)

🎶 She was messy... but was kind. She was lonely from time to time. She was hard on herself. When she was broken, she wouldn't ask for help. She was all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie. 🎶

She is gone... (glances at the picture of her and Vaggie together, holding each other tightly as Charlie kisses the top of Vaggie's head), but she used to be mine.....

#okay brain- you really want to do this?#golden apparently wants to hurt her feelings #hazbin hotel #incorrect hazbin hotel quotes #canon divergent #chaggie #charlie morningstar #vaggie didn't survive the blast Adam used to slice the hotel in half #song is adjusted from original #She Used To Be Mine #sara bareilles #angst #why angst? why?#poor charlie

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junie-junette · 4 months

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"Home" Gift exchange with Cinder in the Firestorm's discord. Inspired by her beautiful fic "To The Man I Knew Before" and more exactly by the sequel of it ! I decided to let Cid enjoys a soft and calm morning, just admiring his family peacefully sleeping... I hope you'll like it ! And if you don't know the fic, please, read it cause it's wonderful. I don't think I'll be able to draw something more until the 31th. So I already wish you a beautiful and happy New Year ! Thanks for sticking with me and supporting me here or somewhere else ! I hope we'll see each others again next year ! Take care of you and your beloved ones !

#firestorm #ff16 #cidclive #cid x clive #clive #clive rosfield #cid telamon #fanfic #fanart #my art #drawing #final fantasy 16 #final fantasy xvi #canon divergent #canon divergent au #family #mid telamon

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steddieunderdogfics · 4 months

Note

for all the Dolly Parton fans out there: "a rare and gentle thing" by yournowheregirl is suuuuuch a cute little fic with Eddie missing his mom and crushing so hard on Steve <3

a rare and gentle thing by yournowheregirl

@yournowheregirl

Rating: Teens and Up

16,387 words, 6/6 chapters

Archive Warning:

Tags: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Southern Eddie Munson, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Dolly Parton songs as a coping mechanism, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Appalachian Eddie Munson, Crushes, Found Family

Summary:

Eddie misses Tennessee sometimes, though he doesn’t remember much. He misses the warmth of the people and the sunshine, he misses the cornbread his old neighbor Mrs. Carter used to make, but he mostly misses his mom. Misses her laugh and the way she tucked him into bed with a song every night, always with the same Dolly Parton song. Maybe that’s why he always reaches out to Dolly when he’s feeling down in the dumps. And all because of Steve motherfuckin’ Harrington.

Thanks for the rec!

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#steddie fic recs #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #AU #canon divergent #teens and up #fluff

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idyllicwillowtree · 10 months

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Smitten Kittens

Genre: Eddie Munson x fem!reader; fluff

Summary: Eddie helps out a very special cat who turns out to be yours.

Word count: 3.3K

Warnings: light drug-use, swearing, illusions to bad parental relationships/toxic parents, reader is called ‘Ms. Y/L/N’ at one point, Eddie-centric, Eddie being a crazy cat lady

Author’s note: Loosely based off of me and my cat <3 ; pictures found on pinterest

Main Masterlist

_______________________________________________

4:37. Every morning Eddie’s body wakes him up at 4:37 and no matter how long he lays in bed or how late he stays up he can’t go back to sleep. He could have his eyes closed, unmoving for hours and still his mind would not allow him anymore rest.

That’s where his little friend Mary-Jane comes in handy.

His uncle, Wayne, is usually still at work at this time so Eddie doesn’t bother being gentle as he swung the front door open, a joint dangling from his chapped lips and a couple cans of tuna in his hand.

Stepping out of his muggy trailer, he took a deep breath of fresh morning air as goosebumps emerged on his skin. In preparation for the sun to rise, the night sky became a dark blue mixing with the yellow street lamps, light enough for Eddie not to use a flashlight. He plopped himself down on his front steps, his sock covered feet avoiding the dewy grass below by setting them on the last wooden step.

He lit up his joint, taking a deep inhale and enjoying a short moment alone before gently tapping the tuna can with his lighter.

“Purrrrow?”

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie clutched his chest before turning towards the noise, “Oh, there you are Ozzy.”

When Eddie started using weed to help him sleep in the middle of the night he slowly made some new furry friends. Once he set a precedent that the stray cats could come to him for a snack, he became the unofficial cat-guy of the trailer park.

Something about taking care of the mangy little beasts of the neighborhood made him feel important. Knowing there were four starving cats out there that turned to him for comfort filled him with a sense of purpose. Something he doesn’t always get with the people in his life.

As he starts filling the large dog dish he leaves outside with the fishy treat, the rest of his cat gang arrives, greeting him with quiet chirps, excited purring, and vertical tails.

Ozzy was the leader, a short-haired tabby that was pure muscle. He usually sported an intimidating glare as he watched over the other cats, keeping them protected and in line. His right-pawed man was a skinny gray cat Eddie named Dio. He was the only one who let Eddie hold him, never clawing to get away, but still preferring to keep all four paws on land. Then there was Dungeon and Dragon, two orange cats attached at the hip and always getting into trouble. Dungeon was very talkative while Dragon was the most affectionate.

Eddie continued smoking his joint, blowing the smoke in the opposite direction of the eating cats. He listened as their loud smacking and happy purrs echoed in the dish.

Ozzy abruptly stopped eating, eyes zeroed in on something under Eddie’s trailer porch to his right. The cat’s back immediately puffed, fur standing up on its own. He let out an aggressive hiss followed by a yowl that sent a chill down Eddie’s spine. The rest of the cats perked up in curiosity.

“Please don’t be a raccoon,” Eddie mumbled to himself as he leaned over to get a better look.

Suddenly, a tentative black paw emerged from the shadow of the porch. The most beautiful cat Eddie had ever seen revealed herself, delicately sniffing at the fishy morning air.

Ozzy was not about to share his food with this new cat, making it known through his loud yowling that Dio soon joined in on. Dungeon and Dragon’s ears were pulled back, hissing at the new arrival.

Eddie watched as the cat timidly backed up under the porch again, not wanting any trouble but still eyeing their leftover tuna.

“Alright guys, that’s enough,” Eddie began gently shooing the clowder of cats away. They all snapped out of it and scampered off to do whatever it is they usually do when they’re done with their breakfast. Not before Ozzy could send one last hiss in the direction of the black cat.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You’re a big tough guy. Go on.”

Pleased with himself, Ozzy trotted away in the direction of his pack. Once they were gone, Eddie finally got a good look at black cat who, once again, was making her way out of hiding.

In comparison to the rest of the cats, this one stuck out like a sore thumb. While the others were matted flea-covered strays, this cat had perfectly groomed long hair that looked particularly soft and fluffy. Her neon green eyes were clear and bright and her ears remained pointed and intact.

After she made sure all the other cats were gone, she immediately perked up and began approaching Eddie with her fluffy tail pointing towards the sky.

“Meow?”

“Hi there,” Eddie said gently. “You’re new.”

Eddie slowly lifted his hand, pointer finger stretched out towards the feline. She sniffed at it attentively before dragging her cheek across his short nails repeatedly. Eddie got the hint and started scratching behind her ears and down her spine, watching happily as she leaned into his touch before getting distracted by the leftover fish.

She was even softer than he imagined.

Eddie knew she didn’t belong out here, she’s too healthy and social to be an outdoor cat or a stray. His heart ached at the thought of someone out there looking for this sweet and loving companion. He knew he needed to help her find her home.

“In the meantime, I bestow upon you the title of ‘Sabbath’. Pretty metal, huh?”

“Purrrrow?”

“Exactly.”

Eddie cautiously scooped her up, pleasantly surprised by how easy this was for her. She immediately settled in his grip and turned to wrap her paws around his neck, nuzzling affectionately into his long hair.

Eddie took a moment with her, enjoying the feeling of her vibrating purrs against his chest, before heading back inside and to bed. The purring heals his heart a bit, it’s nice having someone around who offers their love to him without needing anything in return.

As soon as Eddie sets her down on the comforter, she spins around a couple times before passing out, Eddie falling asleep not long after.

_______________________________________________

Eddie was sitting in class hunched over his notebook, planning out the next Dungeons and Dragons campaign for Hellfire. He was so focused he didn’t even realize the rest of the class packed up their things and left already.

“Mr. Munson, class is dismissed,” the teacher pointed out tiredly.

“You sure you want me to go, Mr. K?” Eddie said slyly, knowing Mr. Kowcheski hates the nickname, “we could talk about our feelings? Who have you been crushing on these days?”

Mr. Kowcheski deadpanned at the delinquent for a long moment before looking past him.

“You too, Ms. Y/L/N. Class is over.”

Eddie turned around, noticing you were still there for the first time. You sat slumped in your chair with a slack expression and wet dull eyes as you stared at the linoleum floor. You jumped slightly and blushed from the attention, eyes jumping around the room.

“S-sorry Mr. Kowcheski,” your voice wavered as you shakily gathered your things and made a break for it, Eddie following close behind.

He’s not sure what possessed him to approach you, but he knew he needed to make sure you were okay.

You never gave Eddie a reason to hate you, always sending him shy smiles and letting him borrow a pencil whenever he asked. You were a breath of fresh air in a school full of stale and rotten posers who made his life a living nightmare.

Everytime Eddie’s eyes wandered to you in class, you were always paying close attention and absorbing the lecture through taking notes and asking questions. He always admired that about you. That’s why it was so strange seeing you so zoned out that you didn’t even realize the bell had already rung.

“Hey, you okay?” Eddie said, catching up to you in the hallway.

“Huh? O-oh hi Eddie. What’s up?”

Now that Eddie was closer, he could see your red-trimmed eyes and dark bags as you avoided his gaze. Your usual up-beat tone of voice was now scratchy and tired. Eddie felt sadness and worry flip through his stomach at the sight.

“Nothing, I just wanted to see if you were okay,” he tilted his head, trying to catch your eye, “You don’t seem like your normal self.”

Eddie could tell by the way your eyes widened and your breathing stuttered that he caught you off guard. Once you gather your bearings, you offer him a shy smile that comes as quickly as it goes.

“Thanks, Eddie. I’m fine,” you looked down at your shoes, shaking your head solemnly. “It’s…it’s stupid. But thanks anyway,” you said, voice breaking along with Eddie’s heart.

You walked away before he could press any further.

_______________________________________________

Now that school was out, Eddie could finally head home and brainstorm ideas on how to return Sabbath to her rightful home.

Eddie sauntered through the trailer door, shopping bags full of canned cat food in tow, as he shook the rain from his wet hair like a dog. He turned to Wayne, lounging in his usual spot on the armchair, only this time he wasn’t alone.

“Boy, if you don’t get this damn cat off of me…”

Sabbath looked perfectly happy, stretched out on Wayne’s jean covered legs. Blissfully unaware that he wanted her off of him. Or maybe she just didn’t care. She sent Eddie, what could only be described as a smile as he walked over and delicately scooped her up. She protested a little with a long closed mouth “mew”, then settled into his arms, hugging him around the neck once more.

Wayne looked up at Eddie, ocean eyes flooded with disapproval.

“I know, I know. It’s the last time I swear,” Eddie defended.

His Uncle stayed silent.

“I couldn’t just leave the poor thing, she wouldn’t have survived. She’s a lover, not a fighter!”

Wayne's face stayed the same, only lifting the corner of his brow at him.

“I’m looking for her owner, I swear. She definitely belongs to someone.”

At that, Wayne lifted himself from his armchair with an “old man grunt”, as Eddie liked to call it. His Uncle gave him a loving pat on the shoulder as he walked past him, heading to the bathroom to get ready for his night shift at the plant.

Eddie spent the rest of the evening making posters out of cheap printer paper, writing on them with a giant black magic marker.

“Found Cat

Black, long hair, green eyes”

Eddie added his phone number and called it good. It wasn’t much to go off of, but he figured there couldn’t be too many missing black cats out there in Hawkins.

Eddie flicked the pen cap towards Sabbath, watching as she swatted it off the edge of the table and chased it around. Soon she riled herself up so much that the zoomies overcame her, running from one end of the trailer all the way into Eddie’s room and back again. He found himself completely entertained just by watching this cat do cat things that a couple hours went by without him even noticing.

Eddie was hoping the rain would subside but this was Indiana, the weather never did what you wanted it to do. He wanted to get the word out sooner, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Not that he was complaining. Fondness blossomed in his chest as Sabbath trotted over to him and rubbed the top of her soft head against his chin. Then she settled on his lap for the rest of the evening.

_______________________________________________

6:14. This morning, Eddie managed to sleep in. Although he would’ve much rather slept longer, he was pleasantly surprised to have a couple extra hours.

That was until he realized why he had woken up. Sabbath was meowing continuously, barely stopping to breathe. Jumping back and forth from the pillow Eddie was resting his head on, to the top of his dresser that was set in front of his bedroom window. When she leaped up, sliding a bit on the smooth surface, she scratched at the window overlooking the front yard. Eddie sluggishly pulled himself up and out of bed to see what Sabbath was getting so worked up about.

You were riding your bike in the soft glow of the morning, tires crutching in protest as you slowly pedaled. You kept your eyes and head moving, scanning the area diligently. In one hand you gripped the handle bars, in the other you held a small bag of cat treats that you were shaking every few seconds. Hope lightens your eyes at the sound of Dungeon’s meows, but it dissolves instantly when he’s not the one you’re looking for.

Eddie watched as Sabbath propped herself up on her back legs and began scratching at the single paned glass window like she could dig her way through. When she looked back at Eddie, begging him to understand her pleas, he patted her head softly and moved towards the front door.

By the time Eddie stepped outside you had stopped your bike and were silently sobbing in the middle of the road. Your back was partially turned to him but he could tell by the quivering of your shoulders and the slouch of your neck that you were overwhelmed with emotion.

“Hey Y/N!” Eddie greeted, louder than he intended.

Eddie cringed slightly as you jumped three feet into the air, dropping the open bag of treats in the process. The clowder of strays devours the fallen snacks in seconds before running off into the woods. Not before Ozzy could send Eddie a look that portrayed his disappointment in him for not feeding them earlier in the morning.

“Ah, shit. Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no it’s alright,” you sniffed hard and vigorously wiped your face before turning to Eddie, playing it off like you weren’t just weeping.

As Eddie got closer he noticed the plastic cat carrier zip tied to the back of your bike and the pile of clothes in the basket attached to your handlebars. You watched him scan your bike, his eyes sparkling with what you misinterpreted for judgment.

“Sorry, I’m just looking for…for my cat,” you sent him a tightlipped smile and sniffed back your tears.

“She must be some cat, huh?” Eddie couldn’t stand to leave you hanging for any longer, watching your face crumple as you nodded. He smiled softly, “she wouldn’t happen to be a fluffy black cat, would she?”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide and hopeful. The last remnants of your tears sliding down your cheeks as you blinked owlishly at him. Your mouth was agape in an attempt to respond, but all you could manage was a frantic nod.

Eddie walked backwards slowly and smiled playfully, dimples on full display as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. He swiftly spun around before jogging up his front steps to open his front door. You watched him curiously before you noticed what emerged from his trailer.

“KITTY!” a sob ripped through your throat as you lurched forward, bike clattering to the ground in the process.

“Kitty?” Eddie mumbled to himself incredulously.

He watched as the relief you were feeling had a physical effect on you. Your knees wobbled, feet crossing over each other as you ran forward. It would’ve taken you down had you not been so eager to reach the feline. Whimpers cracked through your chest when you finally met in the middle, ‘Kitty’ being just as excited to get to you. You expertly scooped her up and let her snuggle into your hair as you clung to each other. The way you held one another reminded Eddie of how a caring mother would hold her child.

Watching this reunion was something special. Seeing these two beings who were unconditionally in love, coming together after days apart sent a warmth through Eddie’s heart. He felt a bit selfish for being proud of himself for making this happen, but quickly shook it off. That cat definitely wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for him and you would still be heartbroken.

“I was s-so w-worried about you, Kitty,” you blubbered as you pressed kiss after kiss on her soft little head. Your happy tear-filled eyes blinked up at Eddie, “t-thank you so much, Eddie. You have no idea what this means to me, thank you-” before you could back out you gently held Eddie’s face and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

Eddie’s face tingled with heat as a blush crept up his neck. He was just standing there, dumbfounded, not expecting the affection but not hating it either. He moved to touch his burning cheek to savor the feeling, but it made you cringe seeing the moisture you left behind.

“S-sorry,” you said with a wet laugh.

“Don’t apologize. I should be thanking you,” Eddie said, still in a lovesick daze.

“What? You’re the one that saved my cat!”

“Yeah, but you’re the one that kissed me!” Eddie would like to say that his flirting was smooth and intentional, but really he was just flabbergasted that someone as sweet and pretty as you would give him any sort of attention.

You barked out a surprised laugh as Kitty moved to nuzzle her face into the other side of your neck. You wiped at the tears and snot still caked on your face, suddenly feeling embarrassed by your emotional outburst.

“Sorry,” you apologized again, “I feel kinda stupid for crying so hard over a cat.”

“You keep saying that,” Eddie said with a smile and a soft head shake that made his curly hair float around his shoulders.

You sniffed, “saying what?”

“That your emotions are stupid. Like it’s some offense to be sad and worried about the greatest cat in the world.”

Eddie’s words surprised you. You scanned his face, looking for anything that would suggest he’s teasing or making fun of you. Luckily, it wasn’t there.

“You…you think she’s the great cat in the world?”

“Yeah! What’s not to like? She’s affectionate, entertaining, and really fucking cute. I’d probably lose my mind if I was the one to lose her. I mean, she’s a cat that hugs. What’s better than that?”

You gasped dramatically, turning to look at the cat still in your arms, “you hugged him? What a little traitor! She usually only hugs me,” you giggled.

Eddie was shocked, yet flattered. “She must be a good judge of character,” he said with a smug grin.

“Yeah, that explains why she hates my parents.”

Eddie erupted in laughter, catching you off guard. You didn’t mean to make a joke but it was kind of funny. Your chortles mixing together and echoing throughout the quiet trailer park.

Your cat pulled back from your neck so she could look back at Eddie and send him a grateful “meow” and a slow blink. Eddie reached out to stroke behind her ears lovingly. It made you tense for a second, scared she’d take a swipe at the metal-head but instead she leaned into his touch.

“You like that, don’t you Sabbath?” he cooed, the pitch to his voice raising an octave.

“You named her Sabbath?”

“Oh, uhh y-yeah,” Eddie said, scratching the back of his neck bashfully. “Yeah, it was just a placeholder name until I found her owner.”

You nodded slowly as a knowing smile slithered across your lips, “Black Sabbath. Very clever.”

Eddie could have proposed to you right then and there. Instead, he would have to settle for dinner and a movie.

_______________________________________________

Thanks for reading!

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#stranger things #fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #mutal pining #friends to lovers #canon divergent #reader #80s #black cat #y/n #netflix #fanfic #fanfiction #wayne munson

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ikkosu · 2 months

Text

MY DARLING MEDIC

(fem.human.medic.reader x pharma)

summary : tarn strikes up a deal with pharma. but when he refuses, the tank takes up a more personal measure to confront him.

warning : angst. fluff (if you look real close💀). blood. this is the DJD what'd you exoect. bro I fucking died writing this. wanted to cut this in like several parts but decided to merge it together. wanted to write this into a multi-chartered fic but my commitment could never. could be a series ig.

my darling medic doodles

[i]

Pharma doesn’t know what to say.

One moment he's caught Ambulon at gunpoint, then the next he’s scampering down the halls, clutching the vials close to his chassis as he tears through for an exit. The game is up. He should've known better than to nab the easy path. Responsibility purges itself a mile away when confronted at the baseline of his problems. Now, it's got him cornered and Ratchet — who barged into the room — his friend, his oh-so-dear friend, pulls up a blaster.

Points it at his face.

His own mirth were flaked with rust, crinkled into a grimace, where along the crevices, the miniscule cracks, oozed spatter of crimson. The gun was unsteady; he’s shaking. He's infected. The uncomfortable feeling of your insides twisting punched him back. It gutted him more than he could realize and he’s got no guts, just thrumming circuits struggling, and failing, to prevent the inevitable.

So he does just that— prevent the inevitable.

A, one, two, three BANG of bullets barrage the other side of the room. Disregarding the startled shout of surprise, he stepped round the corner, making a beeline for the shaft. Storms of remorse whirled around his processors as he pulls himself up the ladder. It jostled and creak, much like how his jitter palms does when he's drunk on andrenaline.

He’s made that mistake again. He should’ve known better. He should’ve. Impulse stumps logic and now, he's outside. In the cold. Digits clinched the edge, close to slipping. Close to falling. Ratchet is aboven and where his optics catch below, he can see the fall, the descending vertigo of ire before his eyes.

“Pharma, buddy — what the hell happened to you?”

He doesn’t know; he might never will.

[years before]

You scroll aimlessly through the datapad.

Propped against the armchair, legs crossed and ankle bobbing, the screen flared your face with a soft blue-ish glow as the lines of words blurred together the more you strained to stare.

You're bored. Tired, too. But mostly bored. You were able to rest in your office after a tough match with several unruly patients. They were mechs. Pretty big mechs. And, they were a little, ah, how do you put this, organicophobes?

One of them had a more dire diagnosis : a t-cog malfunction. A type 3 kind. One that involved the t-cog overheating from too much usage, causing it to, in a way if you were to explain in human terms, like an organ, rot. It was deteriorating quick and the metal shards, miniscule ones, had already infected the internal circuitry.

A kind of job that required smaller, steady hands.

In short, they required humans.

You can handle a bit of discrimination — resentment against Organics was normal here despite the rules ensured to prevent so — but it still gutted you, knowing these mechs can do better than to hate another race from their own.

Especially when the said race tried to save their life.

A little bit of acknowledgment doesn't hurt from time to time.

You hope they were doing well, though.

The silence of the room was broken by footsteps approaching your office. The sliding doors opened with a swish and there you could discern the wide Cheshire grin of smugness amidst the slight darkness of the room. You should really stop shutting the lights, its begging to hurt your eyes. His teeth were practically glowing and was obvious he's quite in a good mood today.

You tucked the datapad inside the cabinet and caved against the cushion of the armchair, tipping your chin up into a smile, brimming with curiosity. One much as a 'whats he gonna pull this time?' type of curiosity.

“Working hard, I presume?” He croons, slinking across the room to your cubicle with several strides.

You quirk a brow; he's got something behind his back but you don’t press.

“Depends on which report you’re haggling me about,” You reply back, a playful smile. “Though, I can’t say for sure which region I am currently hard in, doctor. Would you like a scan?"

It catches him off gaurd for a moment — a simple one, two, three blink of his optics and your smile prods wider upon the not so subtle twitch of his wings. It sags in frustration.

“And here I thought I might have, for once, an appropriate greeting from my darling. I can never grasp your vulgar little mind, no less the entire mapping of your organic, squishy little brain,” His optics twitches as he vents. "But I’m not here to lecture you on prudence, no. I’ve got you a little, ah, herbal gift from my trip off world. The one you adore so much.” Then he adds with a mumble. "So much more than me, apparently.”

You perk up, and if you’re anything like a bunny, those ears would straghten right up to the brim. "What, like tea?”

"Even better, dear."

A ceramic mug is quickly perched onto your desk with a clink. You can't help but to coo in adoration at the utterly adorable little thing. It’s those tiny little teacups with teal blue flowers pasted across. A petite like holder, round and smooth, accommodated the curl of your finger. Nostalgia wrings you nto its clutches, back to teatime with your stuffed animals. You'd always be the princess.

You inhale the drink, warm steam wisps from tea, the color is an emerald-like-ore cadence under the stark white light.

"Since when did they have green tea in Nexus?"

"Earth, apparently. Globalization this, Space-localization that. Ignore the specifics. I'm sure you're better off without another lesson in economy?"

"I'd rather keep my thinking intact."

“Hm, that's a lot less fun. Anywho, I've taken some of my time to make it myself.” He pronounced, optics closed, regarding the cup with a theatrical wave proudly. "In fact, I have purchased the finest, well-endowed tea packet from the best of the best merchants. Never mind the cost, it's a splendid little thing, no?”

You’re still a little stunned admiring the cup but you blurt the first thing to mind.

“Smells fruity, for sure.”

He snaps one optic open, then entire look falls into offense. “Fruity is not what I had in mind.”

Ah, fuck.

"....nice?”

"Not that, either.”

“Ah, er, well — Great....?"

“Try again, dear.”

“C'mon docbot, what do you want me to say?”

”I’ve bought a tea packet that costs more than what this entire hospital is worth and you're describing it as 'nice?'”

You scrambled for words, fishing for the right one until— “Fragrant!" You snap your finger. "Right, fragrance.”

He stares.

You stare.

His rigidness loosens a little.

“One of these days I should really lecture you on the essence of compliments. See there? The mug is a ceramic. I’ve taken much care to handle it. It's from a lovely old organic. Her little shop in Nexus are a must to visit again."

You lean against your palm, eyes crinkled, cheeks round with warmth. “Is this a compensation?"

"For breaking your bed, yes—" you choke a little at that "—Now, go on, taste it.” He bends over to rest his elbows on the table, perching his chin on his two servos like a girl would, kicking their little feet during a sleepover.

“Don’t you have to buy me a new bed to compensate for that?”

He huffs, “ I already did. This is a bonus. Now, stop stalling. I have a patient to tend in a few hours and unless you've not taken a sip, I'm not going anywhere."

"Right, right. No pressure, doc."

"Very much."

You pinch the cup between your index and thumb. A pinkie is jutted out the for dramatics where you caught his lethargic look of disdain to it. And the final act concludes when the rim kisses your lips and you take a sip.

"Well?"

You stare at the ceiling for a moment.

"s'good...woah, real good." You blink in surprise, licking your lips to process the taste. "It's like my mother's! How'd you make this?"

“I was hoping you’d ask that.” He takes it upon himself to sit on your desk, inching close. "It's a, well, how do I put this — an obscure ingredient I am not willing to disclose."

"...You didn't lace this with laxatives didn't you?" You challenge.

"Laxatives?" He almost balks. "No, of course not. Why would I ever do such a thing? Think again."

You squint like that'll help you think. "Vanilla extract?"

"No."

"Oh, come on! Sugar?"

"Not a chance, dear."

"Milk."

"Far from close."

"Salt?"

"Are you serious?"

"What is this, 20 questions? I'll die by the time I cover the whole list of ingredients." You stand up with a huff.

All he does return, however, is a bemused crinkle of mirth from his eyes.He says nothing, only curling out a digit where it prods the area just above your chest. He taps it. Once. Then twice. It took a moment before the cogs turned on its own, and when it does, your cheeks flared up much to your chagrin.Oh. Oh. Your heart. The secret ingredient is—

—love?

You slumped to your chair, clutching your face to fight away the embarrassment at his audacity. You wanted to say it was the lamest, cheap, heart grabbing compliment of all time but you can't.

You just can't.

It's too....sweet.

"I swear Pharma...." If anything, you're reduced to a sputtering mess.

"Pharma? Not so much. I think 'God' would be the latter end. I swear to God, no?"

"Okay smartass."

"I know my rear-end is quite fine. Though, reduce your compliments to the bedroom, please."

"Pharma!"

There was something innately fond with how he’s fixated upon your scrunched up faces and agitated eyes.

Your eyes, they were always so expressive, so bright, much like stars when they flicker amidst the darkest night. A miniscule notion yet so wide in prominence. A haven he could dwell in when plagued upon with sullen days.

He couldn’t resist, and with his digits squishing your cheeks, he pulls you close. The agitation melts the moment you feel his lips against your temple, cheek, nose then your lips.

You glare at him when he pulls away."

"...You’re really making it hard for me to focus my angry molecules into an explosive blast, you know."

“Blast? Please, the least you can do is wield a knife and you're horrible at combat.Also, that's scientifically inaccurate.”

“Oh, shut up.” You look away, faltering at the sight of the door. “....You know what I meant.”

“How about you, as the humans would say, shut me up for a change?" His eyes became playful, tone borderline seductive. You're still fixated on the door. “On the topic of something explosive. Since we’re getting off our shift early today, I was wondering if you’re willing to test the new coils on our bed—“

“….Pharma?” But your eyes on fixed on somewhere else, or someone behind him.

"Doctor."

That isn't your voice.

Pharma’s sensor flares much as his wings did when he whirled around. His spark churned at the sight of the engraved decepticon insignia on his chassis and the gruesome signature mask upholstered on the mech’s face. A mask intended to revel fear, douse the flames of sanity.

Instantly the atmosphere shifted.

It dawns upon him how vulnerable he currently is. How close youre in proximity to the tank. How easily he could tear through the room and kill you. Lodge a knife through your chest. Leave you there on the floor. Skull, cracked. Brains, spooling. Blood agash. A simple red stain on the rag.

Pharma is terrified — he’s terrified of his unpredictability. Whatever thoughts are churning in his head are reduced to a blank slate as his shadow looms over, dwarfing his frame. He's not even moving. Just lingering there by the door. Any second now he could lose his temper and any second later you could be dead. Reduced to atoms. When crimson eyes flickered over, leaning to the side to get a better look, Pharma steps aside to shield you from his gaze.

“I’ll be there, Tarn.” He says stiffly.

The mech regards you for a moment before striding off. Away. The doors swished closed. How'd he knows where he was?

“Who’s that?” You ask, an innocent question he wished he could answer but Pharma pulls you up to your feet, his optics locked on the door.

“No one important, darling .” He replies yet he's already packing your stuff, pulling and shoving everything from your desk. His servos are jittery, wings twitching, brows furrowed.

You follow him around, wringing your hands. "Pharma? I thought you said—“

“Go home without me, dear.” He whirls around after tucking in your jacket into the last slot of your pouch and slips the bag over your shoulder. "It’s late and you have an early shift tommorow, no?"

You deflate, defeated. "Yeah, but i—"

"I have a meeting to attend. It'll be be fine. I won't stay up too late, I promise."

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He’s composed but you know he’s not. You know from the twitch of his digits he’s hiding something. He's a cunning deceptive man amidst all the layers but he's never a good liar. You wonder if it’s a reasonable time to press but in the end he’ll just figure out another lie to deceive you.

It'll hurt to leave.

You give him a wry grin. “Don’t stay up too late then or she’ll hog the covers.”

“Fortify the bed for me.” He pulls you for a kiss. "Get home safe."

"Will do, doc bot."

[ii]

Pharma doesn’t want to open the door.

Instead, he's pacing the front, wringing his servos, muttering to himself. He knows he should. But the temptation to stride in, get it over with, then walk back out was inviting. An in and out kind of ordeal wasn't the kind Tarn tolerates, much rather, he's mech hiding behind the facade of patience.

He's the worst to impatient.

Steeling himself, Pharma juts his chin up, bearing his usual haughty demeanor and barges through the door. Tarn's imposing presence was enough to halt his circuity but he pulls on the act, pedes an impatient thunk against the floor he rounds the desk, slumping on the chair. Unbothered.

“Make it quick. I have my duties to attend. Another influx of patients up from the east were admitted today. My schedules are full."

Tarn says nothing, regards him for a moment before tossing a deception insignia onto the table. It skidded across, bumping his elbow. By the scrapped off sheen of metal surrounding the symbol, it appears to be ripped out. There’s still energon on it. Barely dry. Pharma pulls away with a grimace. He needed air.

"One of your patients that I've taken care of."

By taken : unruly, unethical forms of torture.

“You ruined a nicely done table in favor of your dramatics.”

“Dramatics to which I prefer not to be taken ever so loosely, doctor." He flicks off a chip fron his talons. It plinks on his desk.

“You’re hiding them here.” He grits, a smooth croon of his voice. So deep, relaxing if not for the fact that he's close enough to snap his neck broken.

“No, I do not,”

“You know better than to lie to me, Pharma. You see, I know everything and it doesn’t take long for me to wrench that truth out of you, I assure you. So, answer me : are you hiding them here?"

“What does it matter to you?"

"A whole lot if you're anywhere close to the ranks of a deception warrior. But, for this circumstance, I will turn a blind eye to it and leave you alone."

Pharma straightens up, surprise. "Impossible. There should be a catch."

He can imagine how smug the smile behind the mask is. A crinkle of his eyes, a gentle prod of his lips — a facade so deceiving it was hard to believe this mech was the cause for all the sufferings they've imposed upon those traitors.

"Yes. And I'll get to the point. I accepted your rejection to your proposal last week because I understood your hesitance. I gave you time to think about it and right now it is dire I require more stocks of the T-cogs. Refuse me and I'll have to take up a more, personal counteractive measure to persuade you."

Pharma stiffens. He tries not to glance at your framed picture on his desk.

"You wouldn't want that would you?"

He narrows his optics. “I don’t know what you mean,"

Tarn shoots out an arm, wide digits curled around his neck cables before he yanks him close, clamping down, choking him. The doctor struggles, clawing at his chest.

“You’re meddling with an organic, Pharma—"Tarn croons, squeezing tighter with every disgust that laced his word. "—That is what I mean and while I prefer not to cut out the pleasantries, she will suffer from the consequences of your actions if you’re not going to concede. So, I’m going to make myself clear. Do you accept that deal or do you not?’’

Pharma tugs on his wrist to loosen the grip

“Please, anything, please, I—“ He holds up his hands placatingly, choking down his last grip of pride. "I'll do it. I'll do it! Just don't..."

Please, don’t hurt her.

"....Just don't. She's innocent. Don't bring her into this, Tarn. She's a remarkable doctor, please—"

Tarn releases his hold. Pharma drops to the ground, clutching his neck.

"I'll send you the list of requirements and a few donors willing to concede. You know where to find me when a problem arises."

Pharma is still on the ground, shaking, pressing his helm against the cold, metal floor. The footsteps disappear much like the diminishing hope in his chassis.He shouldn’t have listened, he shouldn’t have. Tarn and his sweet, sweet lies that’ were always so alluring, drawing him into the abyss.

[iii]

The tea cup, the one with the flowers painted across were discarded shards on the floor. Fragmented much like the reality he denies as he's wrangled behind. Arms tied. Wrists bounded. He stares, distraught.

You're in front of him. Behind was Tarn. He's got a blaster. And from the core were wisps of smoke,

”Ph..Pharma…” You’re confused as your palm hover overs the stain, the hole on your torso, the white a crimson red. You look down then up, expression contorted like you're asking him why. “I- I don’t understand…” You ramble and three frantic steps back you collapse, stumbling to the floor.

"What have you done....." Pharma tries to wrench away from Helex's grasp, voice rising to octaves. "Organic internal structures are weaker than a Cybertronians! This blow is fatal, do you not realize she'll die?!

Tarn steps over your body, and marches over to the jet, grabbing his face with a forceful shove. "Think again before you lecture me about those flesh-like scum. Why do you think I've chosen this method of action to condemn your actions with?"

"I couldn't get hold of the corpses in time!" He's frantic, shuffling, leaning aside to peer over the wide shoulders of Tarn. " They're not easy to get when you're a doctor every hour. I couldn't possibly kill the patients, cant I? Please, she needs medical attention, Tarn."

"And it's delayed, much like how you delayed my commodities."

"A deal is a deal. You should know better than to disrupt it."

He should've known better.

[iv]

Pharma shoots out an arm, he clutches the white jacket, the sleeve, pulling the body. He ignores how heavy, how limp and lifeless you were, compared to the motning when you were just laughing, rolling around on the bed that smelt like lavender, smiling about some pointless joke you scoured from the net.

With each pull, crimson stained and scraped the concrete floor, grime collecting at the base of your body. He doesn't seem to mind. He's too tired. Much too lethargic. When he's got you in his arms, he cradles you, holding you. His digits pinch your cheeks, You’re not warm anymore. You’re cold. Just like his armour, just like the air, just like your eyes. Much like a star, it's doused. The brightness — it's gone. No longer flickering. A mass, the singular speck, gone.

“Pharma, buddy —what the hell happened?”

“Everything. Everything did.”

He cups your jaw, presses a kiss to your temple, your nose, then one last lingering kiss to your lips.

#maccadam #transformers x reader #transformers #ikkosuwrites #pharma #pharma x reader #idw pharma #angst #Tarn x reader #mtmte tarn #mtmte #idw #canon divergent #transformers idw #mtmte pharma x reader #mtmte pharma #mtmte tarn x reader

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tartppola · 1 year

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something, everything is wrong

#twisted wonderland #twst #ace trappola #deuce spade #grim #ortho shroud #twst ortho #mc/yuu #yuulis crowley #twst oc #canon divergent #comic #chapter 6 spoilers? its kinda not but also yeah at the same time #anw harhar shoves madoka into my twst

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destieltropecollection · 11 months

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DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 10 | Canon Divergent

Sleepy Angel Kisses | Destielshipper4Cas (AO3)

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,255 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, Affectionate Dean, Falling angel Castiel, Crack Treated Seriously, Prankster Dean, Fluff and Crack Summary: Cas keeps falling asleep when low on grace. Dean takes advantage of that. Just some harmless pranks… right?

An Account of Consequences | @moustiel

Rating: General Word Count: 1,530 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst, post season 12 finale, spn rewrite, canon divergence, whump, heavy corpse description Summary: Castiel is the once and former God. There are consequences for trying to be The Most High. Isaiah 14:16-14:20

No Peace Held In Death | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2,265 Main Tags/Warnings: Episode: s07e04 Defending Your Life, Angst, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad Castiel (Supernatural), canon compliant? more like canon complaint Summary: Sammy’s out doing his Sam-thing, trying to take down Osiris with Bobby on the other end of the phone. Dean’s hanging out in their motel room, waiting. He fucking hopes it’s Jo. Which means it’s gonna be Cas.

a corruption cleared | @demonmary

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2,774 Main Tags/Warnings: Demon Cure, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon True Forms, Angelic Grace, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst Summary: When Castiel had healed him in the past, it was from the outside in. HIs hands would come to rest on Dean’s injured flesh, his grace would pulse through them like electricity, and the connection would stop when Cas pulled away. But this - this was more pure. This wasn’t Castiel’s touch, this was Castiel. This was Castiel, healing him from the inside out. _____ demon cure but make it horny grace drinking.

thank god for bruce campbell's abs | @watchinghimrakeleaves

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,408 Main Tags/Warnings: canon divergent, season 9, human castiel in the bunker, Summary: Dean decides to expose Cas to horror movies. In the process, he learns some startling things about his best friend.

I need to say something | @destiel-wings

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,861 Main Tags/Warnings: Episode: s15e09 The Trap, Castiel/Dean Winchester in Purgatory, Love confessions, Angst, Romance, POV Castiel, Dean Winchester uses actual words, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Summary: What if Dean had confessed in Purgatory, after his prayer? When Dean said "Cas, I need to say something," Castiel stopped him. But what if he hadn't?

Murder the World | @thisisapaige

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 10,162 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst, Canon Divergent after s10e22 The Prisoner, Demon Dean Winchester, the Castiel and Colette parallel, Switch Castiel/Switch Dean Winchester, Hopeful Ending, Porn With Plot Summary: Castiel said he would be the one to watch Dean murder the world. Now he has a chance to prove it.

This Isn't Where We Intended To Be | @porcupine-girl

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 14,094 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel in the Bunker, Human Castiel, Fallen Castiel, Post-Episode: s10e14 The Executioner's Song, Pining Castiel, First Kiss, First Time, Bunker Fic, Light Masochism, Meddling Sam, Emotionally Repressed Dean, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light Bondage Summary: This time, he wakes up to the aftermath: Metatron and Crowley both dead. Dean lying nearby, unconscious and a bit bloody but free of the Mark. Sam mother hen-ing back and forth between them, trying to make sure they're both alive, assessing them for injuries, shifting them into the recovery position. He is hungry, cold, and weak. But he is not alone, and that makes all the difference in the world. Fallen, Castiel struggles to figure out where he fits in the human world—and in Dean's life.

The Parts You Keep Hidden | @skybird87

Rating: Mature Word Count: 16,035 Main Tags/Warnings: Episode: s14e10 Nihilism, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Bad Parent John Winchester, Dean Winchester is Loved, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: In an attempt to free Dean from Michael, Cas and Sam journey deep into Dean's mind. Unfortunately, they find themselves stuck in an endless void of darkness, with only Dean's worst memories to guide their way.

Everything I Possess | @krexhatespushups-blog

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 19,023 Main Tags/Warnings: Archive Warning: Major Character Death Tags: Canon-Divergent AU, Pre-season one Canon divergent, Mentions of drug use and addiction, consequences of drug use, child neglect/child abuse, emotional manipulation, child abandonment, Mentions of PTSD, John Winchesters A+ Parenting, drug use by a minor, Dean/Cas established relationship, Blow jobs, car sex, public sex, references to physical abuse, praise kink, Temporary Death, VERY TEMPORARY MCD, grieving, dealing with grief, hunters funeral, non-con branding, non-con body modification, misuse of angelic grace as lube Summary: Dean had been fighting all kinds of supernatural beings from the time he could hold a gun, but he never expected angels to be real, So when he met Rhonda Hurley at nineteen in a tiny town in Colorado, the last thing he expected was that her sister had been miraculously saved by an angel. Nineteen years later, Dean and Cas are searching for God and their paths cross with a familiar angel who knows about Rhonda and reveals a secret - a pink satin-y panty shaped secret - that Dean has been hiding.

Mr&Mr Smith (WIP) | @malicmalic

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 55,512 Main Tags/Warnings: Cannon divergent, established relationship, angst, miscommunication, hurt, apocalypse is upon us, anal sex, oral sex, smut, loads of plot, happy ending. Summary: Castiel and Dean Smith are a regular married couple, living in a little suburban town and working ordinary, uninteresting jobs. However, each of them is concealing a secret: Castiel was once a mighty seraph, an angel of the Lord who decided to fall for human kind and walk among them as their equal. Dean on the other hand is a retired hunter of the supernatural, trying to let go of his past and find a better life after having ended the demon who killed his mother. When a nice, blond, cookie-selling girl scout knocks on their door and unleashes the entire hell on them, the life shattering secrets can no longer stay hidden. Exposed to each other’s worlds, Cas and Dean have to fight to save it from the appending apocalypse, but the insecurities and miscommunication might lead them to lose one another in the process.

I Will Be Your Message From God | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 32,415 Main Tags/Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger - The Crypt Scene, Winged Castiel (Supernatural), John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Angst and Feels, Non-Linear Narrative, Castiel-centric (Supernatural), Episode: s01e12 Faith, Episode: s02e13 Houses of the Holy, Episode: s04e16 On the Head of a Pin, Episode: s06e20 The Man Who Would Be King, Time Travel Summary: When Castiel touches the Angel Tablet and it frees him from Naomi's clutches at last, the only thing in his field of vision - both literally and psychologically - is Dean Winchester. He realizes none of this should've been necessary at all. And now, with Naomi chasing him in search of the Tablet, Castiel can only draw one conclusion. He must undo all of this, everything he's done wrong, on Dean's behalf. But his pitfalls are still there. He'll relentlessly pursue his goal at whatever cost, and left to face his own arrogance comes to understand that in reality he has no way to proceed. In addition to Naomi something else seems to be hunting him, something much more powerful and dangerous. And so Castiel can only land briefly before fleeing again, over and over, making an even bigger mess while trying to construct a solution to his past mistakes.

The Resting Place | @5x04dean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 49,481 Main Tags/Warnings: Temporary Minor Character Death, Body Horror, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Horror, Pet Sematary AU Summary: When Sam, Dean, and Castiel head out to investigate a case, they assume nothing is out of the ordinary. But as Dean and Castiel continue to dance around one another's affections, they find that the small town holds deadly secrets—secrets that are far more sinister than any of them would have ever believed. Written for the 2021 DeanCas BigBang.

A Midwinter's Dream | @li-izumi

Rating: Mature Word Count: 53,245 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergence Season/Series 09, Season/Series 10, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dean Winchester works through his trauma, Minor Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester, Kevin Tran Lives (Supernatural), Charlie Bradbury Lives, Dreams and Nightmares, Christmas, Angst with a Happy Ending, Advent Calendar Challenge Summary: Christmas is fast approaching, but Dean doesn’t feel like celebrating--he’s too busy hunting for that sort of thing. Though he promises to get Cas back in time for the epic Christmas party Sam’s been planning, Dean has no intention of staying himself. That may be another promise Dean can’t keep when the hunt goes wrong, trapping Dean and Cas far from civilization. Worse, Dean is plagued by unrelenting nightmares of his time with the Mark of Cain and is gripped by a lingering anger that he can’t seem to escape. Back at the Bunker, Sam and the others are working a little Christmas magic they hope will show Dean the light in the dark—and prove to him that the holiday spirit isn’t something he needs to hunt.

When Tomorrow Comes | @trenchcoatparadigm

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 78,994 Main Tags/Warnings: Fix-It, Season 15 rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Angst, Family Loss, First Time, Love Confessions, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty, Castiel's Loss of Angelic Grace, First Kiss, Happy Ending Summary: When hunting for the Leviathan blossom, Castiel gets taken. Tired, desperate and wanting to tell him all the things left unsaid before it’s too late, Dean prays to him. But he realises... standing there, in the grey hellish landscape, the portal home flickering just beside them with seconds left on the timer, they already were too late. Running himself ragged fuelled solely by caffeine, whisky, and that trademark Winchester determination, he will find a way to stop Chuck and to save Cas. However, this isn't the blaze of glory Dean had always envisioned going out in. But, deep down, he would go out swinging to save a loved one. Those bright shining penetrating tear-soaked eyes are the last thing he sees before his vision is marred, the desperate plea of his name dampened by the black ooze filling his eardrums as the essence of the Empty wraps around him and pulls him pulled from existence into the dark. All because of that simple prayer, the ending Chuck had always planned was rewritten. With a fallen angel purged of happiness, a brother in mourning and a Nephilim-shaped timebomb the only ones left to Carry On on this desolate planet… What happens when tomorrow comes?

Do You Know What That's Worth? | @norahastuff

Rating: Mature Word Count: 92,212 Main Tags/Warnings: Cas POV, Canon divergent from 9x06, Cas is pretty damn competent, Slow Burn, brief non-explicit Cas/OFC, brief non-explicit Cas/OMC Summary: After Dean leaves him at the Gas N' Sip in Rexford, Castiel realises that he needs to get back in the game. However, that's easier said than done, and instead he finds himself working in a Target-style superstore in Boulder as he tries to figure out his new human life. He makes friends, starts hunting, even has a couple of hook-ups, but when Dean unexpectedly returns, Castiel has to re-evaluate where Dean fits in to this new life he has built for himself, and what it is they need from each other. And while Castiel may have had his grace stripped from him, he still possesses certain angelic sensibilities that may be the key to fixing some of the damage Metatron has wrought. With some creativity, teamwork, and a dash of hope, maybe he can discover just how much he's really capable of. (An alternate season 9 from Cas' POV.)

Eighteen (I've Got to Get Away) | @motherofdragonflies

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 122,569 Main Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Series typical violence, pre-canon, abusive John Winchester, young Dean Winchester, Season One Re-Write, Season Two Re-Write Summary: "Dad always said that family was important. They didn’t have a lot of family, the Winchester men, so they had to stick together. That was part of the rules Dean lived his life by: shoot first, ask questions later. Watch out for Sammy. Winchesters had to stick together. But what about when the rules contradicted each other? Which rule was more important: family sticking together or watching out for Sam?" When Dean turns eighteen, he’s forced to make a decision that will change the course of Sam and Dean’s life.

an empty house is not a home | @hawkland

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 143,247 Main Tags/Warnings: alternative season 13, alternative season 14, time traveling Castiel, switching Dean/Cas, Godstiel Summary: Jack’s grace is gone, and so is Dean—lost to the Michael of the Apocalypse World, and Cas despairs there may be no way to get him back. Not with his limited powers and only Sam and the other hunters to help avert this next apocalypse. Cas can think of only one being who might be powerful enough to stop Michael. But to summon him means a trip back in time to recruit none other than himself, from when he believed he could become the new God. And if called into the future, how will “Godstiel” react to what Cas has become and the existence of Jack…and will he agree to eventually going back? This story reimagines the events from Jack’s birth up through Dean’s possession by Michael with one major change: What if Dean had expressed his true feelings as soon as Cas returned from the Empty? How might their bond, strengthened by love and a more open understanding of each other, have changed the course of all that followed?

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2023 #destiel #fanfic #canon divergent #day 10

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