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strangersmunsons · 2 months

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bark at the moon

there's something suuuuper weird in your garage. your best friend Robin calls up her old pals, Steve and Eddie, to come and take a look.

Contains: Eddie x Fem!Reader. Mix of canon & Modern AU, w/ tweaks to established lore (faithfulness to the source material? I don’t know her). Plot of the show is more or less the same, but focus will be on minor threats escaping from the Upside Down, and no more. Everyone is aged up a bit, timeline of events is kept vague. Reader learns some secrets that are tough to wrap her head around, Eddie is an awkward sweetheart, and platonic!Stobin reigns supreme. Word Count: ~8.1k Warnings: Some brief descriptions of gore. Reader has a mild panic attack. Mentions of food & eating. Strong language. I've been tinkering away at this fic since the summer; it's a little different than the sweet & fluffy stuff I normally post, but I had a blast writing it! So I hope you guys enjoy! 🩷

“Call me when you get home, okay?”

“I will.” You smack a kiss to Robin’s cheek and push your stool back against the bar. “Try not to get into too much trouble tonight. It’s only Thursday.”

“No promises,” Vickie chimes in, grinning toothily at you, cheeks flushed from a mix of joy and booze.

“I mean it.” You jab a finger in her direction, only half-jokingly. “If you FaceTime me again at 3 AM so I can provide ‘emotional support’ while you’re puking your guts out in the bathroom, I’m hanging up.”

Vickie doesn’t even blink. “You won’t hang up,” she replies dismissively.

She’s totally right, but you don’t say so.

“Just try and keep your insides where they belong, please. They should be, y’know — on the inside. Alright? I love you both. Goodnight!” You blow another dramatic kiss in their direction as you saunter out of the bar, weaving between sticky tables over the even-stickier floor to the exit.

Lizzy’s is you, Robin, and Vickie’s favorite haunt, a nondescript dive bar located on the outskirts of town. It’s a squat, dingy little building tucked neatly away into a thicket of trees at the deadend of a backroad. There’s no neighbors or rival businesses in sight, just a small parking lot with a defunct telephone booth that probably hasn’t worked in several decades. The bar is usually only frequented by patrons belonging to one of two exclusive sects: members of the local biker gang, and this random lesbian couple and their one friend.

Truly a hidden gem.

Happy Hour at Lizzy’s has been a tradition for you and Robin (and Vickie, when she chooses to tag along) since you met at work retreat a year ago. When you caught sight of her funky patched-up blazer and choppy hairstyle, you immediately clocked her as the other youngest, coolest person in the room and forced your friendship upon her in the name of survival. Who else were you gonna hang out with for an entire weekend — Matt from HR who, ironically, was on probation for sending a coworker unsolicited dick pics? No way.

“Hey, can you hold the other side of my bag open for me? I’m gonna jam these cookies in there — quickly, while no one’s looking.”

Two peas in a pod, stealing extra goodies from the complimentary snack table and gossiping in the back row during presentations when you should’ve been listening. You’ve been attached at the hip ever since.

Full of mirth from the quality time spent with your best friend, you hum cheerfully to yourself as you push through the exit and step outside. The door whacks shut behind you, closing you off from the bar’s warm interior, and immediately, you take notice of two things.

First, you’re met with a surprising chill in the air. It’s been pretty temperate so far this week, and pleasantly warm earlier in the day, but it’s become startlingly cold in the mere hours you were inside the bar. You swear you can see a frozen puff of breath each time you exhale. You hug your arms around yourself, frowning slightly. Gravel crunches under your feet as you walk to your car.

The second thing you notice is that it’s obscenely dark out. A single orange streetlamp flickers in the parking lot, illuminating little more than the fluttering moths bashing themselves stupidly into the bulb. There’s no moon in the black-velvet sky; it’s just a blanket of darkness above. You glance at the watch on your wrist, but the time is indiscernible without proper lighting. I guess it’s later than I thought?

The hairs stand up on the back of your neck. There’s a gross, inexplicable feeling of nakedness as you cross the lot; the cold, unexpected dark and loss of time has you feeling disoriented and exposed. Naturally, your mind begins dredging up scenes from every horror movie you’ve ever watched, and you pick up the pace. Reaching the car, you wrench open the driver-side door, eager to be within the safe confines of the vehicle.

You slide in, and release a relieved breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. Slumping back against the seat, you think, Man, I gotta lay off the slasher flicks.

The moment doesn’t last long. Another bolt of paranoia suddenly shoots through you — you whip your head around, searching the backseat for a killer lurking in the shadows, waiting to slice your throat open, possibly with a machete, or maybe even a hook attached to a stumpy wrist.

Nothing there. Totally empty. Not even an extremely trim, flexible murderer contorting themselves out of view down on the cramped floor space.

“It’s fine,” you say aloud to no one in particular, turning forward again. You start the car and ease out of the lot, switching the radio to a pop station — your last line of defense. No one ever got brutally murdered while listening to Britney.

Thankfully, the ride is uneventful, and nobody pops up behind you with any instruments of violence. The further you get into town, with its familiar lights and gentle hum of nighttime traffic, the more at ease you feel. Your mind drifts, thinking of work, what you’ll make for dinner tomorrow, whether or not Vickie will be throwing up within the next hour. Any mundane topic that’ll help calm your nerves.

Eventually you reach home and pull into the garage. It’s a miracle you can even still park in there, it’s so full of junk — old furniture and hardware tools and odds and ends you haven’t had the energy to try and sort through.

A sigh escapes as you cross the threshold that separates the garage from the house. The sweet, homey kitchen is a welcome sight to enter. You put a kettle on for a cup of tea before bed, and decide to dial Robin while you wait for the water to boil.

She picks up after several rings.

“Hello my love.”

“Hi Rob. I’m alive.”

“Oh, good. That would’ve been awkward if it was someone else calling me.”

“Are you still at the bar?”

“Yeah, we’re leaving in a few. Vickie says she’s fine, but she’s got that look in her eye, so…”

There’s a faint “I am fine!” in the background and you snicker. “Good luck with that.”

Robin snorts. “Thanks. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

Robin bids you goodnight, and you feel a rush of affection for her. Your roommate recently moved out to go live with her boyfriend, leaving you as the sole tenant of the house. Although you reassured her endlessly that you had no issues living alone, Robin was insistent on constantly checking up on you lest you ‘get SVUed’ — her phrasing, not yours.

The kettle starts whistling, and you pour the steaming water into a mug with a bag of chamomile. You plop down on the soft cushion tied to the kitchen chair, letting the weariness of the day settle in your bones.

You scroll idly through your phone while sipping your tea, ignoring the slight burn it leaves on your lips and tongue. The old house settles and creaks while you relax, making those soft noises that you’ve become accustomed to over time. In fact, you’re so used to it by now that in your sleepy state, you don’t even register the odd sound in the garage, a sort of thunk, not unlike that of a confused bird flying into a picture window.

When the last drop of tea is gone, you place the mug in the dishwasher and head for your bedroom. You go through the steps of your night routine as though on autopilot before finally crashing into the plush bed. Within minutes, sleep takes you.

The sound of your alarm is innocuous enough — a small tinkle of bells or chimes or whatever cheerful twee instrument it is that Apple is using.

It’s incredible how something so innocent can sound so ungodly. Ugh.

Barely lifting your head up off the pillow, you drag the trilling device towards you with snatching fingers and turn it off. Maybe you’ll get up when the second alarm goes off, but let’s be honest — it probably won’t be until the third, and even then you might steal a few extra minutes under the covers.

Eventually you manage to pull yourself upright and, with a huge yawn, lurch out of bed. You shuffle down the hall, thinking of little more than the bagel you’re gonna demolish before jumping in the shower, and make your way back into the kitchen. Your bare feet pad softly across the linoleum floor, cold and sticking slightly to your heels. The sky outside the window is a dark, deep blue.

Then finally, in the stillness of the early morning, you hear a dull thud.

You pause halfway to the toaster.

Ten seconds go by. Silence.

Okay, that’s fine, it’s probably noth–

Thud.

Goddamn it.

There’s a stab of alarm as the sound repeats again, then twice more in rapid succession. You take a deep breath, willing yourself to remain calm, and grab the softball bat you keep propped up by the door. Safety first.

You tiptoe cautiously to the door separating the kitchen and the garage, thinking it’s probably a raccoon or something, he slipped inside when I drove in last night. Actually, there’s so much shit in there, he’s probably been living there for weeks. I really should call a Junk King –

You push the door open slowly, peering around the edge, prepared to fight. Your self-defense weapon is made of bright pink aluminum that catches the dim kitchen light emanating from behind you, glinting in your hands. You’re pretty sure it’s a little-league number so, clearly, it’ll be an even match for whatever it is that awaits you.

At first, nothing appears out of the ordinary. There’s no human silhouettes lurking in the dark. Everything is more or less the same as it was last night. The car is right where you left it, and the windows are intact. The spare furniture crammed against the perimeter is still there – nothing is missing or vandalized. But the room is still too dark for you to make out any less obvious differences, so you reach for the lightswitch on the left side of the doorframe.

And then, from the far corner of the room, up towards the ceiling, there’s an ear-splitting screech that nearly stops your heart.

Before you even have time to blink, a shadowy mass is suddenly flying straight at you. It’s still mostly obscured in the dark — whatever it is — a nebulous blur that swings in a low arc across the room. It’s moving so quickly that the air whistles as the creature cuts a path through it.

You let out a shriek of your own and spring backwards, slamming the door shut. It’s just barely closed when it collides into the wood with a frightening crash. You lock the door with numb fingers and slump back against it with your heart in your throat, and a hot, loose feeling in your lower stomach that, in the midst of your hysteria, you manage to acknowledge as a warning that you might shit your pants.

You lurch forward and spin around, now watching the door with wide eyes. The noise from before, which you now understand must have been that thing flinging itself against the walls, resumes with a fervor that makes you sick with fright. It slams into the door relentlessly, and you physically cringe with each hit.

With shaking hands, you pull one of the kitchen chairs out and prop it underneath the door handle. You really don’t think it could be strong enough to break through, but…

At least you don’t think —

“Robin, I’m about to die.”

“...at six-thirty in the morning? Can you put it off until this afternoon, at least?”

Robin’s voice is still thick with sleep and there’s no doubt that she’s irritated by your early phone call, but right now, you could care less.

“I think there’s some kind of cryptid in my garage.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the phone.

“Come again?”

“Like, I think the fucking Jersey Devil is in there, or something. When I got up this morning I kept hearing this weird noise, so I put my big girl panties on and went to investigate –”

“By yourself? Are you dumb? What if someone was in there?”

“Hey, I had protection, okay? Besides, I figured it was probably a racoon. If it had been a person planning on hurting me, they weren’t being very discreet about it –”

“Alright, alright. Continue.”

“So I open the door, and next thing I know, this thing screams and starts fucking flying directly at my head. I didn’t get a good look at it, Rob, it was too dark, but that thing is out for blood. It keeps flying into the door. Listen to this shit.”

You put your phone on speaker and hold it out, standing as close to the door as you’re willing to get.

“Um, I can’t hear anything.”

“...well…it was doing it earlier...”

“...right. So, what, a bird flew into your garage?”

“A bird? Maybe.” That sort of fit, right? Whatever it was, it had wings. It was kind of big. It made noise. You consider. “Could be a bat, I suppose.”

Across town, Robin suddenly sits bolt upright in bed. Vickie mumbles incoherently next to her, half-awake from hearing your too-early conversation.

“I’m coming over,” Robin says abruptly, and hangs up.

Flinging herself out of bed, Robin begins dressing frantically, scrambling to pull a pair of jeans up over her bare legs. Drawers and closet doors bang open and slam shut again. Vickie groans from beneath her pillow. “Could you keep it down, please?”

“No, sorry babe. Gotta go. I’ll explain later.”

“Are you kidding me?”

You rub your temples in irritation and throw yourself back down on the couch. You’ve taken refuge in the living room while you wait for Robin, and have spent the past fifteen minutes going back and forth with animal control. Trying to convince them to come get this thing out of your house? An exercise in futility.

A frantic knocking makes you jump, before you realize it’s coming from outside the house. You cautiously enter the kitchen again and when you see Robin’s face through the small pane of glass in the front door, your whole body sags with relief. You fling it open breathlessly and throw yourself at her. “Thank God!” The words are muffled, as your face is pressed into her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay!” She slings her arm around you in a hug and pats your back. “We’re gonna take care of this.”

You release her and start venting your frustration. “Yeah, we’ll have to. I tried calling animal control and apparently they can’t do anything since it’s not a dog or a cat, and they kept telling me I had to call a wildlife removal agency instead, and they just kept going on about how they have to send a professional who specializes in birds or bats or whatever the hell it is, and that it’s gonna cost me like at least two hundred bucks –”

Robin cuts off your rambling. “I don’t think you should call anyone.”

You huff. “I certainly don’t want to, if it’s gonna cost me that much. I thought this was what animal control did. What am I paying taxes for?”

Robin’s been here all of two minutes and you already feela little better. The run-in earlier had frightened you, certainly, but you’re no longer alone in the house with an eldritch horror.

Robin shakes her head. “No, I mean I already called someone.”

That stops you, and you squint at her in confusion. “Who? You know a guy who handles this kinda thing?”

“...actually, I know two.”

Eddie’s green-and-white van screams around the corner, practically making the turn on two wheels.

“Jesus, Munson, slow down!”

“Relax, Harrington. I’m a certified expert driver. My insurance company said so.”

A Megadeth song that Steve doesn’t know thumps out of the speakers at a deafening volume. Eddie drums his hands on the steering wheel in time with the music, headbanging as vigorously as he can manage without taking his eyes completely off the road.

Steve reaches for the stereo knob and turns it down. Eddie shoots him a disgruntled look from the driver’s seat. “Hey, man —”

“We got somewhere to be, alright? I told Robin we’d get there ASAP. The last thing we need is for you to wrap this thing around a telephone pole.”

“If she didn’t move so far away, we would already be there,” Eddie complains.

“Dude, she lives like an hour away now. Hour and a half, tops.”

“Well, that’s a long drive when it’s this early!”

Waiting for Robin’s reinforcements to arrive provides ample time for her to shatter your world. You sit together on opposite ends of the couch, staring at each other in intense silence. Your brow is deeply furrowed, eyes nearly shut from the force of the expression.

“Are you being for real, or is this an elaborate lie you’re making up that you’ll laugh at me for falling for later?”

Robin drags her finger across her chest, drawing an imaginary X. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Trust me, I know how crazy it sounds.”

You let out a high-pitched laugh that sounds more like a wheeze. “Yeah, it sounds fucking crazy!”

Robin’s expression turns resentful. “Hey, you’re the one who called me saying Mothman was in your garage this morning –”

“I said the Jersey Devil, actually, but c’mon! An interdimensional monster. Is that real? Can that really be real?”

“Listen, just think about what you saw. You were pretty freaked. Did it really seem like some rabied-up household pest?”

It didn’t. The odd, kite-like shape, the speed with which it flew, and the utter determination — there was no doubt in your mind that it had dived at you deliberately, with the malicious intent to bite and scratch and hurt. You remember the hot taste of fear in your mouth, like a bitter pill dissolved on the tongue.

“No, it didn’t,” you admit quietly. That thing, whatever it was, was weird. But that doesn’t make Robin’s story any easier to swallow.

When it came to the supernatural or…whatever this was considered, you were neither a believer nor a skeptic. You weren’t willing to fully corroborate the existence of such things until you had experienced something like it yourself, but you still took others’ reports in stride; if someone claimed that they felt cold spots in their grandmother’s bedroom after she died, or that their belongings often ended up in odd places despite no one moving them, then you rolled with it. Who were you to deny their experiences? You wouldn’t tell them they’re wrong.

But Robin’s Upside Down, well…it’s giving less childhood ghost story and more Stephen King novel. One of the weirder ones too, that he wrote when he was still snorting a ton of cocaine. She’s on some Tommyknockers shit.

“You’ll see,” Robin promises. “When we kill it, you can get a good look at it.”

“Right, about that. Steve is your himbo friend from home, right?”

Robin smiles proudly. “The one and only.”

“But he’s good at this? Getting rid of these things?”

She nods eagerly. “Oh, very. I know I say he’s a himbo, but I’m selling him short, really, he’s the best. Best guy I know, in fact.”

You hear the pointed lilt in her voice, the one that’s always there when Robin mentions Steve to you. You roll your eyes. “There’s a monster in my garage, and you’re worried about getting me a date?”

Robin throws her hands up in defiance. “I’m just sayin’! He and his girlfriend Nancy broke up.” Her face suddenly lights up as she remembers a bit of gossip. “She’s bisexual now, by the way! Shame she didn’t realize it when we were in high school together, I had a huuuuge crush on her.”

“I thought you had a huge crush on Vickie in high school?”

“I did,” she says, as though there’s nothing contradictory about that fact. “Listen, I’m a complex, multifaceted lesbian, with a lot of —“

She’s interrupted by the knocking at the front door, and both of your heads turn automatically towards the sound.

It’s your second house-call of the day. Robin jumps up, winking at you. “It’s gonna be fine,” she whispers, and takes your hand, giving it a squeeze.

You follow her back into the kitchen, where you’re promptly welcomed by the sight of two boy-faces smushed shamelessly against the glazing in the door.

Robin rolls her eyes and yanks it open.

Without the door in place to support him, one boy loses his balance and topples forward, crashing into the kitchen. The other boy, who pulled back in time, laughs openly at him.

“Hey, dinguses, this isn’t my house, remember? Don’t be weird.”

“There’s not a day in Munson’s life that he hasn’t been weird.”

The one pulling himself up off the floor grunts out, “I resent that.” When he’s fully upright, he gazes at you with wide eyes and a slight frown, not saying anything.

Robin steps in and they each take turns embracing her in greeting. One of them even ruffles her hair affectionately, and you watch the three of them with interest.

You’ve seen enough pictures of Steve Harrington by now that you could pick him out from a mile away. Of the two boys he’s taller, and more classically handsome, with his pretty features and artfully-sculpted hair. In his neat green pullover and pressed jeans, you can totally picture King Steve as he was in high school — athletic and rich and preppy, with his equally rich and preppy girlfriend.

While you recognize Steve immediately, this other boy you know less. He looks only vaguely familiar, perhaps a background figure in Robin’s photos. His dark hair is long, curly and disheveled, and his eyes are huge and starkly brown against his pale skin. Despite the early hour they must’ve left at, he's taken the time to deck himself out in black leather and loads of silver jewelry.

After he releases Robin, Steve introduces himself. He saunters forward confidently, one hand extended out towards you. “I’m Steve,” he says with a charming smile. He cocks his head slightly to the side, and there’s a brief pause for dramatic effect. “Steve Harrington.”

In your peripheral vision, you can see Robin holding a hand over her eyes in embarrassment. The other boy shoots him a dirty look.

You shake his hand politely, mildly amused. “Nice to meet you, Steve.”

When Steve releases your hand, the dark-haired one gives you an awkward wave. “I’m Eddie.”

The name rings a bell. You wave back and smile at him kindly. “Hi, Eddie.”

He shuffles his feet, Reeboks squeaking against the linoleum, not quite meeting your eyes.

“I’m really glad you both are here,” you add, glancing between the two boys. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Our pleasure,” Steve replies. “Always happy to be of service —”

“So,” Eddie cuts in, “where did you find this little fucker, anyway?”

“The garage.” Your voice is soft with trepidation. “The door’s right there.”

Three sets of eyes, blue and hazel and brown, follow the line of your pointed index finger. The chair is still jammed underneath the knob in a feeble attempt to barricade the door.

“Alright, we just need to grab our stuff from the van,” Eddie tells you. “And we’ll take care of it. If there’s only one, it shouldn’t take us long at all.”

You nod, like this is all good and normal and not the weirdest morning of your life. “Okay.”

When they move to head outside again, Steve eyes your little pink aluminum softball bat, back in its place in the corner. He smiles. “Hey, I got one of those!“

Eddie jogs lightly to catch up with Steve as he strides to where the van is parked outside.

“Hey,” he hisses, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder to get his attention. “You didn’t tell me this was Robin’s hot friend.”

“Huh?” Steve squints at him, disgruntled. “Who else would it have been?”

“I don’t know, literally anyone?”

“If I’m talking about Robin’s friend, then I’m talking about her. I didn’t realize I had to clarify.” He yanks the trunk open, and his voice takes on a more taunting tone. “Why? You nervous that a girl is actually speaking to you for once?”

Eddie steps back, visibly stung. “Hey, fuck you, man.”

Steve and Eddie’s friendship is not as tenuous as it once was, but sometimes old habits die hard.

Steve softens immediately, face painted with regret. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” he mutters, swiping a hand through his hair. He sighs. “I bumped into Nancy at the store yesterday, I’m not in a good mood.”

Eddie nods awkwardly, not really sure how to answer. “I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, um…again.”

“Thank you…for that reminder,” Steve replies, voice dripping with sarcasm. He turns to Eddie with narrowed eyes. “That we dated twice, and then also broke up twice.”

Eddie just smiles and claps him on the back. “I’m here for you, brother.”

From the kitchen window, you can see Steve and Eddie trudging back towards the house fully armed. Steve is holding a wooden baseball bat hammered-through with nails, and Eddie has what appears to be a makeshift spear — really, it’s just a big stick with a knife jerry-rigged on the end.

Robin takes in your open-mouthed shock. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply, dumbfounded, staring. “This is fine.”

The boys reenter. Steve smiles brilliantly at you, face clearing of some previous sourness you don’t know the cause of, and gestures with his bat to yours. “We can upgrade that for you, if you want,” he jokes.

You chuckle uneasily, panic setting in as you stare at the lethal-looking spikes of the nails. “Heh…maybe later.”

Eddie watches you carefully, the way your fingers scrunch nervously into the fabric of your sleep shirt, and the occasional, rapid twist of your head that you can’t seem to control, like you’re desperately trying to clear your mind of something awful.

Robin glances down at her buzzing phone, Vickie’s name and face popping up on the homescreen for the hundredth time this morning — apparently, she’s now awake and frantic that her clumsy girlfriend may have yet again gotten herself involved in some wild, life-threatening shenanigan.

“Just give me a minute, she’s freaking out,” Robin mumbles, pushing past you and into the living room for privacy.

Steve turns his back to you as he goes to remove the chair from under the knob, and Eddie takes this small opportunity to move closer to you. He wonders if he’d be going too far if he took your trembling hand in his.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs. “We’re not gonna let that thing get at you.”

You manage a nod, overwhelmed. Eddie reaches out and pats your arm but pulls back quickly, like he’s afraid to touch you for too long.

Steve calls your name, and you turn to him, distracted.

The chair is back in its place at the table, and he gestures to the now-unprotected door. “Is it crowded in there?”

“Very,” you confirm. The untidy chaos in the garage would normally embarrass you, but given the circumstances, you’re a little beyond caring. “Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” he reassures you. “We’ll try and be really careful about your stuff.”

“But no promises,” Eddie adds, a smile touching his lips for the first time.

You try to smile back, still feeling bizarrely distraught. “Just try not to break my windshield, please.”

He laughs softly. “Sounds like a reasonable enough request.”

“Okay, Munson, you ready?”

“Yeah.” Eddie joins him by the door. There hasn’t been any more noise from the garage since you heard it this morning — you don’t know what that bodes for them.

They brace themselves, weapons raised and at the ready. With a flick of his wrist Steve opens the door, which slowly creaks open. Shoulders hunched, he crosses the threshold, and switches the light on. You watch with bated breath, anticipating the sharp cry to be uttered at any moment.

Nothing happens.

Both Steve and Eddie cautiously enter the garage, watching for any signs of life. Steve starts jabbing at the little nooks and crannies amongst your things, trying to poke it out of hiding.

Eddie crouches down on the ground and peers underneath your car.

“See anything?” you ask hesitantly.

“Not yet,” answers Eddie in a low voice.

Steve peels a dusty tarp off of an old end table, opens up a discarded cabinet. “Come on,” he mutters.

Three agonizing minutes go by as they pick their way through the room, searching under and over and behind every bit of junk, neither boy finding what they’re looking for.

“Maybe it got out,” Steve muses, standing upright, relaxing his grip on the bat, letting it rest casually against his shoulder.

You shift uncertainly, still hovering from your post at the half-open door. “Would that be good or bad?”

“Good for us. Bad for the neighbors,” says Eddie.

Suddenly a streak of dark gray erupts from behind Steve.

You barely have time to yell; Steve, feeling the ripple of wind on the back of his neck, whirls around.

The creature beats its leathery wings and it’s moving up and up until it reaches the ceiling, circling the room, no doubt gauging which angle it should dive at and towards who.

Instinct tells you to slam the door shut, like you did earlier, but then Eddie and Steve will be trapped. Instead you leave the door ajar, crouched in pathetic terror. The boys recover their stances quickly, muscles tensed, ready to swing and jab their respective weapons the moment it comes within in striking distance. Their faces are twin mirrors of fierce determination.

The creature goes for Steve first, swooping down on him; you’re horrified to see its open mouth is full of concentric rows of spiny teeth. You utter a sharp cry, almost unable to look, certain that he’s about to be mauled by this terrible thing.

And the creature is fast.

But Steve is faster.

There’s a horrible sound, a meaty thwack! as the baseball bat smashes into the monster, sending it careening over your parked car like a gnarly fastball. It hits the wall and slides to the floor.

Eddie wastes no time in slamming one heavy boot down on a tattered wing, pinning the dazed thing into place. With one sharp jab, the knife pierces deep into the creature’s belly. He gives the spear a swift jerk, dragging the knife down, and cleaves the body almost completely in two. Its oily flesh is taut, but fragile; the thin skin surrounding the wound peels back, and it splits open like an over-full garbage bag, glistening, red-black insides seeping out onto the hard concrete floor.

Eddie whistles. “Goodnight.”

Gobsmacked by what just unfolded, you tiptoe into the garage. “Is…is it dead?”

“Yup,” says Eddie, nudging the thing with his foot. “This is kind of a small one,” he calls over to Steve.

Steve’s puffing slightly, shoulders heaving with adrenaline. “I noticed that. Probably not doing too hot out here in the real world.”

You gape at them both, eyes flitting between the two boys. Small?

You creep closer to the pulpy mass, getting your first good look at your uninvited guest. If you were right about one thing earlier, it’s that this is certainly no common house bat; it’s gray and rubbery, made of slick naked flesh, with a long twisted tail like braided rope. Its wings are shot through with six spidery limbs, its small head little more than a gaping maw lined with razors. And despite Eddie and Steve’s comments, to you? This thing seems enormous.

Eddie smiles at you proudly. “And just think — we did it all without breaking your windshield.”

Steve grimaces. “Yeah, about that…”

There’s a dent in the passenger-side door of the car. You’re sure if you were to hold Steve’s bat at the right angle against the dinged metal, it would fit in the depression like a glove.

Robin appears seemingly out of nowhere, leaning casually against the doorframe, sliding her phone into the back pocket of her jeans.

“Hey. What’d I miss?”

The cleanup process is quick but dirty. Eddie scrapes up everything he can with a snow shovel of all things, and dumps the carcass unceremoniously into a Hefty bag — the real heavy-duty kind, with the red strings — as it was politely held open by Steve. Meanwhile, you scrub at the blood left behind, but it doesn’t do much. The ominous stain is likely etched into the garage floor forever.

Maybe you can throw a rug over it or something.

Robin yawns as she watches you work. “Can we go get breakfast? I’m starving.”

“I’m down,” says Steve, motioning for you to hand him the scrubber clutched in your hand.

You hand it over, but warn him, “I don’t think this is coming out.” He starts scrubbing anyway.

Eddie pipes up. “Are there any good diners around here?”

You wince. “We just threw an eviscerated monster in the trash. Don’t you need, like, a refractory period to deal with that level of gross?”

He thinks it over for a moment, then smiles and shrugs. “No.”

Laughter bubbles up and spills over your lips uncontrollably. It starts out normal, but then you can’t stop, and then it sort of feels like maybe you’re hyperventilating.

Robin, your soulmate, bless her, is always in tune with your emotions. She reacts quickly, kneeling down beside you on the cold floor, and wraps an arm around you. “Hey,” she says gently. “Relax, just breathe. I know everything you heard and saw today is literally insane, but it’s all okay.”

Robin’s hick hometown. Parallel dimensions. Little girl with superpowers. Monsters. Something about a gate...Monsters. Monsters from said-parallel dimension. Monsters from said-parallel dimension finding their way inside your home. Monsters in your home.

“Jesus,” you gasp in frustration, knuckling stupid tears at the corners of your eyes. “What is this?”

“It’s a lot to take in, is what it is,” says Steve sympathetically. “But that thing’s dead, and you’re safe now, and that’s what matters.”

“The big bad stuff is already finished,” Eddie adds. You didn’t notice, but he’s crouched down right next to you, mirroring Robin’s position on your other side. “Not to mention,” he nudges you playfully, “you’ve got two pretty damn good exterminators on speed dial now, huh?” He places a hand on your shoulder, and you can feel the warm metal of his rings through your shirt.

You manage a weak mile. “True. That was pretty impressive,” you sniffle. His fingers give a reassuring little squeeze, but — again — is quick to let go.

He glances at Robin and Steve. “You know,” he starts in an accusatory tone, “you guys were definitely not this nice to me when I had to find out about all this shit.”

“We were in a time crunch,” Robin says dismissively. “You had to get with the program.”

The hysteria starts to wane; your body slumps a little under the combined weight of Robin and Eddie’s arms. “I changed my mind.”

Robin’s brow furrows. “About what?”

“…I want breakfast now.”

The ride to the diner gives you a chance to mull over the bizarre nature of the morning’s events. You let your head fall back on the seat and close your eyes; a stranger thing has never happened to you.

Part of you wonders why Robin never told you all this but you immediately dismiss the thought. Why would she, unless it was absolutely necessary, like today? In addition to being pretty far-fetched, the whole thing also sounds pretty fucking traumatic.

“What do you guys call those things again?” you mumble, turning to Eddie, who’s sitting next to you in the backseat of Robin’s car.

Eddie’s face turns pink when he hears you address him, though you can’t fathom why. “Uh, demobats.”

“Demobats,” you repeat. “How’d you come up with that?”

Steve pipes up from the passenger seat. “The first monster we saw from the Upside-Down was called a demogorgon. Some nerds named it.”

“Oh,” you say faintly.

“We can talk about something else,” says Robin. She looks at you anxiously in the rearview mirror, suspicious that you’re going to fall apart again.

“I’m fine, Rob. I’ve made my peace with it.” You pause, and amend. “I’m making my peace with it.”

“Oo-kay.” She drags out the first syllable, letting it be known that she doesn’t really believe you.

“Are there very many of these things?”

Steve seems to hesitate before he answers. “We don’t think so. Only a dozen or so managed to slip through the gate before it shut, and we think we got most of ‘em when they were still flapping around Hawkins. We found one that nearly crossed over the border into Ohio — we were keeping an eye on the papers — but other than that, this is the furthest out of town we’ve heard of them going.”

You process this, not really sure what to say. There’s not really much you can say. Instead, you turn your head to the window and watch the world race by through the glass, letting it slide past your eyes in a blur of green and blue.

The diner’s parking lot is mostly empty. Work should have already started for most — only a handful of elderly patrons are inside, sipping coffee at the bar and reading the paper.

The matronly waitress wiping down a table lets you know that the four of you can sit anywhere you like. Robin immediately slides into a booth by the window, well away from the other customers.

Steve takes the seat across from her, hoping you’ll sit on the bench next to him, but you plop down tiredly next to Robin instead. Eddie takes the last open spot, opposite from you.

A hush falls over the group while you peruse the menu. The waitress comes and takes orders; waters all around, coffee, and juice, a blueberry short stack for Robin, French toast for yourself, a breakfast burrito for Steve, and fried eggs and sausage for Eddie, with a bottle of hot sauce, please and thank you.

Polite chatter resumes, and quickly devolves into familiar banter around mouthfuls of food, though you stay quieter than the rest, thoroughly worn out. Steve and Robin’s camaraderie takes up the bulk of the conversation, anyway, both of them firing back and forth at each other with ease. You decide that you like Steve — he’s clearly grown into a genuinely nice guy, different from the high school boy Robin told you he once was, but it seems he’s retained just the perfect amount of bitchiness. It’s easy to see why she’s so fond of him.

You’re content to watch and listen to them with mild amusement (though Steve periodically directs his comments towards you, subtly watching your reaction to what he says) and it seems that Eddie is, too. You can’t tell if he’s used to being their third wheel or if he’s just being shy because there’s a new person around.

Robin and Steve enter a fierce debate about something or other — the prospective music career of someone named Tammy that you vaguely recall being a former crush of Robin's. You face Eddie and ask in a hushed tone, “Are they always like this?”

He swallows a bite of gooey, Tabasco-smothered egg. “Pretty much.”

“I wouldn’t have the energy,” you marvel.

Eddie chuckles. He shifts in his seat, and his leg bumps into yours under the table. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, turning pink again.

“That’s okay.” You study his face, which is angled down towards his plate, decidedly away from your gaze. His eyes are big and dark and warm, like sticky-sweet molasses.

“You have very pretty eyes,” you tell him matter-of-factly, just as there’s a lull in Robin and Steve’s argument. In tandem, both of them turn their heads to stare at you.

Surprise flickers across Eddie’s face when he realizes you’re speaking to him. His face warms to an even deeper red, but he looks pleased; and you’re glad for it.

“Thank you?” It comes out like a question.

“You’re welcome.” You nod and give him a soft smile, which he returns, and for a moment you might as well be the only two people in the room.

Unbeknownst to you, Robin watches the exchange with her head cocked to the side, eyebrows raised in surprise. You return to eating your breakfast, and she casts Steve an apologetic look. Eddie tries to keep his expression neutral, hiding his glee.

You excuse yourself to the restroom. As soon as you’re gone, Robin says, “Sorry, Steve.”

He just sighs in defeat, slumping back against the booth’s cushion. “Whatever.”

Eddie stabs a fork in his direction. “You’re not even over Wheeler yet, anyway. Let me have this.”

Robin’s brow furrows. “You’re still hung up on Nancy? Steve, come on.”

Steve’s mouth drops open. “You’re the one who said we should get back together!” he cries.

Robin’s mouth pulls to the side in mild guilt. “Which was a mistake on my part, I will admit.”

“Just wasn’t meant to be,” Eddie chimes in.

Steve turns his incredulous look to Eddie. “And don’t even get me started on what you told me about her —”

“I’m the last person you should be taking relationship advice from,” he interrupts nonchalantly.

Steve gapes at his so-called friends. Robin plows on.

“I’m sorry, but if you’re not over Nance, I’m not letting you near my girl. She’s not gonna be your rebound; she deserves better than that.”

“Yeah,” concurs Eddie, the word garbled around a forkful of food, “like me.”

Steve drops his head onto the table.

“And stop trying to flirt with her, so I can.”

“Yeah, because you’re doing such a great job at that so far,” says Steve sarcastically, forehead still pressed against the formica.

“I’m gettin’ warmed up! Just give me a second, Christ.”

Steve, though snarky on the outside, is still soft on the inside, and so feels a pang of sympathy — he knows why Eddie’s nervous around girls. One drunken night he, Eddie, and Dustin had been shotgunning cans of shitty beer in the Hendersons’ backyard, and he’d spilled his guts about the abysmal reality of his love life. Not that Steve’s is going much better, obviously. But Eddie had deep-rooted fears that went beyond Steve’s understanding, insecurities that harkened back to his childhood and twisted into trickier and trickier knots the older he got.

Eddie has his reasons to be nervous.

“Alright,” says Steve, finally yanking his head back up off the table. “I give, she’s all yours. But I’m gonna remind you — and don’t take this the wrong way — that all she’s done so far is give you a single compliment. Don’t get carried away.”

“Too late,” Eddie replies dreamily. “I’m already planning my proposal.”

Robin starts laughing, just as you approach the table again.

“What’s so funny?”

“Boys,” she replies without hesitation. She takes another sip of coffee. “I’m so glad I’m gay.”

You finish the rest of your breakfast. When the waitress offers to bring the checks around, you’re quick to foot the bill.

“Please, it’s the least I can do,” you say among the chorus of protests. “I don’t know what I would have done if you guys hadn’t shown up.”

“Ended up in the Weekly World News,” Eddie teases.

“What a high honor that would have been.” You roll your eyes. “I think I’ll pass.”

Steve drives everyone back to the house, and a wave of sadness washes over you as you all pile into the kitchen once more. The prospect of the boys’ departure fills you with a strange kind of emptiness; it hits you that you really don’t want them to leave. You’re already feeling attached.

You suppose being rescued from a monster is just one of those things that brings people closer together, like a family barbecue, or making a blood oath.

And truth be told, you feel slightly…uneasy. Discombobulated. Though the events of the morning are still fresh in your mind, the steps of your daily routine are drifting hazily back to you through the fog of shock. Normally at this hour, you’d be plugging away at work. You have an explanatory email to write to your boss for missing today, and you imagine Robin will be submitting something similar. A nine-to-five job, running errands, going to happy hour — they all seem so trivial. How are you supposed to go back to all those things as though nothing out of the ordinary happened? Knowing that your best friend used the free time she had between finishing high school and working retail to help save the world from monsters and government conspiracies and God only knows what other crazy shit?

It’s all too surreal. You grip the edge of the kitchen table with one hand, steadying yourself. Easy girl.

You glance around, then choose to settle your gaze on Eddie, soothed by all his dark, warm colors.

Steve checks his watch, sighing. “We should probably head back. I got the afternoon shift today.”

Robin shakes her head in disbelief. “I cannot believe that Family Video is still fucking open.”

Steve ignores this and immediately turns to you instead. “To clarify, I have a real job, too — I was part-time at my company, and now I’m transitioning to full-time.” He’s needlessly defensive. “Managing the video store’s been a nice side gig, but I swear I’m retiring.”

You blink. “You don’t have to defend Family Video to me, Steve. It’s a very respectable establishment.”

“Yeah,” agrees Eddie, “Fuck the government, you’re the real backbone of our society.”

“Fuck off, Munson.”

“Well, this has been a grand old time,” Robin interrupts their bickering, yawning and stretching her arms dramatically. “But I think I need to go home. Smooth things over with the wife before she starts panicking again.” As though suddenly remembering your earlier distress, she turns to you, frowning. “Do you need me to stay with you?”

Not wanting to burden your friend who is being oh-so-chill about the science-fiction film that is literally her life, you immediately lie. “No, I’m okay.”

Her bright blue eyes narrow, not believing you. “I’ll stay,” she says decidedly.

“No, Rob, I think I’m just gonna go to sleep, honestly.” You are tired. Your bones feel weary; you want nothing more than to collapse back into bed and slip into unconsciousness again. “You go ahead and go home.”

You shift your attention towards Steve and Eddie, who are both hanging quietly by the door.

“Again, I can’t thank you guys enough. Really,” you tell them again, stepping forward with arms outstretched. It doesn’t matter that you just met; you need a proper goodbye from both of them. Right away Steve obliges, and wraps his arms around you, patting your back gently before stepping away again.

Eddie hesitates, looking bashful when you turn to him next, and you lower your arms in embarrassment. You don’t want to make him feel like he has to hug you if he doesn’t want to. But before you can feel too stung about it, he steps forward and embraces you tightly.

It’s oddly intimate — his arms are low, circled around your waist, and his cheek presses against your hair. He sighs, a soft exhale that you can’t see or hear but rather, you feel. The creeping sense of loss grows stronger when he releases you again.

“See you soon, I hope.” Steve gives you a final wave, when he’s halfway out of the house. “We should all get together sometime. Y’know, on non-monster related business,” he jokes.

“For sure,” you promise, fluttering your fingers back at him.

“And if you ever need anything,” Eddie’s low voice is suddenly close to your ear, “just let me — us — know. We’ll be here before you know it.”

You let out a small, shuddery breath. “Thank you,” you whisper gratefully, touched by his attentiveness. Eddie seems to be the only other person who understands the gravity of what you’ve seen. Robin and Steve have been in the game too long, perhaps, and although they’re understanding, the remarkability of their Upside Down has worn off.

Eddie, however, doesn’t appear to have achieved quite the same level of nonchalance that they have, and when he looks at you, his concern is tangible. It’s etched in the set of his frown, practically staring out at you from those big eyes of his. Those big, pretty eyes.

“See you around,” he says softly.

And with that, he’s gone.

thank you for reading!!! 🦇💙

taglist: @kores-mun-son-n-more

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #god i hope this pacing is okay? this is the longest fic I’ve ever written #can’t tell if I’ve jammed too much in here or not enough 🤷🏻‍♀️

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ladylooch · 1 year

Note

can you do another nico smut please? 🤭 what my world spins around lives rent free in my head

Omg, this has to be the best compliment you can give to a writer! 🥹Thank you so much! Like, you’re telling me, you’re out doing mundane Monday things and you think of Nico at the kitchen counter turning into an absolute hoe? I have peaked!

Since you brought up What My World Spins Around, this one is part of that au.

I'm happy to provide us with the Nico smut we all need. Thank you for requesting this!

Word Count: 1.2k

I love dating the captain of an NHL team, really.. I do. There are so many wonderful things in our lives because of his job: fancy dinners, endless supply of event tickets, an incredible apartment, and financial freedom I couldn’t have imagined before him.

But there are some things that really get under my skin and he’s currently doing one of them.

My eyes trail away from my book, lifting to Nico at the kitchen island in our New Jersey apartment. The Devils have already clinched their playoff spot after an electric season. Someone should give my boyfriend the memo. The other Devils have eased into a period of relaxation and contentment. They are content with the knowing of having their ticket punched for the postseason. They’re revving in that joy and believe It’s okay to take the foot a bit off the accelerator to enjoy time with their families before the true craziness begins.

Captain Nico Hischier could never. Instead of cozying up to me on the couch, he’s spending our Sunday night scrubbing through game video on his iPad.

I let out a purposefully loud sigh, rolling my head from side to side to stretch my neck. Nico’s eyes lift briefly to me, watching as I take out the scrunchy holding my hair in place. I scratch at my scalp letting out a soft moan. His eyes trail down the simple v-neck shirt I’m wearing before returning to the iPad. I narrow my gaze at him. He’s going to play hard to get tonight.

I toss my book to the side, standing to stretch my arms above my head. Nico’s eyes trail slowly away from the iPad again, attaching to the slice of skin exposed between my shorts and t-shirt. Our eyes meet and hold in a slight test of one another. Nico’s tongue trails along his bottom lip as he watches me.

“I’m going to bed.” I announce to him, tugging my bottom lip into my mouth to nibble as I await his response.

“Okay, baby. Goodnight.”

“You’re going to make me go to bed alone, captain?” I ask. He doesn’t respond, but his eyes don’t return to the iPad, signaling an internal battle. I shrug, turning back to the couch and bending over to grab my book. I hear Nico grunt behind me at the sight of me from behind- it’s his favorite after all. He clears his throat.

“I shouldn’t be long… just have a few more to watch.”

“Okay. I know how to put myself to bed.” My words flirt seductively through the air to him.

“Don’t do anything without me.” He requests. I toss a laugh over my shoulder at him as I head towards our bedroom.

“No promises. Not sure I can wait.” I am in the hallway when I hear the iPad snap shut at the kitchen counter, announcing my win.

Nico cuts the distance quickly. His hands come to my hips as I enter our bedroom. He forces me to the bed in front of us. I turn to toss my arms around his shoulders. I tug the back of his neck so our lips meet in a hot kiss. Nico pants into my mouth as my palm connects with his erection. His fingers slide my clothes to the side and glide through my slick folds. I hum to him as he circles my clit. He pulls away to watch my face. I squeeze him tighter in my hand forcing his brown eyes to close in ecstasy. I grin, watching him surrender to me.

“Get your fine ass on that bed.” He growls, separating us to take his shirt off.

His fingers work mine off just as quickly. I wiggle myself out of the rest of my clothes as he slides the waistband of his pants down. His erection springs out into my hand. The skin of his shaft is warm and soft, but he’s rigid and pulsing with each stroke of my palm on him. My thumb strokes the vein along the underside of his cock. Once I reach his head, I smear the bead of wetness along his slit, savoring the way more seeps out at my touch. “Babe.” He reaches his hands down to my ass, squeezing both cheeks in his strong grip. “You’re teasing a ticking bomb here. I want to come in you, not like this.” He licks his lips as he talks to me, small pants sputter from his lips, all of his tells pointing to how close he is to ending our fun in my hand.

“And you didn’t want to come to bed.” I tease him, licking up his lips. He shoves my shoulders and I crash back on the bed. I snicker loudly at the annoyed scrunch of his eyebrows. He pushes my knees apart, poising himself at my entrance. His fingers hold my hips as he slides in, ceasing all noise from my mouth as I suck in a deep, exhilarated breath. “Fuck.” I sputter to him, whining slightly as he begins to move.

“Yeah, you’re done teasing me aren’t you, baby?” He asks me as he thrusts deep, causing my head to snap back into the bed. “Cause I’m giving you what you need? That feel good, pretty girl?”

“Mhm.” I breathe out to him. My next inhale is needy and he softens into his next thrust, crumbling into the desire. His thrusts pound into me, strong hips and thighs working overtime to pull the orgasm from my inner walls. I clench him tightly, working my legs around his waist so he has to stay deep. “Neeks.” I whimper to him as he increases his thrusts, bringing my breathing up to border hyperventilation. I’m getting dizzy. He pulls his head back from my shoulder, watching every stroke of pleasure fill my face. My cheeks are turning pink, eyes dewey, with red lips from his teeth tugging on them.

“Look at me.” He whispers, brown eyes appearing like midnight as he devours my face. He licks his lips before they stretch into a smile. “Tell me how good I feel as you come.” His finger tips slide between our bodies, flirting with my clit. He waits, watching my eyes as they roll back then shut, my back arches and he increases the pressure to exactly what I need.

“It’s- It’s so- ugh.” My feminine grunt signals the intense orgasm that rips through my core. “Oh.” Drops from my lips as Nico pumps me through every wave, fingers pressing deeper until I convulse into him.

A profound ‘fuck’ drops from his lips as hot ribbons coat my walls.

“I’m so in love with you.” He says to me as our rough breathing shakes our abdomens against each other. My smile slides against his cheek as I breathe out a final moan.

“You are everything, Nico Hischier. Absolutely… everything…to… me.”

I take his soft smooch as agreement.

#nico hischier #nico hischier blurbs #writing request #nico hischier smut #nhl fan fiction #New Jersey devils #my writing #hockey writing #hockey fic

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companionplanting · 1 year

Text

I don't see people talk about this often soooooooo

systems, my comrades my chums, my good time pals

don't talk about other alters or stuff involving other alters without their permission

I know you all share a body but please still be mindful of other's privacy. This involves trauma they went through, their triggers, their orientation and gender identities, as well as like their existence period.

I am not saying sharing information is bad, I am saying that you should ask permission to share that info, even if it seems small and unimportant

okay goodnight you swaggy babes

-☣️ (mostly 🌺)

#rocky ☣️#companion_planting #actually did #actually osdd #actuallydid #actuallyosdd #did system #osdd system #actually dissociative #did osdd #osddid #actually traumagenic #traumagenic system #traumagenic #actuallytraumagenic #actuallyplural #plural system #dissociative system #blurry 🌺

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aurumacadicus · 1 year

Note

Hi :D can I have "Oh my God, are those hello kitty pajamas?" stuckony for the ask meme … thank you

💝

All of these men would rock Hello Kitty pajamas and I am somehow offended by this.

Tony heard the door open and flailed out from under the covers with a snort. "Whozzat?"

"Go back to sleep," Steve whispered, and then, "Jesus Christ why do you have a knife under your pillow."

"It's my knife," Bucky said proudly. Then the knife flashed in his direction and he hurriedly added, "It’s us, Tony. Me an' Steve. Bucky and Steve? Put the knife away."

"I'm putting it away because I want to, not because you told me to," Tony said petulantly, tucking it back between the mattress and the headboard. He began scooting toward the edge of the bed.

Steve caught him and began tucking the blankets back around his bare shoulders. "Don't get up. We're gross and want to shower."

"Without me?" Tony asked, pushing his bottom lip into a pout. "I could help."

Bucky couldn't help a smile. "You don't like shower sex."

"You don't know that," Tony muttered, crossing his arms over his chest under the blankets, as if he had not extolled the dangers of shower sex for an hour before. More than once. "Fine, but I'm putting my feet on one of your butts."

"Yeah, okay," Steve sighed fondly. "If you don't fall asleep."

Tony huffed and gathered the blankets around him tighter. Now he was going to stay awake out of spite.

Except he didn't. Tony snorted awake again to the sound of drawers opening and closing again. "Butt???"

"Oh my god," Bucky said, lifting a hand to cover his mouth. "Tony, just go back to sleep. You're tired."

"Butt," Tony repeated, making grabby hands at them. Then his blurry eyes focused, and he blinked. Blinked again, harder, just for good measure. Then he said, "Oh my god, are those Hello Kitty pajamas?"

Steve looked down at his pink pajama pants in surprise, then looked back up at him, frowning. "Peter picked them out for us."

"Of course he did. Never mind," Tony said sourly, narrowing his eyes. "I can't in good conscience put my feet on your butt if it's covered in Hello Kitties." Steve and Bucky made sounds that might have been laughter if Tony was generous, but he didn't feel very generous. "Your loss," he grumbled, snuggling further under the covers. "I'm naked under here."

"Now wait a minute," Bucky sputtered.

"Too late. The blankets stay up. You can use your pajamas to stay warm," Tony told them imperiously. "Goodnight."

"So you don't want goodnight kisses," Steve surmised, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tony slanted a glance at them over the blankets, the only part of him visible his narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. Finally, though, he lowered the blanket enough that they could see his pursed lips. "...How many goodnight kisses?" he asked slowly.

"Until you fall asleep," Bucky offered, obviously trying very hard not to smirk.

Tony considered this. Finally, he lowered the blankets a little more, so his collarbone was exposed. "Only if I can put my feet on someone's stomach then."

"I'll take one for the team," Steve said, immediately striding over to the bed.

Bucky clapped a hand on his shoulder as he passed him to the other side of the bed. "I owe ya, pal."

Tony narrowed his eyes again, trying to decide if that offended him, but then Steve was leaning in to press kisses to his jaw and neck, and he decided he could worry about it later.

#ask meme #one bed meme #stuckony

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sortofanobsession · 2 years

Text

To Cry for the Moon Part 3 (Moon Knight x Female Eternal!Reader)

Author's Note: Here is part 3 for you. I do not have dissociative identity disorder (DID) This is a fictional depiction of DID & characters are based on the Marvel/Disney's Moon Knight series. I own nothing. The story idea by @jupitersmoon167 (the original post I saw is here!)

Y/N = your name. Y/N/N = Your Nickname. Reader pronouns She/Her. Story is 3rd person POV. Italics are the reflected alter talking.

Tag Requests are Open just message me.

Tagged: @rosaren2498, @yuugenmomo

Primary Pairing: Steven Grant x Eternal!Reader, Marc Spector x Eternal!Reader, Khonshu x Ma'at!Reader (It'll make sense eventually)

Content Warning: Mental Illness

Word Count: 1k+

WIP Series Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Part 3: The Alter

Since the outing to the pub with Y/N’s friends, Steven had easily been accepted into the small group of pals. She had been right, he got along great with them. Which led to the pair spending more and more time together. Sprite would tease Y/N that they were practically a couple in all but name. Sersi would shush Sprite and tell her to be nice.

One night, Y/N says goodnight to the security team as she heads to meet Steven by the lobby doors. She smiles at him when she sees him, but she raises an eyebrow when she sees how nervous he looks.

“Are you alright?” She asks when she finally reaches him.

“Me? Yeah, I’m great,” Steven says.

She narrows her gaze at him. She can tell he’s lying by the beat of his heart. It wasn’t a malicious lie, so she didn’t push. “Okay.” She nods. “So I have to run home and feed Bas, then we can go to Dinner?” She wraps her arm around his hoping to calm whatever has him so on edge.

“Do not chicken out,” Marc said in the door's reflection. “The longer you drag this out the weirder it will be.”

“Yes,” he nods. “What about the dog?”

“Sprite took him out, she figured he needed some fun because I’m so very boring,” Y/N grins.

“You’re not boring,” Steven states.

“To Sprite everyone is, the dog is the only one that rivals her energy. The cat hates it.” She chuckles.

Sersi and Sprite are still out when she enters their home. She picks up Bas from where the cat had been brushing against Steven’s feet. “I’ll just be a minute,” Y/N says as she disappears into the kitchen.

“Do it now, so we don’t have to do it in public,” Marc says from the reflection on the coffee table.

“Are you crazy? That will ruin the evening,” Steven says in a harsh whisper at Marc’s image.

“We are crazy, look at us! You prefer to make a scene?” Marc counters.

“Fine, fine,” Steven relents. “We can do it now. Try not to scare her.”

“You sure you’re alright?” Y/N asks as she walks back into the living room. She’d heard his voice but he didn’t have his phone out.

“Yes, we’re fine,” Steven says.

“We? You got a mouse in your pocket?” She jokes.

“Not exactly,” Steven lets out a nervous laugh, “can we?” He gestures to the couch.

She narrows her gaze at him, to study his body language and focuses on his heartbeat. An old habit from the day of handing down judgments. No human can lie to her. They just can’t. It’s how the feather knows the truth. Arishem had seen to it. She shakes herself, takes a seat on the couch and waited for him to start talking.

“There is something I need to tell you,” Steven starts.

“You can tell me anything, you know that it wont leave this room,” she assures him.

“I’m me, but I’m also not me,” Steven says.

“Okay?” She looks at him in confusion. “What does that mean? Are you going to tell me you have a wife and kids somewhere and like a double life?” It’s a joke but she doesn’t miss the way his heart rate spikes.

“Ex-wife, no kids, and even that is not entirely-” He starts. She holds up her hand and takes a centering breath.

“Hold on, are you or aren’t you Steven Grant?” She asks, really honing in using her powers.

“I am.”

He seems honest. So she nods.

“And I’m not, let me explain.”

“The weird thing is you’re not lying. I can tell you aren’t. So please yes, explain.”

"Have you ever heard of dissociative identity disorder?" he anxiously asks.

"Like...like multiple personalities?" She asks for clarification. She didn't know what she was expecting but that was absolutely not it. Humans still managed to surprise her after 7,000 years.

"Yes, exactly that," Steven seems to relax slightly. "I really like you, and your friends are great but we didn't think it was fair to go much farther and not tell you."

"So when you say we, you mean you and another you," she says gesturing at him. "Both in there, in you." It wasn't the craziest thing she had heard. She knew literal gods that took over minds and bodies. She had felt fractured and broken minds and hearts be judged through the ages. She had felt their pain in a way. Part of her missed having Druig and Phastos there to help her understand these things. The human heart was easy for her to understand, the rest of it was harder.

"Yes, that is what we mean." He smiles at the fact she was clearly trying to understand. They appreciated the effort.

"Okay," she nods.

"You don't have to be afraid," Steven assures her.

"Way to not be ominous," Marc says but his tone becomes less sarcastic as he adds, “Doing just great, man.”

"I'm not.” She could feel how genuine he was trying to be. He was trying to show her who he really was, or rather how they are. She chuckled to herself. “Have I met him? Them?"

"Marc? No."

"Marc, just the one?"

"Yes." She hears his heart rate change.

"That's a lie isn't it," she sighed, he had been doing so well. "I won't think any less of you. Just don't lie to me."

"How does she-" Marc starts but Steven ignores him.

"There is but he only ever comes out in absolute life or death and we know nothing about him."

"Okay, that sounds terrifying but okay."

"How are you so calm?" Steven asks her.

"Because you have not met the rest of my family. Pretty sure one of them is a klepto, and another is in a cult." She knew that was an understatement, Makkari was easily bored due to her speed and loved collecting things. She’s just had several millenia worth of precious things. And Druig ran a cult, but that was a detail for another time. "Don’t get me wrong, I still love them. They are my family, but Sersi and Sprite are the more normal ones. Phastos too, but he lives in the states."

"Wow okay, so you aren't scared? Or angry?"

"No, can I meet him?" Her curiosity starting to get the better of her. She loved that she could still be so surprised, especially by Steven, and well Marc too she supposes.

"Fine," Steven agrees. She watches as his whole being seems to shift. Her powers pick up on how his body language, his mind, and his heart feel different.

"And you're Marc?" She asks, only somewhat skeptical.

"That's me, and I know it's weird but-"

"Okay, nice to meet you, Marc. We are going to have a chat about that wife thing but," She stands up and straightens her jacket. "But I'm going to need a drink and we have dinner plans in like 10 minutes? Don't care which one of you it is, but I lost half my lunch break to a kid nearly destroying a priceless vase, so we can talk about that over food, yes?"

Marc glances down at his reflection and Steven is clearly in shock. Marc shrugs. "Dinner works for me."

"Do you really have an American accent?" She asks as they head out the door.

"Well I am American, so yeah."

"Of course you are," she chuckles.

"You're really not freaked out by this?" He asks as she locks the door.

"Trust me, Marc, you are far from the strangest person I have ever encountered. Fractured psyche aside, just wait until you meet Kingo. He is something. And he will ask you more questions than Sprite and talk your ear off. But he is busy in Bollywood and I haven't seen him in ages." Another understatement but she wasn't even sure if she would see Kingo in Marc and Steven's lifetime. Not outside of one of his films at least. No need to overload him, them. Still weird to think about, but she'd adjust and balance as always. It was her nature.

"Huh," was all Marc replied.

"You were expecting a different reaction?" She asks as they exit the building and start down the street.

"Honestly? Yeah. Layla didn't believe me, and she had already met and thoroughly confused Steven."

"Let me guess, your wife?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Smooth," Steven says from a window.

"So about that…" she starts to ask.

"Drinks first, I am going to need lots of drinks," Marc admits.

"You and I both, pal. You and I both." She laughs, looping his arm through his as she does with Steven.

The wind kicked up as they walked. Y/N could have sworn she saw a familiar silhouette crouched on a roof across the street but it was gone when she looked back. She squeezed Marc's arm tighter. If they noticed the figure or her actions, neither Marc nor Steven mention it.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x eternals!reader #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x female!reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x female!reader #steven grant x reader #Eternals!Reader #Female!Reader #Moon Knight Eternals crossover #To Cry for the Moon fic

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fandomtherapy44 · 7 months

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castiel x reader

Summary: This story is from the perspective of Y/n Winchester. The sister Of Sam and Dean. We will be starting from season four since sadly we did not get Misha Collins as Castiel throughout the whole series. It will start off as a friendship, but it will grow more as the series goes on. I will be skipping some episodes even though they are great episodes they do not push the story forward. I am so excited to get to write this since they are not many Castiel X reader stories out there. Okay without further due Love War & Grace enjoy the Story.

Paring: Castiel X Reader

Word count: 4,088

Warnings: Some language, Typical Supernatural violence, Spoilers for season four of Supernatural

I got the divider from

Firefly Graphics

Chapter 10: It’s A Terrible Life

POV: Y/n

My alarm goes off at 6:00 and I get up happily. I go to my kitchen and start to make my breakfast of eggs, bacon, and grapes. I turn on my favorite song.

Oh!

Ohhhh, yeeeh

I used to think maybe you loved me now baby I'm sure

And I just can't wait till the day when you knock on my door

Now everytime I go for the mailbox, gotta hold myself down

'Cause I just can't wait till you write me you're coming around

I'm dancing around the kitchen and having so much that I don’t notice the time. “Crap I'm going to be late.”

I'm walking on sunshine, wooah

I'm walking on sunshine, woooah

And don't it feel good!

I walk in the coffee shop to get my boss's order with a smile on my face. “Hey brain, how's it going?” ” It’s going good Y/n, the regular” “You know it!” I said back to him I got the coffee, and I went on my way to my job.

I enter the building quickly, being five minutes away from being late. I walk calmly over to Mr. Alder’s office and knock on his door. “Come in” I hear from the other side and enter the room. “Good morning Mr. Alder, here is your black coffee with two sugars and two creamers.” I said placing the coffee down. “Aww thanks sweetheart you're the best secretary in the world.” For some reason a small chill went up my spine when he called me sweetheart. “No problem, it is my job, do you need anything else?” “Nah all you need to do is sit there and be pretty I'll call you if I do though.” With that comment I walked back to my desk.

It was lunchtime and I went to the break room to make a sandwich. My work bestie Lyndsey comes up to me. “Ugg, I swear if Mr. Carson makes me do his basic paperwork one more time, I might commit murder.” “Ha ha right.” “Oh, you have nothing to complain about, you have the top secretary spot in the company, and you've only been here for a month.” “I don’t know, all I have to do is just sit there. I get pretty bored to be honest.” “Oh, to be bored, I envy thee. Did you see Mr. Smith this morning so hot right?” She said, biting her lip. “Uh I don’t know.”

“Girl, are you blind whatever, did you have any more dreams about Mr. Businessman.” “You're just going to make fun of me.” “No, totally not.” I sighed looking into my coffee. “This time I was in a carpark, and I was hurt, and I hugged him, and he hugged back.” “Ohh did it go beyond hugging.” She said, raising her eyebrows up and down. “No no it’s nothing like that, it feels like a friendship.” “Ugg boring.” “You said you wouldn't make fun.” “I'm not, it's just my opinion.” Sometimes Lindsey could be a bitch that’s why she’s my work bestie.

I ran towards the elevator and yelled out for whoever was in there to hold it. “Thanks.” “No problem.” Mr. Smith and I think the other guy’s name was Sam. The three of us were just standing listening to the elevator music before Sam asked us a question. “Do I know you two?” Sam asked us. “Um I don’t think so, Sorry.” I responded. “I don't think so.” “I'm sorry, guys, you just look really familiar.” “Save it for the health club, pal.” With that Mr. Smith walked out of the elevator quickly. “Have a good night, Sam.” I told him. “You too?” “Y/n” “Right Y/n goodnight.”

I got home and got ready for bed and thought about Sam’s question. He did kind of look familiar even though I hadn’t really met him before. Oh well with that I went off to sleep.

��The next morning I woke up feeling groggy and my head was filled with my dreams from the night before and I think I saw Mr.Smith and I think Sam in them. Which is really weird because I barley known them and what we were doing was hunting monsters so like what the hell?!

I walked down to Lynsey’s office because she was not in the break room for our daily coffee talk. When I go into her space, she is working hard which she never does. “Lyndsey? Lyn? Why don’t you take a break huh?” I go to touch her shoulder, but she does not take that well. “Don’t touch me Y/n! I don’t have time to sit around all day like you!” I was surprised because yeah, we weren't besties 24/7 but we wouldn't seriously insult each other. “Look Lyn I don’t know what’s wrong but whatever it is I can help you.” “No, you can’t! Just leave me alone. I have to work work…” She said drifting off not looking back at me.

I go to heat up my lunch, but the microwave is busted. “Oh, come on.” I went to the tech floor knowing that was the closest microwave to me. The elevator dings and I walk into a huge crowd of people around the break room, the reason being that a body was being rolled out. I look around and see Sam and Dean again.

Now what the hell is happening. As I sit down, I get a call. “Hello, this Mr. Alders-” “This is Mr. Smith I need you in my office now.” He hangs up and I put the phone down. I walk to his office, and I walk in, and Sam is in here too. “Am I in trouble?” I said because so far this is weird. “No no you're not. Just sit down.” Mr. Smith gestured to the chair, and I did. “Ok so this is going sound weird, but do you believe in ghosts?” Mr. Smith asked, and I was expecting a smile after that, but one didn't come. “He he, I'm sorry ghosts, is there a camera somewhere?” “No, unfortunately not Y/n he’s being serious.” Sam said, looking at me.

“Ghosts? What the Hell are you talking about?” “Okay, listen. What if these suicides aren't suicides? I mean, what if they're something not natural?” “So, what, ghosts are real? And they're responsible for all the dead bodies around here? Is that what you're telling me?” “That’s what Sam and I have concluded, yeah.” “Based on what? Delusion.” I said not believing what I was hearing. “No, Instinct.” “Instinct I think I have the same one.” Now remembering the dreams. “Really?” They both said at the same time.

“Yeah, I've been having these dreams with you guys in it, and we were killing monsters also I saw a businessman.” “Businessman didn’t see him but yes to the ghosts and the monsters.” Sam said. “So, you're telling me that your guy's dreams are special visions and you're some kind of psychics’?” “No. I mean, that would be nuts. I'm just saying something weird is definitely going on around here, right? So, I've been digging around a little.”

“Yeah, I agree with him.” I backed Sam up. Sam pulled at some papers. “I think I found a connection between the two guys.” He explained. “You broke into their email accounts?” “Nice Sam” I compilated him. “Thanks Y/n, I used some skills that I happen to have to satisfy my curiosity.” “So, it turns out Ian and Paul both got this same email telling them to report to HR, room fourteen forty-four.” “HR's on seven.” “Exactly.” “Should we go check this out?” “Like right now?” “No. No, it's getting late. You're right.” “I am dying to check this out right now.” “Right?” “Me too” I added, and we went on our way to room fourteen four-four.

We walk closer to the room, and we hear a man screaming. Sam kicked the door in, and we rushed in, and the man was under a shelf. We go to try to lift it off as we do. I look behind an old man standing there, and he flings Dean back. He walked to Sam with a sparky hand, and I had the thought to grab a wrench and hit him and he disappeared with that. Dean walks over and we lift the shelf off the man. “How'd you know how to do that?” They asked me. “I have no idea.”

Dean’s apartment was thankfully close. “Holy crap, Guys.” Dean said, referring to what just happened to us. “Yeah. I could use a beer.” Sam said. “Yeah, put me down for one too.” “Oh, sorry, Guys. I'm on the Cleanse. I got rid of all the carbs in the house.” “Hey. How the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?” They ask me. “Crazy, right? And nice job kicking that door too. That was very Jet Li. What are you, like a black belt or something?” “No. I have no clue how I did that. It's like...we've done this before.” “What do you mean, before? Like Shirley MacLaine before?” “No. I—I just can't shake this feeling like I—like I don't belong here. You know? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle.” “I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way.”

“No. Well, look, it's more than that. Like, I don't like my job. I don't like this town. I don't like my clothes. I don't like my own last name. I don't know how else to explain it, except that...it feels like I should be doing something else. There's just something in my blood. Like I was destined for something different. What about you? You ever feel that way?” “I don't believe in destiny. I do believe in dealing with what's right in front of us, though.” “What about you Y/n.”Dean asked me. “I feel the same as I make my own future.” “All right, so, what do we do now?” Sam asked, which was a good question cause what the hell do you do in this situation? “We do what I do best, Sammy, N/n. Research.” “Okay. Did you just call me Sammy?” “And me N/n?” “Did I?” “I think you did. Yeah. Don't.” “Yeah, please don’t” “Sorry.” He goes to sit at his laptop.

“Oh, jackpot.” “What you got?” Sam and I walked over to Dean. “I just found the best site ever. Real, actual ghost hunters.” “Oh wow, cool!” I said sitting next to Dean. “These guys are genius. Check it out.” “Instructional videos.” Sam pointed out. Dean hits play “We know why you're watching.” These two guys were in lab coats in front of a table. “You've got a problem.” “A ghost problem.” “A ghost-related problem. A ghost—it's like a ghost-adjacent pr—it's like a problem that's—and the ghost is—” “Whatever. You've come to the right place. The only decent place, really, because the Ghostfacers know how to solve it.” “Period.” “Watch and learn.” “See, the first step in any supernatural fight:” “Figure out what you're up against.” Both of them said together.

I went onto the computer and looked up the company’s history. There was a picture of an old man next to the article. “That's him. That's the ghost.” Dean pointed out over my shoulder. “P. T. Sandover. Died 1916. Devoted his life to his work. No wife, no kids.

The article text visible next to the picture reads "Office 1444 was considered to be the center of the company's operations, with Sandover himself overseeing all details of any construction project the company undertook. / Considered to be a difficult person to work for, P.T. Sandover had an exceptionally high standard of quality, often marching onto construction sites and halting all work until he personally inspected each aspect of the structure. Aiming for perfection is perhaps why the Sandover legacy is so impressive, dominating the industry with the scale and scope of its projects.” “Used to say he was the company, and his very blood pumped through the building.” Sam read. “Wow, okay. So slight workaholic. Maybe he's still here, you know, watching over the company, even killing for it.” Dean theorized.

“Plus, turns out this isn't the first time people started killing themselves in the building. 1929.” “Yeah, but lots of guys jumped off lots of high rises that year.” “How many companies had seventeen suicides?” I added in. “Phew. Okay, so P. T. Sandover, protector of the company. His ghost wakes up and becomes active during times of grave economic distress.” “Well, I mean, the worst time we've seen since the Great Depression—” “Is now. Yeah, now sucks. My portfolio's in the sewer. I don't even wanna talk about it.” “So Sandover's helping the bottom line—” “By zapping some model employees.”

“Yeah. I mean, Ian and Paul. It was like he turned them into different people.” “Perfect worker bees, exactly. So devoted to the company that they would commit hara-kiri if they failed it.” “Oh my gosh Lyndsey was acting like that. Now we abustley have to do this.” “One more interesting fact. The building wasn't always that high. Used to be fourteen floors. And the room where the ghost attacked, fourteen forty-four? Once upon a time, that was the old man's office.” Of course it was.

We went back to the Ghostbusters videos. “Once you've got that thing in your sights—” “You kill it.” Good to know. “Using special ghost-hunting weapons.” “First, salt. It's like acid to ghosts.” “Burny acid.” “Not LSD.” “No. It's a bad trip for ghosts. Next up, iron.” “That's why the wrench worked.” I concluded. “Pure power in your hand.” “Dissipates ghosts instantly.” “Next little trick. We learned this from those useless douchebags—” “That we hate.” I wonder who pissed them off so much. “The Winchesters. Well, except for the sister who was nice to us, she was also hot.” “Yeah hot.” He looked off like he was thinking about this woman. “Uhh right back to the ghosts. Gun.” “Shotgun shell. Pack it up with fresh rock salt.” “Very effective.” “Very effective.” “Winchesters still suck ass, though. But the sister.” “Affirmative. Suckage major. But the sister.”

We pack two duffels of iron pokers and salt. “Where do we even get a gun?” Dean questioned. “Gun store?” “Isn't there like some kind of waiting period or something?” “I think so.” “Well, how in the hell—” “I don't know. Seems pretty impossible, honestly.” “Right.” I mean who can just get guns on a whim.

Back to the video. “The aforementioned super-annoying Winchester douchenozzles but the sister also taught us this one other thing. You have to burn the remains.” “Okay, this next part gets a little gross. Sometimes you might have to dig up the body. Sorry.” Eww “It's illegal in some states.” “All states.” “Possibly all states.” I look up where our body is buried. “Sandover was cremated.” “What? So what do we do now?” “Now, if the deceased has been cremated—” “Don't panic.” “Don't panic.” “Just gotta look for some other remains.” “A hair in a locket, maybe. Fingernails. Baby teeth.” “Milk teeth.” “Genetic material. You know what we're talking about.” “Go find it.” “Godspeed.”

I am terrified to go back but Lynsey is under this ghost’s spell I guess, and she needs help so here I am back in this cursed building. We entered the elevator. “Set your cell phone to walkie-talkie in case we get separated.” Dean commented. We go to search in the old man’s office Sam, and I are searching the desk when we get found out by the security officer. “What the hell are you doing here?” He asks us.”Uhh, a new cleaning service.” I responded back trying to not get us arrested. “Yeah right. Come with me.” He grabs the both of us. “Man, listen. Look. It's okay. We- we work here.” Sam tried to explain. “Whatever. Tell it to the cops.” He drags us to the elevator.

We awkwardly stand there when there is a cold spot when the elevator absurdly stops. Sam and I look at each other knowing what was going on. The guard goes to use his emergency key to open the door. “Well, come on.” Something makes an ominous sound. Sam and I are thinking the same thing Hell to the no. “Last time this happened, it took them two hours to get here.”

“Let’s just wait here I think I might have some uno cards on me.” They both look at me like your crazy girl. The guard Shimes through the door and he turns around to us. “Seriously, we’ll wait.” “Look, I don't have the rest of my life.” As he was saying the doors slam shut oh his body. And we get sprayed in blood. “Hey. You guys, okay?” Dean asked through the phone. “We’ll call you back.”

We regroup at the main lobby. “Whoa. That's a lot of blood.” “Yeah, we know” “Right. So, uh, in there.” Dean gestured to the display of P.T. gloves. “P. T. Sandover's gloves.” “Yeah, how much you wanna bet there's a little smidge of DNA in there? You know, like a fingernail clipping or a hair or two? Something.” “Sweat.” I added in. “So, you ready?” Sam asks us. “I have no idea.” “Me neither.” “Me too.” The boys hit the glass, but Mr. Old man shows up. All three of us hit him with the iron pickers. “Oh. Nice.” He reappears and he flings the boys back. “Dean! Sam!” P.T. is about spark them. I scramble to get the lighter. “Sorry I'm forcing you into retirement.” I said as I lit up the gloves. And he lights up like a Christmas tree and vanishes. "That was amazing.” “Right? Right?”

Dean hands me the first kit and I'm patching up Sam. “Wow you're really good at Y/n.” “Yeah, I don’t know, I've always been good at it, thanks.” “Man, I gotta tell you, I've never had so much fun in my life.” Dean said sitting next to us. “I feel the same and I thought the bachelor was the craziest thing in my life.” “Was a hell of a workout too, wasn't it?” “Yeah, you can say that again.” “We should keep doing this.” Sam says very seriously. “I know.” Dean replied in a joking way when I was thinking about his words. “I mean it. There gotta be other ghosts out there. We could help a lot of people.” Sam went on with this. “Right, we'd be like the Ghostfacers.”

“No, really. I mean, for real.” “What? Like, quit our jobs and hit the road?” “Exactly.” “How would we live?” “You gotta be kidding me. How would we get by? With stolen credit cards? Huh? Eating diner food drenched in saturated fats? Sharing a crap motel room every night?” “That's all just details. What about you Y/n?” Sam asked me. “Uhh I don’t know Sam, this is a good job for me.” “Do you even like your Job I mean all you do is get Mr. Alder coffee! All right. Um. Confession. Remember those dreams I told you about with the ghosts? I was fighting them. With you guys. We were these, like, hunters, and we were friends. More like brothers and sister, really. I mean, what if that's who we really are? I mean, you saw us back there, working together. The ghost was scrambling people's brains. What if it scrambled ours?”

“Sam, that's a little insane.” “Is it? Think about it for just one second. What if we think this is our life, but it's not?” “Hey, man, the ghost is dead and we're still standing. I mean, I'm sorry, but—” Dean started to say. “Look, all I know is this isn't who we're supposed to be.” Sam stood his ground. “No. I'm Dean Smith, okay? Director of Sales and Marketing. I went to Stanford. My father's name is Bob, my mother's name is Ellen, and my sister's name is Jo.” And when he said that it felt so wrong. “When was the last time you talked to them? To any of them? And you Y/n?” “I don’t really have any family to talk to.” “See that’s what I'm talking about, cause I only moved here cause I just broke up with my fiancée, Madison. But I called her number, and I got a damn animal hospital.” I try to hold my laugh back at that line.

“Okay. What are you saying? Are you trying to say that my family isn't real? Huh? That we've been injected with fake memories? Come on.” Dean was getting irritated at this point. “All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut. And I know—I know that deep down, you gotta be feeling it too. We're supposed to be something else. You're not just some corporate douchebag and you Y/n are not just some pretty secretary that gets coffee. This isn't you Guys. I know you.” Dean answered. “Know me? You don't know me, pal. You should go.” I leave with Sam and stop him. “Look Sam, the girl you're describing sounds incredible but that’s just not me.”

The next morning, I was walking to Mr. Alder’s office with his coffee, and I was thinking about what Sam said last night. “Knock knock Come in.” I heard and I entered. “Here’s… your coffee.” I set it down and went to leave but he stopped me. “Mrs. F/l/n I would like to talk about something, sit down please.” So, I do. “Look I think you're an amazing employee and simply put I want you higher on the food chain.” I was a little bit shocked.

“You want me in a company position? Wow I'm flattered but are you sure?” “Yes, I am so sure that this would be your pay raise.” He writes down a number and slides it to me. My eyes widen like saucers. “That’s a whole lot more than now to keep me here.” “Well, you are worth it now you would have to work for it properly more than others because you are starting from a low level but in like fifteen years maybe ten it you could be it.” I look down at the number and think about it. “Now Mr. Alder I really appreciate it and I am totally thankful, but I will be giving in my notice.” Now he looks shocked.

“Please tell me this is a joke Y/n.” “No Mr. Alder I just realized that sitting in a desk for the rest of my life and getting coffee from other people is not for me. It's hard to explain. Um. It's just that this—this is—it's just—it's not who I'm supposed to be.” Mr. Alder smiles at that. “Y/n, Y/n, Y/n you and your brother are a lot alike.” “My brother? What are you talking about?” He walks over to me and touches my forehead and it was like the air had shifted and everything came flooding back.

“What the fuck? Am I wearing heels god my feet hurt.” Mr. Alder laughs at that. “You- did I—did I just get touched by—you're an angel, aren't you?” He nods. “I'm Zachariah.” “Fantastic. You want me to throw you a parade.” “I'm hardly a simple angel, Y/N. I'm Castiel's superior. Believe me, I had no interest in popping down here into one of these smelly things” “But after the unfortunate situation with Uriel, I felt it necessary to pay a visit. Get my ducks in a row.�� “” Unfortunate situation” he almost killed me.”

“Well, you're not so you should be grateful.” “What the hell does not that even mean?” “It means that you're alive and hunting” “Is that what this little passion project of yours is for?” “Exactly you are a Winchester, hunting is in your blood, and you will help your brother stop the apocalypse.” “I am not just a helper.” “Of course, not but you will always be by your brother’s side, right?” “Yes but-” “perfect then you be on your merry way to your codependent brothers.” I start to walk out but I stop. “Zachariah angel or not I will stab you in the face if you ever call me sweetheart again.” And with that I slam the door behind me.

Hey oh, my gosh we have gotten to chapter ten like wow I just wanted to say thank you for reading and liking when I started, I just did for me and I'm so happy that others have liked this as much as I have! Also did anyone peak the song that Y/n was playing in the beginning. It was a little easter egg for a future character that I am so excited to get to. That Animal hospital joke of Madison gets me every time the angels went off with that one. If you like the originals, I started a Klaus x reader so yeah hope I see you over there see you next time!

#castiel x reader #castiel #castiel x y/n #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #team free will #spnfandom #supernatural #Supernatural Season 4 #castiel x you #Castiel x reader series masterlist #bobby singer #bobby spn #cas spn #cas x reader #cas x y/n #cas masterlist

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pinkbrries · 11 months

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— A–Z with Hannah —

inspired by learn the alphabet with elena and a-z juliet’s quotes so u should def check them out too!!

[find hannah’s main masterlist here] | [find june’s version here] | [find izabella’s version here]

➤ A is for… *showing her dorm during the relay cam* and this is my bedroom, also known as my Isolation Station.

➤ B is for… but did you know that you can start screaming like, basically anywhere? it’s not illegal or anything.

➤ C is for… capricorns? *frowns* the only capricorn allowed in this house is qian kun.

➤ D is for… doyoung always call me ‘spoiled’ like it was some mysterious invisible witch that spoiled me and not him.

➤ E is for… every guy here thinks im overdramatic when im upset, but when an octopus gets stressed out, it eats itself. now THAT’S being overdramatic.

➤ F is for… febreze, baby. you need to spray febreze over your awful attitude.

➤ G is for… good morning to the gals, non-binary pals and to the disappointments.

➤ H is for… how am i supposed to make big decisions when i still have to sing the alphabet in my head to get the right letter?

➤ I is for… it’s okay if you disagree with me, i can’t force you to be right.

➤ J is for… just do a face mask and move on.

➤ K is for… *kisses camera’s phone before turning off the live* kisses for you~ goodnight czennies! goodnight mr fbi man!

➤ L is for… ‘living well is the best revenge’, yeah sure, but obviously im not gonna do that, so what’s the second best? cutting their brakes.

➤ M is for… maybe i should stop flirting, i already owe like.. seven people a relationship.

➤ N is for… *looking at baekhyun* not today, satan.

➤ O is for… of course i have a lot of pent-up rage, you fool! I’ve been the same height since i was 12.

➤ P is for… please, imagine NOT liking me back… me… a whole beautiful, smart, hilarious, phenomenal, pretty woman… tragic.

➤ Q is for… question here: why does the grape juice doesn’t taste like grapes but instead tastes like purple? and why does the strawberry scent exists if strawberries smell like nothing?

➤ R is for… remember when ‘a series of unfortunate events’ was a book and not your life?

➤ S is for… sorry i roasted you, i was trying to flirt.

➤ T is for… that’s so sad bestie– anyways, stan shinee for a better life and clear skin!

➤ U is for… *reading a comment* ‘unnie, can you please recommend a book that made you cry?’ sure! it’s called ‘new general mathematics.’

➤ V is for… vampires are always like ‘i could kill you if i wanted’ like? yeah, so could hendery, so could a dog, so could a dedicated goose. you aren’t special, dude.

➤ W is for… why is the climate tryna change? just be yourself~ *proceeds to do a finger heart*

➤ X is for… xiaojun is talking, everyone shut up!

➤ Y is for… you made this personal when you told me you didn’t like one direction.

➤ Z is for… zookeepers concept? more like, zookeepers sub unit and that’s wayv; they own two cats, one dog and a whole wild yangyang there.

#kpop female addition #nct au #nct #kpop addition #nct addition #nct female member #nct added member #nct female oc #nct oc #nct female addition #kpop added member #nct 127 addition

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chibitantei · 4 months

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If I am Naoto's only and biggest fan, that is my burden to bear.

Rank 11, or a little more about a thing called change.

This is the true final moment you get to hang out with Naoto before she dips into void (or if you dated her, you still have Valentine's).

The scene takes place by the pavilion by the Samegawa, which also happens to be the place where her Social Link took place when you weren't running around town with her.

(Yu has the illusion of free choice to say something after the third image, but they all lead to the same thing.)

You get to learn a thing about Naoto and winter, and this pathetic little crumb is a godsend. The last four images are Naoto's observations on Inaba. The town was uneasy throughout the murder case, and things only ramped up in November-December, but this is the first time Naoto's stuck around long enough to see the effects of her work. This would make Naoto's 25th case, and if she managed to solve 24 before this, she obviously didn't stay long enough to see how she affected everyone after her work was done.

She notes the town is undergoing a change, and if you remember the theme in her SL, it was change, or to be exact, Naoto's fears about change and what it meant.

Then she starts waxing philosophical, so as much as I would like to screencap everything she says... it's not happening, so you get the script instead.

The first line in this chunk is interesting because I think Naoto is afraid of forgetting. Her parents died when she was young. Her family is moderately famous, so it was possible their deaths were on the news and Naoto couldn't escape hearing about it, until a few days or a week later, they just stopped. Soon, everyone moved on and forgot while she hadn't. As she grew older, memories of her parents started fading away, like what they sounded like, what they did years ago, etc. All she has left are memories, so what'll happen when she forgets almost everything about them?

Now, she phrases the chunk about memories under a note about how she comes across a certain problem while on serious cases, but Naoto enjoys being vague and cryptic, so I'm inclined to believe she's also indirectly referring to herself, but not in a way that reveals too much of her Trauma™ because that's silly and embarrassing. While she doesn't cry or get emo over her parents being dead, I don't think she's properly grieved yet. With so much work to do, she used that as a distraction and kept going because as long as she didn't think about it, it wouldn't bother her.

And in Naoto's silly little mind, adults don't cry over anything and show weakness, not over how unfair the world is or dead parents.

However, it's thanks to Yu (and pals) that Naoto starts to think differently. She says the trademark Yu line about drawing strength from everyone else, even. The line about how that strength kept her alive is... might be a little worrying and considering how she seemed okay with getting kidnapped on purpose and potentially dying if the team didn't get to her in time as long as her death was useful is........ ok.

Because seriously, who is that resolved to do that.

With hope and a new outlook on life, Naoto awakens to her Persona, which is just Yamato Takeru, but with a red outfit and flowing blond hair straight out of a shampoo commercial.

IIRC Soejima (the designer) was inspired by Oscar from Rose of Versailles and comparing them here...

possibly.

But she is not done waxing philosophical.

SHE SAID THE THING ABOUT CHANGE, CHAT!

Now, she says the thing about love even if you didn't romance her, but leave it to her to say the most unintentionally romantic things, I swear to god.

These choices don't matter, but if you romanced her, it's better because, you know. You know what I mean.

I TOO HAVE AN INTENSE LOVE FOR NAOTO AND SHE SHOULD KISS YU OKAY GOODNIGHT

#Dossier: About Naoto #I am deranged about her always #I simply cannot change that

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damien-mlm · 1 year

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A New Start - Part 1 (The Boy Nanny!OC)

2107 words. Warnings: just Brahms being a little bit of a creep at the end, but it comes without saying.

It had been six months since Maeve had moved back to Manchester. She took life easy and in baby steps. Taking one day at a time.

Her shy and reserved nature made it hard for her to make many friends in the city, but she did make friends online. Percy Jones, Ellie Manson, Merry Ross and Alia Fowl. Maeve had met Ellie from her travel blog, then Percy appeared in the background during one of their video call art sessions. Merry and Alia were fellow readers of Ellie's blog, and friends of Ellie as well! It was quite a nice group she had, and she loved them dearly, despite the big distance between them.

Percy had mentioned her pen pal, Blair. She seemed like a really cool person, but unfortunately she had no access to an internet connection. Percy had given her Blair's mailing address, maybe she would send her a letter once she got to her own new address herself.

Speaking of which, while the life insurance money was nowhere near running out, Maeve felt like she would go insane if she didn't do something with herself other than lie around all day and wait for the next session with her therapist, or the next time her friends texted her. So she started hunting for a job.

First, she thought of teaching music at a local school, but had no luck. She was about to consider giving private piano lessons, until a certain job application fell on her lap.

She had been hired as a tutor and caretaker for the Heelshire's son, Brahms. His parents had been looking for somebody who would be able to care for the boy while they were away, while also maintaining his homeschooling.

It was perfect! Maeve was still scared of being around too many people, so the idea of caring for a single child was a lot more welcoming than giving a class to a full room of kids. She would have to move to the Heelshire Manor for the job, and since she had been renting, she had no problem in bringing her belongings with her. There wasn't much left since the fire…

Twas the night before she was being picked up by the private driver, and she was excited, but also anxious beyond relief. She paced back and forth in front of her laptop while speaking out loud, she was on a video call with Ellie, Percy by her side, and Merry.

"What if the kid doesn't like me? What if he cries, and I don't know how to calm him down? Am I supposed to call his parents back from vacation? OH GOD, WHAT IF HE IS A BRAT AND I LOSE MY TEMPER?!"

Merry held her own forehead as she sighed at her exasperated friend. Percy gave a small chuckle.

"You'll be fine, girlie! You'll see" she said, Merry humming in agreement.

"I'm sure the kid will be fine! It’s you, who I'm kinda worried about, Mae. Are you sure you want to do this?" Ellie chimed in.

Maeve finally sat down in front of her laptop and let out a strong deep breath before answering, "Of course, I need this. I need to have more responsibilities, and you know I always wanted to be a mum, so this will be good practice for that!"

"Alright, just keep us all posted, okay? You are going into the middle of nowhere, please don't disappear on us!" Merry said, "If we don't hear from you within a week, I'm sending Jason out to get you!" she declared, half joking.

"I'll keep in touch, I promise" Maeve said, raising a hand, the other one over her heart, "It's getting late for me. I'll try to go to sleep now, and I'll text you all in the group chat once I arrive at the manor"

"Have a good night, Mae!" Ellie said, Percy joining in while waving at the screen, "Night, Mae! Don't forget to keep us posted!" she said, pointing at the camera. "Try to rest, okay hun? Sweet dreams!" Merry said, waving at Maeve.

Maeve waved at her friends, "Goodnight, me lassies! Ellie, send my regards to Vinny! I hope to see more of his work soon. Percy, make sure Bo doesn't torture his twin too bad. And Merry, say hi to Jason for me! Oh, and tell Alia and Mikey I said hi as well!"

After they all said their goodbyes, Maeve closed her laptop with yet another heavy sigh.

She wasn't able to sleep all night.

The vintage car had arrived in the early morning, and once all her things were ready, she got in the backseat and braced herself for the long ride. Once the initial nerves had died out, she fell asleep, only to be rudely woken up by the driver, who aggressively tapped on the window she was leaning against.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know how else to wake you, miss"

Maeve rubbed her eyes to get rid of the grogginess before stepping out of the vehicle, it had been a very long ride, apparently, since it was already dark outside.

She was previously informed that her trip was paid for in advance, and that the driver would take care of her luggage.

It was a rather cold night, the tip of her nose going red with the chill, and both her and the driver's breath made visible under the dim lighting at the front door, so Maeve rushed indoors and left the door open as courtesy for the driver, who was getting her stuff in the house.

She gazed at the tall ceilings, marveling at the masterfully carved wood on the walls, as well as the beautiful staircase.

"Hello? Is anybody around?" she called out. No answer though.

She wandered around the first floor of the manor, reaching a room full of books, an old record player, and a small piano. She reached for the instrument out of instinct and played a few notes to try out the sound. It sounded a bit like a toy piano rather than the ones she used to play at Uni, I'm glad I have my keyboard with me, she thought to herself.

She turned to exit the room when she heard some footsteps nearby, she walked back to the foyer, expecting to find somebody, only for it to be empty. That's strange, she could've sworn she heard footsteps…

She brushed it off and focused on admiring the paintings on the walls, they were full of beautiful art, and one of them stood out to her.

A family portrait, a picture of Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire, and a small child, whom she assumed to be the one she would be taking care of. She mindlessly reached out to the painting, to touch the boy's face, until she was interrupted by somebody clearing their throat behind her.

She jumped at the sound, and turned around quickly, to see an old lady patiently waiting for her to respond.

"Ah, my apologies, I suppose you are Mrs. Heelshire?" Maeve said, tucking some of her hair behind her left ear, the redness of burn scars on it suddenly visible, unbeknownst to her, "I'm Maeve Sweeney, it is a pleasure to meet you" she said, with a small bow to her head.

The lady noticed the scars, but quickly looked at the young woman's eyes before speaking "Yes, dear. It is a pleasure to meet you, as well." she paused for a second, "I'm afraid little Brahms has been put to bed already, you'll meet him tomorrow. Follow me, now. That was a long trip you had, I'm sure you must be hungry"

Maeve smiled and bowed her head again, "Famished, actually", to which Mrs. Heelshire responded with a hum, before turning and starting to walk towards the kitchen, with Maeve following close.

A kind-faced old man was sat at the small kitchen table, patiently waiting as the two ladies entered the room. There was a plate with chicken roast and mashed potatoes with gravy, along with a glass of wine and silverware set on the opposite seat at the table.

"Daddy, this is Maeve" Mrs. Heelshire said. The old man stood up, "It's so nice to finally meet you in person, young lady, I'm Mr. Heelshire. It was a shame that you couldn't join us for dinner, but we saved a plate just for you, as per Brahms' request"

Maeve sat in front of the plate, a polite and calm demeanor to her, "Well, the little lad is truly a gentleman. I'll make sure to thank him tomorrow when I meet him. May I?" she asked, to which Mr. Heelshire motioned with his hand and nodded.

The old pair sat across from her at the table as she began eating her late dinner. The food was delicious, and the wine decadent.

"We don't waste any food in this house, all of the leftovers are placed in containers into the freezer behind you" Mrs. Heelshire said, which prompted Maeve to turn her head to look, revealing the bright red scars on the back of her neck.

As she turned her head back to the couple, she noticed a faint apologetic look in Mrs. Heelshire's eyes, as well as a sad, worried look on Mr. Heelshire's. They continued to explain her duties as she continued eating. Once she was finished, she bowed her head once again and thanked the couple for the meal, before standing and moving to wash her own dishes.

Brahms' parents were pleased at the young lady's manners, "Miss Sweeney, you are to expect some help with the house chores every week. On Sundays, the gardener will show, on Mondays, the delivery man will come with groceries for you, along with your weekly pay, and on Tuesdays, a cleaning maid. This house is so big, after all. It would be rather unkind of us to expect you to care for the entirety of the estate by yourself." Mr. Heelshire said, to which the missus added, "We also arranged a monthly nurse to come and draw blood from you, for your blood tests, as you requested. Your medication will be delivered with the groceries"

Maeve had thanked all the creatures above and below for the acting classes she took at Uni, she was afraid the old fashioned couple wouldn't give her the job if they knew she was trans, but she still needed her estrogen pills. So she informed them that she had a rare disorder that caused her body to not produce enough estrogen on its own. Hence why she needed the pills, and monthly blood work done, to keep track of how her body reacted to the medication.

"Thank you, Madam, Sir." she said, regarding the pair, "You are all too generous"

After it was all said and done, Mr. Heelshire excused himself to the drinking room, while Mrs. Heelshire escorted Maeve to her new room.

"Please, keep quiet, that's little Brahmsy's room, right there" she said, pointing at the door across the hallway. Maeve nodded and followed Mrs. Heelshire into her own bedroom.

The interior of the room was just as elegant and beautiful as the rest of the manor. A king sized bed, dressed in silk and linen sheets, along with knitted wool duvets and covers, sat in the room. Maeve could feel herself getting drowsy again, just by looking at it.

"Please, Miss Sweeney, make yourself at home. And make sure to rest, we will expect you to be up and ready at 7 am, tomorrow" Mrs. Heelshire said, standing still at the door.

"Of course, Madam. Thank you." Maeve said, with another small bow of her head, to which the old lady smiled and left, closing the door behind her.

Maeve left her phone on the bedside table and went to the on-suite bathroom to take a quick hot shower, then exited, wearing her antique nightgown. She crawled into the soft bed and relaxed, grabbing her phone again to finally give her girlfriends an update.

There wasn't a signal out in the country, but there was a single wifi connection titled "Heelshire Manor", it had no password.

She connected her phone and sent a message in the group chat they all shared, "Hello! I'm finally at the manor, you should all see this place, it looks like out of a fairytale book! I haven't met the boy yet, but his parents are lovely. I'll send more updates tomorrow! Good night 💕". Sent.

She drifted off to a deep sleep almost immediately after, never noticing the aforementioned "boy"s presence, looking down at her peaceful sleeping form.

A/N: The intro turned a lot longer than I expected, so I decided to divide it into 2 parts. Part 2 will be posted as soon as I finish writting ✨

Taglist: @rottent33th @slaasherslut @the-pinstriped-hood @allthingsblood @moon-of-desire @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @texaschainsawslvt @angxlslasher @kalid-raven @mr-trick Imma also add @bluecoolr because I admire you a lot and I would love to know your thoughts 💕

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