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sundrop-writes · 4 months

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My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

The joke's on you - we are salt and you are the wound.

Summary:

Ellie confronts your abuser, and after years of torment, you finally feel free.

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader. Strangers to Lovers. Hurt and Comfort. Can be read with or without considering the canon events.

Word Count: 9,600

The Last of Us Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: reader uses she/her pronounces, the reader is a lesbian/does not date men, themes of abuse and abusive relationships, domestic abuse, ‘love at first sight’ trope, could be considered ‘soulmates’ trope, hurt and comfort, the reader is being abused by a family member and is saved by Ellie,the reader is being emotionally and physically abused by a family member, evidence of emotional manipulation/brainwashing in the reader character, the reader character has injuries from physical abuse, trauma, becoming free from abuse, depictions of violence (fist fighting between Ellie and the abuser), mentions of guns and gun violence, there is elements of Joel and Ellie’s relationship in the background and this could be read with or without considering the canon events (their emotional falling out), mentions of alcohol, drugging someone against their will (done toward the abuser), threatening someone’s genitals with a knife (done toward the abuser), kidnapping and intimidation through violent threats (done toward the abuser), mentions of hanging/choking/suffocation, use of lesphobic slurs (I think ‘rug muncher’ is the only one?) (from the abuser towards Ellie), Joel and Ellie making a kidnapping (and potentially murder) plot together, this has a happy/hopeful ending.

A/N: Another re-post of a fic I really, really love. This one is particularly deeply personal to me. Whenever I write about the concept of abuse, it’s very emotional for me, but this one has some more personal touches - because it is about abuse coming from a family member and how it can be difficult to part from that because you rely on them for survival and resources that keep you alive. Often times when people think about abuse - or when abusive relationships are modelled in media, it is a romantic relationship, and they display how a person can go from sweet and romantic and turn into a monster, and how it manipulates the victims emotions and makes it difficult for them to leave. And I do think that is an important story to tell, but one equally important - the story of an abuser who is a constant in your life, and makes you dependent on them for survival, and it causes you to rationalise all of their poor actions and behaviour because you need them. You want them to be a good person in your mind because you don’t know how to sustain your life without them.

Another deeply personal touch on this fic - the title. It is titled after a Fall Out Boy song, and you guys might know - I fucking love Fall Out Boy. I feel like all of their songs have a direct cord to my soul. But this one in particular is so special and tender for me. I was struggling with what to title this fic, and I was going through a playlist of songs that I listen to frequently - and this one came up. Although I believe the original intent of this song is about a cheating spouse, for me, it brings up feelings of how I think of my abuser. Especially the lines ‘I’m the kind of kid that can’t let anything go, and you wouldn’t know a good thing if it came up and split your throat’ and 'this is me wishing you in to the worst situations’.

I feel like it is very accurate, because Ellie is someone who is very 'wearing her heart on her sleeve’ and through this fic, she wants to be emotionally detached and leave the situation alone, but she can’t. And it turns her heart into this weapon against her, and ultimately, against the abuser. Because it is only of the fact that she cares so much about y/n that she wants to hurt the guy at all. And it also works to describe y/n’s feelings, because she hates that she has emotional attachment to her abuser, but she does, and it makes her feel as though her heart is a weapon against herself. So yeah. I hope you enjoy this fic, and if you relate to it somehow, I hope you can heal.

...

Ellie didn’t believe in love at first sight.

She was the type of person who thought it was cheesy - some made-up bullshit built for movies and books to sell people on the type of story that would never actually happen. She founded herself on facts, and though she knew realistically it would never happen in her lifetime, she thought that space travel was far more factual than something like love at first sight.

Until she met you.

And yeah, it probably wasn’t love - at least not true love - until later on. But there had to be some reason that she stuck her neck out for you like that. There had to be something drawing her to you like that. Maybe it was that fabled invisible string. That unspoken thing that made her want to die and want to kill for you, especially within the first ten minutes of meeting you.

You were with a group taking refuge in Jackson. In such a small town, rumors were rampant. The group had been in town for less than a day and people were already whispering about whether or not Maria was going to take in such a large number of people on such short notice.

Personally, Ellie didn’t care. She knew that Jackson had the resources to support new people and she knew that Maria would make the right decision. She was a good leader; she would sense if the group were good enough people to stay or not. She wouldn’t knowingly let in any dangers.

But then, Ellie started to care very suddenly, very much - when she met you.

When she saw you, the very first thing she noticed was your smile. She didn’t think she had ever seen someone smile with such intense, genuine joy. It was something that instantly twisted her gut into knots - filled her with those cartoonish butterflies as she took in the sight of you.

You were standing along the edge of one of the fences, near a small, green pasture for the animals in town. It was a small wooden fence that came up to your hips, around an area that was sectioned off to keep the baby cows in so they could graze. You were leaning on the wooden panels, admiring those little cows with awe, a smile on your face a mile wide as you watched the animals stumble around happily in the field. It was a beautiful spring day, with a light breeze kissing against your skin, and plenty of bright green grass for the cows to snack on. It made the sun seem so much brighter with your smile under it.

Ellie couldn’t help but find herself drawn to you.

She was supposed to be on her way to return her rifle to the gun shed after patrol. But instead, her feet carried her to you, almost entirely against her will. And soon she found herself standing barely a foot away from you, leaning on that same fence with one hand and staring at you with a big idiotic smile of her own.

You gave a small jolt when you finally took your eyes off the cows and noticed her staring. Ellie panged with guilt. She hadn’t realized how unintentionally creepy she was being. She didn’t know that it was a programmed response on your part - an ingrained jumpiness that you couldn’t help.

She swallowed around the dryness in her throat, struggling for words, and she was thankful when you spoke first.

“You guys have everything here.” You said, bright and excited as you put your eyes back on the grazing pasture. “It’s the first time I’ve seen baby cows before.”

“We - uh - we also have sheep.” Ellie tripped over herself to say this, shouldering the strap of her rifle to point beyond to a spot where the sheep’s pasture could not be seen. “And there’s greenhouses, and horses. My horse is named Shimmer. You can come and meet her if you want!”

Ellie almost felt stupid, rushing to say all of this, rushing to impress you. If you liked Jackon’s plentiful resources, then perhaps if she pressed just how fantastic and resource filled the place was, you would want to stay.

She found herself wanting you to stay. Very badly.

You bit your lip, slightly shy, and let out a nervous giggle. You didn’t want to turn her down. But years of warnings in a closed off echo chamber had made you weary of strangers. Even seemingly kind ones.

“That would be nice.” You told her quietly. “Maybe later.”

Ellie thought she was coming on too strong. She kicked herself internally because of it.

She had no idea that you were hesitant to be friendly - hesitant to get too close because of the ‘consequences’ you had seen in the past. In your eyes, Ellie seemed like a lovely, friendly person, but you didn’t want to get hurt for trying to make friends. Even if you felt a spark of attraction towards her, you could never pursue it. You didn’t have the room to do so.

Ellie simply nodded at you, the pain of rejection curling in her gut as she began to walk off. But she stopped dead in her tracks when she heard it.

Yelling - a brute voice disrupting your peace.

When Ellie turned around, there was a man. Someone who would have been otherwise average in his looks, if not for the violence he wore so boldly, obviously uncaring of who saw him. His face was tight with anger as he crowded into your personal space, grabbing a hold of your wrist and screaming at you relentlessly as though you had greatly offended him.

She wondered how someone like you - someone so sweet, who took wonder in baby cows, could ever do something to warrant such a visceral reaction of anger from someone.

Ellie gripped her rifle tightly.

A voice in her mind told her that it was none of her business, but another quickly argued back and said that you didn’t deserve to be treated like this. It said that she should step in. She felt frozen as the two sides warred inside her. For a few moments, she simply watched on, taking in the one-sided conflict between you and this man with horror swimming inside of her.

Your reaction was the worst part.

Your face immediately shifted from that excitement, awe, and wonder that the baby cows gave you and contorted into pure pain. Tears welled up in your eyes and pure fear overtook your entire body. Your spine coiled up, as if to protect your internal organs, but you made no real moves to get away from this man.

He spouted at you about ‘wandering off’ and ‘what have I told you before’, ranting on and on as if you had made some horrible mistake by taking time out of your day to admire a grazing pasture full of animals. Ellie was just about to unlock her knees and charge over there to do something about it when a vial, angry eye caught hers over your shoulder.

“The fuck you lookin’ at?” He barked at Ellie.

Those simple words were all it took to trigger something in Ellie.

At a moment’s notice, all of her logic flew out the window, and she found herself consumed by the impulse of her rage instead. She shed off the strap of her rifle, leaving the heavy object on the ground behind her in case it might impede her as she barreled toward the man like a raging bull.

“Why don’t you tell me, asshole?!” Ellie fired back, entirely nonsensical.

But both of them, ill-tempered, were beyond talking at that point.

He stepped around you and went to open his mouth again and Ellie took a swing. She easily made contact with his jaw, but he absorbed it well. Her knuckles stung as she pulled back and landed another hit on his cheek, most definitely leaving a nasty bruise.

Ellie was caught off guard when a large fist collided with her face.

She would never be the type to say that men shouldn’t hit women simply on principle. Especially not in this case, because she had swung first.

She was shocked simply because of the sheer force behind the hit. It wasn’t just to get her off of him - it was vengeful.

Though her skull was rattled, when he moved his hand up again, Ellie caught his wrist and hit him again. Still feeling that blinding rage, she took him to the ground. His nose felt like mush under her knuckles and she wouldn’t have stopped - if not for someone forcefully pulling her off of him.

She wanted to yell when she found out that someone was Tommy. But he quickly dampened any of her protests.

Tommy then gave her a long lecture about ‘first impressions’ and handling her temper during ‘misunderstandings’. He told her that being a part of their family meant that even unintentionally, she represented Jackson as a whole. Regrettably, Ellie felt guilt curling in her stomach because of his words. Even if the guy had it coming, she hated Joel or Tommy looking down on her with disappointment.

And some time during that long, droning speech, you and that man slipped away. Ellie had a very bad feeling in her gut because of it.

She had a feeling that he was nothing but a cause of pain for you.

But of course, she had no outright proof of that. Aside from your tears. But you weren’t even there to tell Tommy your story. And what story was that? That you had been yelled at? How the hell did that substantiate Ellie beating a man up?

She had nothing more to go on than a gut feeling.

So rather than telling Tommy about any of the things she suspected, she accepted everything she had said, she apologized for losing her cool, and then (after he gave her a hug, patted her on the head and said ‘it’s okay, kiddo’) - she turned and walked away.

When she returned her rifle to the gunshed, Jesse asked if something had happened on patrol to cause the bruises on her face and make her expression so sickly, and she quickly shrugged him off.

Ellie felt intensely guilty for not doing something more. She felt bad for not simply asking you what was wrong, for not handling the situation like a real human being. She had no clue why she couldn’t simply be calm when she saw you so upset like that.

She didn’t even really know you. She just had a feeling that you were too good to be treated like that. Something deep in her gut was screaming that you did nothing to deserve it.

The group you came in with split up. Some of them made their way down to the coast with the intention of fishing, perhaps finding and fixing up an old boat, and some of them stayed.

Ellie took notice when you and the man who had yelled at you stayed.

She also took notice of the fact that whenever she saw you around town, that man was never very far from you. And whenever he lingered around you, you were much different from the girl she had met that day near the pasture. You were slumped down, never rising to your full posture, constantly tense, and incredibly quiet. You never spoke a single word to anyone other than that awful man. You never even made eye contact with other people.

Ellie spent weeks watching you from afar, attempting to see if you were okay, looking for some ‘evidence’ that you weren’t. Some hard proof that she could bring to Tommy and Maria, something to show that she wasn’t insane for attacking that man. And it wasn’t until the spring rolled into summer, and Ellie’s bruises from the incident had faded, that she found time to speak to you again.

There was a time when Ellie caught you without your ugly shadow - when you were by the coops, feeding the chickens, imitating their clucking and laughing to yourself.

“I think you’ve got a career as a chicken caller.” Ellie chuckled as she walked toward you.

You smiled when you looked up and saw her.

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “I just like them because if they say mean things to me, I don’t have to know.”

Ellie felt a lump rise up in her throat at the pain behind your words.

It left an awkward, painful silence for a moment before you spoke up again.

“Look, I’m sorry about before.” You told her. “If you thought you had to defend me, or…” You continued staring at the grainy feed on the ground, pointedly not looking at Ellie. “I piss him off. Often. He was just having a bad day, and I-”

“That’s no excuse for him to yell at you like that.” Ellie cut you off. She rushed to get the words out, desperate for you to know this at the truth. “He’s got a temper, doesn’t he?”

“So do you.” You chuckled. It wasn’t genuine laughter.

There was a twinge of fear in your voice. It made her nauseous. She never wanted you to fear her the same way that you clearly feared that horrible man.

“I’m sorry.” Ellie said quietly, intense guilt overtaking her. “I do genuinely apologize if I scared you. I just… I couldn’t stand to see you crying like that.”

“I totally get it.” You snorted, painful humor lingering in your voice. “It’s so annoying. But… sometimes I can’t help it.” Though you kept your voice steady, these simple words spoke volumes of pain.

Ellie wanted to ask why. She wanted to ask if there were more days when he pushed you to tears.

“I’m sorry that I’m such a crybaby.” You told her. You tried to laugh this off, as though it was just a funny trait of your personality, and not a fault of pain being inflicted onto you.

Ellie shook her head vigorously.

“No.” She quickly corrected you. “That’s not what I meant.”

Confusion knitted over your features. Ellie fought hard to find the words to explain it.

“I was angry because he made you cry.” She explained. “I was pissed off because he upset you, and - and, I know it’s stupid. I don’t even know you. But you don’t deserve that.”

Hearing those words for the first time was a truth so radical it almost tore the ground from underneath your feet. After years of being told that you weren’t worth the trouble - that the food you consumed was a burden, that the bullets used to protect you were a waste - being told for the first time that you didn’t deserve such treatment… you felt like the words didn’t belong in your ears.

“What?” You looked at her with pure shock overtaking your expression, a most genuine and raw reaction. “You really care that much about me being upset?”

This gripped Ellie’s insides worse than anything else. You could barely conceptualize someone caring about your feelings this genuinely.

“Yeah.” She admitted quietly. “I do care.”

This left your face tight with contemplation, intense thought. Ellie didn’t want to leave room for you to get too caught up in it, for you to overanalyze her genuine gesture. So she came up with something else.

“So… did you still wanna meet my horse? Maybe we could take her out for a ride?” Ellie posed.

You seemed hesitant. But eventually, you decided ‘fuck it’ - you might as well have some fun. Especially if it meant spending some time with someone who actually seemed to care about you.

Ellie took you to the stables and introduced you to Shimmer, and officially introduced you to herself, as you did in return - which seemed odd after all that had happened. But it was nice to finally have a name to go with your pretty face. It was nice to finally hear your laughter as Ellie made an age old joke about hay and horses.

After you took a while to pet the horse and get acquainted with her, Ellie got permission to go past the gate. She took you on a slow trot on the outskirts of Jackson. She had butterflies curling in her stomach the whole time as you gripped her waist, sitting on the back of the horse, and you smiled brightly and complemented how peaceful everything was.

When the two of you got back from the ride, you kissed Ellie on the cheek, and she nearly squealed with happiness.

And then, she didn’t see you for nearly a week afterwards.

She thought she had done something wrong, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with that awful man who barely let you out of his sight.

The next time she did see you, you were walking along closely behind that wicked man, your eyes low to the ground. And when she called out your name, you didn’t look up to greet her.

The sweet summer turned into fall and Ellie felt the guilt gnawing at her more, especially when she noticed the days or even weeks when you didn’t seem to come outside. Days when you didn’t show up to do your chores and were supposedly sick, days when nobody else seemed to care why you were missing.

There was that voice in her head. ‘She’s just a girl.’ The voice said. ‘It’s just a crush. It’s none of your business. You should just move on.’

Ellie couldn’t bring herself to listen to that voice. For some reason, she felt this thing gnawing deep in her gut - something that said you needed her.

Against her better judgment, Ellie went to the house she knew you were staying at, and knocked on the door.

She wasn’t surprised when you answered. You peeked through the door with only half your face showing, utterly terrified.

“What are you doing here?” You barked.

Ellie had a feeling that your anger was a formation of fear, and it wasn’t entirely directed at her.

“I was worried about you.” Ellie admitted shyly.

You opened the door further, hesitantly, and then pulled Ellie inside before you shut the door and closed all the locks. Ellie felt her stomach twist when she noticed you looking through the curtains, as though you were afraid for your life, looking out for danger.

Ellie had a distinct feeling that she knew what that danger was.

A giant lump formed in Ellie’s throat when you turned around and she saw it - that black eye, swollen and bruised, glaring at her. It was the part of your face you had been blocking with the other half of the door. There were other things she couldn’t see. Scrapes and bruises and hand shapes swats over your arms and torso, covered by your purposefully baggy sweatshirt with long sleeves.

“Just stop.” You said, turning to Ellie, your voice quaking with the intensity of your emotions. “Stop worrying about me.”

Ellie’s jaw tensed. She would find that intensely difficult - practically impossible.

“No.” She easily told you so. “I care about y-”

“Stop.” You said, a harsh cry in your throat.

It was too painful for you to consider. The idea that someone sweeter and nicer existed in the world and cared for you. The idea that the way of life you had known for years wasn’t the only way to survive.

“Look, I like you.” You added on. “You’re really sweet. But you don’t want me. I’m sure you can find someone else-”

Ellie stepped forward, her fingers brushing so gently over your cheek, right underneath the swelling of that awful black eye. You were so entirely startled by the pure gentleness of the touch that you let out a choked off sound from the back of your throat, almost a sob.

“He did this to you?” Ellie asked, her voice deadly calm and quiet.

You refused to answer.

“Is he your fucking boyfriend?” She prodded, her voice even sharper and more offended now.

You scoffed, pulling away from her touch. You thought she was jealous of the idea of you having a romantic partner. But in fact, she was deeply offended at the universe, she was in turmoil at the idea that someone would even consider hurting you when they claimed to love you.

“My brother.” You told her, the word almost sounding like poison on your tongue. “I would never choose someone like him. But I’ve been stuck with him for as long as I can remember.”

“Oh.” Ellie said quietly.

It was not a possibility she had considered. But she knew that there had never been any romantic connotations to the interactions between the two of you. Only danger, intimidation, and pain.

It was almost a worse fate, in a sense. The idea that you had been saddled with him because of genetics, that you couldn’t escape him because of obligation, or being forced to survive together.

“Yeah, oh.” You repeated, tears clutching the inside of your throat. “And really, it’s none of your business. He’s always taken care of me. He takes care of me, so-”

“This is not taking care of you.” Ellie argued sharply, gesturing to the mark on your face. “If you need someone to take care of you, I’m right here.”

You rolled your eyes at this. Again, you thought it was jealousy. That it was her trying to make herself seem appealing as a romantic partner.

You didn’t know that she was serious, that she would give you the world on a silver platter if given the chance.

“And I sure as hell won’t hit you.” Ellie added on.

“That’s easy for you to say.” You scoffed.

“That’s easy for me to do.” She fired back. “Not beating the people you love is the bare fucking minimum. In case no one ever told you that.”

Her last words were intensely sharp, but struck a chord deep inside of you. It caused your stomach to churn with harsh realization, something you probably already knew that was brought to the surface and waved in your face:

This was not a life that everyone lived.

“I can’t do this right now.” You huffed quietly, shaking your head.

You were still swimming deep in denial, hating the idea that your life was founded entirely on pain. But Ellie would fight through all of that pain to get to you.

“Come on, how long is it gonna be before he kills you?” She asked, the words quiet but devastatingly striking.

You remained painfully silent.

“What kind of life is this for you?” She spoke up when you did not reply. “There’s so much more out there for you that doesn’t involve your asshole brother.”

“Look, you know nothing about him.” You said sharply. “You don’t know what kind of life he’s had. You don’t know what he’s been through. What we’ve been through. Some of the things he’s saved me from.”

Ellie could only imagine what was going through your mind. Obviously, she had seen some of the darker things the world was capable of. She knew that if your brother had saved you from some of those horrors, it made him look like a saint by comparison.

She wanted to scream that you didn’t have to go through this. Life didn’t have to be like this. Absorbing his hits and being a target for his anger wasn’t necessary for your survival.

“Usually it’s my fault anyway.” You sighed. “I meant what I said before. I have some weird talent for pissing him off.”

Ellie was downright insulted at this.

“It is not your fault.” She rushed to say, her throat straining with the intense passion behind the words.

You found it difficult to believe her.

Any reply you could have mustered was drowned out by the sound of heavy boots coming up the porch.

“Get out.” You barked at Ellie, panicked. “Get out, you have to leave.”

You shoved Ellie out the back door before she could argue, and the sound of more screaming and an ugly collision of a hand on flesh made Ellie clench her fists to avoid charging back inside. She had to tell herself one simple thing - she wouldn’t be able to explain a murder to Maria or Tommy.

She wouldn’t have to.

And there was maybe only one other person in town who would understand.

She went right from your place to Joel’s, and he seemed too pleased about her being there in order for him to really question it. He seemed even more pleased when she asked for his help.

When Ellie explained the situation, she was surprised that Joel didn’t want to take it to Maria. But they both knew that she was diplomatic. She had an entire town to think of. She couldn’t be chasing down people’s personal problems, and she couldn’t be known for doling out vigilante justice. She had to make people in Jackson feel safe, and she didn’t think that civilian trials and public executions would be the way to do that. And as far as Ellie knew, nobody in Jackson had ever acted up like this before. Maybe they were just good at keeping it a secret. (That thought scared her more than anything.)

Joel suggested something about a quiet smothering and a shovel. Nobody would ever find the guy’s body, he reasoned.

Ellie didn’t want it that way. Even if the guy was a piece of shit, he was your only family. She knew that in some fucked up way, you would miss him.

No - it needed to be his choice. And he wasn’t going to make the right choice on his own. So they had to guide him to it. Well, they had to force him to it and shove his face in the damn right choice.

And then, if he didn’t make the right choice - then they would go to Joel’s version, a Plan B, and they would get the shovel.

Her and Joel talked it over for hours, making a solid Plan A. When they were both finally satisfied, Ellie left out the back door to head to her place to finally crash for the night - when had it gotten dark out?

She paused in her tracks when she saw you standing at the bottom of the few stairs that led up to the porch.

You had a large sweatshirt hood pulled up over your head, and in the minimal light from the back door’s bulb, Ellie could see that your eyes were entirely startled. Your cheek was sporting a fresh, wicked bruise that hadn’t been there before. Your lip was busted, and you had the neck of the sweater pulled up, half hiding some marks on your neck.

Clearly your brother had come home furious about something. Perhaps he had seen Ellie leaving. She partially felt guilty about it, and definitely felt more secure in her plan.

“I - uh - I ran into Dina, and she said I could find you here.” You said, motioning off to where you must have spoken to Dina, muttering nervously because Ellie had been standing there for a few moments staring you down with sadness in her eyes and had not spoken. “I was gonna knock. But… I…”

‘I got nervous.’ The words were lost on your tongue. You knew it sounded strange. Being afraid to knock. Being afraid to ask for help.

Ellie walked down the steps to meet you on the ground, and you didn’t move away when she reached up and brushed a gentle thumb across your lip - not quite touching the area when it had been split open, but clearly scorning it in her mind.

She wanted to suggest something about running away, but she knew Joel would just come after her. The easier solution would simply be to get rid of the awful man who had done this to you.

You grabbed her wrist and leaned into her hand. She cupped your cheek then, holding you so tenderly that it almost hurt. Your body was so unfamiliar with sweetness, with comfort.

“I can’t do this.” You sobbed quietly. “Ellie, I can’t do this.”

You weren’t feeling brave enough to leave the familiar, the thing that bound you in pain and torment.

“Yes, you can.” Ellie told you firmly.

She gently tilted your head up, forcing your gaze toward hers.

“Ask me.” She told you.

You both knew what it meant.

‘Ask me for my help.’

‘Ask me to get rid of that monster, and I will.’

You let it bubble inside of you. The words swelled up inside of your throat, and a wicked sob escaped, causing hot tears to leak down and touch Ellie’s hand before you got it out.

“Help me.” You croaked. “Please.”

“I will.” Ellie told you firmly. “I’ll get rid of him.”

She leaned in then and planted a kiss on your forehead, something sweet enough to render another sob from your throat. When she moved to pull away, you reached around and grabbed the back of her shirt, clutching on tight to keep her there, pulling her into a hug and holding her to savor the precious temporary moment you were able to be away from your tormentor.

“Ellie?” You said her name, and she hummed a response, still leaning with her lips gently pressed against your forehead. “I know - I know it’s so stupid. But… I don’t want him dead.” You told her. Ellie had predicted as much. “I just… I want him gone.”

“It’s not stupid.” Ellie assured you. “I understand.”

By the time Ellie got everything together, the cold was just setting in.

The first snowfall had just hit Jackson, and she had made sure to keep a close eye on you in the interim. You told her over and over again that you were going to be fine.

A few times you even went back on your ask, you told her that you and your brother were getting along much better. Ellie’s gut churned on the days when you smiled and told her that things between you and your brother were getting much better, that he was making an effort to control his temper, that you could see him making ‘big changes’.

On for another fresh wound to show up on you and when she would ask you about it, you broke down crying and declared that it was all your stupid fault.

Ellie knew that he was never going to change. And it only made her more firm in her convictions to carry through with the plan that she and Joel had carefully laid out.

Gathering the supplies needed for her plan wasn’t as hard as she originally thought.

The pharmacy in Jackson was surprisingly easy to steal from. She found a pharmaceutical journal in the library; finding out which drugs could knock out a grown man and memorizing the names of them - not that hard.

And then Ellie took an easy fall during one of her patrols, wincing and whining about the pain in her twisted wrist far more than she felt it, getting the nurse to unlock the drug cabinet to give her some tylenol with codeine. Then she ‘accidentally’ knocked over a tray with a bunch of stray pieces on it, and she got what she needed out of the unlocked cupboard like clockwork.

She wasn’t sure if the people in Jackson were naive, or if she was far too used to being a criminal.

Her wrist had healed up nicely by the time everything else was ready.

Joel thought it would be wisest that they use his basement.

He explained to Ellie that they could use an old military technique - shut out all the light, take away anything potentially familiar about the room, make it naked and bare and anonymous so that it would seem like a random place that could be anywhere.

It would be right in town, but the prospect of seeming so far off, so ‘in the middle of nowhere’ - it would be a good part of the scare tactic. They spent some time cleaning out the basement, putting garbage bags over the windows, and draping the room in plastic tarping - partially to scare him, and partially, just in case.

Joel got a bottle of cheap whiskey that he watered down some, and Ellie poured out the bottle of pills onto the counter with the intention to crush them all up and mix them with the alcohol.

“Christ Ellie, that’s enough to take down a goddamn horse.” Joel commented.

Clearly, it was too many pills.

Ellie took a handful of them - half, and put them back in the original bottle. When she looked up at Joel again, he shook his head. Still too many?

“Here, let me.” He said, gently shouldering her out of the way so he could make the mixture himself.

“You act like you’ve done this before.” She commented.

“You act surprised that I’ve done this before.” He replied.

He did have a point. Especially considering that when Joel had met Ellie, he had likely been expecting her to be a large bag of drugs, and not a child who needed to be smuggled.

Joel put back a much bigger portion of the pills, only leaving four tablets that he began to crush up to be mixed in with the drink.

“The alcohol is gonna magnify the effects of this stuff. A lot.” Joel explained, emphasizing the last words. “You kept saying you didn’t wanna kill him. So you don’t need to give him an overdose.”

Ellie nodded. It was a good point. She felt lucky to have his help with this.

Joel scraped the crushed up tablets - now a powder - into the bottle, and put his thumb over the opening to seal it while he shook it up, making sure it was well dissolved before he put the cap back on.

“Remember. Pour one for yourself, but don’t fucking drink from it.” Joel reminded her.

It was a mental tactic. Pour two glasses, so as to not seem suspicious, but don’t take a sip.

Joel handed her the bottle, and they walked over to your place.

Ellie made sure that Dina was keeping you busy with spare chores, things she supposedly couldn’t do without your help, ensuring that you would be out of the house for the night and wouldn’t miss your brother gone. Ellie went around to the front door and Joel went to the back, waiting for her signal.

She knocked on the front door and when your brother answered, she waved the bottle. She apologized for the two of them having gotten off ‘on the wrong foot’ when he first came into town. She claimed that she wanted to set things right with him.

He looked her up and down with suspicion, but opened the door. He fetched a couple of glasses and Ellie did as Joel instructed - poured one for herself after she poured one for him, took it in her hand, but didn’t sip from it.

He eagerly knocked the first drink back and Ellie hated the fact that he didn’t pass out right away. He poured himself a second and she forced herself to make an attempt at conversation.

She asked about one of the pictures he had on the mantle over the fireplace - a framed photo of him and some woman. He grunted, saying that it was ‘his bitch’ but ‘she was dead now’. The way he spoke about women made Ellie want to hurl. This caused the conversation to lull into him asking if Ellie had a boyfriend.

She shrugged it off. Especially seeing as he didn’t seem like the most accepting type if she told him why she didn’t have one. Then he looked her up and down as though he was inspecting her. As though just because she didn’t have a man in her life, that made her an available prospect for him. Ellie clutched her glass so hard she thought it cracked.

He took more gulps of his drink, and then he mentioned you. He said that he had seen Ellie talking to you.

He wasn’t clever about his intentions. He wanted to know why someone who was clearly friendly toward his sister wanted to be on his good side all of a sudden.

Before she could make up some lie, the drugs kicked in. He became hazy, and made a slurred thought about his liquor tolerance being higher normally before he dropped to the floor, out cold.

Ellie knocked on the back door for Joel, and they had his unconscious body halfway down the basement stairs when Tommy’s voice came into the house, shouting for Joel. They both gave each other that ‘oh shit’ look and Joel dropped the man’s head like a sack of potatoes. He rushed up the stairs to talk to Tommy before his brother could come to them.

Ellie dragged the dead weight the rest of the way, and she listened as the voices carried through the house. Joel was getting called out for an emergency patrol route - a large horde of Infected had been spotted near the west watch tower.

Tommy asked for Ellie too, but Joel lied and said that he hadn’t seen her.

As Joel was gathering his things to leave, he went to the top of the basement stairs. He gave Ellie one last firm, knowing look. It was an out. She knew that if she wanted to, he would stay back and help her clean up the mess, and they would find some other way to go about things so she wouldn’t have to go it alone.

But she was firm in her convictions.

“I’ve got this.” She told him, giving him a nod.

He nodded back and then closed the basement door.

She picked a steady beam in the ceiling.

She dangled off it with her body weight to make sure it wouldn’t budge (even though your asshole brother was probably a good hundred pounds heavier than her). And then she put him in the noose Joel had tied, with the rope tied precariously around the beam.

She had more than enough slack on it to make sure that he wouldn’t choke while still unconscious from the drugs. As tempting as it was to simply kill the man who had been abusing you for years, this was about scaring him. This was a warning. An attempt to get him to make the right choice. His hands were tied behind his back, making him unable to get away.

As he came around to consciousness, he began to groan and squirm, and Ellie wasted no time in putting her plan into action.

She went to where she had the other end of the rope tied, fashioned to some hook that might have been used to hang up tools or something else at one point, and she untied it and hoisted him up. He choked furiously as his breath was cut off by the noose, and Ellie made sure he was far enough off the ground before she grabbed something else important - the stool.

When preparing, Joel had intentionally cut off two of the legs, making it wobbling and unsteady. She put it underneath him and guided his legs to it, and then he took a wheezing breath as the pressure was released from his neck while his feet wobbled on it unsteadily.

“What the fuck?” He barked out, obviously trying to sound intimidating when he was so breathless. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You’re fucking insane!”

Ellie took a step back, looking up at him with a neutral expression. He was entirely powerless. He couldn’t swing and hit her, he couldn’t run. If he jumped, he would hang himself. He was completely at her mercy, and he had to listen to what she had to say.

In regards to the question, she shrugged.

“Maybe.” She said simply. “I just wanna talk.”

“Oh, you wanna talk?!” He growled out the words in anger, still trying to sound lager and more powerful than he was.

And then, all too predictably, he swung out his leg in an attempt to kick her.

Ellie easily dodged it, and the motion made him unsteady on the stool. Both his legs fell off, and she simply watched as he struggled, hanging freely by the noose for a few moments. He sputtered and choked, kicking around frantically to get his feet back on the stool. It was a wonder that he didn’t knock it over.

Eventually, he did get back up to stand on it before he passed out. He continued to choke on the air, veins bulging in his face from the effort. All while Ellie stood back, arms crossed, staring at him condescendingly.

“That was stupid.” She commented quietly.

“Fuck you!” He choked out.

“Look, the way I see it, you have two choices. Maybe three.” Ellie explained.

He glared at her with absolute poison in his eyes, but remained silent and still, other than the tremors in his legs as he struggled to balance on the stool.

“Option one: you continue being a petty bitch, so I leave you here.” She told him simply. “You can test your endurance for a few hours, maybe even a few days. But no one will find you, if they come looking at all. And eventually, your legs will give out from exhaustion and you’ll hang.”

“Y/N will come for me.” He replied confidently. The devilish smirk that spread across his face gave Ellie the urge to smack him.

“No.” Ellie argued, just as quick, just as confident. “You really think Y/N is gonna be able to find you?”

This was the mind game Joel had talked about. He was right in Jackson, right under your nose. Would he shout for help, or would he believe that he was out in the middle of nowhere, stranded somewhere that you would never be able to find him?

His silence was all too telling. Ellie resisted the urge to smile, knowing how important a firm, intimidating face was in this situation.

“Option two,” She continued on, taking his silence as a sure sign that he didn’t like option one. “You can listen to what I have to say, and you can get agreeable about it real fast.”

“What’s option three?” He asked.

Of course, he didn’t like option two either. He didn’t like being agreeable.

But Ellie had a feeling that in a few minutes, option two would be the one that he’d beg for.

“You say something I don’t like,” She got her switchblade out of her back pocket, and clicked the switch to show off the sharp, shiny blade. “And then I kill you.”

There was a pointed moment of silence as he looked between the sharp point of her knife and her unforgiving, deadly calm expression. For a moment, his enraged face wavered, and then came fear. It was just a flicker, but Ellie saw it as weakness. And she was going to exploit it.

“What the fuck do you want?” He barked.

“It’s very simple.” Ellie explained. “Leave Y/N the fuck alone. Get your shit, leave town, and get as far away from her as possible.”

“That’s my sister.” He argued. “That’s my blood. You can’t just expect me to abandon the only family I have, I-”

“If you respected her as your family, you wouldn’t fucking beat her.” Ellie cut him off, the words turning to poison on her tongue.

He looked intensely caught in that moment, his expression becoming ghostly. As if he somehow hadn’t figured out that this whole thing was about his abusive ways.

“What? You don’t like me ‘cause I protect her? ‘Cause I look out for her?” He immediately switched, swelling into that self righteous, taunting person he was with you. “You wanna fuck her, don’t you? You fucking self righteous rug muncher, think you know what’s better for my own sister than I do! What the hell is wrong with you? You-”

As he ranted, Ellie stepped forward and hesitantly grabbed the waistband of his pants. Clearly, the message wasn’t getting through to him.

And though it was something more disgusting to her than blood, guts, viscera, even the smell of an old moldy building - Ellie yanked down his pants in one swift movement, trying to ignore the sight of it in front of her. She placed her switchblade right at the spot where his dick met his inner thigh, simply resting it there.

The feeling of the cold metal in such a sensitive spot easily shut him up. His stomach clenched as he held his breath, likely waiting for Ellie to cut him.

With him on the stool, it was hovering at around eye level, and she tried her hardest not to look directly at it. For you, it was worth it. That’s what she told herself.

“Listen carefully,” Ellie told him, her voice still low, still deadly calm. “You are going to agree to my terms, or they’re going to find your body missing this.” She threatened him, gently nudging the blade upwards, not yet cutting into flesh.

He gasped, shock and horror crashing through his system. He continued to struggle with balancing on the stool, struggling not to lean into the knife by accident and maim himself by mistake.

He looked at Ellie with terror in his eyes, but oddly enough, he didn’t say anything. Ellie considered it progress.

“I’m going to be very generous,” She said lowly, making it sound like a threat. “You have twenty four hours to get your shit, and get the hell out of Jackson. I don’t give a fuck what you tell Y/N. In fact, you don’t have to tell her anything at all. Just disappear. I don’t care where you go. Just get the fuck away from here. The farther, the better.”

Ellie paused, letting her words hang in the air for a moment.

“If you’re still in town by sundown tomorrow, I will kill you.” She said. “If you tell Y/N about this little incident, I will kill you. If I see Y/N later and she has a single scratch on her-”

“You’ll kill me.” He quickly finished off the sentence as he thought she would say it.

Ellie shook her head, putting on a wicked grin of her own for the first time during the conversation.

“No.” She said, a chuckle peeking through her voice. “I’ll make it slow. I’ll make you beg for death. I’ll make you wish that you had taken this very fucking generous first offer.”

There was another silence, filled only by the wobbling legs of the stool rocking against the ground, and the man’s anxious breaths.

Ellie wondered if he was stupid enough to decline her generosity.

“Okay.” He finally agreed.

Ellie hoped that she wouldn’t have to follow through on her threats, but she wouldn’t hesitate to.

She took her knife away from his crotch, leaving a small nick on his inner thigh that would hopefully serve as a good enough reminder of what he was supposed to do.

Of course, the temptation to hurt him more brutally was there. She knew that if Joel came home and she was covered in blood - he would help her clean up. He would help her hide the body. But Ellie knew that this was about something bigger than herself, her own rage, her own guilt.

It was about keeping your conscience clean.

She knew that if you ever found out that she had killed your brother, no matter the reason, no matter the situation - the guilt would fall back onto you. You would spend the rest of your days wondering how you could have done things differently to solve a problem that was never your fault. So she would take the burden of guilt or fault off of you, and force it onto him - where it belonged. He would get to live, but he would never go near you. Not ever again.

After thinking about all of this for a moment, and calming herself, Ellie unceremoniously cut him down, letting him fall into the middle of the floor with a grunt. She pulled his pants back up and shoved a bag over his head. The bag something else that Joel had woven into the plan - another scare tactic.

She kept his arms bound behind him as she struggled to lug him all the way across town without getting caught. He struggled against her hold and spoke up every now and then, demanding to be released, but Ellie simply kicked him and told him to shut up. It worked well. It seemed that he was truly afraid of her, because he was much more docile now than the man who had risked hanging himself to kick her in the head.

She dumped him on the back porch of your house and cut the ties on his wrist. He could feel stupid later for the fact that he had been in town the whole time, not secluded off in the woods someplace you would never find him. He yanked the bag off his head and looked up at Ellie with pure scorn in his eyes, and she held up her knife once more, reminding him just how sharp it was as she left him with some parting words.

“Sundown. Tomorrow.” She told him firmly. “Or Y/N won’t even find the pieces of you scattered out in those woods.”

Ellie was surprised when he didn’t say a single word, didn’t even hurl any insults at her back as she walked away.

She had no idea that he was happy to cut his losses, thinking that you weren’t worth the trouble if Ellie was willing to kidnap, threaten, and eventually kill for you.

Ellie went to bed early and hoped that everything had worked.

She woke up from a deep, hazy sleep to pounding on her door.

She struggled to get out of bed, thinking there was some kind of emergency. She flicked on a light and opened the door, and you came rushing inside.

Ellie almost didn’t see you through her sleep dulled eyes, her lids still half-closed, but she recognized your voice as she closed the door behind you.

“My brother is gone.” You said, your voice edging between worry and fear. Ellie thought you might be relieved. She didn’t know that you were still tentative - scared that he might come back, terrified it was a trick. “It’s just - he just packed up all his things, and when I woke up, he was gone. And he left me this note.”

You thrust a piece of paper into Ellie’s hands, and she blinked her sticky eyes open a few times in order to read it. She scanned over the messy writing, barely absorbing it. It was some bullshit about how Jackson ‘wasn’t right for him’ and he felt ‘suffocated’ and he was going to travel to catch up with your group who had gone to the coast, he thought he was a man of the sea, blah blah - but you needed to stay in Jackson, because it would be safer for you.

“It’s a trick.” You announced as Ellie read over the words. Your voice quaked, your throat tight with fear. When Ellie looked up, tears were dancing in your eyes. There were sharp scratches on your neck - they were scabbing over, and a greenish bruise on your cheek that was fading. “It’s gotta be a trick. He’s testing me. He wants me to - to follow him? Or he’s coming back, or-”

Ellie tossed the paper aside, uncaring of where it landed, and then stepped toward you, grasping your face with gentle hands.

“It’s okay.” She said calmly. “He’s gone.”

She echoed the words you had said that night, letting you know that she had miraculously granted your request.

If it was true, then you would consider her a guardian angel. But you almost couldn’t bring yourself to believe it.

“You did something.” You said quietly. It wasn’t accusing. It was a simple truth. You swallowed thickly. You waited before you asked your next question. “Is he dead?”

You would have hated to think that Ellie would go through so much trouble to frame his murder as him simply leaving town.

“Would you hate me if he was?” She replied.

Strangely enough, you had no clue how to feel.

Ellie saw the warring on your face, the years of pain tethering in your soul, and hoped to release you from it.

“He’s alive.” She sighed, a heavy awful truth floating from her lips. You looked somewhat relieved, but then that fear pricked into your big, sad eyes once again. “He’s not coming back. I can promise you that.”

If he did, Ellie would kill him. But she didn’t speak those words to you.

You lunged forward then, tightening your hands around her back, squeezing her with intense, passionate ferocity as you pressed your face into her shoulder and began to sob. Ellie held you dutifully, trying her hardest to be gentle with you, petting smoothly over your back as her heart ached at the sound of your cries. She had no idea that it was relief - pure relief exhaling from your lungs, the feeling of finally being able to breathe with the presence of that dark tormentor no longer hanging over your life.

“Thank you.” You sobbed, clutching onto her shirt. “Thank you, Ellie. Thank you.”

…

When Joel came back from his patrol, he asked where Ellie had buried the body. She sighed and told him that the guy had made the wise decision to leave town. Completely of his own accord. He shrugged and said he didn’t care either way - he just wanted to meet the ‘lovely young woman who was worth going through all the trouble for’.

Ellie invited you over for steaks at Joel’s house a few days later, and artfully dodged all the questions about whether you were dating or not.

…

A few months later, when winter thawed out and spring had come around once again, Ellie had taken you beyond the walls of Jackson once again, both of you delighting in the purity of everything nature had to offer, and your newfound freedom.

“Is it just me or is the air out here… fresher?” You posed, inhaling deeply as you threw your head back, truly basking in the nature around you.

Ellie giggled at this, and you threw a smile back over your shoulder at her. You walked along the path, bobbing between the trees and enjoying the greenery as it thawed out from the snow.

“It’s the mountains, there’s nothing but fresh air up here.” Ellie chuckled. “As far as I’m concerned, it beats living in the city. That place stunk to high hell. People piled on top of each other, old rotting buildings, no trees anywhere.”

You let out a small laugh at this. It wasn’t Ellie’s greatest work in comedy, but your lungs felt much lighter these days, and she soaked up the sound like the new saplings soaking up the sun.

She had also noticed your choice of attire for the day. For her, there was still that small nip in the air, something indicating that there might be one last frost left to the year, something that made her want to wear a sweater. But you had worn a short sleeved tee shirt with your jeans, and Ellie preened at the fact that there was not a single bruise anywhere on your skin. Some old scars that she could never have the hopes of reversing, but more and more lately, your smile outshined all of them.

“Ooh, look at this!” Ellie came to crouch at a small patch of grass, what you didn’t recognize as thick reeds that were somewhat special to her.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Joel taught me this.” She noted, making you even more intrigued.

Ellie plucked one out of the dirt, and held it between her two palms before she held it up to her two lips and blew - it made a sharp noise like a duck’s call, and you instantly began giggling at this delightfully strange sound.

“Okay, how did you do that?” You asked, kneeling down beside her.

Ellie grabbed up another one and put it in your hands, positioning them well. After a nod from her, you put it to your lips and gave a hard breath. You dissolved into laughter once again when it made that strange sound.

“I love that.” Ellie commented, absolutely beaming herself.

“What? You play the guitar but your favorite instrument is grass?” You joked.

“No.” She replied. “I love that smile.” She told you, motioning up toward your face. “That’s why I fell in love with you.”

“Els.” You murmured quietly, unable to truly explain the wave of emotion that came over you - being intensely thankful for her saving you, changing the course of your life, the swelling of love you felt for her and how it only grew with time.

Ellie didn’t need words. She leaned in and kissed you then, and you - for the first time in a long time - relaxed into her love and let yourself be happy.

From time to time, you were tempted to ask what exactly it was that she had done to make your brother go away. But as the months ticked on and your relationship developed - as Ellie helped you navigate your freedom and enjoy the sweeter things in life, you found that you truly didn’t care.

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, so please do not ask about a sequel or a continuation for it, because there won't be one. If you liked it and you want to comment on it, please comment on the body of work that I have written. Or feel free to check out the many other works I have written on my TLOU Masterlist. Thank you!!

#sundrop writes #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #the last of us

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burst-of-iridescent · 6 months

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now that i've finished my re-read of the hunger games books, it’s even more baffling to me than before that people compare everlark to kat.aang when they are so incredibly similar to zutara.

a fundamental aspect of everlark’s characterization is that they are star-crossed lovers. and while it's true that that is a gimmick the capitol forces on them, it’s also a reflection of the reality that peeta and katniss were never supposed to fall in love, let alone make it last.

from the very beginning, the odds are stacked against katniss and peeta. their class division keeps them apart in district 12, and in the games you're naturally not expected to do anything but kill your fellow tributes. what peeta does in loudly declaring his love and respect for katniss from the beginning is revolutionary because it goes against everything he's been told his entire life. saying he's in love with her and valuing his life over hers is absolutely radical in a situation that forces you to prioritize yourself and dehumanize your fellow human beings. and this framing of love as resistance is something that repeats itself in zutara's arc, in the catacombs where zuko and katara reach out to one another against everything that tells them to do otherwise, and again in the final agni kai when zuko gives up everything for a girl he had been told was nothing.

they’re love stories because they stem, first and foremost, from love for your fellow human beings — especially in the places where it shouldn’t exist. love for a starving child from a lower class whom you’re supposed to kill. love for a weeping enemy who represents everything you were told to despise. both zutara and everlark are about the importance of unity amidst division, about coming together when the entire world is trying to force you apart. about looking at the person you're supposed to hate and saying no, i refuse, and reaching out in love, in compassion, in empathy instead because you understand that they're not as different from you as you were taught to believe.

and this carries on to the other theme that both ships represent: the need to break the cycle of violence.

one of the main themes that underlies each of these characters’ narratives is how easily (and even justifiably) they could’ve perpetuated the harm that was done to them. peeta, katniss, zuko and katara have all suffered without cause, and it would have been understandable if any of them had let that suffering twist them into vengeance and inflicted it back upon others. it would have been encouraged even, in the societies they live in, for them to unleash their rage upon those seen as deserving of it. to become like zhao or hama or gale or president coin. but what defines each of these characters is that instead of allowing their suffering to overcome them, they choose to help — not harm — others, even the people they would have every reason to hate. that’s why katniss and peeta refuse the chance to hold another hunger games with the capitol’s children, why zuko helps an earth kingdom town, why katara risks the invasion itself to free a fire nation village from tyranny. all of them have been victims of unjust violence and oppression, sometimes even at the hands of other victims, and that’s exactly why they refuse to stand by or be complicit as others suffer the way they did. both everlark and zutara are about looking at the darkest version of yourself, the person you might have been, and refusing to go down that road. to understand that you are more than what your circumstances make you into. to choose kindness over hatred, peace over war.

at their core, both ships exemplify the themes of love and unity and holding onto your humanity against impossible odds. but more importantly, they exemplify hope. the dandelion in the spring. the fire that means rebirth instead of destruction.

choosing to do better, be better, make something better, together.

#zutara #everlark #the hunger games #idc how cheesy it is something about everything always coming back to love just gets me alright

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twopoint99 · 7 months

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Possible spoilers if you haven’t already listened or read the book. Also, spoilers for The Horror of Dracula, 1958 and Bram Stoker’s Dracula, 1992.

One of my favorite things about @re-dracula is seeing the reactions of people whose main exposure to the story is through the many film adaptations. The differences in how the characters relate to one another are way too many to list from film to film. Even aside from the bizarre choices (Lucy as Mina’s sister-in-law - the Horror of Dracula, 1958, or Mina as the reincarnation of Dracula’s lost love - Bram Stoker’s Dracula, 1992) the most important difference between those adaptations and re - dracula is that these are fully rounded characters who clearly care about one another.

Jonathan adores Mina, Mina loves him, and loves Lucy. The suitor squad and Van Helsing genuinely cherish Lucy and it causes everyone palpable pain when they see her slipping away. When the group finally gets together in one place, they all acknowledge and respect the various strengths they each bring, and they hold one another up as needed.

None of the characters seem cast aside, as often happens in film adaptations. Even the 1992 film, which includes all three suitors, doesn’t manage to make them all seem like full personalities. They appear more as aspects of an individual, or as tropes. Lucy herself in the ‘92 movie is the complete opposite of her characterization in the novel. Her behavior in the film is anachronistic at best, and offensive at the least. It is a perfect illustration of the stupid and misogynistic attitude in horror that “wanton” women are punished.

Not only that, but it also completely changes the story and the dreadful implications of it. Lucy isn’t targeted because she’s “done something wrong” (quotes because I don’t believe expressing/exploring one’s sexuality is wrong, no matter what my favorite genre keeps telling me), she is targeted because she is convenient. Dracula wasn’t musing in between leaving his castle and reaching England that by golly, he couldn’t wait to terrorize Lucy Westenra! He saw an opportunity, like any other predator, and he took it.

Of course, we’ve seen that he is very willing to play with his food once he feels in control. He was very pleased to be able to torment Jonathan, yet another character who is often treated poorly in adaptations - in the 1958 version he’s so smug and patronizing toward what appears to be a terrified woman, that I was actively hoping for his death.

In contrast, the novel/Dracula Daily/re-dracula show us a sweet, earnest man, one who is gentle and loving. He, like Lucy, is a convenient victim, and like Lucy, is innocent.

The true horror is that terrible things can happen to anyone, and no amount of wealth, education, or simple good-heartedness, will act as a shield. There are no preventatives, and no one “deserves” the terrible things that happen. The real strength of the story isn’t in deciding which characters(usually women) are worthy of saving, an overly simplistic approach that many film adaptations take, some more subtly than others. The story resonates because in spite of the randomness of the horror, the people involved decide to do something about it.

These people are not always perfect or even heroic. Dr. Seward (who I really enjoy, and who is also often portrayed badly in adaptation) is not a safe person for his patients to be around. He is ableist, arrogant, patronizing, and definitely not handling his own mental health well. He is also loving, practical, loyal, and in many ways exceptionally tender-hearted. All of the cast is achingly good in their portrayals, but Johnny Sims’ interpretation of Seward has been revelatory. The man is flawed, but gosh darnit, he’s absolutely human. His pain is visceral, his awkwardness is utterly relatable, and his attempts to make things make sense is so hard to hear, because we want the awful things to be a puzzle with a logical solution, but we also know that there is no motivation for what is happening, it is all chance.

Mina herself questions why they need worry about Dracula, once he is gone from England. By this time she’s had a horrific experience with the count and understandably wants to be done with the whole thing. Earlier, however, she begins her work of compiling all the information available about Dracula, because she understands that something may need to be done, for the good of all.

She is afraid of losing her husband, she is afraid of what other horrors may wait, but she also is able to put that aside to continue to pursue stopping Dracula, so that there won’t be another victim, and so that Dracula himself might be saved from the horrific reality he’s experienced for so long.

I have been telling people ad nauseum that re-dracula is hands down the best adaptation of the novel I’ve ever encountered. It is because it is treated as a story about people, real people, with real connections to those around them, real flaws and strengths, who grow to share a bond. They swear to stop Dracula, not out of vengeance, as Jonathan can be forgiven for wanting, but out of love for those they have lost and those they may save.

#re: dracula #tiny essay #if you aren’t listening but have any interest please listen #you won’t regret it

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year

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they forgot ~ corpse husband

word count: 2022

request?: yes!

“Corpse husband asks his S/O why they are upset two days before their birthday and they reply, "I just got a text from my parents saying to have a happy birthday today." ”

description: in which an early birthday text sends her mood on a downward spiral just days before her actual birthday

pairing: corpse husband x female!reader

warnings: swearing, shitty parents, some self hatred/insecurities due to shitty parents

masterlist (one, two, three)

I never liked my birthday. Cliché, I know. That’s how every sad story with a happy birthday ending starts.

I was a cliché from my high school days, too. I only had two friends, so “birthday parties” were always just the three of us in my basement watching the same movies. I tried to have an actual birthday party once for my Sweet 16. Only because my mother insisted upon it. Made me send out invitations to my entire class and decorated our house before leaving for the night so we could “have a real good time”.

No one showed up besides the usual two friends, and we ended up in the basement watching movies yet again.

That was another issue: my parents.

I know they loved me...in their own way, anyways. Most years we didn’t celebrate my birthday. Not how I would want to celebrate it, anyways. If it were up to me, we’d go out on the night of my birthday to one of my favorite restaurants and maybe have a board game night or something. Just be together as a family for my day. But that’s never how it went. My parents were always “busy” the day of my birthday. Mom made the mistake of telling me once that she forgot it was even my birthday and booked a day out with her friends. She didn’t ask if I wanted to come with them. If we ever did anything, it was usually whatever they decided with very little input from me.

I thought I was weird for disliking my birthday, until I met Corpse.

Corpse didn’t like his birthday either. When it came around the first time when we started dating, I didn’t make a big deal over it as he asked. I got him a gift and a cupcake with a candle in it, but that was it. He did the same for me - small gestures as to not make such a big deal over my birthday.

But, as time went on, Corpse started making a little bit of a bigger deal about my birthday. He’d order in take out form my favorite restaurant, make me dinner (once he also tried to make a cake for dessert), invited over a few of our friends once just to hang out for my birthday. I didn’t notice at first, and by the time I realized what he was doing, I was too happy to be upset. I was finally enjoying my birthday for the first time in...well...almost ever.

Until my parents dragged me back down to Earth.

I was getting ready for work when my phone chimed signaling I had gotten a text. I ignored it at first, figuring I’d answer whenever I finished getting ready. But when it went off a second time, just moments after the first, I figured it was important. I picked up my phone and the screen lit up, displaying two unread texts from my parents.

“Happy Birthday sweetheart. We hope you have a wonderful day.”

“We love you very much and we are so proud of you.”

It would’ve been a really sweet series of messages if it weren’t for the fact that my birthday wasn’t for another two days.

I sat down on the edge of mine and Corpse’s bed. I kept re-reading the texts until they burned into my eyeballs, the words “Happy Birthday sweetheart” standing out every time I blinked, until welling tears washed the image away.

I thought things were different. I thought I was actually becoming someone worth celebrating, or at least worst remembering my fucking birthday. But if my own parents couldn’t even be bothered to remember when their only child was born, how could anyone else be bothered to remember or care about me?

“I thought you had work.”

I jumped at the sound of the deep voice I usually loved so much. I hadn’t heard Corpse come out of his editing room. It had been another night of Corpse’s fucked up sleep schedule keeping him up from sun down to sun up. I had gotten used to our sleep schedules often conflicted, especially when my work required me to wake up semi-early in the morning. I guess I had momentarily forgotten he wasn’t in our bed while I was getting ready for work.

I quickly wiped my eyes and shoved my phone into my pocket. “Yeah, I do. I got distracted, I guess.”

I stood and made my way out of our bedroom, pausing only to give Corpse a quick kiss. I mumbled a “Goodbye, love you” as I exited our apartment, leaving before he could notice I was upset.

~~~~~~

The day passed in a blur. I couldn’t stop thinking about the text. I hadn’t responded, which didn’t trouble my parents too much. Part of me hoped they would realize their mistake if I didn’t respond and would apologize for mixing up the dates. But that never happened. They didn’t text me back at all. Didn’t even acknowledge that I hadn’t responded. They probably hadn’t even noticed.

I couldn’t wait to get home and crawl into bed and end this shitty day. If I was lucky, Corpse also would’ve forgotten my birthday and we wouldn’t do anything to celebrate the day I was once again dreading the most.

Corpse was laying in our bed, re-watching Death Note for the hundredth time. I kicked off my shoes and shrugged off my jacket before getting into bed with him.

“I can’t believe you started without me,” I teased, trying not to let my upset show in front of him.

“There was nothing else to watch,” he responded.

“We have Netflix, Disney+, and Hulu, but there was nothing to watch?”

Corpse put a hand over my mouth and shushed me. I giggled and rested my head against his chest. I was starting to feel somewhat better after the day I had had.

He moved his hand from my mouth to my back and started running his fingertips up and down my spine. “How was work?”

I made a grunt sound in response. “It was okay, I guess.”

“Only okay?”

I shrugged. “Nothing especially good or bad happened. It was just a day.”

His hand ran from my back to my hair. I shivered from the cool feeling of his metal rings against my skin, leaving a tingling feeling in their wake. His fingers tangled through my hair as he started to play with it.

“What’s on your mind, honey?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I responded, although it didn’t come out very convincingly.

“You’ve seemed upset since before you went to work. Did something happen this morning?”

Tears started to prick my eyes again. Corpse always knew when something was wrong. It was like he had a sixth sense about when I was upset, and he wouldn’t let up until I talked about it even a little bit. It could be annoying since I was so used to just dealing with my upset and sadness myself, but it did always help me to feel better when I talked to him.

Corpse paused the show and moved so he could face me. He wiped away the fresh falling tears with his thumbs. “What happened, baby?”

“M-My parents,” I sniffled.

That was really all he needed to hear. Corpse knew about the relationship I had with my parents. He had only met them once and decided that was one too many times for him. His once soft gaze at my sad face immediately darkened when I told him. “What did they do?”

“They...they sent me a text this morning,” I said. “Two, actually. Wishing my a happy birthday and telling me they love me and they’re proud of me.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “But...your birthday is...”

He trailed off as I started to nod. The dam officially broke within me and I began to sob. Corpse quickly pulled me to him, burying my head in his chest and allowing me to cry into his shirt. At least he loved wearing black clothing so it wasn’t like I was staining the material with my sadness.

“Th-They couldn’t even be bothered to remember,” I said. “All these years I thought...I thought I was finally becoming important enough for other people to even...remember the day I was fucking born.”

“Of course you’re important enough.”

I shook my head. “Not important enough for my own parents to remember my birthday. My own fucking parents, Corpse! They were fucking there when I was born! You’d think, of all people, the person who popped me out of her fucking vagina would remember what day she did that. But she doesn’t, and she’s never given enough of a fuck to remember that day and make it special for me. Never! So why would anyone else care that much about me when my own parents can’t?”

Corpse pulled me away from his chest and looked down at me. He wiped the tears from my face again, gently running his thumbs under my eyes and down my face to catch the tears.

“I care,” he said. “I have since the very first day that I met you. If you hadn’t told me that you didn’t like your birthday, I may have thrown you the best party I possibly could just to celebrate you.”

I couldn’t help but let out a shaky chuckle. “You hate people.”

“I love you, though. And if you wanted a party, I’d try to give you a party.”

I shook my head. “Everything you’ve done for me since we got together is more than enough.”

“You say that, but to me it feels like it’s far from being enough. Your birthday is one of very few days that I actually want to celebrate throughout the year because you are something I want to celebrate. I don’t know what I’d do if I never met you.”

“Probably be doing the same thing you’re doing now: watching Death Note all night until you fall asleep at 5am.”

He chuckled. “Okay, yes, but I wouldn’t have someone to do that with me. And that’s what means the most to me. Since I met you, I haven’t felt as alone as I once did. You make me feel so happy, (Y/N). More than I think you could ever know.”

I could feel my eyes welling up again, but this time it was happy tears. I leaned forward to kiss Corpse, before pulling away to wipe my face again. Kissing someone while you’re crying, or while your face is still wet from crying, can be slightly awkward. Not that I thought Corpse would’ve minded at all.

“You make me happy, too,” I told him. “I’m glad I found you, and that we’re building this life together and starting our own family. Well...our found family.”

“One day it’ll be a real family. Whenever I start feeling better.”

I took his hands in mine and kissed them. “I can wait. As long as I have you.”

He eventually coaxed me to lie down with him again and pressed play on the show. I tried to stay awake to watch it with him, but after working most of the day and having cried a number of times, my eyes were feeling very heavy. I had to fight against my eyelids to keep them open, but it was a losing battle. At one point I had even managed to drift off to sleep for a few seconds before a sound on the TV caused me to jolt awake.

Corpse chuckled. “Do you want me to turn it off so you can sleep?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s okay. I don’t mind listening to it while I fall asleep.”

“Falling asleep to Death Note. And I thought I was fucking weird.”

If I had the energy I would’ve playfully hit his chest. Instead, I just grunted and turned into him more.

I felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled again. “Goodnight, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I mumbled before finally drifting off to sleep.

#corpse husband #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband x reader #corpse #corpse imagine #corpse x reader #youtube #one shot #imagine #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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stagefoureddiediaz · 6 days

Note

ugh this is horrible news tommy is still around, hope to god he's gone in the finale. v

Maybe in your world Nonnie, but not in mine and I'm not entirely sure why you felt the need to come and complain about it on my blog, but here we are!

It makes perfect Narrative sense for Tommy to still be around in the back end of the season, and even possibly into the start of season 8. The show is telling a story of Bucks bisexuality, so why woould they get rid of Tommy so quickly? To do so would do a disservice to that story - a massive disservice. I'm guessing you're hating on this relationship becasue you see it getting in the way of Buddie, rather than viewing it as a vital step on the route to Buddie.

Lets put it into simple terms - Buck figures out he's bi and then begins to explore that newly discovered aspect of himself. The show has also taken the time to move Buck from someone who didn't really do relationships (of the long term variety), into someone who is looking for love and looking for forever. But in amongst all of that, he hasn't really had a healthy long term relationship, the closest he had to that was with Ali and that one didn't last especially long and she wasn't around for most of it

Buck isn't ready for an endgame queer relationship right now - he is still to immature from a relationship perspective - especially a queer relationship perspective. If Eddie was available and he and Buck got together - as they are as characters right now, they wouldn't last - they're not in a position to do so successfully. And this isn't me suggesting that they need to have figured everything out before they get together - to have fully healed etc, because thats neither realistic or something I would want to see - what it means is that they both need to get to a point where they are in a healthy enough place to put in the work together, understand each others flaws, and their own flaws and proactively work towards overcoming those things together and as of right now, neither of them are - they are getting their and moving rapidly in the right direction, but Buck needs to learn a bit more, and in many ways learn how to be with a man, before he will be ready to start anything with Eddie.

The growth we're getting to watch Buck go through right now - in the aftermath of the lightening strike, his reckoning with his mortality etc and the fact he's now off the hamster wheel and moving forward - in a healthy and faster way than we've ever seen from him, speaks volumes.

Tommy is also a far better developed love interest than any other love interest we've seen Buck (or indeed Eddie) with (Abby excepted but she was a main, so had her own purpose on the show)- I'm sure I'm not alone in feeling like I know Tommy more after 3 episodes plus what we got from the begins episodes he was in, than I managed to ascertain about Taylor or Ana or Nataila etc!

Not to mention, him figuring out he's in Love with Eddie as part of this process is going to be fun to watch. The show has made no bones about re-enforcing at every. Single. Opportunity how close, how entwined and how important Buck and Eddie are to one another - the show has quite literally been prioritising that over anything else Buck and Eddie related - Buck was there front and centre - placed very much on an equal footing with Shannon and even Eddie himself in 7x01, and then Eddie was the centre of Bucks bi arc in 7x04 and in his coming out in 7x05. They are literally moving chess pieces into place to tell an amazing story of queer love in later life and creating an epic slow burn for the ages.

And finally, Eddie is, as far as we know at this point in time, still in a relationship with Marisol - why shouldn't Buck get to explore who he is and what he want's within a relationship rather than sitting pining on the sidelines - that isn't healthy in any way shape or form. Eddie still has stuff to figure out about himself.

Even Tim and Oliver have stated in interviews that this is about a happy and joyful queer experience of figuring out bisexuality and therefore within that is giving the narrative a romcom vibe. But they have also stated that Tommy isn't going to be around for that long - that he is very much a narrative device.

It is worth pointing out that timelines on various aspects of the narrative may have been shifted because of the season 8 renewal - but that is only going to help tell the story because now it doesn't have to be rushed. I'm still fully expecting some form of feeling realisation from one of them by the end of the season (my money is on Buck), setting up for season 8 and Buddie going canon either 8a finale or early into 8b.

You have every right to dislike Tommy if thats you jam - have at it, but don't come to my blog and expect me to agree with you. I'm not a multi shipper by any means - I'm a one ship kind of gal and I will be a Buddie shipper until the end of time, but within that, I am here for amazing storytelling and amazing queer storytelling - the like of which I've not had the privilege to watch on my screen before - especially one that hits so close to home. Its a really important story to tell and I'd rather it not be rushed.

And if you had to pick - I'm pretty sure you'd rather have Tommy around for a bit longer that Marisol!!!!

#kym answers things #nonnie asks #We love Tommy on this blog so don't come to my inbox trying to spread hate!#I get not wanting to see half of your ship with anyone other than the other half of it I really do but to deny the narrative thats going to #get you to canon is just a fools errand - its precisely because of that narrative that will make the ship going canon all the more rewardin #911 spoilers #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #bucktommy #kinley #tevan #911 abc #911 discourse

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winxwannabe · 2 months

Note

I’m frothing at the mouth for as much info from the Winx encyclopedia thing as you’re willing to post thank you for your service

Good news! There are a series of pages regarding the girl’s childhoods that are ripe with✨family dynamics✨ and L O R E. I forgot to take photos of the pages before leaving for a weekend trip, but I can tell you what I’ve learned and post the images on Monday!

Before the good stuff let’s get the boring out of the way: there’s no new info on Bloom’s childhood since it was covered so extensively in Season 1. Expected, but I will tell you my favorite part: Bloom says no matter what Mike and Vanessa are her parents. You love to see it.

Flora has a distant relationship with her dad compared to her mom and Miele. He’s a landscape architect for ‘The Senatorial Chamber of Public Greens,’ and wasn’t around much. She was also one of those kids who could make flower jewelry. So jealous.

Stella was raised mostly by the Solarian royal staff instead of Radius or Luna. Big day for the Radius Haters. She always had a thing for brunette boys and either A) got the magic equivalent of Lasik or B) wears contacts. I’m going with B in my own head cannons.

Layla has childhood trauma from being forced to stay inside. Yay? We knew about that but you know what I found that was new: ANNE LORE! Aisha knows where Anne moved - a planet called Eros. There’s no mention of it anywhere else in Winx, so re-write people can go ape with it. (This is apparently on the wiki now but it’s not mentioned in the series so I never looked whoops)

Musa’s pages are just…a right mess of contradictions. Ho-Boe wanted Musa to become a singer like Matlin was, a TOTAL 180 from the series where he’s worried about Musa following in her mother’s footsteps. He’s worried about her going to Alfea to be a fairy? I don’t know I’m missing a key word in the translation or something, but I will report back!

Also, there’s a footnote about her mom’s hologram being stored in a camellia flower, which is important in Chinese and Japanese culture. Not surprising, but makes the whitewashing Fate did funnier.

And lastly, Tecna heavily implies on Zenith it’s common to have memories stored in virtual reality? A true gold mine of potential story content (especially when you did a season about time travel). They give Tecna anxiety to look though - which to be fair is a mood. But it does mention specifically Tecna’s always been a smart kid, even on Zenith, and that she had friends. I don’t know why that made me happy but it did (probably because ‘nerd’ characters are usually portrayed as outcasts, so I appreciate Tecna not going through that).

#winx club #liz gets questions #Enciclomagia

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holewithinahole · 10 months

Text

Brown and Green | Olivia Octavius x Reader

Summary: After the accident with the collider, you end up on Earth 1610 in the Alchemax building. Dr Olivia Octavius is here to greet you. You can't help but notice all the resemblances with your own Octavius.

Ao3 Link

Warnings: shameless smut, no genitalia specified, no pronouns specified (reader), tentacle sex, restraints, orgasm denial, overstimulation, fantasising, non-native writer

I hesitated posting it here, but we don't post non-beta'd shit to be a coward. I wrote this in a few hours and took three days to resign myself and just post it. But after seeing Across the Spider-Verse, I had to re-watch the first one and I was, once again, hit in the face by my bisexuality and my obsession towards Dr Octavius. Tell me I'm not the only one...

Oh, reader is part of the Spider-Verse, I wrote with no gender nor genitalia in mind, I hope everyone can enjoy it!

Ok. Let’s do this one more time, shall we?

My name? Not really important because for the last few years, I’ve been the one and only Spiderman. You all know the story by now: being bitten by a radioactive spider which suddenly allows you to skip workout, the loss of a loved one... The usual Spidey-stuff.

I shoot my webs; I swing from Brooklyn to Queens to the Bronx to stop supervillains, rescue cats stuck in trees and help your grandma cross the road.

One day as I was doing my super-work, something weird happened: a flash of light and boom, I was in New York. But not my New York, a new New York. As for where I crashed, well–

“You seem tensed, Spiderman.”

You can feel your bones crack as those weirdly smooth, plastic-y tentacles wrap tighter and tighter around you.

“You, ow–” you hiss, out of breath. “You could say that.”

A shimmering laugh answers you and it’s just so weird. But after all, what could you expect from a parallel universe? You still have a hard time wrapping your head around the whole concept of dimension warping… and alternate versions of your enemies.

“What did you say your name was?”

“Dr Olivia Octavius.” She draws closer, that ridiculously hot smirk at the corner of her lips.

Fuck, can you concentrate for once?

“It sounds like you already knew the answer,” she says. With her free hands, she pulls her curly hair up, rebellious strands framing her face. Is amazing hair a multi-universal law for all Doc Ocks?

“‘Can’t say that I did–” you pause as long gloved fingers slide under the edge of your mask. “Hey! That’s a no-no, lady!”

She snaps the mask right off your face, an interested glimmer in her eyes. You feel like a mouse spread apart for dissection and she sure looks ready to whip out a scalpel. Was she really hiding a complete latex suit underneath her clothes? Not to be the one to pat supervillains on their shoulders to congratulate them on a job well done, but she really mastered the inconspicuous chemistry teacher cosplay.

Focus.

“It is quite fortunate that your portal opened here,” Octavius says conversationally as she readjusts her gloves. “I would have hated to run after you everywhere in the city.”

“Oh, you know me.” Your shrug looks like an uncontrolled twitch of your shoulder. “Always glad to help.”

“Indeed,” she chuckles. She grabs your face, inspecting it from every angle, ignoring your string of offended words. At the corner of your eye, an actuator reaches for a– ah, there is the scalpel. “Now…”

Oh hell no…

“Hey! Hey lady–“ Struggling is pointless and the more you try, the more she grins. “Olivia– can I call you Liv’?”

Octavius laughs. “Only my friends call me Liv.”

“We can be friends I’m sure.” You make sure to put on your best smolder. It looks painfully ineffective. “Or, you know, we can come to an arrangement.”

She raises an eyebrow at that but doesn’t answer. She’s not considering it, is she? That’d be a lucky day for the smolder – not that it doesn’t usually work of course (It doesn’t.) You keep smiling but her slow approach makes all your senses – spider and regular, tingle. It takes all of your brain power to tame your fight-or-flight response and not recoil as much as you can.

Are you seriously sweating right now?

“Oh, that’s rich.” Her smile is predatory. “Is it a usual Spiderman tactic to try to seduce their enemies?”

The actuators tighten even more around your torso. The discreet cough you let out widens her smile.

Toothy.

“Perhaps not in your universe.”

You’re relieved when the scalpel is dropped carelessly on the table behind her. Even more relieved when the tentacles lessen their grip around you. Your relief is soon replaced by surprise as one of them curls slowly around your left leg. It’s definitely better than being cut open, right?

“Alright, little spider.” Octavius stares down at you. “I’ll entertain the idea.”

Right?

In a blur, she steps in between your legs, helped by the arm holding your limb hostage. “And to answer your question…” Her hand comes to rest in the dip of your hip, feeling up muscles under her fingertips. Somehow it’s this simple gesture that sends a strong shiver through your nervous system.

“You can call me ‘Doctor’ from now on.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Liv.” The actuator tightens around your throat. “Doctor!”

A low laugh answers you. And that’s just not fair. Octavius has you in the most vulnerable state you’ve ever been in. Except perhaps that time when you had to face Captain Stacy, near the corpse of your bestfrie— oops, no, wrong mind folder. The most physically vulnerable you’ve ever been then.

“You never stop talking, do you?”

Earlier, Octavius had taken all the time in the world to push your arms out of your suit, her actuators handling you like a puppet, until your torso was bare for her to enjoy. You did try to yank at the tentacles keeping both your arms secured behind your back but thanks to whatever kind of sick machinery she put in them, they just wouldn’t budge. You were genuinely impressed at the technology allowing those arms to both be flexible and unbreakable. Even your Octavius had to favor titanium steel when he built his own.

The actuator that isn’t wrapped around your throat – a menacing yet tantalizing statement, or holding your limbs down, creeps from the top of your thigh to your chest, not unlike a viper chasing for its food.

Ah yes, the situation at hand.

“To be fair,” you huff. “You love to hear yourself talk as well.”

“You seem to know a lot about me, little spider.” Her hand travels from your hip to the underside of your right thigh. “Altercations with my alter-self then?”

You chuckle, a breathy fucking embarrassing thing. “Oh, plenty.”

Your suit pools uncomfortably at the bottom of your stomach, the sleeves flapping underneath you. It must be so practical to have strong mechanical arms capable of holding your enemy one meter above the ground without even breaking a sweat. But you feel way too warm. Isn’t it hot right now? Isn’t she hot?

Oh, she definitely is, submit your traitorous mind.

“I’m sure we must have been tormenting you intensely.” She giggles, examining a large scar running from your pectoral to your lower belly. With a finger, she traces it like words on paper.

“That’s from you, actually.”

Your Octavius had looked so smug when it happened.

She looks up, smirking. “His actuators are way more pointy than yours,” you explain.

The double-entendre doesn’t go unnoticed, but she doesn’t comment. “Actuators, uh? I haven’t heard this denomination in a while, since my research paper on radioactivity in fact.”

“Yeah, I did my homework.”

You exhale shortly when the teasing actuator wrapped itself around your middle section allowing the others to tug at your suit. Octavius stopped her reverential petting to observe the spandex clinging to your skin, slowly displaying your legs and your underwear-clad pelvis like an exhibit. A free one at that, with free food and everything.

“So,” Octavius asks after discarding the suit to a corner of the room. “What’s the name of my counterpart?”

Both her hands come resting on your legs again. “Otto,” you mutter through clenched teeth.

“Funny,” she says, taking her sweet time feeling your backside muscles. She likes to grope, doesn’t she? “That’s the name of my father.”

Your nose wrinkles. “Ew, what a way to kill the mood, lady.”

Strangely, she doesn’t mention your slip, simply laughing while resting her palm on your– nether regions. The mood is far from being killed however judging by the humiliating wetness spreading through your underwear. She presses her palm down a little forcefully, and you moan loudly. Raising an eyebrow, it’s with a certain – perhaps misplaced – curiosity that she alternates between stroking up and down and toying with the tips of her fingers any potentially sensitive region. And you can’t contain the noise.

To be fair, you’ve never really been ashamed of anything.

There’s a daze settling in your mind, a fog behind your eyes as you only focus on the diffuse pleasure settling down there. You’re pulsating, every blood vessel tight, engorged as a blush spreads on your skin. You’re drifting, fuck– you’re so–

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You don’t have time to reflect on the fact that you obeyed so eagerly because her touch's gone and it's the only thing you can focus on at the moment. She knows that too because her smugness is plastered all over her face – some things never change, and you want to cum all over her arrogant little smile.

“That’s–” you struggle to catch your breath. “So uncool.”

“The arrangement is you get out of here alive and I,” Octavius smirks. “get to do what I want with you.”

The shiver that travels through you speaks volumes. So the key to the ultimate fuck was ‘travel to a parallel universe’ all along? Talk about a joke.

“Now.” She straightens up, towering over you. “Tell me a little more about your Otto.”

The tentacles raise you higher in the air, pushing your hips at almost eye-level to Octavius.

“Self-centered much?” You joke, trying to ignore the actuator crawling along your leg.

“Curious,” she replies, enjoying the show. “You didn’t go around flexing those beautiful muscles in front of his face, did you?”

“What–” You try not to blush but fuck– it’s hard to concentrate when there’s the equivalent of an alien tentacle nuzzling you through your underwear. “Hey! I’m a very respectable – ah!, person ok?”

She laughs loudly at that. “It’s not a no, is it?”

“It’s part of the job!” You huff, avoiding eye contact. “Nothing ever happened with Otto. I care about my life, you know.”

“But not enough to avoid trying your ridiculous seduction tactics on me?”

You wonder if there’s a sliver of internalized misogyny reprimanded somewhere but, in your defense, the smooth head of the actuator now slowly creeping towards your opening is hard not to focus on.

“Worth a shot?” you pant.

You let out a surprised groan as the rough feeling of your underwear breaches your entrance, pushed inside by the blunt head of the mechanical arm. Not nearly enough to truly be inside but the movement is a warning at worst, a promise at best.

For fuck’s sake, listen to yourself.

As the actuator keeps pushing against your hole, you’re assaulted by the wet sound your garment does as it moves. It’s reminiscent of your evenings alone in your shitty apartment when you have enough time to tease the shit out of you. And as Octavius’ hand is back on your crotch, sensations and recollections drive you mad, spilling moans and gasps from your open mouth. Are you going to cum just like this? Groped through your pants and your hole teased like a fucking teenager? You’re too old for that.

Octavius hums to herself, observing you and cataloguing all your reactions as she would do for her research. Her undivided attention on you is exhilarating, and you watch her through half-lidded eyes wishing you could see the curious glint in those wide brown pupils.

What the fuck?

“You seem out of it, Spiderman.” She chuckles. “Drifting away?”

You gulp. “You could say that.”

It’s like she can see right through you. “Fuck– I’m–”

She suddenly disengages, leaving you once again panting, muscles tensed under smooth plastic. “Oops,” she giggles. “Butterfingers.”

You can only stare, heart skipping a beat. She couldn’t possibly have–

“Let me help you with that.”

In seconds, she discards you of any remaining pieces of clothing, holding you upright in all your naked glory. Still dizzy from everything, the touches, the words, you don’t say anything.

“Well then.” She tilts her head to the side. “Spider got your tongue?”

As latex-clad fingers dip inside your mouth before you can even muster a clever answer, you let out a moan, obsessed with the slick feeling of spit on her gloves. Lost in thought, a smooth arm soon takes its rightful place on your groin, pocking, rubbing and your sex glistens, sticky and sensitive to the air. Octavius keeps pressing her fingers down your tongue, sampling every single strand of your DNA when she pulls them away. Now that she’s so close, you can see her green eyes through her goggles. Wait, green?

“Have I finally broken you, little spider?”

Her laugh is supposed to be taunting but it just releases another spike of arousal through your whole body as if she somehow managed to alter your genes, confuse every nerve. Your entire self had changed with a single bite from a radioactive spider, who said you couldn’t go through the same process all over again?

“Not by a long shot,” you chuckle breathlessly.

“If I’d known it’d be this easy…” Her wet fingers graze against a hard nipple and you bite your tongue to not release another embarrassing noise. “Perhaps your Otto should take lessons.”

You let out a breathy moan, weak against the surge of all those sensory attacks and perhaps from the superposition of brown and green, tiptoeing the leyline linking her universe to yours. Unlike him, she seems to see right through you, deciphering the codex of your fantasies with a single look.

“You should describe him to me.”

“What?” you sutter. “What for–”

The twist sears through you, making your knees shake, pleasure distorting pain. The actuator against your throat tightens imperceptibly, just enough to make you remember its presence.

“Come on,” she whispers. “Are we alike?”

You scoff. “Not at all. He’s…”

A pain in the ass. Always in the way, always stealing money, always speaking about grand schemes and higher purposes. Completely mad, a total whacko, undeniably intelligent, brilliant–

“Tall.”

It makes her laugh. The touch of the actuators against your feverish skin is almost enough to cool it down. “And?”

“Uh, large?” you mutter. “He’s like a mountain or– something…”

One hand keeps playing with your nipples as the other traces random figures along your stomach which, you realize, aren’t random at all but just the complex network of your battle marks. When she runs a finger along the scar adorning your torso, you gasp softly and her gaze is all-knowing. Octavius drives you insane, and you’ll soon be complete putty in her hands, using your body as she pleases while you’re assaulted with visions of large hands and uncovered skin.

“He has uh…”

Get a fucking grip.

“Uh, he has short brown hair.”

You realize that her spit-covered fingers have travelled all the way down when she uncaringly presses a digit inside. Breath knocked out of your chest, you still hiss at the dry and unpleasant sensation but the lone actuator is quick to distract you again. When you think you had enough time to gather all your unholy thoughts and the remnants of your oxygen, her finger is joined by another, spreading you open.

“What else?” she asks, focused on her task.

You sigh, annoyed. “He has brown eyes–”

The actuator’s head suddenly splits open, revealing four small appendages and the opening of the tube that controls it. It stares at you, almost mocking, and you can’t take your eyes off it before it starts to dip down.

“Wait, wait, what do you think you’re doing–”

The echo of Octavius’ laugh is registered far at the back of your mind as the arm traps the entirety of your sex like the mouth of a carnivorous plant on a powerless bug. You feel it suck, making you throb, sputtering everywhere. The rippling of the plastic membrane makes it look alive as if it was waiting to swallow everything your body has to offer.

“Whe– where they even– fuck!, designed for th–ah!”

Octavius retreats her fingers, laughing again before getting rid of her right glove with her teeth. You try not to dwell on how filthy it is.

Fuck, it’s the filthiest thing you’ve ever seen.

The suction on your crotch increases and now you can only pant, gasp and droll everywhere. It's a sensation like no other, making you ignore everything else. Nails dip in your cheeks as Octavius grabs your chin to look at you, pride of your current state written all over her face.

“His eyes, you said?”

You want to kill her. “His– eyes?”

“Yes.” She giggles. “I don’t think you finished your sentence.”

You want to kiss her.

The actuator around your throat releases you, leaving you gasping for air. But your relief is brief as it soon slides against your loosened hole, slowly but surely pressing in.

‘They’re– they’re,” you stutter, arching towards her, brain devoid of any coherence. “Brown?”

She grips your face more forcefully and every sensation suddenly comes to a stop. “Have your brain already melted through your ears?”

You whine. “Ok, ok– they’re big, too gentle even–”

She smiles, a predatory thing. Aren’t spiders supposed to be predators? One good, strong suction on your crotch has you moaning so loudly you’re afraid all Achemax will come running in. “Beautiful– he’s–”

The actuator pushes inside smoothly, leaving you a shaking mess, split apart by the chaos of sensations running underneath your skin. No casual sexual encounter could have ever brought you to such a delightful, painfully aroused state. Your senses are attacked, assaulted from every direction as you’re watched, dissected under the gaze of an enemy. Octavius takes immense pleasure watching you completely surrender to her, and you can’t not picture the smug crooked smile of her counterpart in the wrinkles at the corner of her lips. There’s a lot that you could question about yourself if you hadn’t left your higher brain functions under the hands – and the tentacles, of a magnificent opponent.

“I think you have some self-reflection to do, little spider.”

You register the press of her lips late. Still holding your chin in a death grip, she kisses you like a snake strikes its prey. Eyes rolling back as she sinks her teeth into your lower lip, you arch strongly towards her, arms hurting for being held down for so long, legs spasming and chest heaving. Her tongue plunges into your mouth and she sucks at your lips not unlike how her actuators pump in and out of you, suck you dry, drive you insane…

Suddenly, she draws back, exhaling harshly against your reddened lips and you can feel her body moving forward. You only have the time to register that her hips are trusting against the actuator stuck to your crotch before she grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls harshly.

“Come on,” she pants in the crook of your neck. “Break down, sweetheart.”

You come like this, lightning travelling up your spine as you release on the mouth of the actuator, overstimulated by the trusts inside of you and the feeling of Octavius’ teeth on your skin. You spasm like an insect trapped in a web, a mouse constricted by the body of a python, arching, trusting your hips up over and over as the arm milks your orgasm out of you. Your throat is raw, your tongue is heavy and all your muscles scream from overuse but you just can’t stop coming, wetness spreading against your groin. When the actuators finally move away, you drip all over the floor, as your sex pulses, crimson red and spent.

Breathing air like it’s the first time, you try your best to calm your beating heart as you’re finally free from the arms’ grip, lowered on a nearby chair. Octavius lets out a sigh, tugging a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear.

“Oh well.” She smiles. “Good, very good.”

She throws your suit at your face. “You better run, little spider.”

“Uh?” You put it back, ignoring the uncomfortable stickiness between your thighs.

“This is my gift to you,” she says, putting on a clean glove. “You have five minutes before I hunt you down and use your body for my experiments.”

You laugh awkwardly, voice rough as you limp through the room. “I’ll be gone then. See ya, Doc!”

The giggle she lets out is hunting. As you swing away to central New York, the traces of her abuse all over your body, you think about your Octavius.

Perhaps you’ll try a new technique next time you meet.

#olivia octavius x reader #dr octavius x reader #otto octavius x reader #olivia octavius #into the spiderverse #spiderverse imagine #spiderman imagine

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deansapplepie · 7 months

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Till THE DEAD do us part | Chapter 7

A/N: This story will take place in all the seasons, but it’s not exactly a rewriting cause I’d have to re-watch everything to use the exactly lines of the characters, also I think it’s better if I tell a side story without changing the main facts of the story.

This story has a Female Reader, but I don’t describe her appearance, so anyone can identify with her.

Chapter 6 Chapter 8

Chapter 7: Chupacabra

Summary: The group settle down at Hershel’s farm. The search for Sophia continues and they have more clues about it. The Drama is all around the place, secrets, words not told and heads figuratively rolling, or not.

Warnings: swearing, fluffy, violence, agression, blood, injuries, mentions of cheating, mentions of possible death, scars, Daryl is a soft, Reader (yes, you are a warning in this one), Rick’s glare. (I think that’s all, if you see anything I didn’t mention just tell me) Minors do not interact.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader (Rick’s Sister)

Word Count: 5,337

Extra notes: I proofread the text, but English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistakes, of course with love. I’m consulting a timeline of everything that happened, but it can happen that I put events out of order, but I don’t think it’ll make much difference in the story. As you can see this title coincides with a name of an episode, normally I use something important in the Chapter as the title, but this time I had to use Chupacabra, because reader is a believer.

After you were settled down at your new camp, everyone reunited to Otis’ funeral. It was very beautiful all the words Hershel said and the family, in the end they asked Shane to say some words, he was the last one with the man. He talked about what happened and said some beautiful words about Otis. It was a very sad situation, but you were glad that the man helped saving Carl.

Later Maggie brought a map of the region and the group started to talk about what they could do and where they could go to search for Sophia. Hershel prohibited Rick, who donated blood, Shane, that had hurt his ankle and you, who had injuries from a trap to go in the search. Having that in account, Daryl was the only one going on search for Sophia.

Also, Hershel prohibited you all to walk around with guns, and very reluctantly you gave your gun to Rick so it could be stored with the others, but you kept your knife with you anyways. You had to follow the rules since he so kindly took care of you and let you stay at his property. At least he agreed to let Dale have watch and stay with a rifle.

Hershel told you to not walk much, you could walk but just a little to stretch your muscles, more than that could rip the stitches open and would interfere in your healing. While everyone was getting ready to do something, you head inside to the room where Carl was resting. You sat in the chair beside him and Luna sat on the floor taking her cold nose to his hand.

“He’s resting Luna, you need to behave, he can’t play right now.” You explained to the dog as if she was a little child and petted her so she wouldn’t be upset. You caressed his forehead and observed his face, now he wasn’t pale anymore, his cheeks got color and he had a peaceful face.

You were happy that he was good now. Also you were very impressed at what Hershel did. If you had come to a situation like this you don’t think you would think right ahead that as a Vet you could do something with your knowledge to also help humans. Sometimes you even doubted that you could be a good Vet… You knew the Death of the cat that costed your later job was not your fault, he was old and very sick, also for a rich person, his owner took a long time to take him to the clinic having in count the time he said the symptoms started, but you couldn’t help, but doubt yourself sometimes.

“Aunt Y/N” you heard Carl’s voice bringing you back from your inner thoughts.

“Hey! Hello little man! How are you feeling?” You asked turning all your attention back to your nephew.

“It hurts a little, but I’m good.”

“Of course, look at who missed you a lot.” You said And brought Luna’s attention back to the boy, but holding her by her collar just in case she decided it was a good idea to jump on Carl. She sniffed him all around while he passed his little hand on her back.

Soon he got back to sleep, you encountered Beth and asked her to show where you could wash clothes. You didn’t had clothes to wash, but you had the rag Daryl had put on your injury and you wanted to clean it and give him back. After you washed it, you put it to dry near your tent.

Later that day, Daryl came back with no Sophia, but he got clues that she probably was at a cabin at some point. It was good news, maybe she had survided… maybe she was out there somewhere. You still had hope, even in a world like this. Now you had Walkers, but back in the old world human beings were just as dangerous as them, if not worse. Dinner was ready, but it seemed like everyone were eating at their own places, the exception being Andrea, Dale and Carol that were together. You made a plate for you and a second to Daryl, he had assembled his tent a little bit far from the rest of you, just like he and Merle used to do at the quarry. Your leg hurt, but you needed to eat something before taking the medicine.

When you got near his tent, you didn’t see him, but you could swear you had seen him some minutes before close to his tent. So you called for him and soon he emerged from his tent.

“What are ya doing here?” He asked coming out of the tent, and you couldn’t quite say if he was pissed or if it was his normal grumpiness.

“I brought you dinner.” You said handing him the plate and sitting on a cut wood that were close by.

“Ya shouldn’t be walking around this much.” He answered taking the plate from your hand and sitting at his beach chair.

“Well, I wouldn’t if you had assembled your tent closer. You know you don’t need to be separated from us.” You stated taking some food with your fork, he grunted. ‘What does it even mean?’, you asked yourself. You were getting used to his grunts, but you couldn’t understand all of them.

“I like ma privacy.” If it wasn’t for the southern drawl, he would have sounded like an English Lord at this moment. “What are ya smiling about?” You didn’t even notice the smile on your face.

“You just sounded like a very pompous person.” You said, you always spoke your mind to Daryl and it could be cool, or turn really wrong. “I’m not mocking you. It just made me smile.”

You ate the food in silence, that silence that you learned to appreciate so much. He had a small fire there and it kept you warm from the slightly cold breeze. You felt like you could stay there looking at the fire next to him, for the rest of the eternity, but you also knew that maybe he didn’t wanted you to. So you decided you should go to your tent, maybe read something and try to sleep. You couldn’t be more wrong, because he was thinking the exactly same thing, how he could stay there for a long long time watching the fire and occasionally taking small glances at you, watching your face relax and how anything could put a smile to your face, you were beautiful at every moment, but in his opinion, nothing could win how much beautiful you were when smiling.

You reached for your pocket and took the clean rag that you had folded to give it back to Daryl. “Here, I washed it.” You handed him. “Thank you.”

“Ya didn’t need to… ya could have it.” He took it, a little embarrassed to receive it all clean when he had wrapped it all dirty around your wounds. But it was all he had at the time.

“Of course I had to. You kindly wrapped my wounds in it, it was covered with blood and you may need it.” He let out a grunt, so you decided to say something. “Keep it for the next time I get hurt.”

“Ya’re not getting hurt again.” He answered grumpily.

“I can’t promise you this.” You stated, and really you couldn’t you didn’t know what could happen tomorrow in this world. “Gonna go back to my tent. Rest yourself, you’ve been working harder than anyone here.”

You got up and put your hand on his shoulder. You wish you could give a kiss on his cheek and tell him good night, but you had already tested your luck hugging him earlier today. “Goodnight D.”

“ ‘night pup” he answered, he wanted to touch your hand, tell you to stay a little more, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you.

You walked back to your tent calling for Luna, she was nowhere to be seen. After some seconds she came from the RV to meet with you. You said your good nights for the ones you could see. Then you took Luna to your tent and prepared yourself to sleep. You thought about reading, but you were way too tired.

You woke up early in the morning with that feeling when you want to stay more in bed, but you’re not sleepy anymore. You changed your clothes and got out of your tent to start the new day. You met Carol at the bonfire to make breakfast and you were overjoyed about having fresh eggs to eat. She suggested making a dinner to the Greenes so you could thank their hospitality and all the help they gave you, and you thought it was a great idea. You could help chopping the vegetables and in any other way that didn’t demand you to stay up for a long time.

Dale, T.Dog, Shane, Andrea, Rick and Daryl were discussing a plan to do the searches for Sophia of the day. You approached them just when Jimmy arrived saying that Hershel gave him permission to go with the group, it sounded fishy to you… but you couldn’t just accuse the kid of lying.

“Can I go with you guys?” You asked, you were so silent that almost nobody noticed you were there already.

“The hell ya’re going”

“You’re not going.” Daryl and Rick said at the same time, they looked at each other for some seconds and Shane just rolled his eyes at the situation. Rick thinking that Daryl cared too much for being just a friend and a little bit annoyed, because he was your brother and he was the one who should say these protective things when you were not on your right mind. Daryl inner panicked a little, did he sound too protective? Did he sound bossy? Not that he didn’t want to protect you, in fact he really wanted to, but he also didn’t want Rick to have the wrong idea.

“Ok gentlemen, don’t need to fight. I’m not going, because of my doctor’s recommendation AND because I promised to help Carol and Lori.” You stated trying to sound cool, but in reality you were sulking wanting to go with them. Not that you were bad with domestic things, you were actually good… but it didn’t mean it was your favorite thing to do.

They continued planning and you just stayed around, it made you feel like you were also participating and being useful. Then T.Dog joked about the Chupacabra Daryl told he saw back when you were at the quarry and Dale had to explain to Rick the story.

“I believe on Daryl.” You said, nobody asked, but you didn’t give a fuck. “They were commonly seen in South America, but there are reports of people who saw it in other places. Did you guys know about the theory that they might be aliens or alien’s pets?”

“Let me tell you something, nobody knows and nobody cares nerd!” Shane picked on you, you showed him your middle finger, but he knew this time you were not actually mad with him.

The group started to leave and you followed Daryl to the barn. You didn’t know if it was a good idea to go out there in the woods with an animal, eventhough Maggie did it just fine the other day, but things could get bad if they encountered walkers.

“Why are ya following me? Ya’re not going.” He stated when you entered the barn.

“Well, if you’re taking a horse with you, better to have a vet look it before you take it.”

“Whatever ya say.” He muttered, approaching one. “What do ya think about this one?”

He was next to a mare, you looked at her and she was a beautiful animal. “She seems strong and healthy, I think it’s a good animal, but I can’t assure you it’s safe to ride her. I don’t know her temperament. Are you sure about going on a horse?”

“Yep, it’s faster and more secure. I can cover more land.” He affirmed, and in fact it was true, but you still thought about all the dangers he could encounter.

He saddled the mare and already got all he needed to continue his search. You wished him good luck, he was going to need… all of you needed it in this moment and hope too.

You went back to camp and stayed around Dale in the RV. You couldn’t do much in the moment, so you’d better enjoy good company. You were talking with him, when you saw Glenn acting strange. You couldn’t tell how, but you could see in him that something was wrong. You decided to live Dale for a moment and approached the younger man.

“What’s going on?” You decided to be straightforward with him. “Don’t try to deny, it’s written all over your face.”

“I… I can’t tell you.” He said, so indeed there was a secret.

“Maybe, if you tell me, it’ll make you feel better.” You tried convincing him. “Is it about you and Maggie?”

“No, I mean… how do you know?” He denied fast, so probably it was bothering him, but wasn’t the main reason.

“I saw you two talking earlier and I see how you look at her.” It was obvious, even Hershel that was an old man could see that there was something between them.

“Yeah, something happened, but… I don’t know if it would be respectful to talk about it with a woman.” In which decade did he live? The 20’s? The Korean was really a gentleman.

“Well by what you said I can just assume that you had sex…” you hadn’t finished saying when he interrupted you afraid that someone would listen.

“Don’t say it, she’ll kill me if she discovers I told someone.”

“She won’t, I’m not telling anyone. Just be careful to not get hurt and to not hurt her, I don’t know how long we’ll be staying here.” You could see that something more were troubling him. “But it doesn’t seem to be the only thing in your mind.”

“If I tell you, you need to promise me that you’re not telling anyone, not even Rick!” He was panicking, but the secret was already eating him away.

“I promise, now spill it!”

“Lori’s pregnant.” He blurted it out.

“Fuck.”That was the only thing that came out of your mouth. Fuck. The shit just got worse and worse. ‘No fucking way that this kid is Rick’s’, you thought. It had been how long since you reunited? One week? Two? The chances were very low. Holy shit. At the same time you wanted to go to Rick and tell everything, you knew you could just get things worse if you did.

“You can’t tell anyone.” He pleaded.

“Now I don’t know if I thank you or if I regret for making you give me this information.” You were still shocked, but you were the one that pestered him to tell you what was wrong.

You let him go to the RV, but you couldn’t dare to go back. You needed to think about it. You went to the room where Carl was recovering and passed some time there thinking while the boy slept. You couldn’t even calculate the size of damage that would be caused when shit hit the fan, and you knew it would at any moment.

Later that day, you were in the kitchen helping Carol, Lori, Patricia and Beth to prepare the dinner to thank Hershel and his family. You sat on a chair, cutting some vegetables. Everybody had already come back, everyone but Daryl, and it was starting to worry you. He had a horse, by this time he should already be back. Damn, it was late… you were already preparing dinner. You were staring too much at the window and it couldn’t go unnoticed.

“He’s going to arrive soon. Don’t worry.” Carol said and it took you aback, you were not expecting anyone to notice your worry. “He’s the best of us in the woods.”

“I know, it’s just… it’s getting late. He should already be here.” You probably sounded silly, he had stayed out the night uncountable times back at the quarry, but here… here was different and you thought he’d not risk staying out late in a place he barely knew.

“You should tell him.” Lori spoke from the sink, where she was washing some fruits.

“What?” Where did she want to go with this?

“How you feel.” She completed, how you felt? You didn’t feel anything besides the urge of being close to him, and hold him and sometimes kiss him… ‘Well, you also should tell a bunch of things to my brother,’ you thought.

“Rick saw you kissing back at the CDC” you almost chocked with you saliva. The door was open. You fucking let the door open. “He got to the room talking about it and I didn’t know if the alcohol made him hallucinate or if he had actually saw it. Given your reaction… don’t worry, he probably forgot, he was too much drunk and he never talked a thing about it anymore. If he remembered he’d still be talking about it.”

“It’s not like this. Yeah, we kissed but we were drunk. We… we’re not like that.” You got up from your sit and was going to excuse yourself…

“I knew there was something about it. He was really protective at you back at the woods.” Maggie affirmed leaning on the door frame.

“You just say it because he was carrying me, because I was stupid enought to step on a bear trap. I already did everything I could here to help ladies, so I’ll excuse myself and see if I am of some use outside.” You excused yourself and got out of the kitchen the faster you could with your injured leg, your cheeks were burning and probably blushing too. It was nothing like that, why did nobody understand? And you were so afraid someone would tease him about it and then he would pull away from you and ruin what you had.

Andrea was in the roof of the RV taking watch and it looked like her and Dale had just got in a fight, again giving the sadness of Dale’s face. He always wanted the best for everyone and he for sure saw her like a daughter, but she couldn’t understand and would constantly have fights with him.

She spotted a walker coming out from the woods in the direction of the farm. She wanted to shoot it, but it would just waste ammo, everyone said they would go there and take care of it. You watched as they approached the thing, you couldn’t see much but they had stopped… when you heard a shot by yourside coming from the rifle Andrea was holding, you saw movement down there and you could swear you listened his name being brought by the wind. While they were getting around him to check, you started descending the hill, running, despaired. You tripped on a damn rock, a stabbing pain on your leg but you continued.

‘No, how could she shoot when everything was under control’, you could feel something suffocating you at the thought that he could be dead. They were bringing him, she didn’t hit. But it didn’t made her attitude less grave.

“It nicked, he’s not dead.” Shane said when you stopped mid track seeing them bring an unconscious Daryl.

You could listen Andrea approaching followed by Dale, giving a thousand excuses and you couldn’t just get it anymore. You were seeing red.

“What’s your problem?” You said after you jumped on her taking her to the ground punching her nose and already ready to throw another punch, she tried to deffend herself putting her hand in front, but it had already hit her, You didn’t even saw where. She scratched your face trying to protect herself. She pulled your hair, you pulled her hair. “Learn how to fucking listen the others! If some of us say don’t shoot, don’t shoot! You could have killed him!”

Soon you felt arms pulling you away from Andrea. “Release her hair Y/N” you listened Dale’s voice by your side. You started to listen voices again, you were so lost trying to give Andrea hell that your brain were just ignoring your surroundings. They had asked you to stop many times, but you didn’t listen to. The only solution was for T.Dog to pull you away from her. Dale suggested Glenn since you were friends, but the young man was frightened, he never saw you like that. “Y/N release Andrea’s hair.” Dale commanded again, very reluctantly you obeyed him, while T.Dog tried putting you as far as possible from Andrea.

“You’re crazy! I said I am sorry!” Andrea yelled getting up with the help of Dale. Her hair was all messed up, her nose was bleeding and you could see the black eye starting to show.

“And I don’t give a fuck in the same way you didn’t when you didn’t listen to the instructions you were given!” You yelled back, T.Dog still restraining you afraid that you would jump on her again. “If you had hit him, I would like to see you saying how much sorry you are! You’re so lucky he’s still alive.”

Andrea was going to reply you back, but was cut when Glenn appeared in front of you and pointed at your leg. “Y/N/N your leg is bleeding.”

You were so angry that you had stopped feeling the pain and you didn’t even notice that your hurt leg was bleeding and that you probably had opened some stitches. “Fuck.”

“Can I free you?” T.Dog asked afraid of letting you go. “You’re not going to attack Andrea again, are you? You need to have your leg seen by Hershel.”

“Fine. I’m not going to attack her, T.Dog. Bitch got what she deserved.” You were still furious, but all your senses coming back made you feel the real intensity of the pain in your leg.

T.Dog and Glenn helped you inside, it was very difficult to step right now, you probably hurt something else on your run to get to Daryl. Carol and Lori looked at you concerned, in all these years your sister in law had never seen you act like this. Patricia said the room where Hershel was at the moment taking care of Daryl and the boys took you there, since Hershel needed to have a look at you too.

When you entered the room, Daryl was already conscious, probably weak from the blood loss and he explained what he discovered to Rick and Shane while Hershel stiched the wound on his side. Daryl tried to cover his body that was exposed, but didn’t have much success since Hershel needed to give him stiches. They all turned to you noticing the mess you were and how T.Dog and Glenn had to support you.

“Done causing trouble?” Shane asked, they had seen the moment you jumped in Andrea, but they couldn’t stop their priority was to get Daryl to Hershel.

“You look horrible, no offense.” Daryl commented noticing your disheveled hair, the scratchs on your face and messed clothes.

“You should see Andrea.” You replied sarcastically, while Glenn put you to sit at the other side of the bed.

“She beat Andrea’s ass, T.Dog needed to split them.” Glenn explained. “We think some of her stiches opened, her leg is bleeding.”

“I probably hurt something else, because my foot is hurting way too much.” You stated resting your back at the headside of the bed.

“We’re talking about it later.” Rick told you and you rolled your eyes. He was your brother not your dad.

“I regret nothing, Rick. She can’t go shooting people and don’t receive any punishment.” If looks could kill, you’d have already died at least 5 times by Rick’s concerned pissed look at you. “And you’re my brother, not my dad.”

You knew he was already mad, but so where you and you were tired of him and Shane treating you like a child. You let them finish discussing Daryl’s discoveries and Hershel finish taking care of him. When Hershel finished with Daryl, he take a look at your leg, two of your four wounds had opened and your had a small torsion on your foot. Hershel said the torsion was going to be better by the next day if you rested how he recommended. He stitched your wounds again and prohibited you to do long walks. Of course, he couldn’t control you, but you knew that you should obey the farmer. Before leaving Rick came to you and you could swear he was going to give you a speech, but he didn’t. He curved, gave you a kiss on your temple and left.

“So… did ya kick Andrea’s ass for me?” Daryl broke the deafening silence in the room.

“Nah, that’s just my new hobbie. Kicking assholes’ asses.” You couldn’t hold the sarcasm. He knew it was for him and he just wanted to start a conversation, and you also knew it. “I was afraid that you died. You can’t die D.”

“I didn’t die, pup. I ain’t gonna die right now.” He looked at you and he could see your tearing eyes. “I’m not worth it, princess. Don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying, yet.” You defended yourself, you hated not being able to hide most your emotions. “You don’t see what I see Daryl, and for me… you’re worth it all.”

“Are ya high on painkillers?” He joked, he didn’t know how to deal when people said he wasn’t as bad as he thought.

“I wish, cause my leg is hurting like a bitch.” You laughed, but you knew it was his mechanism to deal with compliments. “I meant what I said.”

“I know, ya never lied to me.” He was honest, even though he was reluctant to believe he was any good, he trusted you and he knew you meant every word in the same way he believed he would see if you lied.

You continued having a conversation about trivial stuff. Soon you started to feel the smell of the food and it smelled deliciously, and to be honest you were hungry. After some time Carol knocked on the door and entered the room carrying a tray with 2 plates.

“Oh my God! Thank you Carol! I was smelling the food from here, and it smelled so good.” You said sitting up on the bed, she gave you a plate and you started eating happily.

Daryl didn’t move from where he was laying, Carol went to him and thanked him for everything he was doing for Sophia and of course for her, because of his incessant search for he daughter. She gave him a kiss on his forehead before leaving. You knew he wasn’t used to it, but you were glad that another person told him how good he was. Maybe, if you told it many times he would start to believe it. You finished your food and Daryl hadn’t touched his yet.

“You should eat, it’s going to get cold and you lost a lot of blood.” You said, he was laying in the bed covered by the sheets and facing to the other side. “I’m not going to look. You can eat comfortably.”

You turned your back to him and expected that he was going to use it to eat the food. You didn’t know he was so concerned about his body, you noticed it earlier today when he tried to cover while Hershel were taking care of him. It was just his chest, so there wouldn’t be any problem for you to see in normal situations. That was when you noticed he was concerned about people seeing his body.

You had seen his body before, he probably didn’t know, but one day he was changing his shirt and he thought no one was seeing, but you were and you couldn’t resist but watch. He was beautiful and all the scars he had just made you admire him even more. This was his story and it made him who he is. You chose to respect him, and some time after you listened the noise of plate and cutlery, and you were relieved he was finally eating.

When he finished and was settled again he let you know so you didn’t need to have your back turned to him. Later Carol came back to take the plates to the kitchen, you asked her to take care of Luna for the night. You let her tied all day and you didn’t want her to be alone. Carol agreed and she had to confess she would appreciate having a company for the night.

The rest of the night was calm, you talked very little and it didn’t take long for you to sleep, specially Daryl that was incredibly tired from all his day and everything he suffered. He even hallucinated about Merle that he had no idea where he could actually be.

During the night you moved around the bed a lot and at some time, Daryl woke up startled in the middle of the night. He opened his eyes and he saw you, and he thought he never saw you this close except the time you kissed at the CDC. That kiss, he couldn’t forget it and he didn’t want to. He never felt anything like that, no one he ever kissed or even slept with made him feel what he felt when he was with you. And seeing you this close again, made him think about all of this. You were so comfortable with him, one arm around his waist, your leg lightly tangled with his and he was surprised to see that his right arm was around you, holding you tightly against him. He was worried about having you so close, but he couldn’t dare to disturb your sleep or to push you away.

It took a little time for him to sleep again, but soon he did it. It was comforting to feel your hug and you warmth against him, even if there were the sheets between you. He hadn’t slept this well in ages, he can’t even remember the last time he had such a good sleep. So he decided to allow himself this little joy of a good and comforting sleep with you.

The next morning, Rick came to check on both of you and he was a mix of surprised and embarrassed by seeing the scene before him. He could see it was innocent, but either way he was taken aback with the situation. He cleared his throat and hoped both of you would wake up.

Taglist: @sunnybunnyy2

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rainylana · 1 year

Text

“Yeah, baby, I’ll go with you.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

Summary: a continuation of my series ‘i’ll always take care of you’. takes place two years after the first chapter, one year after the epilogue.

Warnings: contains mentions of past sexual violence and assault, ptsd and trauma flashbacks, detailed panic attacks and anxiety habits, unprotected sex, language, heavy description of blood, reader gets her period, gagging, vomiting, self hatred and self blame.

a/n: hi everybody:) this took longer than expected but i’m very very excited for you to read, as i love this series very much and just wanted to go back and explore it. i hope you love this as much as i do! i’m very happy with the way it turned out! please share how you feel about it:) i missed you! and i hope you have a very merry christmas to those who all celebrate it!<3

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Two years later.

“I met Nancy in fifth grade when I moved here from Chicago. I had trouble making friends, but Nancy- she introduced herself to me right away, even gave me half of her rice crispy treat. I didn’t know at that age just how important she’d become to me, in fact it’s still hard to believe how much she’s helped me. I can only hope I’ve been able to return at least a fraction of what she’s given me. So, I want to raise a glass to Nancy and Jonathon, yes, I’ve not forgotten about you, and tell you both that we all love you very much. I love you very much. Congratulations, you guys.”

Your hand was raised, holding up a crystal glass at the end of the long, white table. Nancy, who was at your side, had tears going down her face, while Jonathan had a beaming smile. The people on the benches in front of you all cheered from your maid of honor speech, and you giggled when Eddie whistled at the other end of the table, a groomsman himself.

Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding was probably one of the most beautiful Hawkins had ever had. Everyone had come, and you couldn’t deny the fact you’d been extremely nervous to give your speech in-front of everyone, but Nancy deserved to hear what you wanted to say. You could never really be able to express how much she meant to you.

The wedding was held outside at a meadow, just a mile outside of town. It was littered with lavender and dandelions, even an ice sculpture. Truthfully, both Nancy and Jonathan would have been fine with having a courthouse wedding with a few friends and family, but Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler wanted to spoil their daughter, and Joyce, had chipped in almost all the money she had to help.

You admired how handsome Eddie looked in his tuxedo, hair slicked back into a neat ponytail, one of the only few occasions where he put effort into his hair. His shoes were shiny and squeaky. He even rubbed a fork on the bottom of the soles so he wouldn’t slip. Will was the best man, and the other groomsmen being Hopper, Mike, Dustin and Lucas. Robin was also a bridesmaid. Karen and Joyce, too. Little Holly was the flower girl.

White flowers and pink tulips were the flowers of choice, the cake almost seemed to be seven stories tall. Elegant couldn’t even describe how beautiful it all worked.

“Wanna dance?” Eddie flicked the rim of your champagne glass, a happy grin on his face.

You were happy the ceremony was over, everyone now able to relax and celebrate the happy moment with booze and food. Everyone drove across town to city hall, but the wedding theme had still followed them over there.

“Hmm, yes, please.” You placed down your glass, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your body close to his. Mostly everyone was dancing now, and if they weren’t, they were engulfing themselves on the buffet and chocolate fountain. They, meaning the children and Dustin.

“My feet hurt so bad. I think I got blisters.” You groaned through a chuckle.

“Tell me about it.” He smirked in agreement. “These things are probably full of my blood.”

You smiled and looked over to your best friend, who was dancing her heart away with Jonathon in the middle of dance floor. “It’s worth it, though. She looks so beautiful.”

Eddie looked over and smiled softly. “Yeah, she does.”

You laid your head on his chest and wrapped your arms tighter around him, swaying softly to the happy tune of whatever song was playing. You had no idea what it was. The irony, warm feeling of his rings brushed along your neck, hair being pinned up with a few loose curls.

“I hope Joyce and Hopper are next.” You smiled when your eyes found them, dancing softly and gazing into each other’s eyes. They looked like they saw no one else.

Eddie chuckled and found them, too. “I’d say so.”

Then you found Dustin and Suzie. Lucas and Max. Mike and Eleven. Couples dancing, kissing and being happily in love. Weddings were stressful, sure, but you loved them. You loved being in love. You looked up to Eddie and grinned, standing up taller to peck him on the lips. “I love you.”

His hand squeezed your waist and he smiled, bringing up his other to hold your cheek. He melted his lips against yours in a sweet kiss, the taste of the chocolate fountain evident on his tongue. “You have no idea.” He replied.

•

Your curled up hair was starting to fall apart after all the clean up duty. You and Eddie, along with some of your other friends, stayed to help clean the hall when Nancy and Jonathan left for their honeymoon. It took several hours to take down all the decorations, put away the food, tables and chairs. You and Eddie were the only ones left now. You sent everyone home, assuring them you could finish by yourself, and that only left you to sweep the floor and throw away some trash.

The bottom of your feet were filthy, having disregarded your heels so your feet didn’t have to suffer during clean up. Your dress was bunched up a bit by your waist.

“You bout finished, babe?” Eddie asked, coming back inside from taking out garbage bags. His hair was also a bit more frazzled, his black suit jacket thrown over a chair, leaving him in his white button up.

“Yeah, I think so.” You half panted, placing your hands on your hips as you turned to greet him. “Get everything outside taken care of?”

“Yeah, Hopper just left.” He sniffled, wiping away some sweat. “You hungry? I could order a pizza or something.”

You rolled your head back in exhaustion, admiring how handsome he looked. “Had too much cake. I’ve got a food baby.”

He chuckled as he looked down to your belly, coming close to wrap his arms around your waist. He kissed your forehead lovingly and you tiredly laid against his chest, lazily resting your arms around him. Without your heels, your head barely came up to his chest.

“I think this is my favorite version of you.” Eddie smiled softly, lips brushing over the side of your head.

You narrowed your eyes, cheek squished against his chest. “Why? I’m dirty.”

His laughter sounded in your ear, pulling away so he could hold you out in front of him. “I like when your hair is like this. It’s cute.”

“It looks like a rats nest.” You retorted.

“And your face is all red.” He continued, holding your arms. “And you got those little lines between your eyebrows from concentrating so much.”

“Well, we have to make sure this place is cleaned otherwise we’ll piss off the city council- are you sure it looks alright?” You went to turn away but he grabbed your jaw, turning you to give you a gentle kiss.

“You look pretty handsome, yourself.” You relaxed against his lips. “Class suits you.”

He smirked, a breath hitting your cupid’s bow. “That right?” His forehead connected to yours, his hand reaching around your waist to push you against him. He ducked down to kiss you fully, bodies melting together in the empty room.

Your tummy fluttered as his hands roamed at your sides, deep kisses being briefly broken apart for a breath of air. “You wanna?” He husked, smirking against your neck.

“Here?” You burned, arching your back slightly. “Don’t you think- are there cameras?” You looked up to the ceiling, looking between corners.

He held you up as he kissed on the exposed skin of your chest, the plump skin of your breasts that shown was caressed by his tongue.

“I don’t see any.” He murmured seductively.

“You didn’t even look.” You pretended to scold him, but you inhaled a sharp gasp as he bit your skin softly. “You’re awful. Yes, I wanna.”

You pulled his face so you could kiss him, and he picked you up by your thighs to put you against the wall. You throbbed for him as he pressed himself against you, your skin shining with a lustful glow that made his heart erratically beat. Your hands roamed his chest, the blades of his back, anything to get him closer to you. Anything to feel good. He always made you feel good, and he always took care of you.

There was a time where you thought you’d never be able to experience that again. You never thought you’d be able to be intimate with Eddie like this. You never thought you’d be able to be touched, caressed and pleasured without second guessing yourself or who you were with.

You never would have said it then, but now, after two years from your assault, you couldn’t deny the fact that you found some benefit from the situation. You had to if you were going to live with it. If there was anything you learned from that night, it changed the way you saw the world, and not in a bad way. It made you smarter, careful. It made you learn things about yourself, who you wanted to be. It was a chapter in your life that had come and gone. That’s how you dealt with it. When ptsd and trauma flashbacks came, you dealt with it like you’d learned how to. Sometimes they were nothing, sometimes you nearly went to the hospital, but you dealt with it either way, and never alone.

“You want this, baby?” He pulled the straps of your dress down to free your breasts, and he wrapped his warm lips around your left nipple.

“Yes.” You tangled your hand in his hair, shamelessly rocking your hips up to his. “I need you so bad.”

He kissed and suckled on each breast, taking his sweet time, moving down the valley between them as best as he could with your dress still in the way. When he’d freed himself from his pants, rubbing himself up your slick, you buried your face in his shoulder and tightened your arms around his body. “Tell me, sweetheart.” He kissed your collarbone, teasing you, but he didn’t ever not ask that question.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted, almost drunkenly, eyes already glossing over. “Fuck me, Eddie.”

He moved your panties to the side, sliding his cock inside of you slowly, burying his face in your chest. It was the burning stretch that made you whimper, but it just felt so, so good. It was slow at first, it usually always was. Eddie rocked into you a few times, grunting lowly to give you time. He always gave you time. The burn started to go away, and you leaned back to connect your lips passionately, silently telling him you were ready.

Your mouths were everywhere, sloppy and needy, the taste of one another driving you mad. You whimpered desperately into his mouth when he finally gave a sharper, more fluent thrust that moved you up the wall. Your response made him do it again, and again, and again, until he was at a pace that had you crying into his shoulder again. Skin slapped quickly, stomachs tightened and your teeth dug into his shoulder that made him groan.

Sometimes the only thing you could ever really do during sex was cry. Sometimes it just felt too good and that was all you could do. Eddie never questioned it, not anymore.

He could feel you clenching around him, and he gave one more thrust before he reached his orgasm, forcing a sob from your throat as your legs trembled in his sore arms. Your mouth was agape, tears rolling down your face as you panted, gulping and whimpering sounds squeaking their way out of you. Eddie huffed loudly, readjusting his hold on you with a fuzzy head.

“Thank you.” You choked, eyes fluttering closed, your body rocking with pleasure.

Eddie had assured you countless times you didn’t have to thank him for sex, and you knew you didn’t. You never meant to say it really when you did, so he learned to just accept it.

“Let’s go home.” He kissed your cheek.

•

Your panic attacks were easy to maintain and they had been for awhile. You’d gotten extremely well at mastering them, keeping them from overwhelming you too badly. It hadn’t always been that way, definitely not. But in the course of the last six to eight months, you’d impressed even yourself with your skill.

You’d done certain techniques, some worked and some didn’t. Journaling didn’t help shit. You thought it was boring. Going for walked helps sometimes, only if it wasn’t too hot. Deep breathing helped a lot, especially if you could hold on to Eddie’s hands or his shoulders. And sticking your face in a bowl of ice water always did the trick.

In the beginning he encouraged you to seek out for additional help, help that he knew he couldn’t give you. Sure, he was always there to listen and to be at every beck and call, but he’d never be able to understand what you went through. You saw a women’s support group almost two times a week back then, and now it was just once a month.

The worst panic attack you’d had, which haunted you and Eddie both, was last year. Eddie had to take you to the hospital, and even he at the time thought your fear was something more than panic, that’s how bad it was, like something was actually wrong. In these two years you’d been to the emergency room twelve times.

You hadn’t had one like that in a while, or really any. They were small, here and there. So when your eyes cracked open, trying to squint in the dark so you could see the time, you knew something was off, because you were past the point of waking up in the middle of the night. You were anxious was the first thing you realized. Your chest felt warm and your heart was beating more quickly than it should.

Great.

But it was okay. You’d be fine. You knew it would pass if you gave it time. You turned to lay on your back so you could breath easier, glancing over at Eddie in the dark who was sound asleep. You closed your eyes and inhaled through your nose, counting to five, held it for 5, then let go. You repeated it for awhile, but your body felt oddly uncomfortable besides just feeling too warm.

You laid there and breathed for almost twenty minutes before you decided you needed a glass of water. Shuffling through blankets, you sat up and lifted the comforter off your sweaty body, and even in the dark you could see the substance that was on the sheets beneath you. Your heart leapt in your throat and you turned to switch on the lamp by your bedside.

You’d gotten your period. Blood was bright and crimson on the white sheet, all over your thighs and ruining the pair of blue sleep shorts you were in. This wasn’t a big deal in itself. You’d gotten your period many times in the night, but your body didn’t seem prepared for it this time. Maybe it was the fact you were already trying to fight off an anxiety attack, who knows, but your eyes tripled in size and you gasped.

Eddie was awake immediately.

“Y/n?” He said through sleepy, alarmed eyes. “Y/n- hey, what’s the matter? What happened?”

Your anxiety immediately seized up to pure panic. The blood was just too much. It was everywhere. Not really, but to you, right now, it did. You started gasping, your throat bopping noisily as your hands shook above your legs.

Eddie’s eyes widened when he saw the blood, grabbing your shoulders in confusion. “Hey, hey- honey, look at me.” He turned your face toward him, more like pried it away from your lap.

“Shit- Eddie, I’m sorry, I- I got my period, I’m sorry.” You rushed, voice shaking and unsteady. You couldn’t keep your focus on him. You kept staring at your legs that were also shaking now.

“Baby, hey, it’s alright.” He cooed, scooting closer to you to wrap his arm around your back. “You don’t need to get upset. It’s not your fault, y/n, just take a breath, alright?”

You nodded, lifting your legs to try and avoid getting more blood on the blankets.

“Okay, uh- let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He looked your face over, sitting up more to grab your elbow. “That okay?”

There was no reason to have a panic attack over this. There was no reason to breathing so irrationally like you were doing. Eddie helped you stand, giving your shoulder a squeeze as he turned to the dresser where you kept your clothes. You tried to keep looking at him, but your eyes drifted back down to your legs. Your hands were vibrating at your sides, your chest continued to burn. You watched as a small bead of blood rolled down to your knee. Then it hit you.

You froze, your stomach flipping upside down. God, there’d been so much blood on you that night. You bled for days. You’d had to throw out your clothes so Eddie wouldn’t see.

“Eddie,” You cried, bile resting at the back of your throat, eyes wide with terror. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie-”

“What, what, y/n-” He grabbed your face, throwing down your clothes he’d gathered when you started completely panicking.

“Get it off me!” You screeched, sobbing as you looked down to your legs. “Please, please, please!” You begged him desperately through violent cries and a thrashing body.

He quickly reacted and practically dragged you to the bathroom, flipping on the light and throwing the shower curtain open. He turned on the cold water and grabbed your waist, putting both you and him under the freezing cold water.

You didn’t react to the water that hit you in the face, or Eddie dropping to his knees to grab hold of your legs. You went into a frenzy. You bent your body over his head, hand smacking against the shower wall to brace your weight. Your body was overcome with a disgusting feeling of violation, your skin buzzed with ick and you heaved above him. The nausea in your stomach turned into a burn, an ache that wasn’t even really there, only in your head, but that was real enough for you. You screamed and grabbed your stomach with your other hand, eyes clamped shut and cold water making your clothes heavy, Eddie’s too.

Fear surged through your body, although fear never quite seemed to sum up the feeling, and your breath came too quickly. You weren’t getting in any air. Your skin buzzed and your throat was raw. You were practically screaming, hovering over Eddie. And then you gagged, nearly tripping over him as you gripped his shoulder, a mixture of water and stomach acid barely dribbling out of your lips and onto the shower floor.

All the while, Eddie’s hands were furiously trying to get the blood of your skin, the water turning a crimson red. His hair was wet and stuck on his face, black sweatpants now extremely heavy. Your clothes were stained but the water helped the brightened tone of it. He didn’t even look at you. If he did, he’d be lost. He had to fix what was making you panic to get you to calm down. His ears were thumping from how loud you were, sobs and shrieks making his bones rattle. Then he heard the tail tell sound of you throwing up.

When the water was no longer red, he finally breathed. “Y/n.” He said firmly, standing quickly on his own unsteady legs to catch your flaying arms. “It’s gone, baby, it’s gone. Look, look, it’s gone.” He grabbed your face to get you out of your trance, guiding you to look down. “Take a breath. Breathe. Breathe.” He pulled you to his chest, not even really sure if you were registering what he was saying.

And you didn’t, but within a few more minutes of hysterics, you pushed your face away from his chest to look down to your thighs. They were clear and the blood was gone. The sounds of your panic were quieting down and your arms finally locked around Eddie’s like his were on you. You could hear how loud his heartbeat was against your ear, your body shaking, and not just from previous anxiety.

The cold water was still beating down on you, Eddie shushing and rocking you gently all the while. He kissed and rubbed the back of your head, caressing your neck and your temple, doing everything he could to make sure you were grounded and wouldn’t pass out. You had before. But he could feel your deep, shaken breaths against his own, and he knew you were alright now.

You stood there until you both were shaking from the freezing water, but it brought a sense of relief that you didn’t want to leave. Your mind always felt empty after attacks like these, but it had been so long since you’d had such a bad one. Why hadn’t you been able to brush this one off? Why did it bother you so much? Your period had never triggered this kind of response from you? You couldn’t be back tracking your progress.

Everything seemed like a foggy dream now. The assault was not front and center anymore, neither was the image of your bloody and bruised thighs. You were okay now, but you fucking hated the fact you still had to deal with these. They were just so damn scary, and you sure as shit knew they scared the hell out of Eddie.

Eddie reached behind him to turn to water off, carefully guiding your steps over the edge of the tub so you wouldn’t slip. You both were shivering, and he grabbed a towel to wrap around your shoulders. “Get you some clothes, huh?” He said softly, tapping your chin as he guided you out of the bathroom.

He picked up the clothes he’d had before and sat them on the bed next to you where you’d sat down, trying your best to get off your sopping wet clothes. He gently grabbed your arms and tapped them so you’d lift them up, and he peeled your shirt over your head, helping you take down your sleep shorts and ruined panties. He threw them in the corner of the room.

You attempted to dry yourself but your limbs were too shaky, so he took the towel and crouched in front of you, taking your legs in his lap so he could dry you. You let him. He thought you were going to fall asleep because you looked so out of it, but it wasn’t nothing he’d seen before. He knew you needed to have time before you could talk about it.

Once you were dry and changed, Eddie did the same to himself, keeping his eye on your sunken form. You were left in a state of deep sorrow, an aching guilt that always crept up in you after a panic attack. Once Eddie started drying his hair, you got off the bed and walked out of the room without him noticing. You just needed a moment to yourself. Just a minute.

You curled yourself up on the couch and pulled your legs close to your body. You couldn’t do anything else but cry. You called these little moments pity parties, the tremors of a meltdown that you never could surpass. You buried your face in the material of the couch, weeping softly.

When Eddie followed you out there, his first instinct was always to go to you, always, but he had to give you a minute to cry. He was sure that over the years his jet black hair had turned a few pieces grey. He ever actually checked, but he could imagine he’d get the salt n’ pepper look before thirty. He always felt guilty for his broken heart over you, because he knew it didn’t hold a candle to what you’d been through or how you felt. When he decided you’d cried alone enough, he went to you.

He sat on the edge, barely having any room, and laid his torso atop of yours, his chest against your back to hold you as best as he could. He kissed your shoulder repeatedly, his fingers brushing away your wet hair comfortingly. “I’m sorry.” You cried, tears dropping down your face.

“No, no,” He whispered, barely audibly as he kissed your cheek. “It’s alright, baby.”

You cried for several more minutes, curled up on the couch with him hovering over you. He gently rubbed your back and gave your torso kisses and little nose rubs, hoping to ease your sorrow in anyway.

“I wasn’t going to go to my meeting tomorrow.” Your voice cracked, staring off into the space of nothing.

Eddie said nothing, perching his chin on your shoulder blade so you could talk. He knew you were ready.

“I thought- I thought I didn’t need to.” You admitted, a flame growing to your face that he didn’t miss. “But when I saw the blood I- all I could think about was..was when,” Your voice broke and your eyes glazed back over again when you felt Eddie tense.

“It’s been so long since I had one that bad. I thought maybe I was done.” You sniffled, silent tears rolling down your face. “I just…I don’t know, it just..I- don’t,”

“Shh, shh,” He petted your head, lifting slightly off you. “You don’t need to rush. I’m here, take your time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face in the couch, whining out a little cry mixed with groans, feeling frustrated with yourself.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Stop that.” Eddie said sternly, squeezing your arm. “Don’t say that. You’re not stupid.”

You didn’t answer him, you just cried. You’d never really felt so much self hatred after a panic attack before, but right now, you were very aggravated with yourself, for your body to still be so affected for something that happened so long ago. You were tired of having these attacks in the middle of the night, keeping Eddie up and worrying him to death, begging him to take you to the hospital even though you knew deep down that you weren’t dying.

“You know you have to talk to me, baby.” He said softly, rubbing your back. “You gotta tell me what you’re feeling.”

You knew that, but you also knew he wouldn’t want to hear you say the things you felt, right now. Either way, it wasn’t fair.

“I’m mad.” You croaked.

“Mad?”

You nodded, still pressed into the cushion of the couch.

“Why?” His fingers traced your spine.

“Me.” You cried. “I hate myself.”

You felt his hand stop, his gaze sharpening on you. “Why?”

“Because,” You hiccuped.

“Because, why?”

You whined through tears and forced yourself up, your hand digging a fist into the couch. “Because I’m a fucking mess!” You scoffed.

“I act like I’m fucking unstable.” You whimpered, wiping at your face. Eddie stared at you, holding his palm on your lower back.

“Y/n-” He swallowed.

“I shouldn’t be doing this anymore!” You started sobbing again, looking at the floor, anywhere but his face. “I can’t- my entire life is just- just focused on what happened and it’s so humiliating!” You started to pull on your shirt and he took his hand away from your back, knowing you didn’t want to be touched.

“I’m tired of freaking out and I’m tired of meetings! I’m tired of- of everyone saying how proud they are of me and that I’m strong. I’m not fucking strong, look at me, I’m a fucking wreck all the time!” You wailed, snot dripping down your nose as your head hung low.

“It’s so embarrassing, I shouldn’t be doing this shit a-anymore.” You bent over to press your elbows into your knees, burying your face in your hands. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Eddie never knew what to say when you said things like this. He could help you with anything and everything else, but hearing you talk to negatively about yourself made him sad. He had to force back tears that glazed over his eyes, taking a shallow breath.

“Sweetheart,” He refrained from scooting closer to you. “What’s got you saying this stuff, huh? You’ve not said anything like this before.”

Your body shook from your tears. You couldn’t possibly imagine that you had anymore to cry, but they kept on coming. “It was my fault.”

Eddie paled at your remark. “Y/n. Stop it.”

“It was.” Your chest heaved as you balled into your hands, hair still dripping wet. “It was my own fault and I- my dress..my d-”

“Hey,” He grabbed your shoulders and made you face him, eyes focused and jaw clenched. “What are you saying, huh? That you asked for it?”

Your sobs were loud in his face, your skin red and blotchy, snot dripping over your cupid’s bow. “It should’ve been- longer.”

This wasn’t the first time you’d said something like this before, but it never was easier for him to hear or for you to say.

“What about Nancy then?” He grabbed your face to hold you upright. “What about her dress? Would she have asked for it if she’d been raped instead?” He said sternly, almost harsh, because it was vital to him that you understood.

“Answer me, y/n.” He shook you lightly. “Would she have deserved it?”

You shook your head, voice quivering and full of emotion. “No.”

“No, she wouldn’t, and neither did you.” His eyes glazed over. “You didn’t fucking deserve that and you didn’t fucking ask for it, okay? You can’t think shit like that, understand? You just can’t.”

You grabbed his thick wrist and squeezed. “Then why did It happen?”

He touched his forehead against yours, sighing deeply. “I wish I knew, honey. I’m so, so sorry. I wish you could know just how sorry I am, but baby, you gotta believe me when I say that I’m not going anywhere, alright? You know I’m not. You don’t need to be embarrassed around me. There’s nothing you ever need to be embarrassed about, alright?” His lips ghosted over mouth, nose edging yours.

“That’s what you do when you love someone. You take care of them, right? It’s what we do.” His heart ached at your broken face, your tears now slowing and sobs quieting.

You caught your breath, gulping and swallowing loud, sniffling and blinking wet eyelashes as you tried to calm yourself. You were growing exhausted, your body too tired to keep itself so worked up. “I just wished it didn’t happen.” You said softly. “It’s..it’s hard to like who I am now.”

He kept blinking away his tears. He always had his breakdowns in private. “Well, I like you.” He gave you a delicate smile.

He took his thumb and swiped at your tears, fixing your wild hair and sweeping it from your face. He wiped your nose with his sleeve. “We do it one day at a time remember? Just because tonight was bad doesn’t mean tomorrow has to be.”

“I know.” You muttered, staring at his chest while he stared at you. “I wish you knew how much I love you. Loving you is the only thing that’s ever felt stronger than..than him. You keep me sane when everything else around me is insane.”

Him. Him.

Eddie gulped, grabbing your waist. “Come here.” He pulled you into his chest, leaning back to rest against the arm of the couch. He wrapped his arms tight around you and you laid your cheek against his chest.

“Baby, it’s okay to not be okay all the time.” He said after a moment, his face pressed in your hair. “It’s not all going to go away.”

You didn’t say anything. You knew he was right.

“And that’s nothing to be ashamed of, you hear me?” He continued, your legs between his. “When there’s a bad day we work through it, don’t we? Don’t we always get through it?”

You nodded slowly, sniffly. “Yeah.”

“There’s no reason to hate yourself, y/n. I wish you could see yourself how I see you.” His palms were pressed against your back, cheek pressed against the side of your head. You could feel how erratic his heartbeat still was.

You both sat in silence for awhile, still allowing your body to calm down. Your mind kept replaying how worked up you’d gotten all because you’d gotten your period. That just didn’t make any sense. It had never triggered you before. You couldn’t remember what had caused your last panic attack.

“I just don’t understand why it still bothers me.” You said after a moment, voice drained and exhausted.

Eddie’s head leaned against the arm of the couch, still holding you close with his legs wrapped around yours. “Y/n,” He sighed heavily. “You always..”

“Always what?” You peaked up at him.

He swallowed and met your eyes. “You always downplay what happened and- and you just..you just can’t rush healing from that, honey.” He said carefully, not wanting to push your buttons, but he said only truth.

“When you’re talking about..what happened you.., well you always tell me ‘it’s okay, eddie’,” He rested his hand at the base of your neck.

“And it’s not okay.” He squinted his eyes. “What happened is not okay, but you are, y/n. You’re okay and you’re alive and you make me so damn proud, you know it?” He cupped your cheek, pressing his forehead to yours again.

“No matter what happens, if things get bad, nothing will change between you and I. Okay?” His breath blew against your lips, a salty tear falling down your cheek. You nodded, gulping, and he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Will you go to my meeting with me tomorrow?” Your voice broke. If you hadn’t been so out of it, you would have seen the tear that fell from his eye.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll go with you.”

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