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#peachy talks into the void!

peachywontyell · 5 months

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ive had this bouncing around in my head for a while, so here we are.

i am a sucker for pretty boys with kind brown eyes and jaime fits that description perfectly...so i decided to give him a lot of pining (that is definitely reciprocated), he has to be a big brave boy and confess 🫶🏾 also, this is placed before the events in the movie !

inspired by

hanging out with jaime has always been very warm, cozy, comfortable. ever since you were children when you'd spend weekends riding your bikes around the neighborhood, only to crash at one of your houses after having way too much food. it happened so frequently that it got to the point where it just was the new normal for both of your families (impromptu get togethers were very common).

the friendship you guys had only grown stronger with each year that passed and well- there were definitely feelings there that weren't strictly platonic now. you were trying your hardest to push them away though, and jaime was having the same issues...however neither of you dared to even threathen the sanctity of the bond shared by confessing. that is until one summer came along, you guys had gone to different universities, and even though you called and texted daily, summer was when you guys could actually hang out like the old days. and here you were, having gone to pick up jaime from the airport with the rest of the reyes. as he walked through the gate you let his family say their hellos first- it's safe to say he almost drowned in hugs and kisses, and when you finally got to say hello you didn't hold back with the bear hug either.

you missed him dearly, and the weird feeling of anxiety, excitement and happiness settled in your stomach as he squeezed you back and actually just fully picking you up. it made the feeling in your stomach even stronger.

"JAIME DIOS MÍO BÁJAME"

"Que no, don't wanna"

"okay so if that's how this is gonna go, cárgame bien, señor"

suddenly you guys were in your own world, talking and laughing and everyone could clearly see what was happening here. milagro was gonna have a field day with the teasing as soon as she had a chance. he ended up putting you down- but only after he carried you all the way to the car. it was embarrassing yes, but now as embarrassing as the older couple that chuckled as you walked past and talked to themselves in hushed voices about 'how sweet young love is' and how they wished they could go back in time and experience it all over again.

that got you both blushing...and made the drive back home for lunch a bit...strange. nothing really changed, you still sat together and chatted, but jaime couldn't stop thinking about what they had said. did you guys actually look like a couple? should he had said something to them? the fact that he didn't mind if they thought so made him feel warm and fuzzy.

two weeks pass, and while you've somehow managed to push away those fuzzy feelings, things have definitely flipped for jaime- and milagro did not help one bit. she woke up much earlier than he did, you did too, and it usually meant that as soon as he walked out into the kitchen he'd see you just having breakfast.

"buenas morning" you say, trying not to laugh cause his hair looked bonkers, but even if you found it hilarious, it was still endearing, and the fuzzy feelings you had to fight every single day before meeting him were back and they were looking for vengeance. and when he almost put his full body weight on top of you for a hug not caring that you were in the middle of eating? well, you felt like you were going to die. "mornin...." he didn't move off. "jaime." "Hmmm?" "get off of me and go shower, tenemos que encontrarnos con el grupo in like an hour". with one last, extremely dramatic sigh, he moves off and does as told. it's not like he didn't want to spend the day with you and some of your other friends, they were his friends too, but he would much rather stay in and chill.

not even two hours later and you guys are at the little picnic area everyone agreed to meet up at, playing silly games, chatting and just catching up! and jaime just wasn't feeling it, he couldn't really pinpoint the reason why until he sees how talkative and close you are with one of the guys there. okay. that's fine. it's just a hangout, nothing is happening, you definitely aren't flirting with him. thank god someone called the guy over cause he didn't know how much he could take.

"so how'd the flirting go?" he thought he sounded casual, calm, normal. he did not sound casual, calm or normal. he sounded upset and looked like a sad dog. "what flirting- what the hell happened to you? why do you look so sad? ¿qué pasó?" "hm? nothing." he shook his head, making you squint. okay, if he didn't want to tell you, then you'd just come up with absurd reasons as to why he would be upset. "¿tas celoso?" funny how you got it right first try. you don't know that, though. "what? no- ¿qué?" he prays to god the blush creeping up his neck isn't noticeable, prays it doesn't betray him. "Ayyyyy si es eso you don't have to be, tu sabes que you're irreplaceable" you laugh and god is definitely on his side cause you're called over a few second later by someone of the order people and he can feel his heart beating so fast he fears its gonna burst through his chest.

the hangout went by smoothly, he genuinely couldn't be happier, even if at first he didn't want to be there. he has to admit, he did miss his friends, so he's glad he could spend some time with them. now you guys are laying on his bed, chismeando and just debriefing when the topic of him being "jelous" came up again. maybe he could just do it. he knew it was risky, but....he was willing to take the chance. "....you know what? maybe i was. maybe i was very jelous, maybe i still kind-of am." he felt you sitting up and all he could do was pull a pillow over his face and keep this shit rolling "you've always made me feel so comfortable and...warm, and ive always loved you, but at some point i think it turned into love...? does that make sense- no- it's fine- okay- look i just- de verdad que me gustas mucho y pues no sé- i don't wanna fuck this up aunque creo que ya lo jodí-" he huffs and sits up to face you, looking embarrassed and flustered "you're so special to me and i really don't want to mess up the friendship we have, okay? but i'd just...i'd really like to be yours."

you aren't sure if you should just kiss him or shake him by the shoulders. so you settle for taking his hand in yours, feeling your face grow warmer- if that's even possible after that confession. "jaime, look at me." that boy is holding onto the pillow for dear life, using it to still obscure his face while he shakes his head. he's trembling. you use your other hand to grab his face and look at you "please, just kiss me" "really?" "si-" and he does, like he's been starving. he almost doesn't let you pull back even though you both need to breathe. "jaime mi amor, you will always be my favorite pretty boy and im so happy i can finally tell you."

#peachy thinks thoughts!#peachy talks into the void!#yeah im upset with this but i said id post it ://#still kinda cute though :') i fuck heavy with the yearning and cute crushes #and jaime is just fun to imagine in cute situations like that #jaime reyes #jaime reyes x reader #blue beetle (2023)#plus size reader #latina reader #again reitero ese tag y el de plus size #anyway #hope whoever reads this enjoys it #sorry its a lil slow and ends abruptly i would have kept it going but i wanted to keep it wholesome #ALSO #Spanglish #!!!!! YEAHHHHHH LETS GOOOO

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mxlktxa · 11 months

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ᴅᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴏᴋꜱ

ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ!ᴀᴜ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ)ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ!ᴀᴜ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ(ꜱ); ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ!ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ; ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ*, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛꜱ, ᴅɪɴᴀ ɴᴏʟᴀꜱᴛɴᴀᴍᴇ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ), ʀɪʟᴇʏ ᴀʙᴇʟ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ), ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ)

ᴄᴡ; 18+ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴇʟʟɪᴇꜱ ᴘᴏᴠ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ/ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱʜ (ꜱᴇʟꜰ ʜᴀʀᴍ), ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ/ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ(/ᴅʀᴜɢ ᴜꜱᴀɢᴇ), ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ/ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴀʟ (ᴜꜱᴀɢᴇ), ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ (ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ, ᴅᴏʟʟ, ᴇᴛᴄ)

ᴡᴄ; 1.2ᴋ, 6.8ᴋ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ

'✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

I had known this girl all my life. Since we were kids, really. She was just a sweet, innocent, happy girl. She could never do anything wrong. Even her appearance came off of such, definitely wouldn’t hurt a fly. Made friends easily— not with me, I was an ass—, super creative, and very talented. She was an angel, anyone would agree. You could love her oh-so easily.

Back when we were younger, she always came up to me whenever she saw me isolated from anyone else, wanting to hold conversations or just sit in a comfortable silence. As we got older, conversations were held much better and longer. She ended up giving me gifts out of the blue, begging me to accept them even when I told her to stop spoiling me. Drawings, little candy baskets, sweet notes, invitations for a sleepover or dinner at her parents.

I’m telling you. She’s the sweetest.

Later down the line, sometime between seventh and eighth grade, I would see her personality falter here and there, see her have her bad days, yet act like she was having such a fantastic one. Behind closed doors she would break down, screaming and crying her lungs out, verbally considering self-harm. I talked her out of it, thankfully, I didn’t want to see her so deep in an endless void.

Highschool rolled around, we were very, very different people. I ended up getting into substances I shouldn’t’ve gotten into, lots of fights, loads of rumors, and plenty of quick and unreasonable relationships. But her? She stayed the same. Perfect, gorgeous, happy, so very happy-go-lucky. Of course, she had her bad days, thats a given. But they were because of that stupid path I decided to walk down. And yet, that peachy little angel stayed by my side.

Fucking angel.

Around graduation, I was only smoking weed, selling some every now and again, taking time off of being in relationships. Fights were drastically reduced but rumors… Not so much. We went back to having sleepovers and little lunch dates. Mainly sleepovers as she said she enjoyed staying up with me and sleeping on top me more than sitting down and eating for what felt like ten minutes. She even encouraged me to go to college with her, move into a nice little home with her. As friends.

Moving in was wild. We would go out four times a week, constantly stay up late, and drink as if alcohol poisoning wasn’t a thing. That’s when I found out her appearance and personality was definitely not her default behavior. She was a total… let’s just say she’s not so innocent. She’s a wild dancer, crazy dirty talking, so flirtatious, highly sensual. That’s how she ended up basically admitting she’s always liked me and been dying to fuck me.

“Y’know, Els, I’ve always liked you. Love you, even. And I hated all those girls y’got with. Except that Riley girl. She was a sweetheart. M’but not Dina. ‘Specially Dina. Fuck her. Speakin’ o’ which, I would give anything to fuck you. To watch my sweet Ellie through half shut lids as she— …Mmph, nevermind. Sorry, m’sorry.”

“No, no. Tell me. Tell me what you want your ‘sweet Ellie’ to do. Hm? What do you want from me, princess?”

“Yeah? Y’wanna know?”

“Tell me, baby. No one’s around to judge.”

“I wanna watch you eat me out until I’m nothin’ but a crying, shaking mess. My legs, over your shoulders, our eyes filled with nothin’ but lust and pure love. Get me high beforehand, m’curious about what it might feel like.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm… Better yet, buy a strap and let me sit on it. I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me. No complaints.”

“You’re so fuckin’ nasty.”

“Tell me about it.”

That entire interaction is what led me to actually laying her out and having her beyond fucked stupid. She asked and she received. Soon, we just labeled ourselves as a couple, she took me to meet her parents— as if I didn’t know them already— and I took her to meet mine. That includes Joel, even if he was just a really cool babysitter I had when I was younger. They love each other, platonically, of course.

“You? You’re the one that gave ‘er that bruise on ‘er arm?”

“Yep!”

“Y’seem so sweet, though. You’re also quite tiny. I reckon you could take ‘er in a fight, huh?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Our play fighting does not do her justice, Joel.”

“Hey! You cheat! All the time!”

“I do not.”

“Joel!”

“I believe you, don’t worry, kiddo.”

We rarely ever fought. If we did it was either over something stupid— which resulted in talking it out—, or for valid, genuine reasons— those resulted in building up tension for a few hours, fucking, then talking it out. Terrible, I know but lord was she so filthy and rough.

I loved this girl and everything we’ve ever been through. She dealt with me for so long, she helped me through everything, she changed me. Of course, she would say I did the same for her but I would harshly disagree. I haven’t done nearly as much as she has for me. Except proposing and marrying the girl.

Oh, boy was she crying and passing out for the next few days.

Now present day, here we were, married and going through old photos we had and the notes she gave me back then. She was sat in front me in her nightgown, giggling at every photo she found from middle school. The picture was handed to me, both of us in our halloween costumes from that year.

“Remember this? Our little pirate and princess phase?” her eyes met mine, sending shivers up my spine and some wild butterflies in my stomach. I could only nod and stare at her in silence, too hung up on her giddy expression. “We were so cute. We still are, don’t get it twisted, but… This is a different kind of cute.”

“You’re so gorgeous,” I spoke without really thinking, watching the love of my life perk up at the small compliment. God she was the cutest.

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss my cheek, "I think you're very handsome."

"Handsome?"

"Mhm."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," she giggled, scooting back from me, "so handsome that I could die."

We stared at each other in a comfortable silence, slowly starting to smile and puff up our cheeks with air. Within seconds we blew raspberries and began laughing like crazy. While she was in the middle of laughing, I grabbed the nearby polaroid that she had beside her, aiming it at her laughing expression and taking the chance to snap the photo.

"Got 'cha, pretty girl," lowering the camera, she gasped and snatched the photo from the device in my hand, sliding it off to the side. Those eyes I adored so much landed on me, holding an idea we both knew I couldn't confuse.

"Y'know, Els," she started, having me roll my eyes immediately and nod to her, "why don't we start a little private collection?”

As per usual, she came up with something I never expected to leave her mouth. My head tilted to the side, surprised at the suggestion meanwhile she just shrugged while reaching for the camera, “here. I’ll start.”

Just like that, her dropped the straps on her nightgown over her shoulders, her breasts on full display to me… And the camera. I watched as she made up various poses, snapping numerous pictures. She even stared directly at me a few times as the flash had gone off. I’m definitely fucking her after we put this stuff up.

“You’re something else, y’know that?”

“And yet,” she crawled over to me, straddling me, chest now against mine as she hugged me tightly, “you absolutely adore it. Don’t you?”

'✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

ᴀɴ; ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ, ᴀꜱᴋꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ!! ̤̮

#the last of us #the last of us part 2 #tlou #tlou2 #reader insert #x reader #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #imagines #the last of us fanfic #ellie williams x you #tlou fanfic #𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 ⋆˚✿˖°

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orangeocelotmartyn · 10 days

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Treebark Week — Frost

part one (Build/Divine) | part two (you are here) | part three (Sweet) | part four (Hair/Picnic)

An elemental fae like Martyn shifted with the seasons—he was best suited for the spring and summer (in that he looked the most human, then, provided you ignored the leaves in his hair), his skin shifting to a dull gray in the fall, and a bright, hypothermic blue in the winter. It’s how it always was, until he was dropped into the Life games—something about the code constricted him, keeping him that peachy tone, and with his hair covering his ears, one could assume he was wholly human, which is what the server did.

He didn’t fault them for it—even Timmy, and Grian, and BigB, who should’ve known better, it’d been a few years since he last saw them, so of course they wouldn’t realize, and Martyn quite liked keeping a few cards close to his chest, so he didn’t correct anyone who claimed he was one of the few—if only—humans on the server.

The whole “falling forever” if not in one of the games certainly shoved the thought of correcting anyone out of his mind, regardless, because he was so rarely called a human anyways, and he thought Ren got that he wasn’t human, what with the whole “you can’t turn me into a werewolf, it won’t work” thing.

But that didn’t change the surprise on his, or the other Hermits faces when he was invited on to visit and was visibly covered in a layer of frost.

“Whoops,” Martyn said, having taken a tumble out of the rift he got in through. “Didn’t mean to fall for you lot.”

His words did not make the staring any less intense, and he shifted under their scrutiny. “…do I have something on my face? My shirt?” He glanced down, and then blinked. “Oh. It’s winter, is it?”

He brushed off any of their questions with a well timed joke, trying to make himself look good enough that perhaps they’d let him stay a little longer, integrate himself a bit as he scanned the crowd for his king Ren. He was, just like the last time he saw him, next to False (who was perfectly nice, really, if Martyn ignored the pulsating jealousy in his stomach when he saw them together), but at least he was looking in his direction, brow furrowed as he glanced between them.

The rift was rippling again, though, signaling that someone else was coming through and so Martyn stepped aside, letting the Hermits greet the next guest. He was happy for the new distraction, anyways, letting himself be swallowed by the crowd if only so he could peer at Ren without anyone scrutinizing his behavior.

He didn’t get that chance, though, as a clawed hand reached forward to grab his wrist and tug him closer, out of the crowd, and he found himself blinking up at a much taller than he remembered Ren.

“Wow, you’re tall. I hadn’t realized—the Life games really nerf us all, don’t they?”

Ren grinned down at him, still looking a bit awkward, but his comment definitely seemed to put a few pieces into their places. “Oh, er, yes, I’d forgotten that you hadn’t—you’re very blue, is that what you normally look like?” He still hadn’t let go of Martyn’s wrist, fingers pressed against Martyn’s pulse, which he was trying very hard to ignore that it was racing.

“Nah, not all the time. I’m just a very wintery boy right now, is all. Comes with the fae package.” He wriggled his fingers on his free hand, as if to demonstrate. “You lot caught me during the worst months, unfortunately. If I had known it was winter, I might’ve had second thoughts.”

Of course, that wasn’t strictly accurate—Martyn would’ve shown up regardless, if it meant getting out of the void for a bit—a chance to stretch his legs, and, of course, Ren was here—right in front of him!—to talk to and joke around with.

Ren still hadn’t let go of his wrist. “I suppose,” he said, thoughtfully, “that we should’ve called it Blue Winter, instead, me Hand.”

His words made Martyn wheeze out a surprised laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Milord,” he mock protested, “was red for your colors, and the blood you spilled to protect us!”

Ren grinned right back down at him, finally letting go. “But you, me Hand, are blue like the frost that protected us! We mustn’t forget your work in the pack. Er. Side note: how long will you be blue, exactly?”

“Whenever winter ends and the grass thaws, I’ll get my more spring-y colors back, maybe grow some flowers, you know how it is.”

Ren’s hand came up, then, to caress his cheek, and his eyes peered down at Martyn through his shades. The look was striking, and Martyn couldn’t help what came out of his mouth next— “‘course, there are faster ways to warm me up.”

False, who was still stood right nearby, thanks, let out a groan, but Ren’s eyes narrowed, calculating. “Well, if that’s what it takes, I suppose I can prove myself very valuable to your cause.” His words were booming, carried well, and Martyn, although he couldn’t currently blush, definitely felt like he should be.

“Oh, well, if you’re offering—“

Ren dropped his hand away from Martyn’s face, and nodded, more to himself than anything. “Let’s get you warmed up, shall we, Hand?”

——

“You know, this wasn’t what I expected,” Martyn said, words muffled a bit, thanks to the fur currently trying to make its way into his mouth.

Ren, who couldn’t speak, on account of currently being a giant wolf, just thumped his tail lazily in reply.

False, who had no idea why she had come along, but was at least not currently being laid on, unlike Martyn, took her hand away from Ren’s head (eliciting a whine) to poke Martyn in the cheek. “Shush. I think I’m already starting to see the pink come back to your cheeks.”

#Treebark #inthelittlewood #rendog #fic #trafficshipping #treebarkweek2024

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curiositydooropened · 1 year

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My Whole Life, Too

Seven years after you've left Hawkins, a beautiful day for a wedding in New Mexico brings up old feelings. You're hoping to make the most of it with the comfort of best friends.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader, previous Steve Harrington x Reader

Wordcount: 8,419

Warnings: smut & smut adjacent (minors DNI, thanks!), angst, lots of gushy friendship talk, weddings, drinking, mentions of drugs and cigarettes, so much guilt, Steve Harrington slander, lovin' both the boys, fluff, oh and Jancy

Navigation • Masterlist

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January 1994 - Albuquerque, NM

The pale blue chiffon of your dress wrinkled in the car, and your mouth tasted of wax from when the peachy pink lipstick clipped your teeth and smeared over your chin a few minutes earlier. You’d scrubbed at it with a wet forefinger, scrutinizing your reflection in an oblong mirror beside the gift table, but you couldn’t help but lick at your front two teeth self-consciously.

You ankles ached under your weight in your new heels, and each burst of winter, mountain air prickled the stubble beneath your nylons, but you were rooted to your spot in the lobby, nearest the guest book, making eye contact with each and every wedding guest as they entered through the chapel doors.

So far, several little old ladies in lace collared dresses eyed you up, and several families with too-many kids stumbled in from the cold. You hadn’t seen a familiar face since you arrived, and you couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or a curse.

From this vantage, you could barely see out into the parking lot, where snow was packed along the curve and inside oversized planters and the afternoon sun was just starting to dip low beneath the mountains, kissing everything in golds and roses. It was a beautiful day for a wedding.

Three teenagers entered, all three of them ducked over handheld video games, and just beyond you saw the swoosh of impeccable brown hair. Your heart thundered in your ears, mouth gone fully dry. You flattened clammy hands to the midsection of your dress and stood at full height to greet Steve Harrington.

Though, suddenly all of your rehearsed greetings had flown out of your mind. The only thing you could think of were the last things he said to you, the hurt blurring those big doe eyes, his mouth slightly agape, his fingertips grasping at your t-shirt as you released his shoulders and said goodbye. Well those things and Elvis’s Can’t Help Falling in Love, which had been playing on loop in this little lobby since you’d arrived.

A woman excused you out of her elbow-range as she signed the guestbook, sending you a little off-kilter and almost into a stunning satin-decked wreath, but you managed to catch yourself on the windowsill, cooling your palms as your prints came back fogged over. You ran a chilled hand over your face and released a breath you’d been holding for minutes and hoped to God this wasn’t a dry wedding.

That’s when you heard the familiar scold of a best friend. “Eddie, top-button. Robin, no more singing. Honestly, how old are you two?”

Nancy Wheeler entered looking tighter-wound than she was a month ago, when you’d last seen her. Her bangs were cut short, hair black, thin fingers busying themselves with Eddie Munson’s bolo tie. Eddie looked miffed by the action, like a school boy embarrassed by his mom, but he daren’t move a muscle lest he get smacked. Beside them, Robin Buckley adjusted a tie of her own, flattened the lapels of her velvet blazer against her chest.

And it was just them, just the three, alone in the entryway, Nancy fussing over their appearances before perfectly manicured nails went to ensure her oversized earrings were still clipped to her lobes. You glanced around one last time for Steve, but found a parking lot full of old people and void of any handsome young men whose hearts you’d broken. With a deep breath, and a clench of your shaking fists, you took a step toward them.

“Hey, strangers.”

Robin let out a shriek that sent a pen flying from gasps at the guest book, and when Nancy shushed her, she snickered and wrapped her long arms around you to breathe a greeting into your ear, all clove cigarettes and patchouli. “Hey, stunner. Missed you.”

“You too,” you smiled and let her rock you into her hug. You were almost her height in your heels.

She released you, her hair sticking to your lipstick, and you reached out to melt the wax off the strands with your fingertips.

“Have you seen him?” Nancy asked, slipping in between you to give you the tightest hug you’d ever received.

Your heart jolted a little in alarm, glancing over her head to the parking lot beyond. Still no Steve. When you pulled away, you noticed Nancy stood on the toes of her own high heels, stretched to get a good view of the chapel behind you, and you realized she wasn’t talking about the same person. “I’m sure Jonathan’s getting ready with the other groomsmen. He hasn’t been out this way.”

Nancy’s gaze met yours then, a harsh glare in blue, but you saw the fear in her eyes, wondered if your stare mimicked her own. She squeezed your forearm and shrugged, as though she could care less, as though she didn’t sit in your apartment last month downing glasses of wine and confessing her and Jonathan had had a Thanksgiving tryst for the first time in seven years. “Oh well,” she nodded toward the hall where the guests had begun to funnel. “Shall we?”

Another gust of wind fanned your hair, ruffled your skirt, and you glanced one last time at the nearly vacant lot before a scraggly head of hair blurred your view. You blinked until Eddie’s smile came into focus, head tilted to meet your gaze. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

You breathed a nervous laugh and allowed his arms to envelope you in a hug. He was warm and a little damp under the arms, but distinctly Eddie, all murmured chuckles and cigarette smoke. But with your face buried into his hair, you sensed something else that made your heart stop, something familiar, something Steve.

“How long’s it been? Two years?” He asked, pulling away. He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, and you noticed the purple scarring that etched his throat, just beyond too tight of a collar. He must have seen your gaze, because he reached up to unbutton the top button and loosen the tie, two strands of leather and a carved silver demon’s face. You snorted.

“Yeah, just about.” The last time you’d seen Eddie had been on a New Years ski trip to the Harrington’s time share. Your memories of that trip were fogged with White Russians and too much time in a hot tub. You remembered Eddie’s bare ass, stark white, when he’d been dared to make a snow angel.

“You look beautiful as ever,” he flashed you those sharp canines.

“You don’t clean up bad yourself,” you smiled, though his compliment had fallen a bit on deaf ears. You hadn’t dressed up for him.

“Hey, don’t sound so shocked.” He scoffed, adjusting the lapels of an old blazer. It looked a bit small for his shoulders, a bit tight, and you swallowed. Maybe that’s why he smelled of Steve, maybe he’d borrowed it.

A groan sounded from behind you, and you pulled your attention from Eddie’s shoulders to see Nancy impatiently tapping her clutch to her hip, just outside the chapel door. She gestured for the two of you to hurry, and you felt Eddie’s hand on the small of your back to follow you inside.

Robin had already shuffled into a pew near the back and was thumbing through a hymn book. Nancy shoved you out of the way before shuffling in beside her.

“Wheeler said Robin and I aren’t allowed to sit next to each other,” Eddie mumbled just over your right ear, and you snorted before pulling yourself into the seat beside Nancy. He followed.

She snatched the hymn book out of Robin’s hand and tucked it back in its pocket. “Could you sit still for like two seconds?”

“Could you?” Robin snapped. “Jesus, Nance, how much coke did you do this morning?”

Appalled, Nancy shushed her. You snickered. Eddie wrapped his arm over your shoulder to lean in. “You have coke? And you aren’t sharing?”

“I knew I should have left you in Hawkins,” she reached past you to tighten his tie again.

You leaned back against his arm to make eye contact with with Robin, who flashed you a goofy grin, and for just a moment, you felt at peace. You didn’t need Steve to fall back into the chaos of this friendship. You didn’t need stolen moments of romance, you needed Robin’s raspy laughter and Nancy’s neurosis to keep you grounded, to remind you why you agreed to go in the first place.

“So how are you?” Robin asked, propping her elbow to the back of pew.

Eddie reached his fingers to tickle her, and you smiled, shrugged.

“Heard you had a good time in Louisville,” she waggled her eyebrows and your heart sank to your knees.

“Robin,” Nancy hissed. She knew the whole story, from your perspective. You’d gone to Louisville for a conference, invited Steve to join you for the weekend, didn’t expect him to say what he’d said, to request what he did. You hadn’t had a chance to talk to Robin about it. You should have known Steve would get to her first.

“Steve says he’s sorry he couldn’t make it, by the way,” Eddie pitched in from beside you.

You felt your entire body heat with embarrassment, and you turned to face a Cheshire grin. Did everyone know?

“Jesus Fuck, you two!” Nancy squealed, and a woman in front of you turned to shush you all loudly, covering the ears of a little boy.

With a groan, you buried your face in your hands and accepted the squeeze and shake of Eddie’s arm around your shoulder, the vibration of his chuckle against your right arm.

Nancy’s apology was cut short by the chime of the organ, and the shuffle of guests in their seats. You craned to see the minister at the podium, a man with a swoosh of brown hair that had you letting out a frustrated exhale. He wouldn’t be here, but apparently he’d haunt you.

The groom entered first, linked arms with his mother, and you almost didn’t recognize him. Argyle was tightly pressed into a handsome sky blue tuxedo, luxurious hair pulled back into a low pony tail. A handlebar mustache traced his upper lip, and you half-expected it to fall off when he bent down to plant a kiss to his mother’s cheek. She was crying already.

“If it’s any consolation, he told me he was staying home in solidarity with Dustin,” came a whisper to your temple.

“What?” You turned to see Eddie frowning back to you, face the most serious you’d seen it in years.

Eddie nodded sideways to the bridesmaids and groomsmen that had begun to file in two-by-two, arms linked and sleeves ruffled. You watched head after head of beautiful brunette women glide by in lavender. “Since Dustin and Suzie broke up.” Eddie explained into your hair.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe he didn’t shave for his best friend’s wedding.” Nancy scoffed under her breath beside you.

Jonathan stood beside Argyle, warm smile stretched across his boyish features, just beneath the ghost of a mustache. It was clear he couldn’t quite grow one like the groom, tried as he might. He looked more like a French waiter in baby blue. You watched his eyes scan the crowd, and saw the smile widen when he spotted the four of you, and you joined Eddie in waggling your fingers his direction.

“Stop it,” Nancy snapped beside you, and you dropped your hand to your lap reflexively.

You felt Eddie’s chuckle beside you again, warm, welcome. You turned to flash him a smile, and he winked.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise.” The minister announced, and you all shuffled your bags to your seats to stand.

You wobbled a little, sandwiched tightly between Nancy and Eddie, and you groped for his hand for balance until his grasp tightened around yours, firm and unyielding, another safe space.

The music changed tempo, and the organ sounded the first few chords of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love. You heard humming in front of you, felt the thrumming of fingers against the back of your hand, and you smiled at your friends’ inability to keep quiet. A few notes in, the bride entered.

Eden was a vision in white, hidden beneath a massive veil and more rhinestones than you’d ever seen. She waltzed in on her father’s arm, a portly man who looked like he’d been sucking on a lemon. He also donned a mustache. The detail made you smile, made you think of your own father, made you imagine yourself slow-stepping to the alter.

“Shit,” Nancy hissed from behind you, and you glanced to see her mopping at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. You laughed and were glad to see Robin reaching around to envelope Nancy in a side hug.

Nancy didn’t do well at weddings. Not since her almost nuptials four years ago in Boston. She’d been a month out, crying mascara stains into steamed linens while you and Robin called florists and caterers and DJs. Pete was a nice guy, but he wasn’t the one. She couldn’t be the hard-hitting journalist she was with a mousy man like him under her thumb. It was right to set him free, and she knew it.

You knew the feeling. You released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, and the minister asked for you all to be seated.

Eddie released your hand and slung his arm over your shoulders again to jostle Nancy. She sniffled and patted his hand. You gave a squeeze to the soft skin of her knee where her skirt split and exposed her nylons.

“This better not be a dry wedding,” she muttered under her breath, and you laughed at the reflection of your own thoughts while the minister began reciting scriptures about love.

—

You made it through the ceremony and down to the reception hall relatively unscathed, catching up with old friends and grateful to find many men behind an open bar. In fact, you were a whole three bites into your salad (and one glass of champagne in) before Eleven mentioned his name.

“Where’s Steve?”

A cherry tomato evaded your fork and bounced off rose colored linens.

“Back in Hawkins like a loser,” Robin explained, crunching down on a crouton.

You tried and failed to do anything but stare at the food on your plate.

“You guys are living together, right Eddie?” Will asked from across the table.

That caught your attention. You gaze shot to Eddie, who was already watching you, a sheepish look across wolfish features. He nodded and tongued at something in his molars, reaching for the beer bottle in front of him. “Uh, yeah. Since June.” He sipped. You watched the bubbles fizz in the amber liquid.

You supposed it had been an easy detail to miss in Louisville, what with all of the other ludicrous things Steve had spouted.

“Get any time in the bathroom?” Mike snickered behind his own beer.

Eddie smiled, shrugged. “Not really, but hey, beats paying out my ass in rent. You of all people should know that teachers don’t make dick for a salary, and turns out, neither do janitors, so…” He glanced sideways at you again before turning back to the salad in front of him.

“Yeah, but I have a girlfriend who works for the government,” Mike concluded, tugging Eleven tighter under his arm. She rolled her eyes, but seemed pleased to belong to someone.

You felt your own cheeks heat, and you went back to staring at your plate.

“Gross,” Robin managed between mouthfuls.

“Are you and Steve…?” Eleven started, and panic rose in your chest, constricting your airflow, until you looked up and realized the girl was asking Eddie. He nearly choked on his own tomato, slamming his fist to his chest while Robin barked a laugh that stirred the attention of several tables nearby.

“No, no,” Eddie wheezed, taking a chug of his beer. His hair shook around his face, and you noticed the shy smile building on the corners of his lips. “No, I’m not exactly Harrington’s type.”

“Too emotionally available?” Nancy snipped from beside her brother. You shot her wide eyes, and she just shrugged, forking her own crouton between thin lips. Champagne made her bitchy.

“Alright, enough about Dingus. He isn’t even here to defend himself.” Robin sighed, taking a sip from her own flute.

You felt Eddie’s arm drape over the back of your chair again, the warmth of him mixing with the champagne that had begun to tingle the apples of your cheeks. “What about you, Robin? Any prospects?”

She sighed from your other side. “I have been talking to a girl in the Peace Corps.” There was trepidation to her tone.

“…but?”

She glanced your direction and flashed a cheeky grin. “I, too, am into emotionally unavailable women.”

You picked up your rogue tomato and tossed her direction. She squawked and dodged it, and it rolled somewhere far off to be squished beneath a heel or kicked across the dance floor.

“Hey, guys!” A cheerful greeting announced Jonathan’s arrival, and the man placed his hands on his younger brother’s broad shoulders. The table chorused a “Hello, Jonathan,” in greeting. Everyone but Nancy, you noticed. You made eyes at her, and she shot you a dirty look.

“Dig the mustache, dude,” Eddie grinned, and you held back a snicker as Jonathan’s eyebrows raised.

He brought a hand up to scratch at the atrocity, and you noticed his gaze flicker toward Nancy. She remained stoic and focused on her first course. “Yeah? Argyle wanted us all to have a stache. He thought it’d be cool for pictures or something.”

“Yeah, man. It’s sick. I’ve been thinking about growing one myself,” Eddie scratched at the smooth skin above his upper lip, silver rings glinting in the center piece’s candlelight. You hadn’t noticed how full his lips were before, supple beneath a broad nose. He’d arrived clean shaven, boyish face carved away in harsh edges since you were kids. Now he was all strong jaw and defined cheekbones and full lips, a sparkle in his brown eyes.

You must have made a face because he flashed you his canines again. “What? You don’t think so?”

You shrugged. “I think it’d throw off your,” you gestured to his being with your champagne flute. “Vibe.”

“Yeah,” Robin nodded. “Too Mercury. You’re much more of a Brian May.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just compare me to the members of Queen,” Eddie grimaced and lifted his bottle to clink rims with your glass.

“Shit, that reminds me. I have to make a toast.” Jonathan groped for the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out folded pieces of paper.

“Where are the bride and groom?”

You all glanced around. The happy couple seemed to be anywhere but the close quarters of the reception hall.

“I believe they’re consummating their vows,” Jonathan flashed a shy smile.

Eddie clinked his glass to yours again, and you laughed before taking another sip. Will, Mike, and Eleven groaned.

“Cheers to the happy couple.” Robin raised her own glass, which again drew the attention from several tables.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Guess I better find them. I’ll catch up with you guys later, yeah?” And you waved him off. He left with the soft graze of his hand to Nancy’s shoulder. When you met her gaze, you notice her face had flushed a deep pink, and she fought back a smile with an eye roll.

—

The band tapped out the rhythm to a soft jazz tune for all the happy old couples in the room, and Mike and Eleven. You watched her curly head pressed to his gangly chest and wondered if that ought to have been you. If things were different, if you hadn’t have panicked, if Steve had showed. You could still smell him, close, warm, a ghost that lingered.

With a sigh, you opened your eyes back to the harsh lighting and glanced sideways at Eddie’s jacket on the chair beside you. You were tempted to check the inner pocket, to look for some sort of monogram, proof that it was Steve’s. Eddie had slipped out the side door with the bride and groom and the Byers boys. He mentioned something about a wedding present, and flashed you the fattest joint you’d seen in years.

You resisted the pull of the jacket and sipped from your water glass, a vain attempt to curb the steadfast champagne hangover.

“Will that ever be me?” Nancy lamented from beneath her own champagne flute, sunk back into her chair with slumped shoulders and crossed arms, far past the rigidity of the afternoon. Glazed eyes stared longingly onto the dance floor. Robin warmed her bicep with a soft hand.

“Of course it will, Nance,” you sat forward in your chair to comfort her. “You’re brilliant and beautiful, and you’ll make someone the perfect wife someday.”

She offered the softest smile on the corners of her pink lips.

“After all, you’re emotionally available,” you compared with a pointed finger.

Robin groaned and took another sip of her drink, something chock full of cherries. “Both of you are catches, damnit, and I will not sit here and let you talk shit about my friends in this way.” She prodded each of you until smiles cracked on all three of your faces and you let out soft laughs.

The song ended in a burst of applause from dancers who shared sweet kisses and evacuated the dance floor. Mike and Eleven approached with blushed cheeks and smiles they couldn’t wipe off their faces, and the next song really picked up its tempo. Eleven found her seat again, but Mike stood beside his sister with an outstretched hand.

“Come on, Nance. I’m sick of watching you get bitchier and bitchier.” He offered with that signature Wheeler smirk.

“Fuck off,” Nancy shot, but she gripped his fingers and allowed him to pull her to the dance floor.

You watched them with a laugh until you felt a hand wrap around the backside of you chair. Robin had leaned closer. She watched you with sad eyes, big and blue, something mischievous in them. “What?” You narrowed your gaze.

“Steve’s an idiot.” She commented easily, as though his name didn’t feel like a direct hit every time.

You sighed. “Robin.”

“No, I’m serious. He’s cocky, and he’ll never learn. Of course you weren’t going to uproot your life for him.”

You sucked in your cheeks to avoid the panic slamming behind your ribcage. Steve had told her everything, and for some reason, you felt like a bad friend from keeping it from her. Maybe you worried she’d take his side.

“And he’s not here because he’s a chicken. So there’s no reason you shouldn’t be having any fun.” She pried the water glass from your hand and set it beside your empty flute. “Can’t feel hungover if you keep drinking.”

You laughed and watched Eleven’s fervent agreement, brown eyes glowing. “This is a party.”

“What’re you drinking?” Robin prodded you with a long finger again, swishing her glass your direction.

You crinkled your nose, watching the ice melt droplets to the side of her glass, which beaded and splattered, darkening the tabletop beneath each shake. You chewed through her words, realizing that she was right. Steve had chosen to bail. You were the better person here, showing up for your friend despite your worry, your anxieties. Sure, you had wanted to see him, hoped to patch things up, silently prayed for a heated makeup in a coat closet or your themed hotel room. But he wasn’t here, and you were.

You straightened your posture, gave Robin a firm nod. “Dirty Shirley, please.”

“Atta girl,” Robin grinned and pushed off from her seat to head to the bar. Eleven yelled for her to wait up and traipsed behind her, leaving you alone at the table with half-drank glasses and Eddie’s suit jacket.

You stared at the black lapel, wondering if it looked familiar. You glanced upward at Mike and Nancy, laughing with each swing of their arms over their heads. You swallowed and trailed your fingers along the hem, gripped at the shoulder pad. You stared back at the soft material, albeit a bit tattered. Maybe it wasn’t Steve’s. Maybe it was just secondhand. You made to flip the left side over, to look for an inscription, when a voice startled your hand away.

“Dance with me.”

You clutched at your chest, attempted to calm your breath, and spun to see Eddie with an outstretched hand and a wide grin. “When did you get back?”

“Two seconds ago,” he shrugged, waggled his fingers your direction. “Get up. I want to dance.”

There’s no reason you shouldn’t be having fun. A smile tugging at your cheeks, you slipped your hand into his and allowed him to pull you to the dance floor. Only, when you reached the spot beside Nancy and Mike, the song ended and the tempo slowed again, something sweet and soft. Mike and Nancy High-fived.

“Aw man, I was hoping for the fast one.” Eddie groaned, but he pressed a soft hand to the small of your waist and tucked you in tight, cheek pressed to your temple as you began an awkward, off-kilter sway, a bit too dramatic, outrageous. It made you laugh, and you felt his chuckle bubble against your chest.

He was warm, but damp. His hair had been pulled back, low and loose at the base of his neck. Wet curls lined his cheeks and your own. He smelled of cigarettes and spearmint, and you pulled back to get a good look at his brown eyes, wide, but not blood shot.

“I thought you were going for a smoke,” you commented.

He flashed a canine, shrugged. “I did. Nasty habit.”

You cocked a brow. “I thought you were going to smoke.” You reiterated, glancing around the room to ensure the other guests hadn’t caught the inflection in your voice. You were pleasantly surprised to find Nancy tucked into Will’s chest. The poor boy’s eyes were bloodshot, and he had a slaphappy smile etched over his features. Nancy rolled her eyes at you, but she was smiling too.

“I let them have all the fun,” Eddie explained, his voice a low rumble against your chest.

You smiled, allowed yourself to drape a little closer, your own hand warm in his. “Why? This is a party, after all.”

His shoulder raised in a shrug under your palm. “Guess I’m growing up.”

You pulled back again to see the sly smile carving into his cheeks, and you both laughed again before he tucked you back under his chin.

—

You were swung around for six full songs, pink vodka and Sprite splashing the dance floor, and abdomen in stitches from raucous laughter, before you groaned about sore ankles and were all but carried back to your seat. You set your drink next to your discarded purse on the tabletop and slumped into your seat, cheeks flushed and aching. You hadn’t had that much fun in ages.

“So much for keeping your top-button done,” Robin commented as you approached.

You followed her point to Eddie’s bare chest. You hadn’t realized his bolo Demon had nearly slid off, buttons undone to expose a litany of scars around a smattering of dark curls. A few faded tattoos lended to the chaos, shiny.

“It’s freaking hot.” He excused himself, slumping into the seat beside you, that taunting jacket swaying under his weight.

“Eddie, I didn’t know you were such a voracious dancer,” Nancy waggled her eyebrows over her own drink.

Eddie flashed his signature grin and pointed a finger her direction. “You’re next, Wheeler. After I catch my breath.” His chest was heaving. The last number was upbeat, somewhat of a swing, and he definitely prided himself in attempting to throw you around. It was sloppy, to say the least, but fun.

“Watch your legs, Nance,” you rubbed at a Charlie horse smarting at your calf from your heels. “He’s a kicker.”

“I am not!” Eddie gawped, and you squealed when he reached to encircle your ankle and pull it into his lap. Surprisingly agile fingers pulled your strap from its buckle, and he slipped your shoe to the ground, relief flooding swollen toes. You rolled your ankle in his grasp, and strong hands melted the muscles of your calf, coaxing out the tight knot that resided there.

You were a little light-headed, and the buzz of alcohol made it difficult to contain a sound of delight. You clenched to stop yourself from moaning, and hissed when your calf tightened further.

“Relax, will you?” Eddie mumbled, all tease.

You laughed and settled your shoulders, slid further down the cool metal chair.

He released one leg and tapped the other, and you complied, trying to ignore the prickle of gooseflesh beneath his knuckles as they grazed your ankle.

You hadn’t been pampered like this in months, not since Steve offered you an early morning favor you couldn’t refused. You felt your cheeks warm, and you licked the cherry from your bottom lip, watching the glint off Eddie’s rings with each stroke, eyes unfocused. It was definitely the alcohol talking, but you’d always felt safe in Eddie’s hands, cared for, well-looked after.

He tilted his head to face you, curls falling around his face. He shook them out of big, brown eyes, cheeks creasing in a smile. “Better?”

You hummed a thanks and tucked your toes back around the leg of your chair, out of his grasp.

You watched, breathless, as his eyes raked your form, his own cheeks flushing, before he slapped his hands to his knees and huffed a breath. “Ready, Nance?”

Nancy groaned, but pushed herself to her feet, downing the rest of her cup before she allowed Eddie to drag her out onto the dance floor. You never noticed how tall he was, slender yet firm, dwarfing Nancy’s tiny frame as he took her petite hand into his, his other hand wide against her lower back.

“Feeling better?” Robin pulled your attention. She had mischief in her eyes, and she jiggled her glass in the air between you.

She was feeling toasty, you could tell by the rouge of her cheeks, the stained of her lips. Mike and Eleven spoke in giggles behind hands, playing Will at a game of Go-Fish with hole-punched cards he’d procured at some point. Jonathan sat beside them, stoned as all Hell, with a silly grin just beneath that God awful mustache. You felt warm, you felt at home. And for the first time in seven years, that feeling didn’t require Steve.

You released a shy smile, unable to hide it, and lifted your glass to clink with her own. “Much. Thank you.”

—

The bride and groom left in a flurry of sparklers, tucked into a bright yellow van, waving their goodbyes with blown kisses and dazed looks on their faces. The guests made their exits into breath-steaming cold, and you found yourself against the frigid hood of your car, sipping a stolen Dirty Shirley with Eddie’s jacket thrown over your shoulders. Grenadine dripped from a maraschino cherry, sticky-sweet, as Eddie lifted it from your glass and popped it between plump lips. It burst between his molars, and he procured the stem from between his front teeth.

“Can you tie it into a knot?”

His brows furrowed into the most dramatic scold you’d ever seen, and he tossed the stem to the ground between your feet. “I’m not giving away all of my secrets.”

You warmed at the insinuation and fingered around melting ice for the second cherry, avoiding his gaze. When you grasped the stem, he elbowed your side, almost causing you to fling it from the cup. He chuckled at the indignant noise that fell from between your lips.

“Sorry,” he grinned, and you noticed his eyes lingered on your lips when you put the cherry in your mouth.

You both looked away, facing out at the winter night. The stars were brighter here, sky bigger. Shirley had warmed your insides, and Eddie’s jacket had warmed you out. You placed cold fingertips to the embroidered letters on the inside pocket, pretended you couldn’t feel a cursive SFH.

“So,” Eddie mumbled, reaching into the jacket pocket at your hip. You jumped under his touch, and he procured a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, shaking it your direction. “Want a smoke?”

You declined the offer, tossing your cherry stem into your glass while the fruit popped syrupy sweet between your teeth, soaked with the sting of vodka.

“Alright, I’ll be right back though.” He nodded off toward the side building, courteous. Before he stepped away, though, he turned to face you, scratching at the back of his neck. You noticed a soft blush burning at his cheeks, the cold having already nipped his nose a soft pink. “Hey so, would you maybe want to come back to my room with me?”

You buzzed on his words, the softest he’d spoken, the smallest he seemed. You chewed on the cherry and swallowed with a smile, but before you could respond, he clarified.

“I mean, you know because I have that fridge full of mini-bottles of alcohol and peanuts, and the room’s on Harrington’s card, so we really can’t let that go to waste.”

You hoped your face didn’t falter from the sound of his name, his ever-presence. You swallowed again, took a the final few sips of your drink, watered down, and shrugged. “Sure, Eddie.”

“Great,” he breathed, all fog. “See you in a minute?”

You nodded. “I’ll be here.” And he disappeared around the corner, pulling a cigarette between his lips. Maybe you should have joined him, you could have used the nicotine to calm your sudden nerves. You dumped your ice beside you, water splashing your nylons and crossed your arms over your chest, one again feeling for the soft embroidered letters. You closed your eyes and tipped your head back.

Had he been there, you might be doing the same right now, hunkered under his jacket, waiting for a quick smoke before he took you back to his room. Steve had always been warm hands and lingered kisses, flirtation, toeing the line. With Steve it was always about not getting caught, but not caring if you did. It was young and reckless, and now you were older and more responsible, and terrified of settling down.

“Hey, babe. Will and I are tucking in for the night,” Robin approached with Will linked to her arm. He looked exhausted, shoulders slumped, pupils still slightly blown.

You raised your brows at Robin. “And Nancy?”

Robin cracked a sly smile. Will groaned in disgust.

“Good for her,” you snorted.

Robin nodded, pushing Will in the direction of her car with the promise of pizza. She turned to you with an arm outstretched, ready to accept your tight hug. “Will I see you soon?”

“I hope,” you shrugged. “Come see me for your birthday?”

“Hawkins,” she sighed into your ear, squeezing you tight. All warm and patchouli and Robin. “But I’ll be in DC around Easter. Can we meet then?”

You were that age, where you scheduled time with your friends, where you didn’t have fun anymore, where life had begun to slow down. You swallowed and pulled away, holding her padded shoulders at arm’s length. “Robin?” Your pulse began to quicken.

“Yeah, babe?”

You glanced over her shoulder at a skyward billow of smoke. “I’m going back to Eddie’s room with him.”

Her eyes widened, and you worried it might be judgement, disappointment, until her lips cracked into a grin. “Holy shit.” She laughed.

You nodded. “Holy shit.”

“Tell me every gory detail, please? Call me the moment you get home.”

Your heart fluttered at the idea of details, of Eddie’s rumbled voice, of cigarettes and spearmint and cherry. Your ankles wobbled and Robin caught you with a laugh.

“You good to drive?”

Eddie was. You didn’t think you saw him drink anything after the beer. He toasted with water.

You tightened the jacket around yourself, thumbing at the letters on the inside pocket. “Robin, do you think…” You weren’t even sure what you were asking. “I mean, they’re roommates.” You huffed, gesturing off in Eddie’s direction.

Robin rolled her eyes, gave your wrists a tight squeeze. “The three of you are consenting adults,” her voice rasped with exhaustion, the end of a great night. “You asked Steve to come, and he didn’t. That’s on him.”

You felt your cheeks warm. Steve really did tell her everything.

“Tell me something.”

You hummed, glancing over her shoulder at Eddie’s approaching frame.

“Do you want to marry Steve?”

That familiar panic clawed at your chest, and you staggered further into her, the mountain air creating static cling between your nylons and the chiffon of your skirt. It had been a question you’d been asking yourself over and over again for months now, a question that provided you with nothing but hurt, confusion, a question for people your age.

You grit your teeth, stood up straight, shook your head. “No. At least, not right now.”

She smiled at that, another sweet, unexpected smile, one bathed in mischief. “Good. It’s important to have fun while you’re still young.”

—

Eddie lead you into his room in a flurry of apologies, lifting an explosion of clothes off various pieces of furniture to shove into his suitcase. The room was large, too opulent for Eddie’s taste, with pastel wallpaper and a balcony overlooking snow-topped mountains. Or, you’d assumed it would in daylight. Currently, honeyed street lamps glowed at gauzy curtains, the city was pitch black beyond and below.

The thing that struck you the most was the double beds, one pristine and pressed, the other haphazardly shoved together, a crease where Eddie’s body had lain the night before. Steve had booked the room for two. You wondered how long ago, and at what point he changed his mind.

“Ta-da,” Eddie gestured to the open space before giving the grand tour. “Bathroom,” all peach marble and gold fixtures. “Television, with pay-per-view.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And… snacks.” He swung open the door to the mini fridge and reached in to pull out a few mini bottles of vodka. They clinked against his silver rings.

Anxiety bubbled in you, that familiar precipice of a storm. It tingled in your fingertips, thundered your heartbeat in your ears. It was electric like static shock clinging to your nylons. You took a few uneasy steps forward, coughed a laugh.

Eddie tossed the liquor bottles to the unmade bed and tugged at the Demon medallion around his neck. It was barely on by now, scooped neck of a white tank top visible low on his chest. Eddie was rough around the edges, sticky, stretched like taffy over wiry limbs. He moved with umph, a cartoon character. He pulled his bolo tie over his head and deposited it to the bedside table nearest a phone, a lamp, a pad of paper with the hotel’s logo.

“Good for Nancy and Jonathan, huh?” He commented, stirring your attention back to the present, back to the fun evening you had, removing the pressure of it all.

You laughed, tossed your clutch to a side table, leaned against a wall to unbuckle shoes and release your aching toes. “I know, right? She needed it.”

“Did you know they hooked up over Thanksgiving?” Eddie offered like a secret, rolling his sleeves and unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. The tank top beneath clung to bits of him that sweat through, see-through, exposing bits of purpled flesh, like Steve’s.

You sucked in your cheeks and wiggled your toes against the carpet, strode to the mini fridge to find a bag of M&Ms. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll here about tonight for the next three months.” You shook the bag his direction, and when he held his hands out to catch it, you tossed and grabbed yourself another bag.

“What? You don’t think they’ll be together forever after this?” Eddie snickered, tearing open his bag from the center. The plastic split and a few candy-coated chocolates pelted the carpet, but he kicked them under the unmade bed and threw himself onto it with all of the flair for dramatics he was famous for. The comforter sighed under him.

You snorted, shrugged, tore open the corner of your own bag, and crawled to rest against the headboard beside him. You popped a green one into your mouth, and a brown. They tasted a bit stale, and odd refrigerated, but the crunch between your teeth was satisfying enough.

“Hey, so,” Eddie pulled himself upward and shifted onto his side to face you, all long limbs and chocolate breath, and you turned to catch watchful brown eyes. “I know I’m a thousand percent going to regret asking this,” he licked the corner of his plump, pink lips. “But what exactly happened in Louisville?”

You nearly choked. Eddie laughed as you sputtered, and he darted from his spot with an apology on his lips to pull a sealed plastic water bottle from the fridge. You laughed with him, tears forming at your eyes while you twisted the cap off and sat up for a drink and a gasp of fresh air.

“That bad, huh?” He settled beside you again, his surprisingly weight teetering you on your side.

“Steve didn’t tell you?” You sipped, licked chocolate from your teeth.

Eddie’s eyes were soft, innocent, head tilted to yours as he shook the curls from his eyelashes. “He didn’t say much, just came back grumpier than usual. Robin yelled at him the other day because every time we mention you, he gets all… weird. Quiet. Obnoxious.” His lips split in a grin, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He was concerned, concerned for his friend, for you too.

You took a deep breath, acknowledged the idea of a sullen Steve, moping around at your expense. You thought back to that blessed weekend, boring conference room meetings anxiously awaiting 5 o’clock when you could stumble back into a hotel room, not unlike this one, unzipping your dress and soaking in Steve Harrington’s all-encompassing affection. All weekend, he had been soft words and sweet sounds and roaming hands, until the end.

And then you fought. God, you’d never fought anyone like that.

“Steve asked me to marry him.”

It was Eddie’s turn to choke. “I’m sorry?”

You shrugged, tugged at a run in the chiffon of your pleated skirt. “Well, he more told me to marry him than asked. There wasn’t a ring or anything.” You groaned and slammed your head back into the padded headboard. “He wanted to try long distance, and when I said no, he told me to marry him, told me to move to Hawkins, promised to take care of me. And Jesus, Eddie, no offense to Hawkins or its residence, but you know I can’t do that. I mean, after the Earthquake? After all that happened?” You were rambling, but you hadn’t talked about it. Not since you spewed to Nancy, and that was months ago.

“No, I get it,” Eddie sighed, tugging his hair tie from his end to run his fingers through scraggly hair. “I’m only there for Wayne, and half the time, I think he’s staying for me. Hawkins is like a black hole.”

“Exactly!” You poured a few more M&Ms into your hand and ate them one-by-one. “And like, I obviously like Steve. I mean, he was my first kiss, my prom date. We have history, you know? I think that’s why I know him so well.”

Eddie hummed in response, settled back down beside you, shoulder to shoulder. He tossed a candy, missed his mouth. It settled somewhere between you.

“Steve needs the nuclear family. He needs a stay-at-home wife and six kids, a golden retriever out back.” You mused. You almost hated that you saw yourself in the role, could see yourself melding perfectly into it, had been imagining it for months and months.

Eddie just let you speak, continued to shuffle chocolate into his hand and down it.

You elbowed him. “What, no input here?”

He crunched a few bites, mouth full, and shrugged. He pulled your water bottle from your hand to chase the chocolate coating his mouth, and took a minute to compose his thoughts before he said. “Can I be totally honest with you?”

“Please,” you nodded, tilting yourself to face him.

He glanced your direction for a split second, but looked outward, gesturing to the room, to his invisible audience. “I mean, I obviously want you both to be happy. He’s one of my best friends. We share a toilet, for Christ’s sake.”

You chuckled at the visual.

The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, and he glanced back at you again. You watched his Adam’s apple bob. “But uh… I’m feeling really selfish tonight.”

You felt it again at his words, that buzz of electricity to your fingertips. “Yeah?” Was all you could manage.

“Yeah,” he nodded, looked away, gestured out to the neatly pressed bed to your right. “I mean, he’s not here. He could have fought for you, and he chose to be a coward and stay home, and I feel like kind of a dick because I’m just so grateful I finally have you to myself.”

You watched the steady rise and fall of his chest before he turned to face you again, his eyes big and brown and watching you watch him.

“Because honestly? It’s been killing me to fight for your attention when Harrington’s around. I mean, I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you offered to tutor me sophomore year.”

You licked the crease between your lips, saw it catch his gaze, watched him do the same. A shiver slipped down your spine. “You could try now. If you want.”

A soft sound spilled from his mouth, and his brows furrowed neatly. “Are you sure?”

You smiled, leaned back against the headboard, and whispered, “Kiss me, Eddie.”

His lips were soft, pillowy, all-encompassing. He overtook your space, crowded you with a cascade of curls and a firm hand to the headboard above your head, his other grazing your ribcage, and you leaned into the taste of chocolate and spearmint. He was gentle, timid, a stark polar opposite from the dramatic flair of the man you’d grown accustomed to, a facade, perhaps.

His nose nuzzled your own, and your cheek, and you breathed a warm smile to his temple when his lips found the hollow at your ear. “Can I?” He whispered, and you muttered an allowance before feeling warm, soft kisses down the plane of your throat to the dips of your clavicle.

You pushed at his shoulders, unraveling the collar of his shirt until he was pulling away to yank folded sleeves down his forearms. His lean frame was sinew and faded ink and a smattering of scars that matched a few of your own.

He pulled his tank over his head next, not one to waste time, and you trailed your fingers along tight flesh from ribcage to hipbones, leaving a trail of goosebumps along pale skin. With a groan, he dipped back to capture your lips in a kiss again. You heard the scatter of M&Ms across the side table, felt the shift of the bed as he gripped your hips and pulled you downward until your head rested on a cotton pillowcase.

“I meant it when I told you you were beautiful,” he muttered to your lips, hands ghosting your thighs as he made for the waist band of your nylons beneath your dress.

You felt self-conscious about the creases left to your skin there, but nimble fingers rolled the thin material down past your knees, and you watched it waft to the floor. Firm hands quickly replaced it, kneading at aching leg muscles, pinching the meat of your thighs between ringed fingers. You moaned into an open mouth.

“You deserve to be worshipped.” He sighed into your shoulder.

He was right. You deserved to have fun, to enjoy your friend’s wedding, to party, to live a little. You deserved to not worry about the ever-present stress of adulthood. You deserved to sink into a cushy mattress and clutch curls as a man buried his face into you, as a man praised you, as a man pleased you.

You held chiffon pleats to your thighs, wished you’d shaved, felt pillowy lips to the crux of your hips, tried not to compare calloused hands to smooth ones. You saw stars, eyes and jaw slammed shut, and tried not to compare a round-tipped nose to a flat one. You allowed Eddie to kiss you, lips tacky, breath hot, and tried not to compare sweet sounds to filthy ones.

Eddie was all lips, where Steve was all hands. Eddie was strong shoulders, nimble fingers, and Steve was rhythm and hips and thighs. Eddie was whispered truths and damp and sticky sweet, and Steve was furrowed brow and grit teeth, determined. Eddie let you pin him, hair splayed across a creased pillowcase, your small hands pressed to the faded ink on his chest, tracing lines with manicured fingertips. Steve would have pinned you wrists over your head.

“Can I hold you?” Eddie asked, when you were all spent and sweating and breathless, curls stuck to his temples, eyelids heavy.

You sunk into spindly arms, your legs tangled but spread wide across an uneven bedspread. You dress has been discarded beneath the side table. The soft lamplight accentuated the shadows, a honeyed glow pooling in from the patio beyond.

Something heavy rattled in you, guilt perhaps, and you released a shaky breath.

“Need a smoke?” Eddie breathed into your neck, that warm chuckle, friendly, like he understood, that safe space to bring you back to Earth.

You tucked his hand tighter into your ribcage beneath your breasts, a buoy tying you to the reality of the day, of your life, to the consequences of your actions.

You fell asleep to the low, rumbling hum of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling In Love.

---

A/N: This has been floating around my head for ages, and for some reason, it chose this week to finally come out, and it's so vastly different from what I had planned. Listen, I'm a Steve girl, trust me. I know it may not seem like it, but I'm really, really a Steve girl. But Eddie's just so... I just love him sometimes, okay?

Also I just really felt like this was so about the friendship between them all. If you can't tell, I think I'm in love with Robin and Nancy. Let me know what you think. Love you forever and ever. xo Amanda

#stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #jancy #jonathan byers #robin buckley #argyle and eden

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mooflettes · 4 months

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So, you told me to DM my idea, so here it is!

I believe that Pecharunt wants one thing: Revenge. Essentially, it’s constantly in pain, agony and suffering. However, no one knows about it, one day in the crater, when most of the trees and terapogas’s died, everyone pinned the blame on Pecharunt and exiled it from the crater. Fueled by hatred, it vows to return and destroy the crater and the world. Starting by absorbing

the last Terapogas, but he doesn’t know the location so it seeks after the masks that Eustace made. After waiting for who knows how long, the events of the DLCs happen. The only difference is that the doll at Peachy’s is not there but the shop owner is (Pecharunt placed her under its control). Before Stellar form Terapogas is defeated, Pecharunt comes out and absorbs it. There is a reason why but Pecharunt is not only absorbing Terapogas, but other

legendaries as well. See, I remember BirdKeeperToby making a video about the tree of life and how the last legendaries may relate to it. But for simplicity’s sake, Pecharunt formulated a plan and also wants to absorb Eternamax Eternatus, Ultra Necrozma, Zygarde Complete form, The Tao trio and Mega Rayquaza. VERY SPECIFICALLY in those forms. It’ll have enough power to then take down the creation trio in another timeline. Then it would travel to another

timeline to absorb Arceus before it hatched and become god in that timeline (he did absorb Hoopa Unbound in another timeline) However, it was eventually stopped by the protagonists and the legendaries would be freed. But it was a hollow victory in the end, as before Pecharunt unfused, it was able to use the last of its energy to blast Kieran to another timeline where Pokémon are nothing more than machines, and the Pokemon that were freed did not make a full

recovery as the legendaries were still poisoned even after 8 months. And Kieran is nowhere to be found. Pecharunt would then be deemed too dangerous to capture and train so high tech prison was made specifically just to house it. Making it the first pokemon to be imprisoned. But that’s my idea! Sorry if I rambled on for too long (a bit of my autistic side is here). If you’re confused about Pecharunt absorbing, I think that can happen as Pecharunt may have the

ability to absorb souls, since the third signboard in Kitakami talked about ‘your soul will be forfeit to the ogre’ or something, but I think it’s referring to Pecharunt. Also, I think that Pecharunt would probably rename itself later into something like ‘Dokuwāro’ or something. But again, thanks for listening!

Okay, so while this stuff may fit on my alt, I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS IDEA! Dokutaro/Pecharunt being blamed for something wouldn't be off the mark, as it always has seemed kinda mischievous to me. I also kinda am inspired to maybe thing that Dokutaro is the reason like Ogerpon is blamed for a lot of other things than just the situation with the Loyal Three. Dokutaro could be not just upset because it didn't get it's way but for other happenings such as say Eustace not making it a glittery mask to give it power or something else, so Eustace is now cursed by Dokutaro. I was thinking of the idea that maybe Eustace is stuck in the blackish void of it's inside-shell, if that even makes sense, and that being how Dokutaro stores souls.

I know this is a little ooc from what you said but you're giving me ideas to spitball here. Also its name being Pecharunt...it must have been small and weak and frail at one point...what if it took mock-pity on Kieran later on and fed Kieran his power or so? I'm sorry if my answer seems a little broken I have a weird attention-span and can only remember certain things^^ I love this idea tho and I wonder if I could incorporate it into like, the itty bitty bits n' pieces of Project Venus, esp since it somewhat lines up in canon!

#project venus mystery of the indigo disk #pokemon #nintendo #dokutaro #pecharunt #kieran pokemon #pokeblr #rambles #ramblings #terapagos

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staticscreenwriting · 11 months

Text

A BEAUTIFUL SOMEWHERE II CHAPTER TWO

Series Masterlist x OBX Masterlist x Full Masterlist x Series Summary

Chapter Two — Our Song

Chapter Summary: JJ and John B. have a talk about those dreaded papers. Stevie runs into an unexpected acquaintance and finds an outlet for her anger. The Pogues get together for the first time in years and decide what to do with the time they're given together.

The air smells like sawdust and summer heat and JJ’s skin is slick with sweat as the humming of the jigsaw ceases and makes room for the gentle lap of the waves mingling with the low music coming from the radio.

He can feel a sense of pride pushing against his skin, trying so desperately to find room inside of him, expanding in a way that makes it unable for him to not let himself feel it. It’s something he’s trying to get used to step by step. JJ never really had anyone be proud of anything he did so all of this is unfamiliar, it’s foreign. But he is trying. And looking at the cedarwood door frame before him, he tries to cherish the feeling of pride instead of covering it up with poisonous thoughts of self-depreciation.

“Looks good, man.”

John B’s voice cuts through the early afternoon quiet and catches JJ off guard like a cold splash of water on sun-burned skin.

“Thanks. What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t mean to sound rude, he really doesn’t, but it’s a fact that none of his friends ever show up here. Their friend group lives and breathes like some kind of natural organism that comes and goes as it does without much talking or planning. They all just gravitate toward each other in their own designated spaces like the chateau or the wreck or the beach. But this place? This is his little getaway, his shelter and his prison. Both a place to rest and to get absolutely obliterated by his own thoughts.

“Uh, good to see you too.” John B. scoffs though he grants JJ a look of mock offense void of any and all seriousness.

“You know what I mean.”

“I wanted to hang out and you weren’t at your place or the shack. And I know you stress-build so this was the only place you could be.”

“I don’t stress-build.”

He does. In fact, it’s one of the few healthy coping mechanisms he’s developed since leaving high school and forcing himself to grow up, at least a little bit. There’s a certain adult quality in building something when things get tough instead of breaking something down. You can choose to mess up when life treats you unfairly or you can choose to create something.

He’s been destructive for so long that he feels like he owes the world some creations. Or maybe he owes himself, JJ is not entirely sure.

“… and anyway, why would I be stressed? Life is fucking peachy.”

John B. lifts his eyebrow in that annoyingly smug way that is so quintessentially him it makes JJ feel both nostalgic and aggravated at the same time.

“Are you really asking me that? Like is that a legit question? Because that’s a dumb question.”

“Yeah, I’m asking.”

“Well uh let me think. Maybe you’re stressed because Stevie is back home for the first time in years after the both of you had an atomic bomb-sized blowup, that you both still refuse to talk about. “

Many nights have gone by since then, many nights when JJ was so close to opening up. To telling John B. every excruciating detail, every heartbreaking word that had been spoken. He never did though. There is always something holding him back. Some invisible vine wrapping around his heart, then his throat and pulling close, cutting off all blood, all oxygen until the thought of spilling the truth evaporates from his mind as if they never existed in the first place.

“Not stressed about that. It’s been years, we’re good.”

“That why you can’t sign the divorce papers? Because you’re good?”

JJ doesn’t have a lot of good memories of hanging out with his dad but he does remember one memory that at least started good. He was maybe 9 and Luke had allowed him to skip school and accompany him on a trip to Raleigh. He doesn’t remember why they went there in the first place but he does remember eating greasy burgers at some dingy diner and drinking lukewarm Dr Pepper in the car while his dad was singing along to Lynyrd Skynyrd. At least JJ was drinking Dr. Pepper. The good memories stop there. On the way back Luke was grumpy and mean and aggravated and JJ remembers clutching the door handle with his tiny hands and hoping that Luke would slow down, just slow down.

He didn’t slow down, not until he ran a red light and someone stepped out into the street and Luke had to step on the brake with all his might, trying to get the car to a standstill before hitting the person.

Fortunately, they didn’t hit anyone, but little JJ was flung against the seatbelt with such force that to this day he still remembers the way all the air was knocked out of him, the way he couldn’t breathe. It just wouldn’t come and his lungs felt empty. All void of oxygen.

He feels that exact same way as those words tumble from John B.’s lips. Like the air has been sucked out of his lungs and switched out with gravel, stones, rocks. Heavy and rough.

The manila envelope is stuffed into the glove compartment of his car, stashed somewhere between parking tickets that still need to be paid, pens that don’t work anymore, and napkins from various fast food places around the island.

“I — look I don’t know why I can’t do it. It’s not like I believe we’ll get back together or anything like that. We haven’t spoken to each other in 4 years, I might as well sign them. It’s not like this marriage was a good idea to begin with. It just — “

“Just what?”

JJ has thought about this so many times, so many nights have been spent tossing and turning in bed with no thoughts but those dreaded documents. Her name in blue ink on white paper all swirly and graceful. She sent them before, the only form of communication they had in 4 whole years. Just a year after she left the island they landed unceremoniously in his mailbox. Back then he just ignored them. Pretended like he never received them. Maybe part of him wished that it would get her to call, to come visit even. He never heard back though and so for the time being it was easy to play along with this version of the truth he tried so hard to hold onto. But the thoughts never really left. He always knew they were there buried in his closet like metaphorical skeletons.

This time he can’t pretend. Can’t lie to himself or to her. She handed them to him personally. Blue ink on white paper. Manila envelope on sun-kissed skin.

And he still can’t bring himself to put his name on the dotted line. It’s supposed to be so easy. It’s the hardest fucking thing.

“If I put my name on those papers It feels like admitting this was a mistake. I don’t want this to be a mistake. I made a lot of shitty calls in my life but marrying her was not one of them. I know it doesn’t mean anything right now, this stupid piece of paper but I just can’t bring myself to sign it,” JJ explains then lets out a long sigh of frustration. “I know it’s fucking dumb.”

“Do you still love her?”

JJ Maybank doesn’t remember a time in his life when he didn’t love Stephanie Collins. Loving her is part of him like the scar on his wrist from falling off of his surfboard and being smacked against a sharp rock. Like the dimple that’s only on one side of his face. Like that chip in his tooth from when he hit the ground jumping from a swing set.

“JB, I don’t think it matters.”

“You married her because you love her. If you still do, and I know you do, maybe you shouldn’t sign those papers.”

“Dude I — “

“Look, just maybe you two need to stop looking at the past and start seeing if there’s a chance for a future for the two of you.”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“JJ, you bought a house for this girl. You’re building door-frames. Everything you do is for her. Would be a shame if she never got to see it.”

JJ’s eyes wander across the room. To the drywall that’s not fully painted yet. The fireplace he fixed up. The cedarwood door-frames and to the corner of the porch there are two bright orange ceramic tiles. One with a J, one with an S in sloppy blue handwriting. They were 10 maybe 11 when they painted them in her backyard while her mom was reading a book on the porch. He remembers the soft voice of Billy Joel coming from the radio and the smell of coral honeysuckle in the air and the taste of peach iced tea on his lips.

Most of all he remembers her smile, all gap-toothed and gorgeous. Even then he thought she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

Maybe John B. has a point.

“I — uh I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

John B. shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly before giving him a tiny smile. “Not sure but I heard sorry is a pretty good opener.”

The chainlink fence rattles as Stevie leans her bike against it, the hot summer sun beating down on her already, even this early in the morning, leaving her skin tingling.

In all the world there is no better remedy for the summer heat than a cherry popsicle from the gas station by her old house. It’s quite a ride now all the way from Figure 8 but some things are worth taking long bike rides for. Like cherry popsicles and the sweet taste of childhood nostalgia.

Stepping into the building is like stepping back into her childhood, her teenage years. The linoleum floor is still perpetually sticky and the air still smells stale and sharp like out-of-date candy and cleaning chemicals mixed with the smell of gasoline.

The icy AC air sends a shiver through Stevie and makes a layer of goosebumps appear across her skin. Back when they were kids, JJ would wrap his arms around her and rub her arms until she would assure him that he had warmed her up sufficiently for her to make a conscious decision on what candy to get. “You can’t think right if you’re cold. Your brain won’t work. Trust me, it’s science.” Even back then she severely doubted that statement but she never said anything to disprove his claims. It might not have been based on actual scientific research, but it was true to JJ and anyway, Stevie liked having his arms around her. So who was she to tell him wrong?

“Everybody wants to rule the world” echoes through the room reverberating between the coolers on one side and the metal rags filled with chips and condoms and beef jerky and canisters of 10W40.

Stevie pushes open the lid of the ice box, letting the stale static air escape before grabbing the object of her desire, the cherry red popsicle. Generic brand and probably a blend of every chemical one should not put in their body. But there is just something so addicting about the artificial cherry flavor that makes cutting her life short by a year or two just worth it.

As she puts the ice on the counter the song playing from the overhead speakers ends and Chicago’s “You're the Inspiration” starts playing, making it impossible for Stevie to suppress a smile. Talk about the universe sending a sign. A strange feeling settles in her stomach, a mix of happiness and nostalgia and longing and loss. A memory of what once was and what will never be.

“You found everything alright?” The cashier asks, turning around to face Stevie.

So many people pass in and out of your life leaving no lasting traces, nothing to remember them by, neither good nor bad. A fleeting moment in time spent together only to be but a distant shadow in a memory.

And then there are people like Luke Maybank. Reckless and cruel, leaving destruction and pain wherever they step. Bruises and scars on good people with good hearts.

She remembers the first time she met him, he smiled at her but it was all teeth and absolutely no kindness. He called her little miss and she hated the way those words sounded coming from his lips. Acidic and evil. Like a Disney villain only in real life leaving real bruises on real skin.

He looks older now, worn out by life and circumstance. His skin is leathery and grayish dull, suntanned, and dry from spending too much time in the sun without giving a single thought to wearing sunscreen. His eyes still hold the same icy glint though. Grey and sharp and slicing right through her cutting straight to the bone.

“Hey, do I know you?”

She almost wants to laugh at that, at his absolute incapability to take any interest in JJ’s life, so much so as to forget her of all people.

A little voice in her head is whispering mischievous thoughts into her ear. “Tell him, go ahead. Tell him you’re his daughter-in-law. See what he says!”

She doesn’t listen to the voice though, she used to when she was younger but part of growing up is learning when to shut them up and when to follow them. This is a shut-up moment.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You sure?” he musters her up and down trying desperately to find a place in his head to file her away.

“Pretty sure.”

“Well alright then. Could’ve sworn I’ve seen your pretty face before.”

And when he smiles at her then it’s no teeth or danger it’s that one dimple on his cheek dipping into his skin the same way JJ’s does. She thinks she hates this even more. Seeing a resemblance of the man she loves most in this world in this vile person before her. “That’ll be 86 cents please.”

She hands him a dollar bill and mumbles out a rushed “keep the change” before all but running out of the store.

Hatred feels red, it feels like burning you from the inside out. Bones and muscle and flesh and skin. Stevie has never felt hatred for anyone the way she feels for Luke Maybank.

He might not remember her but she remembers him alright. She remembers all the bruises and black eyes and scars littering JJ’s body. She remembers the fear in JJ’s voice and the tears running down his cheeks and all the pain and suffering he had to go through because Luke couldn’t be bothered to be a father and a decent human being.

Part of growing up is learning when to shut up the voices telling you to do irresponsible, dumb things. Stevie never claimed to be all that grown up. So when she catches sight of the ugly beige chevy suburban with the dent in the side and the crack in the windshield it feels like some higher power takes over. Her feet move as if on autopilot and bring her closer and closer to the car. Her hand reaches into the pocket of her denim shorts and grabs a hold of her key. The one with the pink plastic surfboard keychain and the small switchblade knife. Dad probably had other things in mind when he gave it to her. Protection, safety. But then again he said to use it in emergency situations and this emergency has been a long time coming.

She doesn’t even realize it’s happening until the satisfying hiss of a deflating tire pulls her back into the reality of the situation.

It’s morally wrong, she knows this as well as anyone. But every time she thinks about Luke Maybank all she can see is JJ bruised and battered and asking to be loved only for his father to leave him bloody and broken. Slashing the tire might be morally wrong but as she walks away from the scene of the crime, rides down the familiar streets of Kildare on her bike one hand on the handle one hand holding the popsicle, lips colored cherry red, there’s not a hint of regret inside of her. Sometimes things aren’t morally right but maybe that doesn’t mean they’re all wrong.

“Pogue meetup. 8 on the dot @ the chateau. Mandatory!”

John B. isn’t a texter. Never has been. He gets right to the point and if his point takes more than 3 sentences to explain he will call you. So when the text comes through Stevie doesn’t even have to question who it is summoning her to the old stomping grounds. Immediately the new number is saved in her phone as John B. He’s the only John she knows but it feels entirely wrong not to put the B where it has always been and always will belong.

The Chateau looks familiar and yet different. The big tree behind the house still stands grand and proud, the string lights still attached. She wonders if they still work. If they can still turn a backyard into a fairytale. The house looks different though, newer. It’s sporting a fresh coat of paint, light olive green, and the porch seems to have been built completely new from the ground up.

Music sounds from the backyard and laughter rings through the early afternoon daze. Her heart aches with a sense of longing, a remembrance of different times with the same people.

Their laughter still is her favorite sound in the world.

“Look who it is! Princess Pogue herself!” John B. calls out across the yard as she rounds the corner, smiling faces greeting her.

“Yo, I don’t know if that title still applies. Miss Collins is living on figure 8 now.” Pope inquiries, though Stevie can tell there’s no malicious intent in any of his words. It’s pointless teasing between friends forever entangled in each other's lives.

“Uh, objection your honor. May I remind you of one simple fact please?”

“Granted, what is that fact, Mr. Maybank?”

“Once a Pogue, always a fucking Pogue.”

His exclamation is met with a roar of applause and cheers and for a moment Stevie feels 18 and invincible again. 4 years feel like a lifetime sometimes and in moments like this one 4 years feel like they’re but a blink of an eye.

JJ’s arm falls around her shoulders as she plops down on the tree stump next to him. He smells like salty air and cheap mint body wash and fire. A can of beer is pushed into her hand, condensation cold and wet against her skin. It’s the same brand they’ve always had, the cheapest they sell at any of the stores around the island. It’s nice to know fundamental things haven’t changed.

The fire casts the group in a reddish golden glow, like oil paintings, like movie scenes too beautiful to be real life.

“You all wanna know something crazy?” she says, a smirk spreading on her lips.

Curious eyes regard her awaiting her next words.

“Richard has bidets installed in every bathroom. Remember when we didn’t have running water after one of the storms? Francine or Fiona or something? And we had to flush using collected rainwater.”

“When we sneaked into the country club to shit?” JJ asks with that cute little innocent smirk on his face that is all but innocent but works so well with his big blue eyes and the shaggy blond hair.

“Yeah JJ, that time. Well while we had to do that, figure 8 has fucking bidets.”

“Typical,” Kiara says and rolls her eyes in a way that Stevie missed so dearly. If only she could bottle up this moment, with all her friends smiling and happy and talking nonsense the way they always did.

“Does it like … tickle? Does it feel nice? Like nice nice, if you know what I mean.”

“Okay, woah JJ. No. No, come on. “ John B. speaks up accompanied by a harmony of groans following JJ’s question, earning him a confused “what?” from JJ himself.

“No more talk about — butt stuff. We’re here to celebrate the first time all of us Pogue are back on the island at the same time in years. So I would like to propose something.”

“He said butt stuff.”

“JJ!” Stevie scolds, slightly shoving her elbow into his ribs. Just enough to startle but not enough to hurt. Never.

“Sorry.”

“I propose the idea of making this the best summer ever. No drama. No problems. Just pure old Pogue shenanigans. That means fun, drinks, music, and maybe a blunt or two. What do you guys say?”

Sarah chimes up with an enthusiastic “Sounds good to me” and a grandiose bright smile. It doesn't take more than a second for the rest of the group to join in, a joy radiating from all of them that is simply contagious.

“Well, let's drink to that!”

“To the best summer of all time.” John B. says.

“To good friends.”

“To best friends.” Kie corrects Pope earning herself an agreeable nod of his head from the boy. The man.

“To spending time with the people you love most.”

As those words fall from Sarah’s lips, Stevie can’t help but glance at JJ through the corner of her eyes. It would be the world's most egregious lie if she were to deny that part of her still loves JJ. That part of her will always love him, no matter how much time or distance is put between them. Being here again just makes that so abundantly clear to her. Just because she knows though, doesn’t mean anyone else has to. So when his eyes catch hers she looks back towards the fire, acting as if nothing happened in the first place.

“To letting go of the past and building new futures.”

JJ’s words sound so honest and meaningful and back 4 years ago she immediately would’ve known what they meant. Would’ve been able to read him like an open book.

Not anymore though. And maybe those are the consequences of her own actions that she now has to live with. You are not the girl you were when you left, her mind tells her, and he is not the boy you left behind.

“To old memories. And to making new ones.”

Beers raised in the air, they all let out a whooping “Pogues for life” before taking sips from their drinks. Turning to JJ, Stevie is met with him already looking at her. God, he really does have the most beautiful blue eyes she’s ever seen. There have been so many times she’s gotten lost in them and she can almost feel herself slipping back into them. Letting the blue waves pull her in and pull her under. She wouldn’t even mind. There has never been a death as sweet as drowning in JJ’s eyes.

“Cheers, sunshine.”

“Cheers, JJ”

What a traitorous heart she has, one that won't stop fluttering just because her husband looked at her and granted her a smile. Oh, what a traitorous heart.

The moon sits high in the sky like a spotlight shining down upon the backyard of the Chateau. John B. and Sarah have turned in a while ago and both Kiara and Pope are softly snoring away on the cough inside the house, leaving only Stevie and JJ out by the dying fire.

Just them and the moon and the stars, the soft humming of the radio, and the melodic chirping of the katydids.

“Why are you smiling like that?” JJ asks, now sitting on the floor, back resting against the stump and hands locked behind his head.

“Just — you’re not gonna believe what I did today.”

“What did you do? You’re going all red, what did you do Collins?”

His eyes are wide with mischief and adoration and he’s got a red glow dusting his face. She’s not sure if it’s sunburn or the result of one too many beers. Either way, she thinks it makes him look so fucking adorable.

“I ran into your dad today.”

There’s a flicker of hurt in his eyes, one that’s always been there but one she hopes will go away one day. She doubts it ever will but there’s no harm in hoping.

“Yeah, I heard he’s back in Kildare.”

“He works at the gas station by Willow Drive. Didn’t even recognize me.”

“Of course, he didn’t. Never took an interest in any of the things that mattered to me.”

“Mmmh. Well, I was — god I was so mad, JJ. When he looked at me all friendly I just thought of all the things he did to you and how he never got his comeuppance and I just — freaked. It doesn't even absolve half of what he did to you but I just couldn't help myself.”

“What did you doooo?”

He’s giggling. A grown man giggling like he’s been told the funniest story in all of time’s existence. She loves the sound. Wants to hear it over and over and over again.

“ I slashed his tire.”

“You did not.”

“Uh—huh. I did. With a tiny keychain switchblade too.”

“Stephanie Collins, you’re a full-on criminal. I’m so proud of you.”

“I learned from the best.”

The two of them descend into a fit of laughter, half drunk on beer and high on weed but mostly intoxicated by the magic of being around each other again as if the last 4 years never happened and those kids who were dumb and in love are still there inside of them just under the surface waiting to break free.

“Hey, Stevie?”

The sincerity in his voice sends a funny sensation through her heart.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He shrugs his shoulders and averts his eyes, training them on the dying embers of the fire. It’s funny how something can burn so brightly, so viciously and suddenly it’s but a dim light, barely a spark. There’s a metaphor there for their relationships, she’s a writer, she finds metaphors in everything. But being drunk on nostalgia and residual love, she can’t quite seem to uncover it.

“For everything. Just — I should’ve said it a while ago and I never did so I just wanted to say it now.”

Vulnerable JJ is still something that is quite unfamiliar to her. He is so full of laughter and smiles and overcompensating for how he really feels, he doesn’t show this side of him often. Never did. So when he does it’s special and it means more than he probably even realizes himself.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it. I’m sorry too.”

He places a kiss on the top of her head, so soft and gentle that she wonders for a second if she imagined it.

“You know, earlier before I noticed your dad I felt like the universe was welcoming me back to the island in the weirdest way possible.”

“Huh? How’s that?”

“They played “You’re the Inspiration” over the gas station radio. Our wedding song.”

JJ turns to her, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched. She’ll never get tired of looking at his face, Stevie decides at that moment.

“That’s not our wedding song.”

“Uh, yes it is! We had our first dance here in this very backyard while that song was playing. We all sang along. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember every single second of that day. But that was not our first dance.”

He shakes his head, shaggy blond hair swaying messily with the movement, before dusting himself off and standing up. Fumbling his phone from the pockets of his cargo shorts, he furiously starts typing before the Bluetooth speaker lets out a thumping sound and then reconnects to JJ’s phone.

“Our first dance,” JJ says and holds out his hand to her, pulling her to her feet and closer to his body, snaking one hand around her waist. “wasn’t even here. The first time I danced with my wife was on the back patio of the Wreck while we were waiting for the food that Kie couldn’t bring because she was at the Chateau getting the decorations ready for the reception.”

He’s right. Of course, he is. JJ never forgets the little things that turn out not to be so little after all. Back when they were still together he would remember the most inconsequential details. Her favorite flowers, food, songs. The way she liked her coffee and that waking her up with kisses was entirely more successful than a damn alarm clock.

“And this song was playing.”

When he presses play on his phone, a loud voice advertises a Spotify original podcast to them, yet another true crime one, because there aren’t entirely too many of those.

“Sorry, I don’t pay for premium. I think it’s a scam.”

Stevie doesn’t ask him to elaborate, sure there is a completely rational explanation to JJ as to why the premium service is a scam. It probably even makes a little sense if you let him explain it thoroughly.

She doesn’t ask him to elaborate, just wraps her arms around his neck like she’s done so many times before in a lifetime that feels like it wasn’t even her own but also like it happened just hours ago. Time is a funny thing.

A guitar chord fills the air followed by the hauntingly beautiful voice of Eva Cassidy.

“You'll remember me when the west wind moves Among the fields of barley You can tell the sun in his jealous sky When we walked in fields of gold”

Suddenly she’s back on the patio of the Wreck, 18 and in love, and freshly married to the boy that has always had her heart. Life was so complicated and yet so simple. Nothing has changed, everything is different.

“You looked so beautiful in that white dress. And I — “

“JJ, I loved your outfit. Those damned cuffed jeans and that crisp white shirt? That was my husband right there.”

“I liked being called your husband.” He admits with a bashful smile that evokes the dimple on his cheek. On him, nothing is menacing or uneasy. There’s not a hint of his father in him, this is all JJ.

“Yeah?”

They’re softly swaying through the night, stars illuminating the dark around them.

“Oh yeah. Made me feel like a real adult. Like I had done something right in my life. If someone as amazing as you thought I was worth marrying then how fucked up could I really be?”

Stevie never liked hearing him talk about himself like that. Granted, that version of him was usually overshadowed by the fake confident, big-mouthed, larger-than-life persona he put on, but whenever this version did show up, it almost broke Stevie’s heart.

“Is that why you didn’t sign the papers the first time I sent them?”

“You sent them before?”

“Can’t bullshit a bullshitter, JJ. I know you got them. It’s okay though. I get it. It’s hard for me too.”

He bites his lip in consideration as if for the first time in his life weighing his words, deciding what to say next.

“I just — I can’t do it. I’m sorry. Every time I try I just can’t bring myself to sign them. Like I forgot how to spell my own name or something. It’s kinda really fucked up.”

“JJ, it’s okay. You don’t have to do it right now, I’m here all summer. Just give them to me before I leave.”

The thought of her leaving is sending a pang of hurt through her heart. There’s still so much summer left, she tells herself, no need to think about the end yet.

Resting her head against his chest, Stevie closes her eyes, squeezes them shut so tightly it makes her see phosphenes for a second, shutting out the reality of what is happening. If she closes her eyes tight enough she doesn’t have to face the fact that with the end of the summer comes the actual proper end of her marriage. But this is what she wants right? Closure?

“JJ?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you come to my mom’s wedding?”

"Obviously. I’m her favorite.”

She chuckles against his chest, the fabric of his shirt swallowing most of the sound.

“Only if you promise me something though.”

Stevie pulls away and looks up at him and just for a small moment she allows herself to get lost in the blue. Just this once.

“You’ll save a dance for me.”

All her dances are his. Forever. It’s something she promised herself in silence when they danced in the back garden of the country club that one night when they were 16 and meant to work at the midsummer event but snuck away to slow dance as the band played a soft song. Just because things changed between them doesn’t mean that promise will be broken.

The fire is out, just a burned-down log and a pile of ash as Eva Cassidy lulls JJ and Stevie into a soft haze. The song is about to end but neither of them is ready to let go. Not yet. Maybe when the summer ends and things go back to normal. But not right now with the night all inky black. Not right now when it’s just them and the moon and the stars and the melodic chirping of the katydids and Eva Cassidy singing their song.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll save a dance for you.”

“I never made promises lightly And there have been some that I've broken But I swear in the days still left We'll walk in fields of gold We'll walk in fields of gold

Ooh Many years have passed since those summer days Among the fields of barley See the children run as the sun goes down As you lie in fields of gold.”

#jj maybank x oc #jj maybank x female oc #JJ maybank f!OC #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #JJ maybank writing #JJ maybank story #outer banks imagines #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanficton

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mushroomminded · 1 year

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…is Liquification painful

HA! You gave me the opening to talk about my inkfish pain hc!

Inkfish experience pain a LOT less frequently than humans do (did) and that's because of their insane healing abilities. If an inkfish is hurt in a way that the body can easily fix by itself, the body won't send signals of any sort, it'll just fix it.

For injuries that are a little stronger, but still self-repairable, the body will get sleepy, communicating that it needs a little time to work. A more severe injury will make an inkling more tired, until a very severe injury will knock them out.

Pain does kick in when the body is unable to fix an injury by itself and needs outside assistance. Things like oh, a broken bone, or a severed limb. Though it will heal perfectly and without scar with assistance, the pieces do need to be put back together for the body to be able to weld them again. Peachy's broken leg HURT and when it was unable to heal correctly, even late into the process it was a painful throb and she was so so tired all the time.

Many inkfish won't experience pain at all in their lifetimes, especially ones from cushy developed cities like Splatsville.

Liquification, at the start, is a somewhat natural process. Kids get splatted in turf war all the time. It's startling, but it doesn't hurt. Ink weapons don't do damage to the body like Real Weapons do, but the inkfish is forced to revert to its most neutral state: ink. The ink is then scooped up and stored in a tight, pressurized container so that the inkfish doesnt have the space to reform into any other state (it cannot be done in just any container though! any container that would break under the pressure of something too big appearing inside it will do so).

Without a physical body to send signals and a physical brain formed to receive them, there isn't any way for pain to be communicated, so it isn't there. It's more akin to a coma or existing in a void.

So no! it is not painful. It doesn't even hurt to bleed ink from the eyes, but the body will be very tired coming out

#8 colas #been sitting on that one for a while thanks

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 2 years

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Everyone Has to Eat

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing.\

Noctus stared down the tip of Sunny’s spear, cold steel glinting not a few inches away from his face. Adam could hear the little coward’s thoughts as they ran circles inside his head. Could he escape, could he trick them, could he lie? Is there someone he could call for help. He didn’t know what Adam had meant about sending his maker friend to deal with the guards but the bastard was sure to get a nasty surprise once he learned…

Adam keyed his mic, “Celex, how are you holding up.”

The mic went to static for a moment, and for a second he worried something had happened to his old friend until, “Right peachy, you don’t happen to be calling me to tell me that these bastards got void creatures inside of them?’

Adam paused, “Uh, yeah.”

“Don’t bother.”

“You okay.”

“Like you have to ask.”

Adam shrugged to himself, he supposed he shouldn’t have been worried about the universe’s most bloodthirsty warlord, now with opposable thumbs and a pair of legs, coming to a theater near you in ultra 4k.

Noctus didn’t seem pleased about the side of the conversation he had heard, and had probably managed to guess what was going on.

Adam shook him by the scruff of his neck, “Go on, we are all dying to hear what you have to say.”

“Fine!.” The tesraki snapped, “W-”

“And make it entertaining.” Adamsaid, I want to hear everything. Paint me a picture with words.

The Tesraki barred his teeth again, but this time he slumped downwards with defeat written in the lines of his body.

Adam held up the vial, “Is that where.” he motioned generally in Noctus’s direction, “Where all that came from.”

Noctus pulled his ears back flat against his skull, but a stern look from Adam kept him from causing much more trouble. Instead he dangled helplessly by the scruff of his neck from Adam’s hand, legs curled up to his chest like a kitten in his mother’s mouth.

Start from the beginning, “How did you start working with Kazna.”

The Tesraki was unwilling to speak, but Sunny gave him all the encouragement she could, through the open threat of violence. No one in the room seemed eager to stop her either. Even Adam knew that, when it came to Sunny’s mother, there was no argument to be made.

“We were in prison together as you recall. I escaped and she didn’t, well at least not at the same time. I’ve been working to keep a low profile these past few years, got myself involved in the metal refinery industry, all very low profile, mostly metal sheeting for space ships and that sort of thing. Pays pretty well.” he said, motioning to the room around him for emphasis, and all of its lavish decorations.

“Still did some smuggling on the side of course, nothing big, mostly cheap knockoffs going against copyright laws, all the easy kind of stuff places don’t really care about. Human knock off brand items sell for really well on the Tesraki homeworld, and with so many of them, the bastards can’t get enough. Throw Noctopolis into the mix, and its good pickings.”

“Is this the part where I start to give a shit?” Red asked finally having recovered from his fall, and the subsequent attack, now leaning against one of the black glass pillars as he listened.

The Tesraki glowered at him, “Wasn’t talking to you.” he spat on the floor, as much as a tesraki can spit, which isn’t particularly well.

“Anyway there I was, living my life and doing things the way I do. Then you got the GA come in, make Noctopolis a part of their system, take all the border planets, begin their patrols, they are eddeling more than they ever have. My business starts to struggle, parts of my business anyway. More policing more checkpoints more more more, We weren’t doing them any real harm, just the cooperations, it shouldn’t have mattered, but they had to come in and ruin everything for those of us who weren’t smart enough to be stable in the first place.” he patted his chest in congratulations, “Couple of us got together and formed a little group of…. Entrepreneurs so you might say. We work to get the goods where they need to go while only the people who need to see the have to be involved. He glowered at Adam again, “No one gets hurt, no one has any problems.”

“I think you mean had.” Adam said shaking the vial in front of the Tesraki’s face.

Noctus shrugged, “Okay then, had, if you insist. When Kazna got out of her prison, maybe a year or so after she killed that kelly woman, she came to me.” he raised his hands, “now I am going to be honest, I didn’t really want to help the bitch but she drives a hard bargain and in the end I just couldn’t say no.”

“Tell us about the bargain, rat.” Sunny said, jamming her spear forward until it nicked the skin at the base of the Tesraki’s throat.

Noctus waved away the tip of her spear, “Simple, my blue friend, I did what she wanted or she would kill me, plain as that. Wasn’t too thrilled about it at first, but the longer I worked with her the more I realized that this was actually a very great business opportunity for me. A great opportunity for all of us, me and my colleagues and the hundreds of others who became invested in the plan the longer we looked into it. Personally, I am in it for the money, always have been always will be, but the others….. There is a strange religious fervor to them.”

Adam shook his head, more out of confusion than any sort of disagreement. Distantly the sound of the fires and the metal refinery could still be heard as a low and indistinct rumble that echoed through the facility and bounced off the stone, “That doesn’t make sense, why would people WILLINGLY join the void. They do understand that those bastards are looking to terminate life as far as we understand it?”

Noctus laughed, “Poor Naieve STUPID boy. This isn’t about the end of the world as we know it, this is about them, their own selfish wants and desires.” he brushed a hand through the front of his fur, “People want to belong, they want to matter, some of them don’t care what they belong to or what matters as long as they can leave something Our organization is giving a voice to those who have never had a voice before, a purpose to the purposeless, companionship for all of those that have been forsaken by your precious makers.”

Maverick shook her head in disgust.

Noctus snorted, “Don’t be a hypocrite, I’ve seen your shadow, human. Besides, think about it, the makers take their own children, throw them down into these constructed bodies to suffer and die. Think of all the horrible things that the makers could prevent if they simply took care of their own children, all of the suffering that might be prevented. But instead they just threw us down here and don’t even bother to pay attention, never bothered to do anything to help us. “

“They did that to protect us FROM the void.” Adam said, shaking the tesraki, “They put us away to avoid THIS.” He held up the vial, “this is the exact reason why they couldn’t keep us around because they knew we could be corrupted. Look as a father I don’t want my son to get hurt, but I might have to let him suffer pain in order to protect him from something worse.”

“That’s not how the people see it,”

“Your people are stupid.”

Noctus shrugged, “Stupid maybe, misguided, perhaps, but angry and willing to do whatever it takes, they most certainly are. Thousands of them have already eagerly taken the power provided to them by our general, and thousands more will take it in the near future, even now our network has spread all over the galaxy infecting even the highest levels of government, When this is all over….. No one will be safe.”

Adam shook his head.

“At the end of the day you all are still a minority terrorist organization. And if I have to, I will weed you out one by one.”

Noctus just laughed.

Just then Adam’s radio crackled.

“Uh, Adam. yo uare going to want to come take a look at this.”

With a growl Adam pulled up, keeping Noctus caught tight by the scruff of his neck as he turned and headed towards the doors doing his best to skirt around the center of the floor where he knew the trapdoor lay concealed. Noctus continued to cackle lightly to himself, while the looks on the faces of the others were hard and cold.

They were just as worried as he was.

Celex’s call lead them down through the facility, away from the glass and marble palace and back into the steel refinery. There were no guards to be seen, but plenty of the workers still milled about. Most of them didn’t do much work, but a few of them glanced nervously in Adam’s direction, others cowered on the floor.

It seemed as if Celex had been by this way,

And recently.

They headed down a few more flights, through a series of dark hallways and as they went the rooms began to slowly grow in heat, until Adam was sweating even despite his partial armor.

Inside his helmet. Fealty was growing with agitation displeased at the growing heat,

Red panted like a dog

Maverick looked miserable, and only Ramirez and Sunny seemed unbothered by the heat, which was almost to be expected.

Luckily there was only one more set of stairs downward before they found themselves walking onto another large factory floor. They all stopped at the top of the catwalk looking out onto the floor with a mixture of awe and growing horror.

Celex was waiting for them at the top of the catwalk holding a struggling worker in one of his hands.

It was a man, surprisingly, almost all human except for the shattered bone shards protruding from his chest. Celex himself looked none the worse for wear, even the heat didn’t bother the Ex Celzex , whose technicolor hair rolled around his shoulders in loose waves which undulated gently with the heat of the fire.

“Celex, what is this.” Adam asked, eyes still riveted on the floor,

“This, is the means of distribution.”

Down on the floor lines of glowing orange vials were being pumped into industrial sized canisters of insecticide, massive tanks in all shapes and sizes with different company logos and origins headed to different destinations.

The void was banking on the one thing that everyone had in common to spread the infection.

Everyone had to eat.

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peachywontyell · 7 months

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there's so little content for the things im somewhat hyperfixating on rn and it's driving me crazy

#peachy talks into the void!#blue beetle (2023)#the imperfects #por el amor de dios que tengo que hacer para que me den más contenido BUENO #juan ruiz #jaime reyes #x reader #using that tag again. pq puedo.

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5sosfanfictioncatalogue · 2 months

Text

Calum/Ashton (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

Chevy Malibu (ao3) - Lostideas M, 4k

Summary: Ashton’s name pops up from the top of his screen, a whatsapp message reading ‘outside’. Calum gets up, walks to his windows and peeks through the curtains. He can see Ashton’s chevy a bit further down the street, headlights turned off.

Calum carries his docs in his left hand as he sneaks out of his room.

or; Ashton picks Calum up in his car late at night sometimes. They scream into the void and love each other.

Feels like Coming Home (ao3) - ismaki T, 56k

Summary: All Calum wants is to finish school and get away from his small town. He works hard to seem happy, to be respected and popular at school, to be diffrent, something more. To be someone. All Ashton wants is to get noticed by the boy with the easy smile but guarded eyes. All Michael wants is to escape, to take another hit, another drink, use another body. To feel something. And Luke? Luke just wants everyone to be happy.

for real - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) Calum/Ashton, brief Calum/OMC T, 4k

Summary: Michael keeps trying to set Calum up on blind dates, and one day Calum accidentally slips and says he has a boyfriend when he doesn’t, so Ashton offers to be his fake boyfriend. It works, until Calum messes things up.

In the Dark of This Place, There's the Glow of Your Face (ao3) - orphan_account T, 4k

Summary: Ashton is a hungry light-sleeper. Calum is a home-invading, dog-loving drunken surprise in his backyard.

i only wanna talk to you (ao3) - calumshoods E, 47k

Summary: “This is us, Calum. This is our story, from beginning to now, all of my favorite moments. The ups and the downs. The good and the bad. Mostly the good, though, because there’s hardly ever a bad moment with you. I mean, yeah, you fart a lot and it smells, but I’ve gotten used to that.” He pauses to giggle at his own joke again, a sweet, high-pitched sound that make Calum’s heart flutter.

or ashton leaves to work on his documentary and leaves calum recordings of his favorite memories with him

it's obvious i just can't get enough of you (ao3) - nationalnobody E, 8k

Summary: It’s 6PM and Calum is angry. Calum isn’t an angry guy but there is only so much Michael Clifford Bullshit ™ that one human being can physically take. Being the super cool-headed and level guy he is, he heads to the gym to wind down and relax. Everything is going peachy until a fucking sex deity with curly hair has to bend over across the room and destroy any shred of cool in his body.

I turned my good side in (ao3) - CliffordAffliction E, 3k

Summary: Calum's dreams come true when Ashton fucks him at a party

‘I wasn’t expecting that’ (ao3) - Forbiddenmichael Calum/Ashton G, 10k

Summary: On his sixteenth birthday, Ashton gets his soul mate tattoo, and it’s everything he hoped for. Even is his soul mate does sound a little bit sarcastic and snarky. A few months later, on the other side of Australia, Calum woke up on his sixteenth birthday with his soul mate tattoo. And needless to say, it’s everything he hoped it wasn’t. 'What colour even are your eyes?’ 'Wait, you’re a boy? You’re meant to be a girl.’

or when Calum and Ashton have waited for there soul mate tattoos for so long and what they get isn’t what either of them expected. they aren’t what each other expected either…

Like it's your birthday (ao3) - BrokenTailLights N/R, 3k

Summary: Calum's nearly 20, and Ashton is starting to realise a few things

Not A One-Night Kinda Guy (ao3) - pitypartyof1 M, 1k

Summary: Ashton goes to the bars to drink and dance.

one year six weeks (ao3) - orphan_account T, 9k

Summary: “If Calum was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure what he was doing here. All he knew was that a year and six weeks was a long time to be without your heart. He knew that it had been a year and six weeks since he walked out of this apartment for the last time. He knew that, no matter how hard he had tried he couldn’t for the life of him forget.”

OR; Calum goes back to Ashton after a year’s time of trying to forget everything about him. What started as an innocent visit to quench the longing in his heart, ended with heartbreak and tears, again.

pretty sure that we're half way there (ao3) - irwah E, 11k

Summary: “Cobain, eh? Good, I like your taste.” He looks up to see the stranger beaming down at him, face slightly flushed from the alcohol and also from the two boys’ proximity. “I’m Ashton,” he says, a smile gracing his lips as he reaches for two more plastic cups and fills them for him and the stranger.

He waits for the boy to return the gesture and tell him his name but he’s silent, and when Ashton turns to him and hands him the cup of beer, the boy is smirking at him and whispers tauntingly “I’m…Trouble.”

Or: the end up here song fic that no-one asked for

Put Your Arms Around Me Baby, And Squeeze (ao3) - senioritastyles G, 1k

Summary: "Are you sure, Ash?" Calum asks for what sounds like the millionth time that night.

Ashton sighs deeply, rolling his eyes from his bundled up position on the sofa, the flashing TV casting shadows across his face. "Cal, I'm sure. I told you, I'm not feeling so great and I don't wanna go and then have to leave an hour later because I'm sick. I'll be fine, just go and have fun."

Calum's mouth twists into an expression of slight distress but he sighs back and nods. "Alright, but if you need anything just call me and I'll be back in no time."

Or: Calum is drunk and he misses Ashton.

Reasons I Love You (ao3) - felixandtae calum/ashton N/R, 4k

Summary: #keepcuttingashtonyouretrash trends again as the KCA voting starts and Calum hates seeing his boyfriend so depressed over it, so he makes sure Ashton has the best night ever.

red line (who am i?) (ao3) - sunshineash T, 1k

Summary: Ashton Irwin rides the Red Line to escape his thoughts.

Calum Hood finds him.

take my hand (ao3) - dioramas (nuages) T, 4k

Summary: when calum nods, painfully slow and almost angry with his own self as if he didn't mean to, he knows it's laced with alcohol too, and he feels defeated and like a champion all at once.

the fallout (ao3) - sunshineash T, 27k

Summary: The second Ashton saw the gun being pulled from the inside of a trench coat, he tried to run and tackle the kid to the ground, but it’d been too late. He was staring down the barrel of an unforgiving assault rifle and bullets were spiraling towards him before he even had the chance to scream for it to just stop. He remembers them tearing though his flesh, such unbelievable agony making a throat-ripping scream tear from his lips. He remembers the blood seeping through his shirt as he fell to the ground and feeling guilty because ‘fuck, this is Calum’s shirt. He’ll kill me for ruining it.’ But, then, the thought set in that Calum couldn’t kill him for it, because he’d already be dead. or — calum takes care of ashton after he’s been in a shooting.

The Rhythm Was All I Needed To Hear (ao3) - orphan_account calum/ashton E, 13k

Summary: “Ashton Irwin was a problem. To say him and Calum didn’t get along was an understatement. Calum would grumble and grow sour every time he saw Ashton or whenever his name was mentioned. He couldn’t stand the guy.”

Calum is on a summer program in a highly respected music school and he’s over the moon. He’s not over the moon he met Ashton in the process.

This Was Unforeseeable, Aching To Be Near You (ao3) - reversecow E, 15k

Summary: The night of Calum's 23rd birthday, he accidentally tells Ashton more than he ever planned to about his feelings. Ashton looks back at the last eight years and does some soul searching.

When You Say Jump, I Ask How High (ao3) - orphan_account T, 5k

Summary: An end of tour party ends with Calum getting a tattoo while way too drunk and now he has to face the consequences........and the boy who inspired it.

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #5sos fanfic #5sos #cashton #cashton masterlist #calum hood #ashton irwin #masterlists

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circa-specturgia · 1 year

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"I'll carry you..."

A bit of fluff! The first half to two short scenes I wrote recently, the second of which I’ll post tomorrow! Simply put, I had the idea for a simple, soft scene, a character carrying another to bed, after they’ve fallen asleep, which I wrote in a sprint with @bloodlessheirbyjacques and @the-void-writes!

“Hey.”

Adira nudged the jihn with an elbow to the arm, pointing across the courtyard with her chin. Their student was sitting on the steps leading from courtyard to walkway, leaning against one of the columns ringing it, fast asleep.

A glance at the clocktower gave the time to be somewhere around 3 in the morning. He’d been training since at least 20. The moonlight shone from above bathing them in silver, glinting off of the ornate mosaic tiles as they crossed the space silently.

“Advanced Jynkaturgic Matrixes; 5th Edition” The vælan read in a whisper to herself, picking up the book lying on the steps next to a half-drunk pot of lavena tea, pouring herself a cup and downing it as she shut the tome, watching Cyril hook his arms around Cas’ shoulders and under his knees, lifting him up as the brunettes head fell against his chest, fast asleep.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow about taking it easy. The boy needs rest.” He said, though he realized he’d gotten heavier since the last time he’d thrown him around. He’d grown up.

“Reminds me of someone I know.” Adira noted, sliding the tea to the side and following Cyril as he headed to the stairs.

“It was three times.” He sighed, though a tad amused, times from the academy coming back.

“Four, actually.”

“Three.” He repeated firmly.

“How could you know if you were asleep?”

“Not like you were any better.”

“Never said I was.” She shrugged, dancing up the steps simultaneously showing which boards didn’t creak, similarly lost in nostalgia.

The two made it to the room, Cyril nudging it open with a shoulder, Adira making sure he didn’t nearly bump Cas’ head on the doorframe.

He handed her Cas for a moment after she set the book down on the nightstand with a few others, holding him while he focused slightly, a mirage of heat glowing around his arm as the tattoos ignited with a dull, warm light, like the embers of a fire, heat filling the bed.

Within a minute they managed to get him under the covers, his shoes somewhere still downstairs. He’d picked up training barefoot from her.

He turned over, making small noise, before settling back in, the two of them closing the door after themselves quietly, heading to their own room. Settling into bed, Cyril realized how tired they’d both been, stripping down and lying down under the blanket, Adira slipping under it too, turning on her side.

“Some thing’s stay the same, don’t they…?” He said, after a moment.

“Yeah. Yeah, some things do.”

Hope you enjoyed! ✨

Taglist? Taglist! ✨ Thanks to all these wonderful people for supporting me and giving me the inspiration and motivation to write!

@bloodlessheirbyjacques @athenswrites @magefaery @muddshadow @awritingcaitlin @agrimedena-drax @pinespittinink @tryingtimi @jessica-writes22 @the-void-writes @peachy-ciel @queensummer ✨

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #circa specturgia #wip.circa specturgia #writing #lots of fluff #fluff #fluffy #writing community #other writers!#wtwcommunity #Short #but I had a lot of fun writing it #This can be read as happening in the same manor/castle as the events in Red Courtyard #Maybe the day before

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thebladeblaster · 5 months

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Finally more information on my Zexal isekai idea

Last time:

Changes:

-Infernoble knights are too good so Aichi is using normal ole Noble Knights 😅

More details!

First off decks for all six of the poor isekaiers that have to deal with the Six Demon Numbers

Aichi-Noble Knights

Kai-Dragon Ruler

Kamui-Super Quantum

Misaki-Bujin

Chris-Fire Fist (It was that or Zoodiac and there’s no way in hell he’s getting Zoodiac)

Ren-Ignoble Knights

I might add a few cards to their decks of new stuff is released or I think of new stuff between now and writing it .

The Six Demon Numbers (SDN)

Note: When I say “the Barians” I mean Vector😅. Vector is putting them through this.

Vector + Void team up = bad time for everyone

Overall, I was very vague with this originally because I hadn’t thought up much about them besides them essentially compelling the hosts to help the Barians. I’ve decided to make it a bit more unique by making it similar to Dirriding AKA the coolest concept in G. Essentially when the SDNs are in control it’s more like a full on possession rather than just influencing them. On top of that similarly to Diffriding if they lose 3 times then the number goes. However, they can be snapped out of it by one loss. Aichi and Kai are still the ones at the start who aren’t possessed.

I was thinking that if they do lose the SDN that they would end up back on their Earth. Essentially like how if they lose on Cray they’re sent back. Because it is that. If they lose there they can’t get back to Cray. However, since it’s connected to the SDNs it’s tied to the individual’s losses rather than the team.

However, even when not possessed things aren’t exactly peachy 😅. Their told that if they do get the numbers for the Barians that they will be sent back to Cray and they actually mean it. This becomes very complicated due to forming bonds with the Zexal gang.

They are of course also on a time crunch because Cray is wearing away more and more and they have to get back before it infects Earth. Also, little does anyone though that the Void is getting more than they think out of their little arrangement. It’s influence is able to enter the Zexal universe after its first contact while back on Earth the distortion in the timeline caused by the isekai is causing Jammers to appear in both worlds.

The SDNs are partly influenced by both the Void and Barian power which is how they have their special properties. The game plan is to force both their enemies to destroy each other.

Other Plot Stuff

The story will check out what’s going on in the Vanguard world from time to time. The isekaiers friends are looking for them and the finals to the Asia Circuit is delayed. Ultra Rare is trying to find Takuto to try to fix the situation.

Takuto is being kept deep in Barian World and they will give him back if the isekaiers do what they want. Then Takuto would take them back. Of course the isekaiers don’t know that they have Takuto or even where he is 😅.

Team Dreadnought is wandering around watching things. Considering they know that the Void is going to destroy their world Leon reasons that they could just stay in the Zexal world. Jillian and Sharlene aren’t very happy but there isn’t much they can do😅.

Aichi finds himself talking to #5 a bit. The numbers kinda make Psyqualia flare up. As you guess #5 is indeed the worst and basically just trying to gaslight Aichi into believing that the Zexal cast is their enemy. I mean Kaito doesn’t help😅…Yeah, when Aichi first wakes up it’s near Kaito who is doing what he does to people with numbers.

You can’t blame Aichi for thinking Kaito’s bad guy when he sees this. This causes a chain reaction of other Zexal cast members battling him thinking that he’s the enemy 😅. Poor blorbo.

On the bright side he gets some bonding time with Kai because he’s the first person he finds and Kai quickly realizes that Aichi cannot care for himself so is forced to look after Aichi😅. All he really needed to see is that Aichi can’t cook at all and is just eating whatever is cheapest, can’t balance a budget, or do other stuff and is like “okay he needs intervention”.

#cardfight vanguard #Asia circuit #yugioh zexal #aichi sendou #kai toshiki #ren suzugamori #misaki tokura #kamui katsuragi #Christopher lo #Leon soryu #Jillian and Sharlene chen #Takuto #the void #don thousand #vector #kaito tenjo #my crappy edit #my crappy writing #crossover

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scorchedhearth · 2 years

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Day. 12 WHAT COULD GO WRONG?

“Mayday, mayday!” | Cave In | Rusty Nail

enjoy @tatsujeff <3

“You’re an asshole,” Guy grunts, hauling Hal to his feet and jamming a shoulder under his arm to keep him standing. “Hey,” he says when Hal doesn’t react, barely making an effort to move. “Ya heard me? I said you’re an asshole.”

“I heard you just fine the first time, Guy,” Hal pants between breaths, one hand curling around his ribs. “I’m not.” Hal spits when Guy gets ready to repeat it, petulant and cold.

“Are too.” And finally Hal decides to start using his legs, putting a foot in front of the other.

“Am not!” He tries to sound pissed but he misses the marks and falls on a solid hurt and in a pathetic way, not an intimidating one.

“Are too.” And great, he’s got him going, at least now Hal is talking instead of gazing with unfocused eyes at the sky. “Dumbass here decides to go on a rescue mission all alone in planet bumfuck in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere without no backup and no battery, thinks it’s the best idea of the century.”

“You’re a dumbass too,” Hal cuts him off.

“Hold on, how was I supposed to know this weird ass crystal would siphon the ring’s energy?” They stumble off the bridge where Guy found him and onto the flat surface of the temple right next to it. He’s glad they’re not above hundreds of feet of void anymore, this crevasse is freaking him out.

“Maybe because I was lying right next to it, no ring and no shield, well on my way to choking to death!” Hal throws an arm in the air and Guy is impressed that a man who was so short on air barely minutes ago can go on a yelling spell without turning blue. He says so out loud, earns himself an eye roll. “We’re doomed.” Hal coughs a pained grunt when his twisted ankle hits a rock on the ground. “Gonna die here, all alone.”

“You’ve got me, asshole.” And they’re not going to die. Guy didn’t go to the trouble of tracking him down just to end here, he won’t let that happen. Hal’s quiet by his side, no smart comeback or barb, only focused on walking, still leaning half his weight on Guy and hoping on his good foot. Beads of sweat pearls at his forehead. He's too quiet. “Come on, pal. Talk to me now, don’t ya dare go out while I’m carrying you.”

“You’re not carrying me,” Hal huffs, indignant and prideful even with the strain on his voice.

“What d’you find anyway, doesn’t look like rescue needs to happen here.” Guy throws a look around, the entire planet’s dead, a fossilized rock with not even a bacteria or microbe on the surface. Just rocks and putrid gazes. There are remnants of civilization, of life, but it’s long gone.

“The call for help was lost, it didn’t reach a habited planet in time. When I got there, it was long past helping.” Hal explains. He talks about how he got there, and what he found, and how he decided to investigate the crystal before leaving, just in case. Guy listens, the tension in his chest relieving by the minute as Hal’s voice grows stronger with each word.

“Here,” Guy points at a bigger rock, one that looks like it could have been a bench, or some kind of chair ages ago. Hal’s been getting progressively paler as they walked, and he’d rather not have him keel over right now. Hal doesn’t even protest, which goes to show how badly he’s hurt. Looks like at least a couple of bruised ribs, if not more, and various pulls and twists in his limbs. The cut at his forehead is still sluggishly bleeding, matting his hair down.

“What now,” Hal asks with a gasp, holding his chest with both of his arms now.

“Now I save us both, and you say thank you, Guy, you’re the best.” He flashes his grin, the best one he can conjure up, the one that says everything’s just peachy.

“I’ll save that for when we’re back home,” Hal says, but he ignores him. Guy turns around and walks away from him and his bench, deeper into the room, paces along the baren hallway of the temple, holding up his ring and staring at it.

“Come on. Just a little, just enough to call ‘Wog or somthin’.” But nothing comes up, it’s dead, cold and heavy on his finger, unresponsive. Entirely useless. He stomps further down the hall, grinding his teeth. “Son of a-” as soon as his feet make contact with the ground, it cracks beneath his sole, and Guy watches horrified as the entire thing crumbles right underneath him.

He hears Hal yelling somewhere behind him as he’s suddenly swallowed by a dark empty, and he realizes the temple is built directly above that freaky canyon. John should have some words with the one who designed this place about safety regulations, Guy thinks as Hal's voice follows him down the hole.

He doesn’t have time to be afraid, or think much else, really, because he leaves the open sky for deep darkness, not even seconds later there’s a flash of green around him and his back hits something hard and unyielding. The violence of the shock makes everything fuzzy around him, and before he can understand what’s going on he slips out of consciousness, Hal's yells reaching the edge of his mind.

#hal just recharge his ring made of his own will to catch guy #guy will yell himself blue for ten minutes because why the fuck couldn't he have done that before? dumbass #wt22 #halguy #dc

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eyesoverinfinity · 2 years

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L4D1/2 au mimic infected

this fanfic is based off an AU I made called the 'mimic infected' about a new kind of special infected called the mimic.

people like @ivronics, @punkasshunter and @goodguynickachievement really wanted to read this so here it is!

This is my first proper fanfic (that's being put on the internet at least) so please go easy on me. I hope you all like it.

He woke up, the dark sky was orange tinted and filled with smoke. He was on a building, but the name of it was lost to him.

He realised that he couldn't recall a lot of things in fact, his name being one of them. There was a feeling of wrongness about his current state but the void in his mind made it impossible to pin down what it was.

He got up, the world spun as he did so, almost knocking him down to the concrete again, but he managed. Now he could see the world around him.

it didn't look much different from the sky to be honest. There was smoke and everything was covered in an orange hue. Oh yeah, there was also screaming. He hadn't been paying to that attention until now, as he was preoccupied with being on the floor, but now he realised it was everywhere.

"ƒⲅαπϛίϛ!"

A voice cried out from nowhere, it stirred something in him that he hadn't felt before.

"ȶнłᏕ ШÄᏕ Ä ฿ÄＤ łＤєÄ Шє ᑎєєＤ ȶ⊙ Ġ⊙!"

Was it talking to him? What was this voice? Why did it make his skin crawl like this?! He turned to face it, but his broken mind couldn't understand what he was looking at.

"ғＲÄᑎ₵łᏕ?" the thing asked fearfully, as if something at looked like THAT could even get scared. Why was this thing here? Why was he here? Was this thing mocking him?!

An anger filled the black abyss where his memories used to be with a searing red. or was it green? He wasn't sure anymore. He lunged at the creature, snarling and snapping at it's monstrous face.

"⊕h ƒuςκ!" it screamed, it's voice sounded far more terrified (and high pitch) then it was a few seconds ago. It backed up and ran, so he pursued it. Others joined in too, whatever this thing was had angered many people.

The creature ran towards an opening in the wall and created a wall between them.

What was this?!

He ran right into this new wall and begin to claw at it. How DARE that thing run from him! When he got to it he would beat it so hard-

The wall gave way, causing him to fall into the floor as the others ran over him in attempt to get to the beast.

By the time he got up the monster was gone and the anger that had overtaken his mind had left with it, leaving a sense of confusion and loneliness, as well as a pain in his heart that he could no longer understand.

What did he do now? The creature was gone, but now the emptiness inside of him had returned. He turned to another person, but no matter how much he tried they'd wouldn't notice him, he tried someone else but was met with the same problem. The third guy brawled him and while the emptiness left for the fight it came back as soon as he won.

He decided to wander, not that there was much else that could be done.

He walked past burning buildings, empty cars and countless other tragedy's. Until finally he came across something.

It was a body, with short ginger hair, two bits of metal in her left ear and what used to be peachy skin. Now there was a blood soaked hole where her shirt ended.

He looked at it. Something in his mind tried to stir but to no avail. What was this? Who was this? Did he know them?

Somewhere deep down he knew he should know this, he should know her, HE SHOULD KNOW HIMSELF! but the only thing there was was emptiness. He hated it, he hated what he was, he hated this nothingness were his everything should be. He wished that the creature had killed him.

"ђєɭɭ๏? ђєɭɭ๏?" A new voice cut threw his self hatred. it sounded like another monster, he wader over to the new sound, ready for a fight. Turning the corner he found no such thing, Instead he found another person. This person was different though, they looked at him, noticed him.

This person had a round wound on their arm, through the long shirt that covered them. with a long piece of red dangling from their neck.

"Hєψ" He said instinctively. He confused himself with this, now he sounded like a monster, he didn't even know what he said. The other person showed there their teeth, at first He thought they were going to attack but for the first time his memory shone threw.

A smile, that was a smile.

"Ι ⲅєαιιψ τнίπк ωє ϛнθμιδ кєєρ ϻθγίπg." the other person said. He looked at them, but the other person only shrugged. They didn't seem to understand themselves either.

The Person pointed at them self and said "Lðµï§" and then pointed to him. They wanted his name. But he couldn't remember it, what should he do?

His mind flashed back to the monster talking to him.

"ꘘⲅαπꛕίϛ" He said. He smiled too.

A horrible noise cut threw the air, along with the sound of frightened monsters. Francis and Louis looked at each other and ran for the source of the noise.

As they ran to wreak the monsters s***, Francis looked at Louis and realised something that made him happy for the first time since he woke up.

He didn't feel empty anymore.

_______________________________///_____________________________

and that's the end! if you guys like it I'll do l4d2 next!

(fonts from https://glyphy.io/font-generator/creepy-text)

#Mimic infected au #left 4 dead #left 4 dead 2 #l4d2 #l4d #l4d2 au #l4d francis #l4d louis #Francis x Louis if you squint I guess

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