#there is probably nothing more real than a tree

[stervrucht]

David Bowie plays on the radio and Steve drums his fingers along the steering wheel of his car as he contemplates. He is truly too good for this world. Now he is running errands for Dustin like some common soccer mom. The kid only had to give him one pout – one! – and Steve felt all his resistance crumbling. So, there he is on a Friday evening, seated in his still-running car in a Hawkin’s trailer park.

He stops his car in front of Eddie’s trailer and listens to the music as he gathers the willpower to leave the car.

Laughed at his long black hair, his animal grace, Bowie sings on the radio. 

How fitting

Outside, dusk is setting in and the world colors purple. Closing up Family Video had taken longer than he anticipated due to a difficult customer who couldn’t decide between The Thing and The Nightmare on Elm Street and had asked Steve extensive questions to make up his mind. 

Steve used to be fine with horror movies, but given recent developments (give or take his life the past few years), he isn’t into horror anymore. Out of the two, The Thing is probably the worst offender. Those crazy fleshy monsters hit a bit too close to home. Although, Freddie Krueger does have some vague Vecna vibes to him.

Steve is so lost in thought he doesn't notice the door of the trailer open until Eddie knocks on his window with his knuckle. With a jolt, Steve turns to roll his car window down. Once it is fully open, Eddie leans forward, his arms resting on the car.

“Sup Harrington.” Eddie’s hair falls forward and the low-cut tank top reveals his chest, framed by the silver chain of a guitar-pick necklace. 

Shaved, Steve notes.  Then, realizing he is staring, he tears his eyes away, coming face to face with Eddie Munson who gives him an amused look.

“Oh uh, right” – Steve coughs nervously – “Dustin asked me to give you this…” he unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over to the passenger seat where he grabs the cardboard box of some nerdy game.

“Here–” He hands the box to Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Hell yeah, Talisman. Took Henderson long enough.” Eddie pushes himself away from the car and inspects the box for a moment. When he turns back to Steve, his eyes move towards the car radio.

“I didn’t take you for a Bowie fan.”

“Oh, I’m not really … Robin must have left it in. It’s … alright, I suppose.” 

“And what type of music does Steve find more than alright?” 

Eddie flashes him a cheeky smile and Steve finds himself somewhat intimidated. Whatever his answer, someone like Eddie will probably find it lame. Steve isn’t all that passionate about music anyway and mostly listens to whatever is on the radio.

“Maybe Queen, The Bee Gees…” he lists in no particular order.

Eddie tuts. “Such a proper boy.”

Although he expects it, Steve still winces.

“I should introduce you to some real music,” Eddie says thoughtfully, then – “Wanna come in?”

Steve takes a moment to think. His parents are out, so it isn’t like he’s expected at home. He has nothing to do tonight except watch some movies (perks of the job). Although the prospect of hanging out with Eddie doesn’t thrill him, it might be the more interesting option.

“Sure,” Steve turns his car off, rolls the window back up and opens the car door. Eddie takes a step back, giving Steve some room to get out. 

Eddie’s eyes move to his chest and Steve realizes he is still wearing the stupid Family Video vest. He quickly takes it off, crumples it and unceremoniously throws it in his car before shutting the door again. With a quick turn of his key, the car is locked.

Steve follows Eddie towards the trailer. It is a warm summer’s night and the shadows of the trees grow long under the purple sky. The trailer park is surrounded by ample woods and fields from which the sound of crickets flares up.

“You coming?” Eddie waits for him at the door. Steve doesn’t realize he stopped moving and quickly makes his way to where Eddie is standing.

“After you, King Steve,” Eddie says, holding open the door with a dramatic bow.

Damn, Eddie is kind of annoying, isn’t he? No wonder Dustin gets on so well with him. Two peas in a pod. Steve lets out an unamused scoff.

Once inside, Steve stands in the middle of the…living room? Kitchen? He isn’t sure what to call such multifunctional rooms. He crosses his arms and shifts his weight from one leg to the other as he waits for Eddie to put the game away.

The main room is crowded and messy. It is the complete opposite of his parents’ living room, which is kept meticulously clean and organized – with the help of their cleaning lady of course. The coffee table is stained with water circles from mugs and the like. Something unthinkable to Steve. If he ever puts a glass down without a coaster, he will face his mother’s wrath.

“Beer?” Eddie calls from the kitchen. He already turned his back to him to make his way to the under-table fridge.

“Sure.” 

Steve is getting sick of standing around and decides to move to the small beige sofa. It is littered with clothes and after a moment of hesitation, he shoves them aside and sits down.

“You’re fucking tense,” Eddie says as he hands Steve a can of beer. He looks down at the pile of clothes and without hesitation grabs them and throws them in a different corner of the room. Then he lets himself fall onto the sofa next to Steve, which objects with a loud creak.

The sofa really is quite small and granted, a bigger one probably wouldn’t fit. The middle of it sagged considerably too, dragging its occupants to the center.

Steve feels the warmth of Eddie’s jeans-clad legs against his own. They are probably sitting a bit too close and Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

The can lets out an audible hiss as Eddie opens it and takes a quick sip from his beer. Then, he puts it down on the table and jumps up again.

“Fuck, I was gonna play you some music.” He hurries past the kitchen into a separate room. 

Steve opens his own can – cheap store-brand beer – and takes a nervous gulp as he waits for Eddie to return.

He is starting to reconsider his choices this evening. Perhaps he should just have watched Back to the Future again. Instead, he is in the trailer of some guy he kinda-sorta knows because they have shared custody of some annoying kid (one of Steve’s best friends).

“Oh yes, this will be good.” Eddie re-emerges cradling a few cassettes in his arms like he is holding a baby. He squats in front of the coffee table and releases the collection of plastic cases on top of it. Steve eyes the contents, but he recognises none of it. Then he looks over at Eddie – the flesh of his knee peeks through the hole of his jeans and Steve wonders if Eddie made it himself or if it had naturally torn by use. 

Eddie shifts through the cassettes with ring-clad fingers, picking a few up and turning them around to look at the back of the plastic cases.

“Let’s start with Rainbow,” he mumbles to himself, grabbing the cassette (a hand holding a rainbow over mountains on its front). He walks over to a small side table next to the front door where an old-school cassette player stands.

With a loud click, the front of the cassette player opens and Eddie puts the cassette in and closes it again. Immediately, music starts playing.

“Fuck, hold on.”

Eddie rushes over to the kitchen, rummaging through some drawers until he finds what he is looking for.

Victoriously, he holds up a pencil to Steve and clicks his tongue. Steve takes another gulp of his beer as he watches Eddie move through the trailer with a skip in his step. He is actually excited to let Steve hear his music. Steve feels strangely flattered and he lets himself fall back on the sofa. 

The music stops and Eddie takes the cassette out. Using the back of the pencil, he rewinds the tape. Steve looks at Eddie’s hands as he works. The rings are kinda cool. Maybe he should let Robin pick out a ring for him too. Although perhaps not with skulls and crosses like Eddie wears. Maybe something more simple, like a signet ring or something.

Steve is pulled from his thoughts when he hears the cassette player click shut again. 

“Your player doesn’t rewind?” Steve asks.

“Steve” – Eddie puts the pencil behind his ear and turns to look at him – “I live in a trailer…”

Steve feels heat rise to his cheeks. 

Shit, sometimes he forgets his parents are very well off and some things are considered luxuries instead of the default. He made the same mistake with Robin too – multiple times – but it was hard to prevent. He thinks back on his car – not particularly expensive, but also not as beat-up as Jonathan’s. Does Eddie think he is some spoiled rich boy?

“Right, sorry.” Steve takes another mouthful of beer. Eddie turns around again to put the cassette in the cassette player. 

A song begins to play, the sound reminds Steve of something alien – not really like music at all. Once the drums kicks in Eddie begins to bob his head on the beat, his hands hitting an invisible drum. He dances across the room, drumming his invisible drumsticks along the wall before falling back onto the sofa, stringing his fingers as if playing a guitar.

“Shit, I should really learn this on the guitar.” He leans forward to grab his can of beer. Condensation forms on the outside and when he picks it up, a wet circle is left on the table.

Eddie kicks his feet up, white sneakers hitting the wood of the coffee table and the cassettes rattle. He takes a deep swig of his beer and audibly sighs. 

Steve leans forward, arms resting on his thighs and can between his knees. Once the music actually began, it wasn’t too bad. He didn’t understand the long intros though, and preferred it if music would just start.

“So, what do you think?” Eddie asks.

“Not bad.”

“Not bad” – Eddie scoffs – “You, my friend, have not been exposed to nearly enough good music.”

Steve chuckles. “I thought Bowie was pretty acceptable by –” he looks Eddie up and down demonstratively, “ – your kind.”

“My kind, huh?” a smile plays at the corners of Eddie’s lips. “And what would that be, exactly?” 

Well, shit. Steve drove himself straight into possible-insult town. Eddie eyes him curiously, one elbow resting on the sofa’s backrest and his hands holding his can in a way Steve could only describe as cool. 

“Well, you know…” he trails off.

“I know…?”

“Eh, metalheads, I guess?”

“Ziggy Stardust isn’t metal, you know that right?”

Steve sighs exasperatedly. “I know, ugh. I mean he’s–”

“Weird?” Eddie finishes.

Steve takes another gulp of beer, desperate to compose himself. “Yeah,” he answers lamely.

“I suppose he’s pretty weird, huh?” Eddie eyes the ceiling of the trailer while taking a lazy sip from his beer. “Did you know he used to be gay?”

Steve looks to Eddie, who is still eying the ceiling, head lying back against the sofa’s backrest. 

“Used to be?” If Steve is to believe Robin, there is no ‘used to be ’ when it comes to being gay. You either are or you aren’t. Now he thinks about it, Bowie seems somewhat queer with his tight suits and styled hair, but that is what girls dig, isn't it? He has heard countless girls swoon over men just like that.

“You never had a gay phase, Harrington?” 

Steve nearly drops his can.

“Gay….phase?”

“You know, live a little, try some shit, see what sticks –”

“I can’t say I have,” Steve mumbles, his eyes now firmly fixed on the can in his hands. He plays nervously with the lip, pulling it in tandem with the music before taking another sip.

“With a pretty face like yours, you might actually get some good ones.”

Steve chokes on his beer. Actually chokes, and he hits his chest with a fist to get himself to breathe again.

“W-what?”

“How can you know what you like when you never tried it?” Eddie sits up straight, pulling one leg to his chest as he turns to Steve. His dark eyes seem like a bottomless lake and Steve feels small under his gaze.

“H-have you?” Steve stutters and it is utterly embarrassing. Why is he so rattled by some stupid revelation? 

Wait, did Eddie just call him pretty?

Eddie smirks at him like they are sharing in a secret, and perhaps they are.

“Fuck yes, if someone tells me not to do something you can bet your ass I will do it. Besides, humans are humans, big fucking deal.” 

“So – was it a phase? In your case?” Steve asks carefully. He isn’t really sure why he asks. Maybe it is part curiosity. He never seriously considered relationships with men. Some are nice enough to look at, sure, but marriage, a house, children – that is only meant for a man and a woman right? A world in which someone just casually tries homosexuality seems…foreign. 

“Hm, I guess so … Wow, don’t look at me like that Harrington. Are you disappointed?”

“W-what, no!” Steve really doesn’t know why he is getting so flustered. He suddenly feels self-conscious under Eddie’s piercing eyes and runs a hand through his hair – a nervous habit.

“Fuck, you are – well, alright, maybe for you I can arrange an encore.”

Before Steve has time to respond, Eddie pushes himself upright and leans one knee on the sofa between Steve’s legs. He feels the cold metal of Eddie’s rings under his chin as he lays a sprawled hand on his throat and tilts his head. 

Steve freezes, air caught in his chest as Eddie leans over his face, his breath hot on his lips. Steve’s right hand uselessly holds on to the near-empty can – afraid to spill it – while his left hand digs into the sofa next to his thighs. Then, Eddie leans down, capturing his lips with practiced ease. Steve feels his long hair tickle his cheeks and the scruff of a five-o-clock shadow grace his chin. 

Eddie’s lips move over his, slightly chapped and rough in a way that couldn’t possibly be a girl. Without meaning to, Steve feels his own lips move against Eddie’s. 

Well, now he couldn't pretend it was just something happening to him. He had graduated to an active participant. 

Kissing Eddie Munson. Eddie freaking Munson.  

Robin was going to have a field day.

Perhaps the most surprising part is how he doesn’t hate it. He likes the feeling of stubble on his chin, the hard corners of Eddie’s jaw, the way Eddie pushes him back onto the sofa and he wills Steve’s mouth open with a sweep of a thumb and the cold metal of rings on his face. A hot tongue explores his mouth, stroking it against Steve’s in a way that makes him gasp.

Steve has never experienced anything like it. Usually with the girls he dated, he took the lead. Kisses were usually shy and timid. Eddie is completely different. He knows what he wants and he isn’t afraid to get it. Steve feels something stir in him as he presses back.

Eddie bites his bottom lip, taking it between his lips, and breaks away from him. Steve feels breathless and blinks up at Eddie. His hand reaches over to Steve’s right side, gently taking the can from his hand and setting it away on the coffee table. He turns back, eyes dark and Steve wills his mouth close as he regards him. 

Was he gay? Shit, he doesn’t really want to think about it now. Humans are humans was what Eddie had said right?

Steve reaches out, sliding his hands behind Eddie’s neck, and pulls him back. Eddie moves himself into a more comfortable position, placing a knee on either side of Steve’s thighs and straddling him. Eddie’s hands reach for Steve’s temples, threading themselves through Steve’s hair – rings catch on the strands but Steve doesn’t mind the painful sting as it pulls. He just wants to get Eddie’s lips back on his – and so he does.

Their lips meet, fiery and hot. Open-mouthed Steve explores every corner of Eddie. He lowers his hands to Eddie’s back, playing on the edge of his tanktop and the hot skin underneath. If it works for girls, surely it works for guys too right?

He runs his hands up the side of Eddie’s chest, a thumb over a nipple, and Eddie gasps into his mouth. Steve feels heat settle in his crotch and he is glad he chose to wear jeans made of thick fabric rather than thin trousers. Steve’s hands move over Eddie’s chest, feeling the smooth muscle of it and the roughness of regrowing chest hair.

Eddie’s fingers reach the hair on the back of Steve’s head and yank it back, exposing Steve’s throat. He lets out a surprised yelp when he feels Eddie’s mouth latch to the delicate bow of his neck and suck. 

Steve is learning a lot about himself in the span of less than an hour. The way Eddie tugs his hair, and has his way with him is sending a pleasant jolt straight to his cock.  And Steve can’t help but moan under the ministrations of Eddie’s mouth as he sucks and bites. 

“Y-you’re gonna leave a mark,” Steve breathes.

“That’s the plan,” Eddie mouths against his neck. Then, he licks his way up into Steve’s mouth again.

Shit, he is kinda into this. Steve isn’t sure how he could ever go back to girls now he knows what it feels like to be touched by calloused fingers and kissed with such force. 

Eddie’s hand leaves his hair and travels down to the rim of his jeans, pulling out his shirt in the process. Steve feels the ghost of fingers running along its edge and the muscles in his stomach tense pleasantly in response.

Eddie breaks away from him, his breath ghosting over his lips as he searches Steve’s eyes. 

“You wanna take this further?” Eddie asks, his eyes flitting over Steve’s face.

Steve feels drunk, even though half a can of beer isn’t nearly enough to even get him close to being buzzed. He is also turned on. Ridiculously so. But fuck, what does taking it further even mean in this context. Steve feels like a virgin all over again and shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to hide his arousal from Eddie.

Not that they are not actively engaged anymore, anxiety hits Steve like a bag of bricks.

“Uhh…” is all Steve manages to utter.

Eddie throws himself off Steve’s lap onto the empty spot next to him on the sofa. He puts his feet on the table again, hands behind his head.

“You’re right, maybe that’s enough for tonight.” 

It doesn’t escape Steve that Eddie’s jeans look a little tighter than usual.

They sit in silence for a moment, only the voice of Rainbow’s singer cutting through the tension. 

“I thought you said it was a phase,” Steve asks after he finally gets his breathing under control.

“Oh right, I should have clarified” – Eddie grins up at the ceiling – “The gay thing was a phase. I figured I was into both.”

Both? Wasn’t that something only hippies preached with their free love? Somewhere, Steve feels a wave of relief washes over him. He never seriously considered someone could like both. He has some serious soul-searching to do once he gets home.

“Huh,” is all Steve replies. Eddie’s eyebrow quirks in interest as he side-eyes Steve.

“I, uh…probably should get going.” Steve puts his hands on his thighs and pushes himself up. Eddie doesn’t move from his position, but his eyes follow him with interest.

“If you’re ever in the mood for a sequel, you know where to find me.” 

Steve nods, because what else can you do in reply to such a comment? He is baffled at the ease with which the words escape Eddie. There is no shame or self-doubt.

As he lays his hand on the door handle, Steve looks back one final time. Eddie’s feet are bouncing in tandem with the beat of the drums and his eyes are closed. He looks so absolutely unshaken by their encounter that Steve feels almost jealous.

Steve is anything but unshaken.

“See you around,” he offers.

“See you, Harrington,” Eddie’s voice is playful, even though he doesn’t move.

When Steve is safe and sound in the driver’s seat of his car, he leans his head against the steering wheel and stays there for a moment. 

What the hell just happened?

He turns his mirror to his neck and traces the hickey that Eddie left on his throat with a finger. He would have to ask Robin for some make-up to cover that up. 

She is going to love this story.

Steve sighs and pushes the mirror back into its original position. When he starts the car, Bowie continues to sing like nothing happened.

Yes, he was alright, his song went on forever, Bowie sings and Steve groans as he hits the gas.

***

It is Saturday morning when Steve walks up to the Buckley residence. He passes the garden fence and walks around the house to the backdoor.

Hawkins was struck by the beginning of a heatwave and at this point, the temperature was bearable as long as one didn't move too much. The perfect day for a visit to the pool, but too hot for videos. 

Which is why Steve is sure today won’t be too busy at Family Video. Fine by him. 

The quiet days he works with Robin are always his favorite. Sometimes Henderson comes over – either with his friends or alone – and they mess around with the cardboard cut-outs or watch a movie on the little TV screen hanging from the ceiling. Steve has zero regrets about missing out on college. Everything he loves is right here in Hawkins.

He pulls at the red handkerchief around his neck. It is against company policy to wear scarves (and probably too hot too) but Steve needs something to cover up the damage of his little adventure with Eddie. At least, until he gets his hands on some skin paint stuff – or whatever girls call that type of make-up.

He enters through the backdoor straight into the kitchen, where he finds Robin’s mother clearing the table of breakfast plates. The room smells faintly like toast.

“Morning, Ms. Buckley!” he calls, already moving towards the hallway. Steve hears her respond, but he's halfway up the stairs by then.

“Rob!”

“Just a second!” Her voice is muffled. She opens her door, fixing an earring. Her eyes flick to his scarf before meeting his gaze.

“Geez, you’re early.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve walks straight past her and throws himself on her unmade bed.  Robin pays him no mind and she walks over to her dresser again. From his spot on the bed, Steve can see Robin's face reflected in the mirror as she fusses with her hair. When she reaches for a pouch, Steve is suddenly reminded of why he is early to begin with. 

“Do you have that face-stuff?” he asks as he sees Robin pull a pencil from the pouch.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than ‘face stuff’.”

“You know, the skin-colored goo.” Steve makes motions over his face as if he’s painting.

“Concealer?” Robin’s mouth is open in concentration as she lines her waterline with black.

“That’s it!” Steve throws himself off the bed and walks over to Robin.

“Sure, I’ve got some,” Robin puts down her pencil and rummages through the pouch again. She pulls out a small beige bottle and holds it up for Steve. He reaches for it, but Robin pulls away.

“Does this have anything to do with your avant-garde fashion statement today?” She looks at his scarf again.

Steve laughs sheepishly and pulls his scarf aside. Robin’s eyes widen at the dark hickey on his neck.

“Jesus, Steve! It’s massive” – she leans in closer – “Was it Rebecca? Never thought she’d be the type...” Robin reaches for his neck but Steve pulls away.

“What? No!” – Steve lets go of the scarf – “I stopped seeing her like five weeks ago. Get with the times, Rob.”

“Well, sorry I can’t keep up with your busy love life.” Robin turns back to the mirror. She definitely isn’t sorry and Steve wouldn’t exactly call the origin of the hickey ‘love’. A lapse of judgment, maybe, or something uniquely in the corner of Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson. 

“Can I get the stuff now?”

“Fine,” she says and she pushes the bottle in his hands.

***

Outside the car, the world passes in a flash of yellow fields. The windows are down and the scent of drying grass fills the air. Steve turns the music up to drown out the thundering sound of the wind as it enters the car and drums his fingers on the steering wheel while he uselessly mouths along with the music. He doesn’t know the lyrics, but that can’t stop him. The fact it annoys Robin when he does so makes it even more fun in his opinion.

“You’re in a good mood,” Robin remarks while she digs through her bag.

“It’s a beautiful day and I’m working with my best friend,” Steve chirps.

“Uhuh, right,” she replies skeptically. She puts her bag back between her legs on the car floor and fiddles with something in her hands.

Steve’s eyes are focused on the road before him when the music suddenly stops.

“Hey! I was listening to that!”

“I thought you said Bowie was ‘overrated trash’” Robin says while opening the case to another cassette. 

“I didn’t,”

“You so did, and you called his pants too tight,”

“Whatever, driver decides,” 

Robin sighs and pushes the cassette back in. “When I get my license, it will be Blondie all day every day. You better prepare yourself, dingus!”

Steve hums in satisfaction as the music comes back on. Maybe he found it somewhat grating in the beginning, but it was growing on him now. That, of course, had nothing to do with Eddie Munson.

“Did you know he used to be gay?” Steve suddenly says.

“Bisexual, Steve, and of course I know that. The question is, why do you?” From his periphery, he can see Robin staring at him.

“I just heard it somewhere,”

“Somewhere…” Robin repeated. She leans over to put the other cassette back in her bag. 

Steve is relieved when he sees Family Video come into view. It’s not like Robin will forget their conversation, she is far too smart for that. And he really does plan on telling her about what happened yesterday, he just has to find the right moment. Hell, maybe it wouldn’t even be today. 

Steve pulls into the parking space and hops out of the car. He locks his door and throws the keys over the car to Robin. She fumbles in her attempt to catch it and Steve is once again reminded that Robin is a band dweeb and not an athlete.

“Let’s open this baby up,” he says as he tosses the store keys into the air and catches them overhand.

“You’re such a show-off” – she walks past Steve into the store and continues without looking back – “For your information, there are no girls around…”

“Yet,” Steve finishes and Robin groans in response.

There wouldn’t be any girls around for most of the day as it turned out. 

As Steve expected, it was a slow day. The only people who visited were those who probably wouldn’t be found dead sunbathing, nerds who never stepped outside (except to rent a video, apparently), and old people looking for something nice to watch with their grandkids. 

Somewhere between the shelves, Robin is putting returned VHS tapes into their rightful place. Meanwhile, Steve sorts through new arrivals and adds them to the computer system. In the back of the shop,  a guy has been staring at some science fiction movies for probably half an hour by now. Category basement nerd, Steve decides.

They had been working in relative solitude. Steve looks up as he hears the bell signal someone’s entrance. He is greeted with a curly head of hair.

“Henderson!” Steve stands up and throws himself over the counter. The secret handshake is a must and cannot be skipped. 

Shake, box, Star Wars sword thing, guts.

Dustin smiles wildly at him. 

Just as Steve is spilling his guts, the bell chimes again. He looks up, readying himself to apologize to the poor customer he has no doubt scared off with his wild gestures when he comes face to face with dark bottomless eyes.

“Munson,” Steve is probably gawking, at least a little and Eddie looks amused at the scene in front of him.

Dustin, oblivious to it all, immediately starts talking. 

“I was just about to grab my bike when I ran into Eddie. He offered me a ride in his van. Mom’s at the pool today, says it’s too hot to stay indoors; she practically kicked me out of the house,”

“Right,” Steve wasn’t even looking at Dustin as he yapped on. He somehow couldn’t tear his eyes away from Eddie’s. It was strange seeing him in daylight now. The darkness of dusk had made their whole interaction the night prior seem like a dream. Now, face to face with Eddie, Steve was hit by the reality of what had transpired. He felt profoundly awkward.

“ – You should totally get a van, Steve!” Dustin’s voice pulls Steve from his thoughts and he tears his eyes away.

“Y-yeah, probably not. I like my car,” he composed himself, deciding to focus his attention on Dustin rather than Eddie.

“Hey Dustin”  – Robin walks from behind the shelves, carrying a now-empty crate. Her eyes land on Eddie with a hint of surprise – “Hey Eddie,”

“Got anything good yet?” Dustin asks Robin eagerly.

“You’re in luck–” Robin says as she puts the crate away, “We just added The Dark Crystal to our collection,”

“Sweet!” He hears Dustin call when Robin leads him away to one of the shelves in the back.

Steve is left alone with Eddie and doesn’t know how to compose himself. A part of him feels nervous under Eddie’s dark gaze. 

Eddie walks over to the counter and leans against it.

“Cool gig,” Eddie says as he looks around the store. “Do you ever get to keep the cardboard cut-outs?” Eddie points his finger at a life-size cut-out of Indiana Jones that stands proudly at the front of the store. Steve’s eyes involuntary drift back to his fingers again and he really ought to stop that. Sooner or later, Eddie will catch him staring.

“I don’t, but Keith does sometimes,” 

“Sweet,”

A silence falls between them and Eddie kicks his feet. The guy in the back still hasn’t made up his mind and a little distance away Dustin is eagerly explaining something about the ‘Gelflings’ to Robin.

“Hey, uh, are you doing anything next Friday?” Eddie asks suddenly. 

“Nothing yet,” Steve is desperately trying to stop his heart from beating at such an insistent pace and he hopes his voice comes out as nonchalant as he intends it to.

“You wanna…I don’t know…hang out or something?”

‘ Or something’. What does ‘or something’ mean ?

“Yeah, I– …yeah, sure” Steve fumbles a bit, but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he doesn’t care. A smile grows on his face.

“Cool,” Eddie says.

He pushes himself away from the counter and walks up to a shelf to inspect some of the movies. He leans forward, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, and hums a song that sounds vaguely familiar. Steve stares at the interlaced fingers behind his back – adorned with silver rings – and shivers at the memory of their coolness against his neck.

“Cool,” Steve echoes.

***

The whole week, Steve had thought of countless excuses to cancel hanging out with Eddie on Friday, but in the end, none of them carried any weight. He couldn’t get Eddie of his freaking mind and the sappy romance movies that played on the television screen at work didn’t help either.

Eddie had visited Family Video again – once – with Dustin to return a movie. Apparently, they regularly hung out when Steve was busy at work and he felt something akin to jealousy. He had always been Dustin’s role model. Heck, the kid even started wearing his hair like him (thank you, Farrah Fawcett). That was until Eddie somehow inserted himself into the equation. Now, Dustin had grown out his hair and was wearing that ridiculous Hellfire shirt religiously; so often, Steve sometimes wondered if it was ever washed at all. 

Eddie had corrupted him, and maybe he had corrupted Steve a little bit as well.

“You seem nervous,” Robin remarks as she flips through a folder, biting in the back of a ballpen. 

“Well, I’m no–” Before Steve can finish his sentence, Robin continues.

“I haven’t heard you talk about your dates the whole week. Whoever gave you that ridiculous hickey has some serious hold over you –”

Steve feels his shoulders tense. The idea of Eddie having any kind of hold over him was crazy. Steve is cool, Steve is casual. Steve is definitely not nervous about his casual hangout with Eddie tonight.

“ –It’s Friday, aren’t you supposed to be on like three different dates tonight?” she continues.

“Uhm, well–”

“And you’ve been acting weird all week. Things are adding up to a very weird sum. The ‘buying thirty watermelons’ kind of weird sum.”

“You have such a way with words,” Steve rolls his eyes as he finally regains his composure.

“Steve!” Robin throws her pen at his head. He ducks, but the pen hits him anyway.

“Robin!” he mimics her tone.

“It’s someone’s mom, isn’t it? God, Steve–” Robin pulls a face in disgust.

“It’s not someone’s mom! Geez, Rob, what kind of person do you take me for?”

“The kind that acts all mysterious and weird, and suddenly listens to music he hates!”

Maybe going out of his way to buy a Rainbow cassette had been somewhat uncharacteristic. Of course, Robin would pick up on that.

“A guy can expand his tastes…” he trails, hit by the ambiguity of his statement.

Robin sighs, picks up her pen from the floor and gives him an irritated glance. 

Steve hears the bell chime just as he closes the door to the vault in which they store cash overnight. It is only a couple of minutes before closing time and Steve grunts audibly as he raises himself into a standing position. Entering a shop this close to closing time is a certified dick move and Steve is not above sending whoever entered away, customer service be damned. 

“We’re closed!” he yells as he walks back into the shop from the backroom. 

“Eddie’s here for you,” Robin calls without looking back at Steve. 

Sure enough, Eddie is standing at the counter. He is wearing a tank top and his hair is pulled up into a messy bun; his skin gleams with sweat from the heat outside and around his neck hangs a wiry set of headphones. Wind from the air conditioner pulls at his hair. When their eyes meet, a smile creeps on his face.

“Sup, Harrington…I’ve brought the van.” He holds the keys up demonstratively, dangling them from his index finger.

"He brought the van!" Robin exclaims looking back at Steve, her eyebrows raised and a sly smile playing on her lips. Steve can almost see the moment of realization dawn upon her as if a lightbulb had been switched on in her mind.

Steve scratches the back of his head. “I promised Robin a ride back–” 

“No problem, We’ll drop her off. I’ll bring you back to pick up your car later.” 

Steve casts Robin a quick glance and she shrugs in response.

“If Robin’s fine with it…” he trails.

“A van,” Robin whispers as Steve joins her at the counter and elbows him in his arm.

Steve rolls his eyes at her, but still can’t fight the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

***

Twigs crack under Steve’s shoes as he follows Eddie through the forest. The canopy of the trees offers ample shadow and Steve finds the heat more bearable here than when they had been walking alongside the road. Still, his shirt clings to his back and sweat is slicking his hair as Steve runs a hand through it. 

When Eddie asked him to hang out, he didn’t expect they would be hiking through the forest behind the trailer park during a freaking heatwave. 

He looks over to Eddie. His bangs cling to his forehead and the veins on his arms are thick as his body fights to keep cool. Despite the oppressive heat, there's a glint of excitement in Eddie's eyes.

“There it is.” Eddie stops and looks somewhere in the distance. Steve squints and follows Eddie’s gaze. Between the trees, he can see the shimmer of water, and he realizes Eddie has taken them to Lover’s lake. 

When they near the water, Eddie ups his pace, stepping around some of the bigger rocks and boulders near the lake’s edge like he has done it a thousand times before. Steve tries to keep up, but his unfamiliarity with the landscape slows him down.

At last, he is standing on the pebbled lakeside. The sun is already lowering itself into the embrace of dusk and Steve thinks they have maybe two hours of light left before sundown. He looks to his right where he sees Eddie standing above a pile of wood. When he gets closer, Steve realizes it is actually an old stranded fisher’s boat.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Eddie remarks.

Steve looks the boat over. It’s medium sized and some of its wood has rotted away. A good portion of it is covered in graffiti, and half of it sits in the water. It has probably been there for years.

“You bring all your conquests here?” Steve asks as he watches Eddie climb onto the boat. The question is mostly meant to be lighthearted, yet he feels a sense of anticipation as he waits for Eddie to reach the deck. 

Eddie squats and looks down on him. “Nah, just you.” 

Somehow, those words make Steve’s heart flutter and his cheeks heat up. He quickly looks away, pretending to search for footing to scale the boat.

When Steve reaches the deck, Eddie is sitting cross-legged facing the lake. 

“This is a nice place,” Steve says, sitting next to Eddie. He lets his feet dangle from the side and follows Eddie’s gaze. Across the lake, some people linger, cooling down before heading back to their hot homes. Some children are playing in the shallows and their joyful screams carry over the water.

“Your work?” Steve asks as he gestures to some of the writing on the boat. The wood is covered in crude phrases, names, and dates – some of them are carved, but most look to be written with a sharpie.

“Some of it is.” Eddie pulls out a pocket knife from his jeans and hands it to Steve. “You can add to it if you want.”

Steve turns the knife in his hand. It is a classic red Swiss knife and it lays heavy in his hand. 

“Here–” Eddie twists around and Steve follows suit. Eddie’s fingers are tracing the wood behind them, running them over the carvings in the wood. “– I think I did this about a year ago.”

Eddie removes his hands and Steve can finally get a good look. It’s nothing crazy, just a simple ‘Eddie was here’ carved in crude scratches – eternalised in some rotting wood in a town no one cares about.

Eddie holds up his hand to Steve and he realizes he is asking for his knife back. Steve hands it over.

Eddie flips out the knife and bends himself over the carving. Steve turns back around, looking over the lake again as the sound of scratching fills his ears.

“All done!” Eddie says after a while.

When Steve turns back, he sees his name freshly carved into the wood, right above Eddie’s original carving.

Steve + Eddie was here

“You wanted to immortalize this?” Steve asks amused.

Eddie flips the knife closed again and shoves it into his pocket. “A year ago, I’d never thought I’d be sitting here with Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. Guess that’s pretty fucking special.” Eddie casts him a toothy grin. 

Steve had to agree though. If someone had told him a year ago he would be hanging out with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson on a Friday evening – rather than spend his night on a date or at a party – he would have declared them crazy.

“I suppose so,” Steve replies.

All is quiet for a moment, save the sound of leaves rustling by a welcome breeze. Steve closes his eyes as the wind kisses his sweaty skin.

“I got you something,” Eddie says, breaking the silence and he stands up. Steve’s gaze follows him and his eyes widen when he sees Eddie move his hands over his head to pull his tank top off. 

“But let's take a dip first…it’s hot as balls.” He throws the sweaty tank top at Steve, who slaps it out of the air before it can hit him. The fabric lands heavily on the wooden deck.

“I didn’t bring my trunks,” 

“You don’t need those here.” Eddie gives him a knowing smile as he kicks on his shoes.

Eddie is lean and he has a nice back, Steve thinks. Not particularly broad like some of his former teammates on the swimming team, but not bad for a guy who spends his time playing board games. His torso is littered with fading scars from the Upside Down and Steve has a fair amount of those himself.

“Get on with it, Harrington!” Eddie is already stripped to his underwear when Steve tears his eyes away and finally tugs his own shirt over his head.

A dip in the lake was a fantastic idea and Steve felt himself relax now that he was slowly but surely cooling down to more humane temperatures.

Steve tries to keep his eyes away from Eddie as they make their way back to the boat. The fabric of his boxers is clinging to his skin.

Eddie lays himself down on the deck, using his jeans as a pillow while he fiddles with his headphones. 

“C’mere Steve.” Eddie pats the space next to him and Steve reluctantly seats himself. Eddie is working the buttons of a walkman.

“Remember when I said I got you something?”

“That was like twenty minutes ago,” Steve feels borderline offended at the implication.

Eddie gestures for Steve to lay down as well and Steve complies begrudgingly, resting his head next to Eddie’s on his crumpled jeans while he stares up at the blue sky. He feels exposed in just his boxers and now Eddie wants them to lay side by side.

“Here.” Eddie hands him one half of the headphones while holding the other side to his own ears. Suddenly it dawns on Steve why they’re lying as they are. Eddie wants to let him listen to music. Steve moves half of the headphones to his ear and sure enough music starts playing.

“I put some things together I thought you might like.” Steve can see Eddie turn his head towards him from his periphery and study his face.

“You made me a mixtape?” Steve asks. The idea of Eddie putting together a mixtape for him was…well, really thoughtful.

“Now you say it out loud it sounds kinda lame,” Eddie laughs.

“No, it– it’s really nice.” Steve offers. 

He closes his eyes and listens to the unfamiliar tunes. Eddie did quite a good job at picking music that he might like. It is definitely less intense than Rainbow – the voices are less shrill, the guitar less cutting, and the drums beat at a lower frequency. It’s nice, ridiculously nice, and Steve can’t think of an instance when someone has ever taken the time to put something together for him like this – not even his ex-girlfriends.

They lay there for a while, each holding one end of the headphone. The people on the other side of the lake must have left by now because the only things Steve can hear are birdsong, the sound of rustling leaves, and the music that comes from the walkman. The breeze feels cool against his damp body, and he wonders why he had never done this before – stay at the lake until the sun went down.

Steve can almost feel himself drift asleep when Eddie nudges him.

“Steve.” Eddie shakes him gently by his shoulder.

“Hm, lemme be…” he whines without opening his eyes.

“You’re gonna be mosquito food.” Beside him, he hears Eddie getting up and when Steve finally opens his eyes, Eddie is already wearing his tank top. 

Steve hadn’t realized how long they had laid there. Only a small line of sun was visible in the distance and Eddie’s figure was dark against the pastel sky.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna need my pants,” Eddie says as he points at Steve’s head.

“Oh right.” Steve finally sits up, handing Eddie the makeshift pillow of his jeans.

Once they’re both dressed, Eddie leads them back through the forest. The sky is pink and the trees form black outlines against it. Steve walks after Eddie, who points out when to be mindful of a hidden boulder or a sudden dip in the forest floor. 

They take Eddie’s van back to Family Video so Steve can get his car. The whole car ride, Steve can’t help the feeling of nervousness that sits in his stomach. 

Today kinda felt like a date. 

Normally he would be on the other end of it – driving a girl home after a movie or something. And then, once he stops the car in front of her house, the girl would fidget and Steve would place his arm on the back of her car seat, confident and reassuring. He would tell her he had a good time and if she did as well, he would seal the deal with a kiss.

But this was Eddie, and they had been just two guys hanging out. 

Two guys that had made out a week ago. 

But that didn’t mean anything. It had just been Steve’s one-day gay phase and he got it out of his system now, hadn’t he? Eddie had only offered out of a misunderstanding, or maybe some weird kindness.

Shit, this train of thought was not helping Steve whatsoever. If anything, it had just made the nervous flutter in his stomach worse.

Eddie stops the van and the red neon light of Family Video plays with the curves of his face.

“There we are.” Eddie pushes himself back into his seat with his arms stretched on the steering wheel. Steve makes no movement to get out. They sit in silence for a while.

“About last week–” Steve starts. If he doesn’t acknowledge it now, he feels like he might go crazy. Besides, he doesn’t know when or if they’ll have another moment alone.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone. We can forget about it if you want…” Eddie says without looking at him. His shoulders are tense and his grip on the steering wheels seems to harden.

“No…it’s not–” Steve tries, but Eddie cuts him off.

“Don’t worry Steve, I get it. I know what people say about me –”

“But–”

“ –and it doesn’t have to mean anything. People make out all the time–”

Steve unbuckles his seatbelt. He’s kind of sick of Eddie not letting him finish his sentences and is ready to return the favor.

He leans over, turning Eddie’s head towards him and kisses him. Hard.

Eddie’s mouth is parted, mid-sentence, and Steve feels teeth beneath his lips. By all accounts, it’s a shoddy kiss – not his best work – but it seems to do the trick.

Eddie loses his grip on the steering wheel, hands moving to Steve’s shoulders instead as he eagerly returns the sentiment.

“Fuck, Harrington, aren’t you full of surprises,” Eddie breaths against his lips.

Steve leans back into his chair and runs a hand through his hair.

“You talk too much,” he says as he opens the door of the van.

By the time he hears Eddie get out of his van, Steve is already opening the door to his  BMW.

“Wait, Steve,” Eddie calls as he jogs over. When he’s standing in front of Steve, he pulls at Steve’s arm, running his hand down and urging Steve’s palm up. He shoves something square in his hand and closes Steve’s fingers around it.

“Next Friday, same time?” Eddie asks him, searching his eyes.

Steve nods silently. He stares after Eddie as he walks back to his van. He opens the door and turns one last time, giving Steve a two-fingered salute before getting in. 

Steve hears the sound of the motor swinging on and looks at his hand. In the dim neon light, he stares down at a small cassette. Steve can hardly read the black letters in the red light, but he realizes Eddie has written something on its white label.

From Freak, to Hair. 

[AO3]

#steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie #my fics

[problem-of-ros]

in severe cases touching grass might fail and you have to touch a tree

#there is probably nothing more real than a tree #the book is aching for the tree just got much more serious

[skitskatdacat63]

I have to write a relatively long German paper, and man its just so difficult for me. The pro side is that I can pick any topic I want, so of course I picked Charles VI. But I've literally not written any German in months, and I'm almost 100% sure our prof doesn't actually read them. I should just write and submit boy king fic....

#i wish it was in English #bcs i would be very happy about it #but i have lost so much capacity for any German writing #bcs he sucks so much as a prof and has dropped the ball on actual language learning imo #how am i supposed to suddenly write a 7-8 pg paper after youve spent all our class time just lecturing at us #and giving us no real opportunity to really learn or test our skills #i shall.. probably just cheat. #LIKE i want to learn german so badly #but what the fuck is the point of even trying when i know im not going to get actual feedback on my writing #why should i even try at that point. put that much effort in and know that he doesnt really care at all #it just sucks so much bcs i genuinely love and am so fascinated w the topic #but the idea that id put so much work into translating it only for him not to read it really kills me #again. just submit boy king fic and see if he notices sjfkgllblb #but do you know what i mean? like im sure ill write a good version in english that i think is actual good content #but translating it is such a lost cause bcs all the effort is reallt for nothing #like atp im jusy interested in the history more than making an effort w the language #ugh i wish i wasnt this way but yknow lack of stimulation anf feedback really kills my enjoyment and interest #like see i can convince myself that thr eng version of teh paper is my typical personal research #<- i mean im making a fucking family tree for funsies so this isnt that far off #but the translation part is so difficult bcs my german has been eroding a bit SOB SOB #lol anyways i say this bcs i was plotting a boy king fic in my head as i was goong to bed #and was like oh i shoulf write it out tmr! and then remembered I HAVE AN ESSAY UGH #well yeah. suffering. we'll see how i feel abt i write the original copy and if i have the capacity to germanify it #i just feel so guilty about it. cheating. I dont want to and it feels so low effort and terrible #but why would i force myself thru all that for a guy who barely reads it #catie.rambling.txt

[arolesbianism]

Ok so. Uh. I am starting to have a sneaking suspicion that my entire assumption behind Wagstaff's age might come with an asterisks

#rat rambles #starve posting #this is abt the young wagstaff we see in the last skill tree animation #unless Im mistaken hes shown at a real event that happened in brussels (shout out to my belgian friends for instantly pointing it out) #which happened in 1910 #....aka only 11 years before wilson entered the constant #now we have 3 states we see wagstaff in #his young self at brussels #a much more modern looking wagstaff but less old looking #and modern day crusty dusty wagstaff #which means one of 3 things #A he simply aged poorly in those 11 years #B time travel bullshit #or C the first we see of modern wagstaff is much farther in the future than the rest of the cast was when they got constant'd #and C is most realistic but also kind of my least favorite option cause it kind of fucks over a lot of my wx-78 hcs #but its also probably the reality of the situation cause I doubt theyre going hard into time travel #and a is possible but boring and also comes with the same issues as c #and the thing is. they don't show wagstaff's face in the next of kin animation. this might have been an intentional thing to hide smth. #plssss klei be nicieys to be I just want crusty dusty old wx in my life pleaseeeeeee #like nothing is stopping me from making them like 50 anyways but I would rather have the two of them be around the same age #alas nothing I can do but wait and hope for the best fkfndkdnd

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

That nice little bit of pink flare in the hair.

It is just like talked about when we were younger.

Mystery sexy girl with the Wayfair bdsm gear on.

In the back of my mind I am like I would like those self strapped wrists to be giving me some hugs.

Oh...you know.

#they are just so goddamn round #smh...dear fucking God so round and perfect let me ruby my eyes and look again to make sure she is real #I turn around and you paddle your feet looking at biscuits #heh this girl looks stimulated by our interaction here...looks around nope it's definitely me #why couldn't you have had mom bring me in there for a sandwich #I could have been like #hey so you look Really familiar #but no I am like man this poor girl but damn they probably do way better business with her there #I fucking hate Doug so much #he is like dog shit on my shoe #stinks and nearly impossible to scrape it all off #look you want to discuss your stepfather (technically) we can do that in person #there is like nothing good for me to say there #mom would come to me when he was an asshole like come on #like mom you brought his dumb ass over here you know how to banish them #no though the wind just psycho herself into exiting the nervous shell #in a way the tree is kind of like the biggest backhanded compliment of all time #and it is more of a hey thanks fuck you than a compliment #up in old you know where Sunday nights after 2000 Jane is hammered complaining and I am like I don't really give a shit #“I just need to disconnect” me: like...ok if that's what you want ( #mash time than analingus

[leaawrites]

Take away the pain

Percy Jackson x daughter of Apollo!reader

Warnings: Blood, open body, might be disturbing, mentions of organs, broken limbs, nightmare, mentions of death, mentions of wounds, scratch marks, tight throat, female reader,

Category: angst, a bit of fluff, comfort

summary: after reader has a nightmare Percy comforts her.

Masterlist

Blood. It was everywhere. Soaking her clothes, staining the fabric in a crimson color. Her body felt weightless, but she felt alive. Her limbs were broken, they were shattered, thorn by the ends. Her chest was open. She couldn’t feel it, but she saw it. It wasn’t neatly opened by a knife. She wasn’t slashed or stabbed by a human creature. It was a hole. She was opened by something more forceful. Part of her organs were laying beside her. Her skin was opened.

The stone beneath her feet was flat, sanded smooth by millions of feet walking over it. But hers couldn’t feel it. She couldn’t make her mark on it. She couldn’t polish it with her own. She destroyed it.

Her body was weightless and she wasn’t alive.

Her eyes opened, sweat was soaking the shirt she slept in. Her hair was a mess. Nothing felt real anymore. But it was real. This was real.

Her hands clutched her chest, fearing to feel it soaked. But all she felt was skin to skin. A body moved on the other side of the bed. Percy pulled the blanket up to his face, probably fighting with his own nightmare.

The air in camp Half-blood felt clearer at night. No one was awake at this hour, the sky was dark, nature was silent. A tree moved from the wind, somewhere something else moved through the night, making sounds through the leaves that covered the ground.

Y/n gently removed the blanket from over her body, hoping she wouldn’t wake Percy in doing so. Her feet were soundless on the wooden floor. Tears were pricking on the edge of her eye. Her eye lids felt heavy from the water forming beneath them.

Being a kid of Apollo was great in her eyes. She couldn’t complain too much. However, one thing that made her want to change her godly parent, were the wounds she’d seen. The blood that has been on her hands while trying to safe someone else. She saw people in pain that she wanted to pull them out of, often that was Percy. If there was a way of taking their pain and put them onto her she would gladly do it. But she couldn’t.

Slow rivers were trailing down her face as she sat down on the stairs, watching the outside in hope of forgetting what she saw. It may wasn’t real, but it felt realistic enough to scare her. Images came flashing back into her mind. And every time they did, she shut her eyes, imagining his face. The way he would smile at her whenever he saw her. Until it was forgotten.

“What did you dream about?” Of course he knew that was the reason she was up. Of course he felt whenever she wasn’t by his side, even when his eyes were closed and his body was on stand-by.

Y/n moved her fingers over her neck, scratching her fingernails against the soft flesh. It hurt, she noticed. The simple motion made her throat feel tight, it felt like strings were laced around it, pulling themselves together by the second. A deep breath in the pain began to gave up on paining her even more.

“I was dead,” she said, her voice shaking while she spoke. Percy sat down beside her, looking confused at the raw explanation. “My chest was ripped open, there was blood everywhere and my body wasn’t my body anymore. Percy, I- I was nothing more but a dead, rotting body. Nothing more than flesh split open, with broken bones.”

Percy knew about the dreams she had before. They were mostly about other people dying, never her. He put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his chest, the other covered his face.

"It was just a dream," he assured the girl. It pained him to see her so broken over what others called her gift. He didn't know what he would do if he saw what she saw.

"But can I be sure of that? What if it was all just a vision of what will be in the future?" There were a hundred thoughts on her mind. Most of them bad ones. If this was all a vision, when would it happen? When would whatever ripped her open rip her open?

Kissing her head, he softly spoke, “Nothing will hurt you. I won’t let it.”

“How can you be so sure about that?” She asked, thinking back on the girl who was in the infirmary a few days ago. She was on a quest, abandoned by her other two acquaintances. He told me he would never leave me, she recalled the girl tell her. Percy wasn’t like this, but what if something acquired him to go away? What if someone was the reason why he wasn’t there?

Percy thought back to his mother. He believed she would always be there, until she wasn’t. But he got her back. He believed, that if you truly loved someone, that nothing could make you turn away from them. “Because I love you.”

It was his only reasonable answer to that question. He would protect her as long as he loved her. There was nothing that could make him turn away when she was hurt.

The pain on her neck left completely when Percy planted a kiss on the back of it. He made the pain disappear. The string detached from another, leaving her to breath freely and purely. The pain from her stomach unraveled when she felt his skin against it. He was what she needed when the pain was too much. With Percy everything felt lighter. Every one of her problems solved around him. He was the light she needed on dark day for her sun to shine.

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #percy series #pjo show #persassy #pjo #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson tv show #pjo tv show #pjo series

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

white wine | f. odair

(part two of red wine)

part one

summary: another celebration in the capitol leaves you and finnick in an argument that threatens to strain your friendship.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: reader’s pov, flirting, angst, argument, struggling finnick :(

notes: i don’t know if i like this, let me know what y’all think! final part will be out in a few days.

word count: 1.6k

A Sphynx cat dressed in a white suit scurried beneath your feet, disappearing around a vine-covered pillar in the courtyard of the Presidential Palace. Fairy lights were hung on every tree, bush, and pillar, providing light in the growing darkness of the evening. Orchestral strings played in a small band off to the side, so beautiful that it sent goosebumps prickling across your entire body. People were dressed to impress, though to you, they looked more ridiculous than impressive.

The 72nd annual Hunger Games had come and gone, and a tour was held for the victor whose name you had not bothered to learn. At last, the infamous grand celebration in the Capitol had arrived.

Months had gone by since your night of red wine and white cats. Parties had not been in short supply since then, meaning your meetings with Finnick remained regular. But something was off about him. Something you couldn’t place no matter how hard you tried.

Winter snow was beginning to stick to the ground, blending with the pure white gown you were wearing, gifted by the generous president. If purity and innocence were what he was going for, he probably should’ve chosen a dress without a plunging neckline. The proof was in the pudding. Or rather, the voice of the heartthrob from District Four.

“That dress is quite distracting.”

Sauntering toward you came Finnick Odair, a playful grin plastered on his face. Just like you, his outfit only consisted of white. A billowy V-neck that dipped down to his navel, paired with white dress pants and a golden netted belt.

“Finnick.” You smiled, your dull mood lifting from his presence. “So, he got you too, huh?”

“What? You don’t think I look dashing in white?” he teased.

“I think you look dashing in anything.”

The words just slipped out, supposed to only remain a thought. Finnick was a flirt, through and through. You hardly ever entertained his flirtatious manner; rebutting with either attitude or timid silence was more your style. So, the last thing you needed was for him to take your words to heart, however genuine they might be.

He blinked in surprise, only to quickly laugh it off. “Thank you, but I don’t think the spotlight will be on me tonight,” he said, his eyes scanning your dress from head to toe, then settling back on your face. “I hate to admit it, but Snow knows beauty when he sees it.”

“Snow knows everything,” you replied sarcastically.

And there it was again. That out-of-character shift in his demeanour. Like a storm cloud had suddenly rolled over head, dampening the mood with its gloomy presence. This was becoming a more frequent occurrence each time you saw Finnick and you were desperate to know why. What had changed?

Sunshine broke through the clouds again in the form of a splitting grin. “Unfortunately, so,” he said, brushing the topic aside as though it were nothing. “Would you like to dance? Give them a taste of real beauty?”

You couldn’t say no.

The instrumentals had slowed to the tempo of an assumed waltz. Although you had been trained in social etiquette, dancing was not your strong suit—unless you counted drunk dancing. With this knowledge, Finnick took the lead, his hand gently cupping your waist, another interlocking your own, and you followed his simple steps until you found a comfortable rhythm.

“I have got to know who your dancing instructor is,” Finnick quipped, his tone full of jest. “He’s got to be pretty talented to be able to teach you how to dance. Undeniably attractive too, considering your incredibly vain nature.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “I can’t seem to recall his name. Not very remarkable. Phineas was it? Or maybe it was Finnley.”

“That hurts, sweetheart.”

“Truth hurts, Odair,” you said, sending him a teasing smile.

He chuckled, the dance continuing smoothly. “You’re getting better,” he said, his voice now sounding sincere.

Before you met Finnick, fitting in with higher society was a struggle. All of their customs and etiquette seemed so foreign to you, especially since you came from a lower-ranking district. But as he meticulously wound himself into your web, he brought with him an abundance of knowledge which he happily shared with you.

You had spent countless hours together, learning different subjects such as how to keep conversations going, the art of seduction, and even dancing, even though you never quite got it down.

Times came when dangerous situations arose—conferences with President Snow, meeting obsessiveCapitol citizens, and being given unreasonable demands. More than once, Finnick saved your life through his guidance. You owed him everything and more.

Heat spread in the places his hands touched you, subduing the slight chill of the winter air. You would expect someone from District 4 to be cold, as the ocean was like a second home to them, with their days spent fishing, swimming, and collecting underwater vegetation in the cold depths. Despite this, everything about Finnick radiated warmth. His bronze hair was like the embers of a dying fire; his skin was fiery upon touch. Even his smile was sunny, always beaming like a golden ray of light.

Slowly, the fairy lights transformed in colour, highlighting the luxurious scenery and both yours and Finnick’s clothing. White turned to green, accentuating the striking colour of Finnick’s eyes which gazed down upon you as your bodies swayed together. After green came a colour that turned your dress a deep crimson.

“This one’s my favourite,” Finnick said, his voice so melodious it sounded like a part of the orchestra.

“Why is that?”

You felt his hand glide to your lower back and your knees almost buckled.

“Because—” The music swelled before its end and he gracefully dipped you as if to emphasise his answer— “you always look stunning in red.”

Everything went quiet. The music had ended and all you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears. Beautiful sea green washed over your body, enveloping you in complete serenity that resembled the feeling of floating beneath the ocean’s surface. Finnick was there with you, holding you in his arms, his eyes penetrating deep into your own—sea-green serenity.

You lowered your gaze to his lips, admiring the pink colour and velvetiness. It was a dilemma you constantly struggled with—having a crush on the Finnick Odair. The Capitol’s Darling. Everybody wanted him; some actually got him. You heard whispers of his little adventures in the Capitol, how a select few would get to spend the night with him whenever he visited.

There was no judgement on your part; Finnick was your closest friend. And that was all he would ever be, making you the most envious of them all. Condemned to forever wishing to be something more than platonic. Always being the one watching from the sidelines. That was the singular thing you had in common with the people of the Capitol.

But in that fleeting moment, you were undeniably certain no one had ever yearned to kiss anyone more than you yearned to kiss Finnick. Your heart lurched when his eyes flickered to your lips and suddenly, you were questioning whether or not he felt the same. When he started to lean in closer, your heart just about exploded.

But before anything could happen, you realised that the waters were infested with gossip-hungry sharks, waiting for their moment to strike.

Soft murmurs were echoing around you, reeling your harsh reality back into existence. Finnick too noticed and pulled you back into a standing position. His hands dropped from your body and without a second glance, he took off in the opposite direction, leaving you momentarily in shock.

“Wha—Finnick!” you exclaimed, trailing after him.

You weaved through the crowd of engrossed bystanders, ignoring their hushed whispers and unwavering stares. Finnick had climbed two of the marble steps leading up to the mansion before you reached out and grabbed his white sleeve, forcing him to face you.

“What, Y/N?” he snapped, wearing an expression that was a mixture of frustration and hurt. The usage of your real name took you aback. He would always call you ‘sweetheart’ or some other term of endearment. Hardly ever your name. “What do you want?”

You shook your head, confused as to where his sudden hostility had come from. “What’s going on with you?” you asked, searching his eyes for anything that would help you understand, but there were too many emotions for you to decipher. “Whenever we see each other it’s like something is weighing you down. Sometimes you can’t even look me in the eyes and then other times you’re asking me to dance with you and flirting with me. I don’t understand, is it me? Have I done something?”

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he averted his gaze. You let out an exasperated breath, lowering your gaze to his chest in frustration. The brilliance of his white shirt caught your attention and a troubling thought popped into your mind. “Has Snow done something?”

His eyes snapped to yours, a silent command to lower your voice. Descending one step, Finnick leaned down, towering over your body. His voice was low, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

In one last attempt to break through his barrier, you slid your hand into his. “Then explain it to me,” you pleaded. “Please.”

The inner turmoil was evident on Finnick’s face. His gaze softened but the deep worry lines were still etched into his skin. For a moment, you believed he was finally going to lower his walls. However, your hope was diminished as he exhaled a long, weary breath and said, “I wish I could.”

And then his hand slipped out of yours, disappearing entirely as he ascended the stairs and left you at the bottom, defeated.

tags: @bellamybellamyblake @teigo-the-explorer

part three

#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️ #finnick odair #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair smut #finnick odair imagine #sam claflin #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

[heeliopheelia]

MERRY CHRISTMAS – christmas clichés with enhypen

𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘴

event masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

As you’ve stubbornly decided on having a real christmas tree this time, the both of you have found yourself on this huge christmas tree farm only three hours away from your home. 

Heeseung was kind enough to agree to your ridiculous idea and drove you here with little to no objections after you bargained with an evening full of cuddles and kisses.

“No, I want a taller one!” You fuss as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but it won't fit into our living room,” Heeseung sends you a mocking smile, rolling his eyes at you half heartedly. “Go get the wider one and let's go. I think I'll need to get my toes amputated if we stay here five minutes longer.”

“Well, sucks to be you but you still have to drive us back,” you say pointedly as you walk past him and further into another alley full of pines. “And I'm not getting the wider tree you’re so stupidly obsessed with – we're not leaving until I find the right one.”

Heeseung scoffs with amusement at your stubbornness but follows after you immediately. Not even two minutes later, the two of you are bickering over your purchase again. 

“It's thin and ugly, Heeseung, how can you even suggest buying that crap? You’ve got no taste,” You look at the tree with distaste, then side eye your boyfriend. 

“It's not ugly,” he protests, flicking your nose. “And my taste is very refined compared to yours, thank you.”

“You know what, you’re right. You’re dating me after all,” you say, scrunching your nose up. 

The two of you turn another corner and stop frozen in your tracks, gaping with held breaths at the most perfect christmas tree you’ve ever laid your eyes upon.

“Are you seeing this?” Heeseung breathes out as a grin displays on his face.

“We’re getting this one!” The both of you shout simultaneously, excitement filling your voices.

You jog over to the tree giddily, dragging Heeseung along with you. When you stop in front of it, you turn around and raise on your toes to press a kiss to his cold lips.

“C’mon!” Then you giggle playfully. “I'm a good girlfriend so maybe I’ll even let you pay…” 

“Aren’t I just so lucky?” He teases and presses a kiss to your cheek to hide the smile that’s blossomed on his lips after hearing your giggle.

PARK JAY

With a silent nudge to your side, Jay lifts the spoon with soup to your lips. You instantly open your mouth and let him feed you. 

Your eyebrows rise as you smile at him while nodding your head. “That’s really good!” 

You and Jay are cooking dinner as his parents are supposed to come today. You can't say that you're not nervous – you've only met them three times before, so this pressure keeps resting on your chest ever since the morning.

You are a chaotic mess at this point, so if not for Jay's composure to balance it out, you'd probably end up burning the house down twice today. 

And so it's no surprise when the knife you're cutting the vegetables with slips a little and cuts into the skin on your finger. You jerk your hand away quickly, a pained hiss leaving your mouth. 

Jay walks up to you with furrowed eyebrows, wordlessly taking your slightly trembling hand in his and lifting it up to look at the cut. 

“It's nothing, I just wasn't paying enough attention,” you say as you try to pull your hand away but he only gently leads you to the sink and pours cold water on your wound. 

“You need to be more careful,” he says quietly, stroking your palm with his thumb under the cool stream. 

“I know, I just… I don't know what's wrong with me today,” you mumble out, averting your eyes from him. 

But Jay knows you better than anyone else, so he only lets out a small hum before wiping your hand dry with a paper towel, then carefully patches your finger up with a band aid. 

“Stop worrying so much, sweetheart,” he finally says, voice soothing as he lifts your hand up and presses a gentle kiss against it. “Everything's gonna be fine.”

And you let him pull you into his arms, wrapping your own around his waist. 

“I know, I can't really help it,” you mumble into his shirt. “I just don't want to let anybody down today.”

“You won't,” he assures you firmly before leaning down and kissing your forehead. “Especially not me. I love you. There's not much you could do to disappoint me, trust me.”

You begin to smile again, feeling the tension slightly leaving your system. “I love you too. Thank you.”

“It's nothing. Now let's go finish this dinner, hm?”

SIM JAKE

“Oh god, babe, look at that.” Jake stumbles backwards with laughter as he takes the hanger off the rack and shows you probably the most hideous Christmas sweater existing. 

“Where the hell did you find it?” You giggle, scrunching your nose as you look at the obnoxious Santa’s favorite ho sewn with red thread right in the center of the sweater. “It’s so ugly!”

Once his cackles cease slightly, he walks over to you and shows you the item from up close.

“Please, please, please,” he begs with wide eyes, pressing a peck after peck to your lips. “You have to try this on for me.” 

And how were you supposed to refuse his sparkling eyes? Now you’re cursing yourself for being so whipped for your boyfriend as you stare at your reflection, torso wrapped up in the green itchy clothing. 

It takes all of your might not to run and hide as Jake slides the curtain of the dressing room to the side before quickly slipping inside the tight space too. He looks you up and down before a low whistle leaves his mouth.

“Damn, would you look at that?” He says with a toothy smile, spinning you around as you roll your eyes. “See? I knew you could make it work. You’re just different type of fine.” 

You scoff at his words and raise your eyebrow. He steps even closer to you, refusing to let you go no matter how hard you try. Of course he would get all excited now out of all times. Now that you don’t have more than half an hour before the mall closes and you still have two more presents to buy for your families. 

“Is it bad that I kinda wanna buy it for you now?” He grins, placing his hands on both of your hips before pulling you close to his chest and kissing your jawline a little too sultrily for this stuffy dressing room.

You push on his chest with a giggle, trying to get away from him. “You need to be stopped.”

“Well, I know for a fact you’re my favorite ho-”

“Jake!” 

PARK SUNGHOON

Loud laughter booms from behind you as you tumble to the icy ground again, your skates absolutely refusing to cooperate with you today. Within couple seconds, you feel a pair of strong hands wrapping under your arms from behind and you’re being pulled up again. As you try to balance yourself again, you find yourself slipping again and crashing backwards into your boyfriend’s chest.

“If I knew you were such a clutz, I wouldn’t even have tried to bring you here,” Sunghoon teases, sneaking his arms around your waist and keeping you close. 

Your eyes roam around the crowd, praying that this fall wasn’t as spectacular as your previous one and didn’t capture the attention of half of the ice rink. You sigh in relief when you notice no one is looking this time before tapping Sunghoon’s palm.

“Turn me around, please,” you ask him and he obliges with a chuckle, spinning you around until you’re facing his grin. 

“Already giving up?” He raises his eyebrow, squeezing your waist gently. 

You sigh. “I don’t know.” Leaning forward, you rest your head on his sweater cladded chest. “You never told me it was this hard.”

Sunghoon pats your back as he coos at you but you can still hear the way he’s biting his smile back. 

“Stop laughing at me!” 

You smack his arm, pulling away only to be greeted by a soft kiss placed on your nose. 

“C’mon, I’ll help you,” he says, reaching his gloved hand for you to take. When you look at him suspiciously, he rolls his eyes and grabs your hand himself. “I’m being for real this time.”

And since you’re unable to say no to him, you end up nodding your head and let him skate over to your side to wrap his arm around your waist firmly, guiding you slowly. 

And this time, he’s made it his personal mission to never let you fall again, doing everything in his might to not let you grow discouraged towards the sport he loves nearly as much as you.

KIM SUNOO

"You’ve put way too much butter in there," Sunoo points out, watching with a raised eyebrow as you form another greasy cookie and place it on the edge of the tray.

"I don’t remember asking for your opinion," you smile at him with an attitude, yet knowing well he's right as you glance at the glistening mixture of flour and butter with the corner of your eye.

"Oh my god, they look so greasy! They’re gonna merge into one big cookie in the oven," he laughs and points at the runny balls of dough already blending into each other. "Stop being so stubborn and listen to me for once. Well, actually if you did listen to me in the first place, you wouldn’t be having this problem at all."

You roll your eyes and bump your hip against his as you scrunch your nose at the butter covering your hands. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can you please put them in the oven? My hands are too slippery."

Sunoo groans but still puts on the oven mittens and fulfills your wish. A sigh wells up in his chest, knowing well that no matter how disgusting or inedible those cookies are gonna turn out to be, he’ll still be the one eating them all because after all it’s you who made them.

And he tries his best not to fall to the ground dramatically when the next words he hears from you are the ever so cheerful, “Okay, so chocolate chip next!”

Love will truly be the death of him. 

YANG JUNGWON

Jungwon casts you a concerned look when another cough leaves your already roughed up throat. It’s only your type of luck to get sick at Christmas – you shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. 

“Drink your tea, angel,” he prompts you gently, pointing his head at the steaming cup of tea laying on the coffee table.

You lean the back of your head onto his shoulder, snuggling backwards into his chest as he cuddles you closely on the worn out couch in your living room. That’s already the third christmas movie you’re watching aimlessly, wrapped up in blankets and Jungwon’s arms ever since the afternoon.

He presses a kiss to your hair, gingerly nudging you back forward to grab your tea. You oblige with a quiet whine, the effort of leaning forward becoming really burdening with your weakened body. Going back to your previous position, you sigh and take a sip of the tea that Jungwon’s prepared for you with so much love.

“Why do I always have to catch some shit before things I look forward to for months?” You huff, mind going back to when you were dying of fever on your last birthday or the time you lost your voice on your first anniversary with Jungwon. So, like you’ve said before, it was a given at this point. 

His smooth hands slip underneath the christmas sweater you’ve stubbornly refused to take off, and caress your warm skin softly, soothing you. He leans forward and kisses the tip of your ear – movements careful not to cause you to spill your drink. 

“Don’t get upset,” he says, pinching your sides. “It could always be worse.”

“Yeah? Like what?” You turn to him with a pout on your heated up face and he giggles. 

“At least I’m here with you, right?” His precious smile makes you feel warmer. “I mean, you could get stuck with Riki. How fun would that be.”

His words make you smile as well and you lean your cheek into his palm as he checks your temperature. 

Riki, as lovely of a friend he was, was not the one to know how to handle sickness. You instantly remind yourself of the time his throat was sore, so he concluded that slurping down a hot package of instant noodles on one go would warm up him up enough to heal his sickness. It's safe to say he couldn't swallow anything for the next two days without spasming from pain.

“Yeah, you’re right, I guess. That would be the worst.” 

NISHIMURA RIKI

"YN, stop, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

You roll your eyes as you balance yourself at the highest step of the small ladder. "I'm gonna be fine, don't worry!" 

"You should’ve let me do that," he scoffs and you poke your tongue out at him, reaching your hands up to hook the golden star at the top of your Christmas tree. "I'm not catching you if your clumsy ass slips and falls down! You’re gonna break my arms."

It's your time to scoff at your boyfriend as you know that he would never let any harm happen to you. "Oh, for sure you won’t,” you nod your head at him mockingly with a giggle.

As if to prove your point, you yelp loudly as you pretend to actually lose your footing and lean backwards. Just as you expected, Riki shoots up quickly to help you keep your balance. He places his big hands on the small of your back and gently pushes you forward.

"Have you actually lost your mind?" He asks as you burst out in a fit of giggles. You wiggle your eyebrows at him knowingly, clearly satisfied with your prediction. "Don't scare me like that again."

You pat his cheek lovingly before leaning down and kissing the same spot. "See, I'm always right."

Riki scoffs for the nth time this evening and turns around to go to the box and pass you some more ornaments. Just as he takes a step forward, you turn around to look at him and in result end up actually slipping and shrieking as you leap forward. Riki, without missing a beat, swiftly moves closer to you and catches you in his arms as you fall down. You breathe out in relief as you feel your heart jumping up to your throat.

You look up sheepishly as you’re met with the scolding look on his face, eyebrow raised up as he waits for you to speak up. Instead, you bury your face in the crook of his neck and throw your arms around his neck.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. What would I be without you?"

Riki rolls his eyes at your suddenly humbled state, then adjusts you in his arms and flicks your forehead. "Most likely resting in a cemetery by now."

"Hey!"

author's note: to make it up for my absence, i've written the final fic for this event and i'm gonna do the rest next year (hopefully)!! thanks for being patient with me, lovely and merry christmas!! ❤️

taglist: @beomgyusonlywife @bucketofhiros @jesterstrange @seongclb @wannatinyus @guroyeu @jngwnlvs @milisabunny @ariadores

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth @seungiesluv @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt

#carly's xmas event ⛇⋆☃︎ #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #heeseung fluff #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #park jay x reader #park jay fluff #jay x reader #enhypen jay imagines #sim jake x reader #sim jake imagines #sim jake fluff #jake x reader #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon imagines #kim sunoo x reader #kim sunoo imagines #sunoo x reader #sunoo imagines #yang jungwon x reader #yang jungwon imagines #enhypen niki x reader #niki x reader #nishimura riki x reader

[imaginesheaven]

Lonely Water (GN!Reader x TF141)

Lonely Water

GN!Reader x TF 141 (platonic)

Summary: You crash into the ocean with a helicopter during a mission. Waiting for your hopefully on time rescue you relive some of your favorite memories of your team. Kind of inspired by the song “Hold Back The River” by James Bay.

Callsign: Phoenix

Length: Around 2.3k words

Warnings: Swearing as always, angst, mentions of injuries, drowning

“Mayday! Eagle 3 is coming down in the middle of the ocean. The pilot is dead and I have no fucking clue how to fly this thing! … Oh, fucking hell…”

There is nothing but darkness around you. The mysterious but dark night sky with thousand shining stars above you and the deadly ocean lurking beneath you. The water is just waiting for you to lose the last of your endurance so you can sink into its cold embrace.

“I’m stronger than you think”, you hiss at the tiny waves of dark ocean water, but you are actually not sure how much longer you will survive. The cold of the sea comes creeping in what feels for hours now. It made itself a home in your bones so deeply freezing that your lips have turned already blue. The feeling in your arms and legs starts to fade just like your will of survival.

The helicopter sunk within minutes after the horrific crash into the water. There was literally nothing left to cling onto. You wouldn’t be Jack clinging for dear life onto a wooden door, while your true love stays safely above the freezing water.

The thought of the Titanic brings a weak smile onto your lips. At least you still got your humor with you to keep you company.

Darkness fills your mind with the sinking dread that your team probably wouldn’t be fast enough to rescue from this death trap. Your form floats on the water like a dead man hoping to delay the bitter end for just another few minutes.

The exhaustion slowly takes over as your eyes flutter shut desperate for a moment of rest. Cold water comes rushing over your face since the ocean was waiting for its chance to drown you in its embrace. The water is merciless. Adrenaline rushes through your vein bringing back your will to fight. You swim with weak strokes back to the surface. How much longer can you keep up against the sea?

“Oi! Not so fast, Phoenix!”, a familiar voice behind you yells out. The dirt beneath your shoes crunches as you jog through a patch of trees. Wait, a minute. The water surrounding you has vanished? This can’t be real, right? It hast to be a memory.

“Too bad you are so slow, Soap. You could easily catch up with me if you would work out a bit more”, you reply to the familiar voice behind you. Soap stares at you speechless for a second before he speeds up to catch you. Laughing you send him a wink and even put more speed on to outrun him more than easily.

Soap grunts with exhaustion ready to bring you down with him. He jumps forward his arms stretched out. This man is an open book for you for years now. Still grinning you make a step to the side completely out of his reach. Soap falls to the ground without you.

Absolutely pumped you start your little victory dance knowing exactly that in the distance Price, Gaz and Ghost are watching the two of you with binoculars. “That was quite a fall Soap took there”, the Captain comments the downfall of the poor Scott, “Pay up, Gaz.” The young soldier lets out a groan but always pays his bet debts.

“Phoenix could outrun us all, Gaz, never think otherwise”, no matter how often Ghost sees you running he is always mesmerized by your endurance.

“How can you be so damn fast?”, Soap can’t believe he lost once again. You give him a half shrug with your shoulder, “I imagine Death chasing me and what do we say to Death?”

“Not today”, you whisper smiling. The thought of your teammates brings you pure joy despite the fact you are probably going to drown. The only family you ever had and ever needed. For a second you close your eyes hoping to see more memories.

“So, your callsign is Phoenix. What’s the story behind it?”, Gaz asks you with a bright smile on his lips. Sometimes he reminds you of a little boy in a candy store. You can’t believe how much happiness his happiness can bring you.

“Well…”, you start your not so exciting story, but Soap interrupts you immediately: “Phoenix survived a car crash with a big explosion and came back out of its ashes like a Phoenix. Tada! The callsign was born!”

The silence in the room is deafening before you burst out with laughter, “What the hell, Soap?! No, that’s not what happened!” Everyone except Gaz gets a good laugh from this story. He looks so terribly confused and kind of intimidated at the same time.

“Poor Gaz is probably traumatized for the rest of his life. I like to burn things and someone else already had the fucking callsign Pyro so I had to improvise”, you explain him the situation with a few words. The young soldier rolls his eyes. Still a tiny smile on his lips can be seen.

“Have you any idea how hard it was to get Phoenix and Soap as both demolition freaks on the team? Explosions. Fires. Laswell was not happy at all”, Price recalls his quite one-sided conversation with her. The only thing she said was “NO!” over and over again. Well, she also said “FUCKING HELL FOR SURE NOT!” once. But Captain Price gets what he wants in the end.

A tiny tear rolls down your face, but you can’t feel anything anymore. The cold crept into every single fiber of your body.  In the end it doesn’t matter anyway. You are still surrounded by water so what matters a single tear escaping? It’s the only one. Way too tired you can’t share more than that tiny tear with the ocean.

“Are you fucking serious? You could have died!”, you hiss angrily at Ghost as you patch the bullet wound in his side up. The tough soldier keeps quiet letting you work. “It’s like I’m talking to a brick wall without a single thought behind those eyes. Except for sacrificing himself for someone else”, you keep going with your monologue. No one dares to speak like that to him. Except you. It’s always you.

Ghost can’t see how your hands are shaking. How the fear takes over your already worry-ridden mind. How you blame yourself for not being fast enough in the end. You could have prevented this from happening.

But Simon knows you better than you yourself sometimes, “Not for anyone. Only for you, Phoenix. I’m sorry, but please stop worrying. Stop blaming yourself. In the end it was my decision. That’s what we do for each other. Keeping each other safe, right?”

Not answering you put away the first med kit finally done with patching him up. Ghost isn’t the one with the soft side, but with you it is so easy to feel safe for once. You stand up hoping to run from this conversation. His hand stops you dead in your tracks as he grabs your wrist, “Right?”

A slight smile appears on your lips still not turning around to face him, “Of course… but you are still a brick wall.” Simon can’t help himself but smile too behind his mask.

What have you done? If Simon would be here with you, he would hold this whole conversation against you. It’s the same reason that has brought you into the middle of the ocean. You wanted to keep them safe. Your team. Your family.

The helicopter was loaded with explosive meant to kill. Bombs. Soap’s favorite. There was no time to defuse them. You had not a single second to think about it. Just enough time to act on impulse. What a great idea to bring the helicopter down over the ocean far away to hurt someone else. But what about you?

“No, you are not stronger than me, Gaz”, Soap puts down the money for his bet. There is never a dull moment with those clowns. A tiny smile appears on your lips as you nurse your lonely drink in your hand.

“What’s so funny?”, Price notices your rather happy facial expression. “Nothing, just happy to be alive”, you reply simply. The Captain doesn’t need an explanation what you mean exactly. He just knows. You don’t need to elaborate how they give you a feeling of being home. How they are like the family you never had before in your life. They are everything you need to be happy.

But now it is time to let go.

Tired you keep your eyes closed as the cold water pulls you down into its embrace. You are not scared anymore to give up this time. Only gratefulness and happiness are present in your heart and mind. The joy you experienced is more than enough for a whole lifetime.

For the last time you open your eyes to see the darkness around you. It was the only friend you had the last few hours. The tiny waves trying to lull you into a memories-filled sleep. The cold making it easier to let go. You have been tired for so long already. Tiny air bubbles escape and leave you behind.

The darkness lurks beneath you, but above the water surface shines a strange light. Is that the beacon of hope you were looking for the whole time? There are voices too, but you can’t understand what they are yelling. You are sinking further and further. Far away from the light.

Above the lonely water your team is looking for you desperately.

The thought sends a surge of energy through your body. As hard as you can you wave your arms and legs completely uncoordinated. Still the movement brings you closer to the surface. You can’t give up now. Not so close to them.

Your whole body is numb and hurts at the same time terribly. The ocean gives its best to keep you to itself. The cold clouds your mind. Are you paddling into the right direction? Are you going further down?

Then your arm breaks through the surface. But that’s all you had left in you.

Something grabs your hand so tight you almost screamed out loud because of the pain. Your head is still underwater. There is another tightness in your lungs screaming for just a tiny bit of fresh air.

Slowly you get dragged out of the darkness. Leaving the ocean behind. You take a gasping breath. The world outside the water is so overwhelming. The lights blind you for a moment. The loud noises roar in your ears. Pure chaos. For a moment you miss the calming darkness of the ocean.

A slight smile would appear on your lips as you see the faces of your teammates, but that’s too much for now. Gaz and Soap have their hands tightly on your arms, while Price and Ghost try to heave you into the helicopter by your tactical vest. All your gear got extremely heavy soaked with ocean water to the brim. You wish you could help them out, but you reached your limit of energy a long time ago. They lower you to the ground finally freed of the water.

“We got Phoenix. Go, Nik”, Price gives his order to Nicolai. Your favorite Russian pilot. Ghost and Soap try to get rid of your tactical vest together. Gaz stands ready with a blanket to warm you up. They keep talking to you, but you can’t quite follow their words. Your mind still frozen in place.

“Hey, hey. You broken?”, John puts his hand on your ice-cold cheek to get your attention. This time you can manage a weak smile, “Define broken, Captain.” He lets out a deep sigh full of worry but more than happy to hear your voice once again.

“Don’t ever do this again, muppet. You were out there the whole night. We- … We literally thought you were gone. Want to sit up?”, Price grabs your shoulder softly too scared to hurt you after what you went through. Ghost on the other side helps you too to sit up.

The sun starts to rise on the horizon bringing another day to this earth. Another day you are able to see. Another day to be alive.

“You damn lucky bastard. The endurance from your jogging probably saved your ass out there”, Simon can’t believe he gets another chance to see you again. It breaks his heart to see you beaten up and weak like this, but you are alive.

“What do we say to Death?”, Soap asks you grinning like always. “Not today”, you reply enjoying the little inside joke the two of you have.

Price puts his leg behind your back so you can relax yourself against him. Ghost rests his hand on your shoulder letting himself feel grateful to have you back. Soap sits next to you. Shoulder against shoulder. Just like out in the battlefield. Gaz holds one of your hands in his to get them back to normal temperature.

Your little family.

Lonely Water

Let us hold each other

#call of duty #cod imagine #cod #soap x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #price x reader #cod x reader #mw x reader #friendship headcanons #platonic plot #gn!reader #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gender neutral post #john mactavish x reader #john price x reader #captain price #mw2 #simon riley #john price #kyle garrick #john mactavish #cod one shot #reader insert #mw headcanons

[nyxyxx]

Godly Desires - Part 1

So yeah this is what I've been working on recently. It's quite short actually but I wanted to post it right now cause I'll be too busy later. It's not fully edited yet but I'll get to that sometime. I. II. III. IV.

As usual this story will contain yandere themes and religious themes so please proceed with caution. (This part itself is fine though.)

"A new place"

-

You wake up in an unfamiliar surrounding, as you try to collect your thoughts. You see very tall trees - taller than ones you've ever seen before. You can faintly hear the sound of rushing water nearby, as well as birds chirping from all around. All of this leads you to believe that you are currently in a forest, though you have no idea how you got here.

You slowly rise from the ground, brushing the dirt off of your person, and as you do, you take notice of the strange shiny object on the ground by your feet. Upon further inspection, it appears to be some fancy mirror-like object, though it could definitely use a cleaning. You put it in your pocket and decided you'd deal with it later.

Looking back up, you see two paths stretch ahead of you. One going forward, and one going backwards. The one going forwards and the one going backwards had no drastic difference, something that would tell you that going one way would be more dangerous than the other. However, the path going backwards was going uphill, and you figured you might as well go forwards then, if just out of laziness.

The more you walked down the path, you noticed the sun was beginning to go down. This wasn't good. You most certainly didn't want to have to spend the night out in this forest, where you had no idea what could happen. So you hurried along the path quicker. If you could get to the water, then you could probably find your way out of the forest.

However, as you got closer to the sound of the water, you noticed other... strange sounds around you. It was hard to explain if what you were hearing was a language being spoken, or just the sound of animals. You hid behind a tree and crept closer, peeking ahead.

There you found...hilichurls...? You were so confused. Were you dreaming, or were there actually hilichurls in front of you? They didn't seem to notice you, as they kept staring towards the beach. Regardless if this was real or not, you realized you had to find a way around them. Should you try and fight them? Well that idea was quickly dismissed, as you had nothing on your person you could use as a weapon, unless you wanted to try attacking them with a stray branch on the ground.

Or you could try to sneak past them? You contemplated what you should do for a while. In the end, you decided the most logical thing to do was to try and sneak past them. You carefully hid behind the hill they were standing on top of, while you crawled on your hands and knees around them. Everything was going well... until you got to the other side of the hill, where you were greeted unexpectedly by a mitachurl.

You stood there in fear. It was huge. Much taller than you, and it held a giant axe in its hands. You stood there in shock for a while, until you noticed that it had spotted you. In fact, it had been staring at you since the beginning. You had the urge to run, to flee, to scream and yell for help - but you didn't move. You found you couldn't get your feet to listen to you. It began to approach closer, and you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest. Your palms were sweaty, your body was shaking. It stepped closer once more, now directly in front of you.

And then with its giant hand, it reached towards you...and your eyes snapped shut. Oh no, this was it. You were going to die. Fear took over you, but there was something else as well. Something you couldn't decipher. Well, it didn't matter anyway, because you were going to die right now.

That is what you thought until you opened your eyes. In front of you, the mitachurl did not attack you, but instead held out its hand, and offered you...an apple?

-

Part two is in the works and will probably be up maybe tomorrow at earliest.

#genshin impact sagau #sagau cult au #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #cw yandere #sagau #genshin cult au #self aware genshin

[luna0713hunter]

Dancing to the beat of our hearts

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Summary : being Zoro's lover,was a dream come true. Everything was perfect about him,but...when the night comes and you see couples dancing,you cant help but to wish for more...

Warnings : none, slightly hurt/comfort,Zoro being a simp for you,soft Zoro, FLUFF,gender neutral reader

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

"ANOTHER VICTORY FOR STRAW HATS!!!CHEERS!!!"

Luffy's excited shout echoes through the night,as everyone cheer and down their drinks. All around you,people were celebrating,and happily serving you and your crewmates drinks after drinks.

You and your crewmates had managed to save yet another village from pirates,and it was time to celebrate.

Everything about this village was absolutely beautiful;from the cherry trees that had blossomed just recently,making the scenery breathtaking,to its kind and warm-hearted people who knew nothing but how to love and be happy.

They apparently,also loved to dance.

When the song changes to something soft and more melodic,you watch from your place across the bonfire how couples start to gather around;hands being placed on shoulders and arms around waists. You watch and sip your suddenly too bitter drink as they dance,and the sound of their laughter fills the air.

Your eyes wander to the green haired man sitting next to the open bar across you,and your lips pull down to a frown;Zoro didnt like to dance.

You loved Zoro,of course you did,but ever since you two became a couple...things didnt get too different between the two of you.

Obviously there were small kisses here and there,and Zoro became even more protective of you if that was even possible,but you craved real romance. Like the ones you would see young couples do,or read in the books; running under the rain while laughing,going shopping or matching clothes,and of course, dancing .

You could've made a list of the dances you wished to have with Zoro on so many occasions,but you never asked. You knew Zoro;he wasnt a big fan of showing his affection openly,always choosing to show his love to you through his actions. So it didnt take a genius to guess he would absolutely rather die than to dance.

You swallow the lump in your throat and stare down to your drink. You weren't even sure what it was; probably something light since you weren't feeling even slightly drunk. Something sweet. Maybe cherry? It sure had a good smell to it. As you swing the last of your drink around the glass,you make a mental reminder to tell Sanji to get some with you back to the ship. A small smile graces your lips as you think about sailing tomorrow morning once again with your new family,but the happiness is short lived as a bitter feeling fills your chest and you find yourself blinking rapidly in hopes of not bursting in tear right there.

Was it too much to ask to have a romantic love life?

As you start to wonder whether to return to the Going Merry or ask the musicians to play some other song,a small tap on your shoulder makes you jump in your sit slightly. You turn your head,and find yourself face to face with your boyfriend.

At first, Zoro's eyes search yours for a second,before jerking his head toward the back,where the road leads to the cherry garden.

"come with me for a second."

you silently nod,and accepting his offer to help you stand,you take his much larger hand in yours and make your way toward the garden. And when you finally step inside,you let out a loud gasp.

You dont think you've ever seen anything more beautiful in your life;the way the petals of the cherry blossoms dance in the air and settle on your hair,the air having the sweet smell of the drink that you had earlier,and the moon shining the brightest you've ever seen-

And none of them could compare to the picture Zoro was making.

You've always loved Zoro;ever since the very first moment you saw him,the first time he smiled at you,and the first time he held your hand. You loved Zoro,and you believed with your soul that there was no one prettier than him.

But now,as you watch the flower petals dancing around him,and the moonlight shining on his green air as he stares at you with the softest look on his face,you cant help your heart from beating awfully faster.

You loved Zoro. And gods above,he was the most beautiful being in the whole universe.

You're so busy admiring his features that when his fingers brush against your cheek,you jump slightly. Zoro raises his fingers up to you hair,and you feel him pluck something out.

When he lowers his hand,he shows you a small cherry blossom that was trapped in your hair. And in that moment,when he raises it up to his lips,you swear the time stops all together.

Zoro closes his eyes as his lips make contact with the flower,and he slowly opens his eyes to meet yours.

"y/n," he puts the flower in the pocket right over his heart and as he takes hold of your hand,with the sound of his three swords clanking together,he kneels right in front of you. Your gap at him,and you're torn between laughing and kneeling as well.

"Zoro,whats going on?"

Zoro scowls at you.

"what does it look like I'm doing?"

"proposing?!"

"no," Zoro deadpans,and your face visibly falls, "that has to be special. Not out of blue."

Your face brightens and small laugh escapes from your lips

"then,whats going on?"

And for the very first time since meeting him,he actually looks embarrassed.

You didn't know he could feel that kind of emotion

"I'm planning to ask you for a dance,if you let me finish."

When your mouth slams shut,he sighs and unconsciously rubs his thumb against the back of your hand.

Your heart flutter at how comforting he can be even when he's not realizing it.

"Babe,i know I'm not the most romantic person in the whole world," when you let out a snort,he scowls again, "but i promise,its not because i dont love you."

He slowly raises to his feet once again,and gently leans his forehead against yours.

"i know i dont say it enough,but i love you." His hand find your waist,as your arms wrap his neck;your eyes shining with unshed tears, "and i will continue loving you until my last breath."

You let out a small sniffle when he kisses your wet eyelashes.

"sounds pretty much like a proposal to me."

"oh,babe,i promise you that after my proposal, you'll cry your eyes out."

You tug at his short hair and give him an unimpressed look.

"you're making my heart beat with your smooth talk,Zoro. Keep it up and you'll no longer have a lover to propose to."

And when he laughs quietly,you cant help but to pull him down for a kiss.

The sound of the music in the background,makes everything feel surreal. The way Zoro holds you so gently,and his lips moving against yours with urgency,reminds you how passionate he can be. And its right there,that Zoro reminds your how much he actually loves you.

The sound of the music is still audible in the background,so when he starts swinging you side by side,you cant help the giddy laugh that escapes you. Zoro gives you a gentle smile,and kisses your forehead.

"from now on,tell me what you desire. I'll make all your dreams come true."

And when you raise your head to lock your lips with his once again,a small whisper leaves your lips.

"dont worry. All my dreams had already came true the moment i laid my eyes one you."

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

P.s : thank you everyone for 400 followers!!!

#one piece live action x reader #one piece x reader #opla zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #opla zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader

[nyuuronfly]

On Rain World lore and it's implementation within the game.

This is kindof a random ramble I went on in a Discord chat and just feel like sharing elsewhere. (also note this is all primarily in reference to the original game, Survivor's story.)

I honestly think too many miss the forest for the trees a bit with RW, in terms of how important the lore is, if that makes sense. I talked with somebody about first-time experiences with the game and they said they'd watched a number of lore explanation videos on YT before starting, because of some reason along the lines of "I didn't trust the game to deliver its own story properly." To me this is almost saddening to hear because I really feel that misses the point of why the game has it's lore to begin with.

To me, while playing, any tidbits i learned about history or other information contributed to a feeling like the world I was navigating had a very real history that saturated it, yet one that I would be unable to grasp fully. It is an illusory feeling of realness, given how it is experienced. The game is mechanically not designed to incentivize collecting many information pearls, especially when in the original game you can literally just drop them off a cliff and lose them forever. You get the feeling often like you are bound to never be able to get everything, nor would you even probably want to put in the effort, so the illusion actually stays stronger because of that. Your mind wanders speculating about every little detail, whether intention truly existed behind it or not, because it feels like it did. You learned that it might have. Maintaining that illusion while playing I think is the primary reason they were included, not actually the experience of "knowing" the history. Rain World in general seems to have a thematic fixation on the simple idea that individuals have limited perspectives. Joar Jakobsson has said that one of the core ideas behind Rain World was to recreate the life of a "rat in Manhattan." That is to say, a creature that understands how to find food, hide, and live in a complex man-made structure, that cannot understand it's structuring purpose or why it was built. The very core issue of the iterators, is that the solution to the "great problem" intrinsically has to lie with knowledge that could only be obtained from "the other side." They are corporeal beings trying to know something that pertains to something outside corporeal reality. Yet pursuit of knowledge is very important to creatures like ourselves. Collecting any individual pearl is mostly an exercise in doing a lot just for little bits of knowledge. There is a lot of understanding of just how significant wanting to know more is, even something unimportant, when you are left in the dark the way you are in the game. Most information pearls you deliver are literally completely useless to know about, but they feel personally important, especially in how finding them relates to your connection to the iterators. My primary motivation to find pearls in my first play was to spend more time with Moon. On a very real emotional level, Moon felt like my only friend in the world while I played. On a mechanical level, she does literally nothing. But Rain World manages to operate on a very emotional, even instinctual level with how it's designed. I wanted to be in her company and have something to give her. Because I am alone, and lost. So something along those lines is why I felt saddened to hear the sentiment like Rain World somehow "fails" to deliver it's "story." The purpose of the game is not to find pearls and hear about some grand narrative. At it's core, Rain World is a game that's design was inspired by nature, and it's use of history within the world relates to us as a player the way history relates to us as people. It is relayed through people reading from records created by parties with their own perspectives, and connects us abstractly to a sensation that there is more out there than our own lives. That is a feeling you have as a player, and ultimately the true story that Rain World tells is the memories you have playing it. What you did, saw, and felt. The same as how our story is that of our own lives. That is the purpose of the game.

#rain world #just rambling

[hermitscratch]

Joel & Etho - 21, for the writing ? :3

Send me a pairing + a number! || Accepting

21. A kiss to shut them up, Joel/Etho, 957 words

[ Inspired in part by this lovely artwork by @plumadot ! ]

"So I've got a theory," Joel started.

It was a nice day; temperate in a way that heralded the approaching warm season. A lot of hermits were taking advantage of it to check the things off their to-do lists that weren't easily done in cold or wet weather. Etho had broken off from the others for just that purpose, but as soon as he mentioned needing coral, Joel invited himself along.

Which meant a return to form in the shape of them, once again, sharing a boat.

"Do I have to listen to your theory?" Etho asked. The answer didn't matter much when he was a captive audience, but their conversations up until this point had been general, casual nonsense. How they spent their morning, how they liked their steak cooked, what ore they'd most be willing to eat. Time killers at worst, amusement at best.

Joel scoffed. "Don't act like you don't want to know what I'm thinking," Etho felt an elbow land against his ribs without any real force. It might have been rougher, if they weren't currently faced away from each other. Joel liked watching the wake the boat left behind, so they were pressed back-to-back. "It's about your obsession."

"My obsession? Don't you mean yours?" He retorted. Joel snorted, and Etho could imagine the smug grin that'd be accompanying it.

"This projection is getting embarrassing, Etho," Joel said with thinly veiled glee.

Etho rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Just tell me about your theory," He said through a chuckle.

From behind him, Joel wiggled like he was trying to look over his shoulder. The boat rocked hard to the left, and Joel stilled before crowing, "I knew you wanted to know!"

Etho stopped rowing to peer over the boat's edge. The ocean here was deep, illuminated only faintly by magma pockets and the occasional rogue glow squid. They'd made a lot of headway, but there was still a ways to go to reach an untouched reef. "I wonder if I could swim back to shore from here..."

"I'll push you overboard myself if you don't let me get a blummin' word out," Joel griped, even as he fisted a hand in the back of Etho's shirt. It wouldn't do much if Etho decided to move, but the idea that Joel might want him to stay was more than enough for Etho to do so.

Not that Etho would ever tell him that; his ex-soulmate's ego was big enough.

"You're the one stopping, though?" Etho answered, rebalancing the boat and adjusting the oars to continue rowing. Joel's inhale was audible, and before he could argue, Etho urged, "Let's hear your theory."

Joel crossed his arms with a huff. Etho grinned. Joel was probably pouting and everything. "D'you remember what Gem said this morning?"

"Hmm," Etho had to think the question through. They'd been hanging out with Gem, Impulse, and Scar that morning, a lot of things were said. "Mmmmaybe?"

After a few minutes of fruitless sifting through snippets of conversation that Joel might have found noteworthy, he threw Etho a bone. "When we were arguing about who built a better cherry tree, still me by the way, she said-"

Ah. "'Just kiss already', or something?" Etho offered.

Joel clapped once, "Exactly."

Etho laughed, pitching his voice up in a mockery of Joel's, "Oh no, I'm not obsessed, I'm just chasing him making smoochy sounds and thinking a lot about Gem telling us to kiss-"

"That first thing was literally your fault!" Joel argued, "And I'm not thinking about it, alright? There's nothing to think about, it's just a thing that is!"

"What is?"

Joel seemed to shrink, curling forward so their backs were no longer touching. "If we kissed, the world would sorta collapse, wouldn't it?"

Etho stopped so abruptly that he almost dropped an oar. What? "Uh. No?"

"Of course you'd say so, it's stupid how bad you wanna kiss me," Joel scoffed. The turn in conversation was so jarring that Etho didn't even argue the point about wanting to kiss Joel. "But the stir it'd cause would be massive. Gem would explode. Bdubs would probably explode, maybe Grian? Scar and Skizz, definitely, we'd never hear the end of it."

Etho locked the oars and turned around in his seat. If Joel noticed, he gave no indication, plowing relentlessly forward as if he'd realized there was no going back now that he'd started. Etho recognized that habit from their time together in Double Life- an anxious Joel with no other outlet would ramble himself breathless.

"Your mask as well," Joel continued, "Nobody's seen you without it-"

Etho tugged his mask down.

"-that's probably grounds for server obliteration in itself-"

He put a hand on Joel's shoulder.

"-if the first time anybody saw your face was for a kiss like that, then-"

He turned Joel to face him.

And before Joel could say another word, Etho kissed him.

Silence. Bliss. Etho's lips were dry from the mask, and he kept the press of them soft until he felt Joel's stiff body melt, meeting Etho's lean halfway. He tilted his head, and he could feel the flutter of long lashes against his face as Joel's eyes shut. The world kept turning, and Etho let it, stealing a moment just for them.

It only ended when Etho pulled away, leaving a dazed Joel to process what had just happened. Etho didn't bother putting his mask back up when he grinned. "Still alive?"

"Wh- y-?" Joel floundered. Etho chuckled, and Joel scowled, even as a dusty blush painted his cheeks pink. Even as he turned to face Etho properly, dropping his head against Etho's shoulder. Even as Etho felt lips against his racing pulse.

"Oh, shut up, Etho."

#SmallEtho #SmallishBeans #EthosLab #Hermitshipping #Hermitcraft #Hermitfic #MCYT #Asks #Anonymous #Etho #Joel #Astral Library #My Writing #Pinto Don't Look #This one really fought me and I'm not sure why

[steveshairychest]

Time travel au where Steve is the last one to go through the gate in Eddie's trailer, except when he comes out, he's not in his Hawkins anymore. Instead of being greeted by the sight of his friends safe and sound and Wayne's mug collection, he's standing in some random guys trailer.

He gets shoved out the front door and into the strange new world that is undoubtedly Hawkins, but not the Hawkins he remembers.

Everything feels wrong. The people look strange in their weird clothes and a lady across the park screams into a flat rectangle in her hand. The trailers look the same but there's something about them that's definitely wrong. Some guy blows smoke in his face while walking past and instead of the gross smell of cigarette he was expecting, it smells sweet, almost like strawberries. He's so fucking confused. He knows he's causing a scene by walking around gaping at everything, but what else is he supposed to do? Steal a car and drive off? He's never seen cars like this in his entire life!! Do they even work the same way?!

Maybe he has a concussion. Maybe this is his version of a vecna hallucination.

And then things only get more confusing when a little girl runs over to him and beams up at Steve like they've been best friends forever. "Hi, Mr Harrington! Why are you here?" She can't be older than 9.

Why does this little girl know him? He stares at her and his confusion must show because she tilts her head and frowns. "Are you okay, Mr Harrington?"

She keeps calling him Mr Harrington, is he a teacher here? Oh god, does that mean there's another version of himself running around here?! Wherever here is.

"I'm... fine. I'm just a little lost." He walks away before he scares the poor girl with his rising hysterics. Steve knows these roads like the back of his hand, he's driven them his entire life, but he takes a million wrong turns because there's suddenly so many new streets he's never even heard of. Where there should be a huge clearing, there is now a building so high Steve swears it touches the sky and the tree him and Robin used to have picnics under is now gone and replaced with a parking lot filled with more weird cars.

"What the fuck? What the fuck?!" Steve finally makes it to where his house should be and there's... nothing. It's just a block of land for sale. It tips him over the edge. He can't remember the last time he cried but right now he is balling and hiccuping as he stumbled down the street he grew up on. But it's wrong. It's all so wrong. People drive past and give him weird looks, a lady even stops jogging and takes out the tiny earplugs that play music so loud Steve can hear it, and asks if he's OK. "No, I'm not. This isn't real. This isn't real!"

It has to be vecna. He's got him. That's why he's stuck in this nightmare. "You have to play music! Give me your plug things! Make them play anything! Get me out of here." The woman refuses and does nothing but stand there in shock as Steve sinks down to the sidewalk and starts singing Everybody Wants to Rule The World as loud as he can.

"I'm calling 911. You need help." Steve doesn't hear her. He's singing so loud people are starting to come out of their houses to see what's going on but that doesn't matter to him. This isn't real. Vecna has him and he needs to get out.

When the ambulance pulls up, Steve's run out of tears. He's cried himself dry and he's resigned to the fact that any minute now, Vecna is going to snap his arms and legs. "I'm ready." He says quietly to no one but himself. He'd rather it be him than any of his friends. He knows they are probably watching him and trying to bring him back but it's too late. He can't hear the music they're playing.

"Steve?" A familiar voice drags him out of his own head, but it can't be real. He heard that voice take its final breath just mere minutes ago, he can still feel his drying blood under his fingernails. Steve lifts his head and there he is, it's Eddie, no doubt about it. His long hair is tied up in a bun and his eyes are sparkling with worry as he crouches down in front of Steve. It's then that Steve realises Eddie is in full paramedic gear and he's pulling all sorts of things out of a bag to check on Steve.

"Eddie, you're alive." He whispers in disbelief as Eddie checks him for any head injuries. "Where are we? How do we leave?"

Eddie pulls back and there's panic behind his eyes as he slowly helps Steve to his feet and gestures to his partner to grab the stretcher. "Steve, love, I need you to tell me what happened. Why aren't you at work?"

At work? What is Eddie going on about? And did he just call Steve love?!!

"Eddie, this isn't real. I need to leave. I can't stay here with you." He says it slowly so that Eddie understands. He may be some figment of Steve's weird dream imagination and he doesn't want to freak the poor guy out by telling him he's actually dead.

Eddie breathes in and out, his hands a little shaky as he helps Steve onto the ambulance stretcher. His partner helps get Steve set up in the back of the ambulance before they're driving off. Eddie reaches out and holds Steve's hand gently, the gesture surprising but not unwelcome. "Steve, baby, this is very much real life. You're in Hawkins. It's March 21st, 2023. Your name is Steve Harrington, remember?"

"Wait, what?!" Steve tries to sit up but Eddie gently pushes him back down. They hit a bump in the road and Eddie swears softly under his breath about his partner's driving. "It's not 1986?!" He's panicking. He can feel his heart rate spike and his breathing starts to quicken. Eddie tells him to stay calm and just breathe in and out but Steve can't hear him.

Maybe this really isn't Vecna. He'd be dead by now if Vecna had him and Eddie's touch feels too real to be a dream.

Before he knows it, his vision is going spotty and then he's out; the panic and absolute absurdity of it all finally getting to him.

"You'll be okay, Stevie."

Except this isn't the Steve Eddie knows and loves. His Steve, his darling husband, is currently having a dilemma of his own back in 1986.

#HELLO MY SWEET DEAR LOVELY PEOPLE !! #I HAVENT PROOF READ THIS #ENJOY #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #stranger things s4 #steveddie

[writeforfandoms]

Fear Not This Night

Find my CoD masterlist

Being part of the 141 pack meant you watched out for your boys, always. As their medic, it meant you sometimes flew into danger for them. When someone uses that knowledge against you to separate you from your pack, you pay the price.

Warnings: Blood, treating wounds, medical inaccuracies, shifter biology, shifter dynamics, psychological torture, physical torture, being blinded (hood over head), brief self-harm (pulling feathers). This one is a bit dark so if you would like more in depth warnings, come ask me.

Word count: 7.6k

Harpy eagle f!reader x 141 poly

You soared over the trees, sharp eyes watching for your team. You’d gotten the call that they needed you a few hours prior, so you knew they’d likely moved some from their last coordinates. But you doubted they’d gone far. You weren’t even tired yet, broad wings carrying you and your pack. 

Finally, you spotted Soap, in a convenient space between trees. Good man, making your life easier. You didn’t cry out in recognition, because that was dangerous. But you did dive, tucking your wings close and waiting until the last possible moment to pull up, flapping down to land on your pack. It was specially designed to be sturdy enough for you to land on, fortunately. 

“There ye are,” Soap murmured, grinning at you and reaching out one hand to stroke the top of your head. You blinked at him, chirping. “C’mon. Someone got a lucky hit on Ghost.”

You hopped off your medic pack, hopping a few steps away before you shifted. “How bad?” you asked, opening up your pack and throwing on clothes. For the chill more than for modesty. 

You had no modesty around your boys anymore. 

“Price wants ye to check, because Ghost is bein’ an ass.” 

“I heard that,” came the grumpy growl from Ghost. 

You rolled your eyes and picked up your pack, which looked more like a picnic basket when you carried it this way. “If you’re alive enough to growl, you’re alive enough to behave,” you pointed out. He still had his mask on, but he wasn’t arguing lying down, either. Hmm. Must be feeling worse than you thought. 

You settled on your knees next to Ghost, giving him a quick once-over. Bandages had been packed down against his thigh, though you ignored them for the moment. Nothing else looked out of place. 

“Anywhere hurting besides the thigh?” 

“Took a round to the vest,” he admitted, a little reluctant and a lot grumpy. Probably mostly grumpy that he got hit. 

“Just bruised,” Gaz said as he crouched a little to the side of you and behind you, out of the way but ready to assist. “Didn’t even crack a rib.” 

“Lucky bastard,” you agreed, shifting your attention down to his thigh. “And this?” 

“A graze,” Gaz said. “But it bled a lot, more than normal.”

You hummed acknowledgement, leaning closer. Ghost shifted, and you cooed softly, almost reflexively. He huffed but settled. 

The wound wasn’t bad under the bandages, but it was in a tricky spot, just above his knee. You couldn’t see any real reason why it would have bled more than normal except use, which was kind of inevitable. But even so, just to be on the safe side, you smeared it with ointment and rewrapped it. 

“How far do you have to go?” You packed up the rest of your supplies after forcing Ghost to drink more water. 

“Little ways yet.” Price shrugged, planting his hands on his hips. 

“I’m fine to keep going,” Ghost said, because of course he did.

“You finish your water,” you said, poking his hip. “Then we’ll see.” 

He huffed, eyes narrowing at you. But he subsided. Mostly because you both knew Price would side with you. 

“If you left now?” You raised one eyebrow at Price.

“We’d make it by dawn.” 

You puffed out a breath. That was not too bad. Ghost was tough, you knew he could last that long, especially since he’d already been forced to rest (and probably to eat something, knowing the rest of the pack). “I’ll scout ahead,” you said, pushing up to your feet. “Circle back and follow behind, make sure you’re fine.” 

“I’ve got your pack,” Gaz offered before you could say anything more. You rolled your eyes at him but didn’t protest. You knew better. 

You also knew better than to shift again without eating something, so you ripped open a protein bar and ate it as fast as possible under Price’s approving eye. Tossing your clothes back at Gaz and grinning at his playful huff, you shifted back and took off again. 

The route forward to their exfil point was clear and quiet, even to your keen gaze. Turning to circle back, you made sure to check back in on your guys as you flew above them. 

No enemies behind, either. They’d done a good job of either killing everyone who’d tried to follow, or losing them. You expected nothing less from them. 

Pleased, you made a few big circles just to be sure. Still nothing. No sign of enemies. You took your time following your pack to the exfil point. 

True to Price’s prediction, just as the sun broke the horizon the pack made it to exfil. You dove down to join them, landing next to Ghost. Gaz tossed your clothes to you as soon as you shifted, and Ghost shoved water at you.

“You all are mother hens, y’know that?” you grumbled without any heat, grinning, even as you double-checked Gaz’s straps. 

“Says the biggest hen of us,” Soap pointed out with a wicked grin.

“Now now, just because my tits are the best–” you started playfully. 

“Enough,” Price interrupted, sitting on Gaz’s other side, between him and the opening. Smart man. 

You and Soap subsided, though you did both roll your eyes. “Everybody good?” You looked around at them, meeting each gaze squarely for a moment, to make sure none of them were lying. They all tolerated it, well used to you by now. Satisfied that none of your guys were about to keel over, you settled back for the trip back. 

Flying in a heli had never been your favorite thing to do. You much preferred to fly on your own. But you had to admit that the heli was faster - you’d tried once to keep up, and couldn’t. Which wasn’t actually surprising, just disappointing. 

This flight was not bad. Not too long. Which was good, because you were getting antsy. Ghost had caught a nap on the heli, but you still wanted to make sure he was fine in better conditions than you’d had before. 

As soon as the heli landed, you were out, watching Ghost carefully. He wouldn’t accept help, not in front of others, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t check in. 

“‘M fine,” he grumbled at you very quietly as you fell into step next to him. 

“I’m sure you are,” you agreed. “And I’ll be more sure after I get to look you over.”

Soap leaned closer, waggling his eyebrows. But he didn’t say anything, because he couldn’t. Not here. Not where people could overhear and get the wrong idea. 

Simon was fine, as it turned out when you finally got him to medical. Heightened metabolisms were good for some things, after all, and that included faster healing. 

But you still bullied all your guys into the nest to take a nap. 

“Stop fussing,” Price grumbled, lifting his head to pin you with a look. “And get in here.”

“It is literally my job to fuss,” you grumbled right back, although you did stop messing with the pillows and observed the nest. There was a good spot next to Simon. You carefully stepped over Gaz and Price before you settled down with a soft chirp, nestled between Simon and Price. There. That was better. 

Price’s soft huff made you grin to yourself. At least until Simon tucked you under his arm and started scratching your scalp. Then you relaxed into him.

Okay. Maybe you could take a nap too. 

One good thing about having pack-only spaces was that you could be with your guys without fear. 

Simon had been ordered to stay and rest and finish healing while the other three went on what was supposed to be a quick mission. A day or two all told, is how Price had phrased it. You didn't know the details, didn't need to know the details, but you did know that Simon hated this. 

"Relax," you murmured to him soothingly, scratching your fingers against his scalp. "They'll be back soon." 

He grumbled wordlessly, one hand curling against your thigh where he was also using it as a pillow. 

"Easy, Simon," you murmured, low and soothing. The little bit of grooming helped both of you, you knew. And it was almost all you could do for the moment. 

Until you got called to help with exfil. 

You hated leaving Simon, knew he'd be all but climbing the walls in his anxiety, but… needs must. He understood. 

This time you went without your med pack - supplies would be available after exfil. 

You weren't even sure Price had called for you. But the order came from higher up, so off you went to go help. 

From high in the air, the battlefield looked bad. You could see bodies still laying where they'd fallen, a visual indication of the path of retreat. It took a little time to find your guys, the three of them huddled together behind a half-burned building. There were no immediate threats, but you could see where enemies had set up to hinder them. 

It was not an easy situation, nor an easy fix. You flapped your wings a few times, changing your trajectory. 

You needed to give them a distraction, a chance to get out. Most people didn't look up - you could use that, get a good sneak attack or two in. Cause a little chaos in the line. 

It would do for now, until you came up with a better plan. 

You flew a little higher, using the angle of the sun to help disguise your descent. And then you dove, aiming for one soldier a little apart from the others. He never saw you coming. 

But he screamed as your talons ripped through the vulnerable skin of his scalp and neck. 

You flapped hard, leaving him to bleed out even as shouts started up around you. You managed to vanish into the sun, flying up high again. You'd be harder to hit that way. 

Of course, now they were on alert. Damn. That hadn't quite been enough of a distraction for your guys to get away. 

You needed something bigger. 

Scanning the ground, you looked for something out of the way to pick up and drop on the enemy line. 

It was a good plan, and it even worked. 

Until you were flying away. Someone must have been watching, because there was a sharp pain in your wing, enough to make you screech. Your wing faltered and you fell, just able to slow yourself enough that you didn't injure yourself further. 

You hit the ground in a flurry of blood and feathers and screeching. Your wing hurt, leaving you unable to fly. 

Behind enemy lines. 

The first man to lunge at you got your beak to his throat, blood hot as it splashed across your face and chest. Maybe you'd have time to get to safety, maybe you could shift and–

Something heavy fell over your head, completely blocking your vision. You screeched, loud and angry, but more heavy things landed on top of you. Something held your wings firmly down against your sides, the pain sharp enough to make you try to jerk away. But you couldn't, too many hands grabbing you and securing you. 

Blind and trapped, you could only feel as you were picked up and moved. 

But you weren't dead yet, which was terrifying. 

People handed you off between them, and you tried to flap your wings or flex your claws or anything. But movement of any kind resulted in you being squeezed to the point of pain. 

With no way to see where you were or how many of them there were, you gave up. Conserved your strength, so you'd have a better chance of escape once you could see again. 

An engine rumbled to life, and you got squished in against a body. 

"Try anything funny and I will break your wing," a man hissed to you in heavily-accented English. You didn't doubt that he, or someone, would. 

So you behaved, because you wouldn't be able to escape if you had a broken wing. You listened to the occasional chatter in Arabic. You tried very hard not to panic. 

Sooner than you expected, the car stopped and you were once again handed off. The thing never came off your head, never let you see anything. 

But you could hear more people, orders shouted in Arabic, more movement. 

Oh this was bad. 

Someone carried you somewhere cooler. More movement around you, and for a brief moment you could see as the heavy thing over your head was yanked off - you could see two men in front of you, one of them grinning to show off two empty spaces where teeth should be. 

Then darkness again as a hood was secured over your head. You'd never been put in a falconry hood, but you knew immediately that's what it was, just from the feel of the leather and ties around your head. You screeched, trying to flap your wings. 

"Enough of that," a sharp voice scolded. You nearly startled to realize it sounded like a woman. There was another flurry of Arabic, orders it sounded like, and then hands grasped your right wing, the one with the bullet hole. Big hands held you in place, wing extended, other wing pinned to your side. 

You had no idea what they were doing until you heard the snip, snip, snip. You screeched, enraged and despairing and agonized. But they didn't stop, and there was nothing you could do. 

"There." The woman sounded far too smug, too pleased. "Now you can be my bird." She laughed, low and throaty and sadistic. 

You shivered, tucking your wings in as tight as you could, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. Bells jingled as you moved and you froze in horror.

Hood and jesses. They were treating you like a falconry bird. 

If you could, you might have thrown up. As it was, you made a tiny distressed noise. 

A door shut somewhere nearby, leaving you with the terrible feeling that you were alone. 

You tried to pace off the room, but the fucking bells kept breaking your concentration. You could stretch your wings, at least, though the right one hurt. And the way the air moved around your wing was… wrong. 

That was all the confirmation you needed, even as you pulled your wings in tight again and huddled in place, shivering. They’d clipped your primaries. 

Even if the hood was gone, you wouldn’t be able to fly. 

You had no idea how long you stood there, alone in the forced darkness. Time was meaningless as you mentally went in circles. Simon knew you’d gone. There was a chance the other three had seen you or heard the commotion. People knew you were gone. 

Someone would come for you.

Or you’d be killed first. 

But you didn’t want to die, your pack needed you, you couldn’t leave them, they’d never forgive themselves if you died here–

The door opened hard enough that it slammed into the wall, and you jumped, wings flaring in agitation. 

“There’s my pretty bird,” the woman from before cooed, over-sweet and mocking. “Hungry yet?” Her steps were deliberately loud as she approached you. You stiffened, holding yourself tense, but didn’t move. “Now, are you going to cooperate? Be a good bird?” 

You didn’t reply, but you figured that lack of fighting would be a response. Because you had no idea where you were, and you held almost no power here. You knew that if you got too uppity, they’d make your life worse. Probably not kill you - they’d had plenty of opportunity to do that, and hadn’t yet. 

But you could think of plenty of things they could do to make things worse for you.

The hood was pulled off your head, and you blinked rapidly as you adjusted to the light. The room had no windows and only one door. The artificial light washed everything yellow. 

And, most importantly, left you no way to know how long it had been, how long you’d been gone. 

The woman in front of you wore khaki and brown, simple clothes that were more functional than fashionable. Brown eyes held yours, a smirk slowly stretching her lips when you refused to look away first. But she didn’t seem to care about a dominance game. She just stepped further into the room, setting down two bowls for you. 

Like you were a pet. 

Your stomach turned and you stayed very still, head tipped, watching her closely. 

“Well? Go on. Eat while you can.” Her grin had stretched into a cruel thing, showing too many teeth. 

You shuffle-hopped forward, the bells on the jesses setting off every nerve you had. You hated this. Hated her. But this wouldn’t be forever, you knew it wouldn’t. You needed to eat, needed the fuel to heal and save up for your escape (as soon as you had a decent plan). 

So, much as it grated on you, you ate from the bowl, keeping your gaze on her as much as you could. It felt demeaning, dehumanizing. 

You felt like some exotic pet. The feeling made your blood boil, made you seethe. But you were careful to do so very quietly, only to yourself. 

“Good bird,” she cooed mockingly. “We shall see how long it takes to train you.” 

Before you could do more than flare your wings in protest, the hood was shoved back on your head, plunging you into darkness once more. You flapped your wings twice, momentarily off-balance. 

The door shut. A lock clicked.

And you were alone again, in darkness and silence. 

It was impossible to track how much time had passed. You could hear only occasional muffled sounds beyond your room, had no way to mark the passage of time. 

The only breaks from the darkness were for food, always far enough apart that you were hungry, always the woman and one underling. Always demeaning. Always difficult. 

You suffered through five meals. Five meals. Each one worse than the last, with more taunting, more mocking. It was harder every time to not just leap at her and rip into her. 

But you remained patient, somehow. 

The muffled sound of gunfire drew your attention, and you moved back and forth restlessly. It was hard not to get your hopes up, after however many days of being stuck here. 

When the gunfire got louder and you heard the muffled shouts outside your door, satisfaction surged. That was probably your pack, coming for you.

And if it wasn’t, well… There was more than one way out of here. 

You waited for a lull in the fighting, in the shouting and gunshots and chaos. And then you screeched, as loud as you could. 

There. If that was your pack, they’d know it was you. If it was anybody else… You’d deal with that when you could. 

The fighting and gunfire got closer, and you backed up slowly, carefully. The jingling of the fucking jesses still grated, but it was easier to ignore with the fighting outside. 

There were two shots outside, two thuds. Your heart beat faster and you half-spread your wings, talons clicking against the floor. 

“Found her,” came Soap’s voice from the door, and the breath whooshed out of you all at once. “Fuck,” he ground out, as angry as you’d ever heard him. “Okay, ‘s just me, sweets. Ah’m gonna take this off, yeah?” Hands fumbled with the hood for a moment before it was gone, leaving you blinking and near-blinded by the sudden brightness. 

And there was Soap, clothes a little bloodied, expression torn between rage and sympathy. He spared a moment to smooth a hand over your head. 

“Can ye shift?” 

You clicked your beak and awkwardly held out one leg, jingling the jess still attached. 

His expression immediately darkened. “Ah’ll burn the whole place,” he swore, rapidly removing one jess, then the other. 

Relieved, you immediately shifted back. Your arm ached where the bullet hole had mostly healed, and you knew you probably looked a wreck. You felt a wreck, a little shaky and unsteady. But you were also determined to get the hell out. 

“Give me a gun,” you rasped, throat dry. 

“Ah donnae have supplies for ye,” Soap murmured apologetically, even as he unclipped his handgun and handed it to you. “Keep close.” 

You nodded silently, pushing down everything else. You’d deal with everything else later. 

Warm wetness on your feet made you look down as you followed Soap out of the room that had been your prison for however long. Two guards, both dead. Clean shots. Blood had pooled in the hallway. Your upper lip curled and you stepped carefully through the hall, not wanting to slip on anything. 

Soap motioned you to wait as you came up to a corner, and he peeked around first. A gunshot had him jerking back. 

“Counted eight,” he murmured to you. “Wait here.”

“But–” Your shoulders raised, and if you’d had feathers they would have been floofing out.

“Ye have no vest, no protection,” Soap pointed out, soft but firm. “Jus’ got ye back, sweets. Donnae ask me this.” 

And you deflated again. As much as you wanted to kill every bastard in the building yourself, he had a good point. “Okay,” you agreed quietly, grip tightening briefly on your gun. “I’ll wait.”

Soap pressed a quick, hard kiss to your temple before he was gone, picking off one before he even rounded the corner. You could do nothing but listen to the chaos and wait for the all clear to move up.

A scuff behind you had you whirling, gun up. The woman stood no more than ten paces away, teeth bared, a gun in her hand. 

“Well well, is this what pretty birdie looks like when she’s not a birdie?” She laughed, the sound unhinged, divorced from reality. “What a waste.” 

“Don’t move.” Your voice didn’t shake. Your hands didn’t shake. But your mind… your mind quailed. 

“What’s the matter, birdie? Missing your hood?” Her teeth were bloody, eyes fixed on you as she took a step closer. 

You swallowed hard, breath coming faster. If you never saw a hood again it would be too soon. 

“We can fix that.” She took another step forward, lifting the gun slowly, as if it was much heavier than it actually was. 

You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t blink. You shot her, center mass. 

She fell. 

“Sweets?” Soap sounded only a little panicky. 

“Clear!” You swallowed. Then again. You were a medic, yes, but this was far from the first time you’d killed. You’d hoped this would bring a little peace.

Instead you were simply numb.

“Move up!” Soap called after another minute. You obeyed wordlessly, turning your back on the corpse without another thought. 

“How far?” you asked softly, stopping behind him, letting him be your shield again. 

“Not much farther.” He glanced back at you, worried. “Ye alright?” 

“Fine.” Your answer was short, clipped. Because you couldn’t think about being anything other than fine. “Let’s go.” 

Soap hesitated a moment longer, gaze searching your face, before he nodded once, slowly. Then he moved, keeping you behind him. You kept close to him, moving as quietly as possible, ignoring the tackiness of blood drying on your skin. 

He had you wait as he cleared one more room, and then the two of you met up with Gaz. Gaz breathed in sharply when he saw you but was quick to tug you to him in a hard hug, the edges of his vest and gear blunt and uncomfortable against your skin. You didn’t care, returning the hug with an edge of desperation. 

“Here,” Gaz murmured, pulling spare clothes from one of his pouches. “Couldn’t bring extra gear for you, but this’ll do for now.” 

You nodded, pulling the clothes on silently. They didn’t actually help you feel any better, but being with two of your pack did. 

“Price and Ghost are almost done,” Gaz told Soap, tucking you between the two so you were protected. “Ready to meet up?”

“Ready.” Soap grinned, brief and vicious. “Ye’ll like this,” he promised you, taking the lead. You followed him, Gaz on your six. The building was quiet now, tension thrumming under your skin. But you kept up, swallowing back your nerves as best you could. 

“All set up?” Soap asked as he stepped into a room. You followed, a little more cautious. 

“All set,” Price agreed, eyes immediately finding you. A bit of tension leaked from his shoulders and he smiled, just a little. “Ready to get out of here?” 

You nodded silently, but didn’t say anything. Which didn’t matter, because Ghost was in front of you in a few long strides, one hand gently cupping your cheek to tip your head. 

“Injuries?” he asked softly, gaze sweeping over you.

“Just my arm.” And your feathers, but you couldn’t think about that for longer than a moment or you’d start screaming. 

Ghost nodded, pulling you into his side. 

“Let’s go,” Price ordered, taking point. The others kept you in the middle between them all the way out. 

At a safe distance, the group of you turned. Soap waggled his eyebrows at you, grinning, before he pushed down on a detonator. 

The entire building collapsed, shaking apart as explosions ripped through it. It was incredibly cathartic to see. Or, well. It probably was. You were… kind of numb. 

“Here.” 

You blinked slowly to find Price holding out a water to you. Your hands trembled as you took it, drinking slowly under the watchful gaze of your pack. 

“It’s not far to exfil,” Gaz murmured, one hand resting on your shoulder. You leaned into the touch, breath momentarily hitching. 

“Okay.” You swallowed hard and took the protein bar Price handed over, eating mechanically. You could barely taste it. 

You knew this was bad, but. Not much to be done about it yet. 

“You alright to walk the rest of the way?” Price asked, glancing down at your feet. 

You blinked. You… couldn’t actually feel any discomfort from your feet, though you knew you should. You were standing barefoot on the ground, and it wasn’t even flat ground. “I’m fine.” 

Price eyed you for a moment before he nodded. “Let’s get out of here, then,” he murmured. Contrary to his own words, he leaned in until he could press his forehead to yours, taking a moment to just breathe. Then he pulled back, once again taking point. 

You followed, a little slow but moving under your own power. At least you weren’t in pain. 

Yet. 

The heli was waiting for you when you arrived. You shivered briefly against the wind and hurried in, buckling in with shaking hands. Soap dropped down on one side of you, Gaz on your other side. They both double checked your harness. 

The flight back didn’t seem to take any time. You sat upright, tired and numb and cold, but unable to show any of that. You would eventually, you knew. You should probably warn your guys, you knew.

But you couldn’t. 

The heli set down with a bump and you jolted. Two pairs of hands steadied you, Gaz and Soap both looking at you with concern. 

But nobody said anything as they escorted you to medical. 

You answered anything directly asked of you, quiet and stiff. The bullet hole in your arm was deemed mostly healed (it should have been more healed, really, but you hadn’t eaten enough), and otherwise you were dehydrated and bruised, but mostly unharmed. 

The problem arose when one of the medics asked you to shift. 

“No.” The word was only a whisper but you leaned away, hands curling into fists, muscles pulling taut. 

The medic paused, eyeing you carefully. You were known to be more easy-going and cooperative, so this? Was unusual. “If you need privacy–”

“No.” It came out a little stronger this time, even as your gaze darted to the door, heart racing. No. Absolutely not. 

The medic slowly leaned back, away from you. But their voice was calm as they called, “Captain?” 

Price was in front of you a moment later, taking in your posture in a quick glance. He put one heavy hand on your shoulder, ducking his head to look you in the eyes for a moment. “Easy,” he murmured, frowning a little. “You done here?” He glanced back over his shoulder at the medic. 

“She hasn’t shifted yet, so we’re not technically done,” the medic explained. 

Price glanced down at you, and you shook your head, jaw clenched so tight your teeth ached. “Another time,” Price grunted, gently tugging you off the exam table. 

The medic sighed, exasperated but unwilling to fight. “Fine. Make sure she sleeps,” they ordered, moving out of the way. “And eats.”

Price nodded, letting his hand fall from your shoulder. You tried not to focus on that, tried to focus on following him instead. But it was hard. The touch had been grounding, helpful. Helping to pull you back into yourself. 

“You should get cleaned up,” Price murmured, heading back towards your quarters. “It’ll help.”

“Yeah.” You couldn’t manage more than that, couldn’t force more out. The numbness was slowly fading, leaving you aching. And tired. So very tired. 

Price paused outside your door, studying you. “Do you want someone here?” 

You swallowed and forced yourself to nod. You didn’t want to be alone. But you didn’t want anyone looking at you just yet, either. 

Price nodded slowly, brow furrowing a little. “I’ll stay,” he rumbled, pushing your door open and ushering you through first. “Get cleaned up, dress down for the evening.” 

You nodded wordlessly, slipping past him and grabbing comfortable clothes. You had a bathroom to yourself, something you were extremely grateful for, and you shut the door between yourself and your alpha. And then immediately opened it a crack, because you felt too trapped otherwise. 

Hot water felt heavenly, after everything. Getting to scrub your head felt heavenly. Everything else… Well. You definitely overdid it washing yourself, scratching your skin nearly raw in places. You did make yourself bleed again, accidentally breaking open the wound in your arm. 

But you finally felt clean enough for the moment and emerged, drying off and wrapping your head in a towel. That would do. 

Price was still sitting on your bed when you emerged, phone in hand, though he turned his gaze to you as soon as the door opened. His gaze lingered on your skin, and you knew he was making note of everything. But he didn’t comment. 

“Figured we’d go to the pack room,” he said, carefully phrasing it as an option, rather than an order. “Got Gaz and Soap bringing food.”

You nodded. “Food sounds good,” you admitted, walking over to him. You didn’t ask, just plastered yourself to his front, cheek pressed to his chest, inhaling the comforting scent of your alpha. Price hummed softly, one hand cupping the back of your head, his other settling on your back. 

“Take as long as you need,” he murmured, low and soothing. “We’ll walk together, hm?” 

“Yeah.” You closed your eyes, relaxing into his warmth. Just a minute. You just needed a minute. Price only held you tighter. 

You finally pulled back with one last deep breath. “Okay,” you croaked. “Let’s go.” 

Price didn’t object, but he did keep you close as the two of you walked to the pack room. Almost nobody was around, which worked out well, because you were starting to use your captain for help staying upright. 

No sooner had you stepped into the pack room than you got swarmed. Somehow, you weren’t exactly sure how, they settled you on the couch pressed up against Simon, with Gaz and Soap chattering as they made up plates of food, and Price hovering behind you and Simon. 

“Don’t ask,” you murmured to Simon, fairly sure Price could hear too. “Not yet.”

Simon hummed softly, carefully bundling you even closer to his side. “Not yet,” he agreed, about as soft as he ever got. 

Gaz and Soap carried the conversation through dinner, both of them settling around you as well until you were entirely enclosed by pack. It should have made you feel better.

It didn’t. 

All you could think of were the past eight days. Eight, you discovered when Soap let it slip. Eight days you’d been stuck in that hood and silence but for the jesses, treated like an animal.

It was almost enough to make you sick. 

You swallowed down what you could, but ended up leaving food. It was odd - you would have thought you’d be ravenous, after the last days. But you weren’t. You were barely hungry, only ate to try to stave off their concern. 

Which didn’t entirely work, from the quick looks and little touches you endured through the evening. 

And then you just… settled. Let one of them take your plate when it was obvious you weren’t going to eat more, and relaxed. Simon stayed on one side of you, refusing to move. You leaned more and more into him as your eyes tried to shut, until he simply pulled you in to use his chest as a pillow. You murmured something, half complaint half thanks, and closed your eyes, the soothing sounds of your pack settling around you. 

You woke to total darkness.

For a moment you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. If you moved you’d hear those damn bells, and there was no point because you couldn’t get anywhere, you were trapped, and your wings– your wings–

“Hey, hey, s’alright love,” Simon murmured urgently, hands patting at you. Which was when you realized you were keening, breath hitching in your chest. You still couldn’t see but you could feel your pack moving around you.

“Get the lights,” Price ordered. “Simon?” 

“Not sure.” Simon put one hand over your chest. “You need to breathe.” It wasn’t until he put your hand against his chest, letting you feel the exaggerated inflation of his lungs that you realized he was talking to you.

The lights flipped on, bright and sudden, and you went limp. You were fine. You were in the pack room. You didn’t have a hood on. 

“Love?” Simon leaned closer to you, eyes dark and worried. 

“‘M okay,” you gasped, blinking a few times, finally settling back into reality. “Just. A minute.” 

Simon didn’t move, just breathing in again. You did your best to follow along, nerves still strung taut from waking the way you did. Soap pressed up close to your side, his head resting near your hip. Your fingers curled gently in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp to help calm yourself. Based on his pleased hum, that’s what he’d wanted in the first place. 

“Better?” Price moved carefully closer, doing a quick visual check.

“Yeah.” You licked your lips, very aware of your dry throat now. “Just.” You clenched your jaw. Admitting weakness was never easy, and this was no different. “Couldn’t see.” 

Soap lifted his head to look at you. “Sweets,” he started, carefully, like he was feeling for land mines. “Did they keep the hood on ye?” 

You swallowed hard. “Except for when they brought me food.” 

“Hood?” Gaz asked, handing over a bottle of water to you, expression mostly blank. 

“And jesses,” you confirmed before taking a deep drink of water. 

“We’ll make sure there’s a light on for you,” Price said, before anyone else could say anything. Which was honestly for the best - you didn’t think you could talk any more about what had happened just yet. 

“You should go back to sleep,” you murmured, setting the water bottle down and scratching Soap’s scalp again. “Too early to be up.” 

“Hm.” Price tipped his head, looking at you. Then he huffed softly. “Stubborn.” 

You only had time to blink before he was settling back in with the rest of you, getting comfortable. The nest was big enough for all of you, because you’d made sure of that, but still. 

You didn’t think anyone would manage to get back to sleep, especially with the light on. But they surprised you - Gaz snored gently against Price’s ribs, while Soap used your hip as a pillow. (He always made the oddest choices.) Price didn’t sleep, but he did close his eyes and relax. 

Simon just kept you close, his steady breathing helping your own. 

Your pack didn’t quite hover the next few days. They did, however, take rotating shifts making sure someone stayed with you. Simon nudged you into the pack room every night. Gaz had pulled up a nightlight from somewhere, the soft yellow light always left on now. They didn’t let you feel ashamed of it, either, though shame still tried to wiggle into your brain. 

Things weren’t okay. Wouldn’t be okay for a while. But they were getting better. 

Except for your wings. 

You managed not to think about it most of the time, focused on staying human and getting through the worst of the aftereffects. Sure, it wasn’t conventional torture, but it was almost worse. 

Things finally came to a head when the rest of the pack shifted, Gaz and Soap racing outside immediately, growling playfully at each other. Ghost followed, more placid, looking at you once over his shoulder. 

Price stopped in front of you, the bear easily able to meet your gaze. You knew that if he stood up straight on his hind legs, he’d be much taller than you. 

“No.” Your smile was small and tight, pained. “You go. I’m not shifting.” 

His head tipped, fuzzy little ears flickering back towards the open door and back to you. He grunted softly and nosed your ribs gently. 

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’ll come out for a bit.” 

Satisfied, he huffed and went first, lumbering out the door. You followed him, briefly squinting against the light before you adjusted. 

Gaz and Soap raced across the open space, occasionally trying to trip each other or jump over each other. Soap even got bold enough to bite Ghost’s tail and run for it, angry cat hot on his tail and gaining fast. Price found a nice sunny spot to watch and make sure they didn’t actually go overboard. 

Pretty normal. Except for you. You stood stiff and still, watching them and making no effort to join. It was… too much. It wasn’t their fault, or yours. The only people responsible were dead. 

None of them looked when you slipped back inside, as quietly as you could. You had one more thing you needed to do, and you needed some privacy to do it. 

Your room was far enough from them that you didn’t worry about being found immediately. You carefully took off your clothes, folding them on your bed. One deep breath. Two. 

You could do this. Hell, you’d been doing this since you were a child. Nothing would stop you now.

You shifted between breaths, braced for… something. But nothing happened. You didn’t immediately panic.

Okay. So far so good. 

You spread your wings carefully, flapping them a few times. You could just see your reflection in the mirror. Your beak was just as sharp, your crest still upright. Bits of downy feathers stuck up from a lack of preening, but you ignored the vague feeling of wrongness. You had something more important to fix. 

Your primaries had all been cut on your right wing. Not just some of them. All of them. It would take months for them to molt on their own. Months of being grounded, being flightless, being useless. 

The soft, mournful sound ripped free from your throat, and you flapped again. You could hop, maybe get a bit of air. But you couldn’t fly, not like this.

Unless…

No. No, that was a terrible idea.

Except that it wasn’t, really, a terrible idea. The longer you stood there, head tipped, staring at your clipped feathers in the mirror, the more sense it made. 

One last deep breath in and you dipped your head, tipping your wing to make it easier. It took a little shuffling and a little preening to get the right feather in your beak. 

The first one came out cleanly, a few drips of blood accompanying it. You dropped the shaft to the floor, not giving yourself time to really feel the pain. You just did it again. And again. And again. 

Until the floor was littered with blood and snipped feathers, the red stark on the black and white banded feathers. Your wing burned and ached, throbbing in time with your heart, and your chest heaved with your panting, beak open. You felt almost dizzy with it, mind gone blank. 

“Sweets?” The panicked yell made you blink and cheep softly, though you didn’t move yet. Your door was unlocked. “Sweets, I smell blood.” Gaz hit the door a moment later, nearly tumbling inside when the door opened easily. He froze when he spotted you, anguish twisting his features. “Oh, Sweets, what did you do?” 

You chirped at him, turning carefully, keeping your right wing flared. 

Gaz knelt in front of you, ducking down to examine where you’d pulled out your feathers. “Doesn’t look like you’re still bleeding,” he murmured, almost absently preening your feathers. “But why–?” 

You chirped at him and picked up one of the feathers by the shaft, showing him the cut end. 

“Cut?” He frowned, gaze darting between you and the small pile of feathers, before realization hit. He swallowed hard, rage like a dark thundercloud. “But why pull them?”

You chirped softly, dropping the feather and hopping closer to him. You were not designed for flat floors, dammit, you were designed for trees! 

“Do you wanna shift?” Gaz asked, frowning a little at you.

You shook yourself. Now that you’d shifted, you actually felt a little better. Still kind of awful, because you couldn’t fly, but you didn’t feel quite as raw. 

He huffed. “Course not,” he agreed with a wry smile. “Can I help you preen?” 

You chirped softly again, ducking your head under his hand. He took it as permission, which it was, and began combing through your feathers gently. 

“Gonna have to talk to one of us eventually,” he murmured, hands gentle over your injured wing. “Can’t put it off forever.”

You clicked your beak at him and stretched, gently preening his hair. He huffed but allowed it, muttering something about you being a menace. 

Gaz ended up letting you perch on his arm as he walked back to the pack room. Price huffed at your wing, gently pulling it to get a better look. 

“Did you do this or did they?” His voice was calm, but you knew your alpha. He was not calm. 

You chirped softly, looking to Gaz to answer for you.

“She pulled ‘em, but they were clipped.” 

“Ah.” Price blew out a breath, fingers gentle as he checked your secondaries. “Force ‘em to come in sooner?”

You chirped a soft affirmative. 

“Gonna need to eat more, then.” The look he gave you told you this was not an argument you would win. So you didn’t fight. 

You let them take care of you and fuss (not too much), and you just worked on being better. 

It took time, but the worst of the nightmares faded. Pitch black still bothered you but it was manageable, rather than panic attack inducing every time. 

Things got better. 

Your feathers still hadn’t come in yet, but you could be patient a little while longer. You could feel the itch where they were forming and growing. Good enough. 

Your first op was supposed to be an easy one. Well. As easy as anything the 141 took on. 

You, Price, and Gaz were clearing one building while Soap and Ghost cleared another. It was… not easy, but routine. 

Until you stumbled over one man Gaz missed. 

The man was in the back of the room, laying low. You probably wouldn’t have spotted him except a bit of light fell right on a very familiar feather. The black and white banding could, hypothetically, have been from any number of birds. 

But you knew. 

An angry snarl twisted your lips, and you stepped intentionally into the room, barely remembering to call to Price over your shoulder, gaze locked on your target. Your gun was steady on him. 

He watched you right back, one hand reaching for a weapon from a fallen comrade in a way he probably thought was stealthy. 

The bullet you planted between him and the weapon disabused him of that notion. 

“Where did you get that feather?” you asked, voice low and growly. If you weren’t so focused, it would have startled you to hear how furious you sounded. 

He looked up at you and grinned, front two teeth missing. You jerked back, body recalling more vividly than your mind the sudden darkness that had followed that grin. 

“Easy,” Price murmured from behind you, just to the side. Close enough to support you and take the shot if you needed, but giving you space to do it yourself. 

You breathed in deep. And shot him. For many reasons, including not leaving an enemy alive at your back. 

But bending down to pull your feather from his shirt was just for you. 

“You broken?” Price watched you, giving you space still. Letting you decide.

You tucked the feather in your vest and smiled. “Not today.” You nudged him, tipping your head to rest against his shoulder for just a moment, before you started walking again. “If we finish up before Soap, he promised he’d buy cookies.” 

Price’s chuckle followed you out of the room. Gaz called over comms that the building was clear, and Soap started swearing. He and Gaz went back and forth on the matter of the cookies, easy bickering in the middle of everything else. 

You just laughed, knowing your pack had you. Always. 

#shifter au #f!reader #reader x 141 #john price x reader #simon “ghost” riley x reader #kyle “gaz” garrick x reader #johnny “soap” mactavish x reader

[unoislazy]

Trapped With You

Hiccup Haddock x Reader

Warnings: if you’re prone to second hand embarrassment this one’s gonna be a doozy

————————————————————

You and your friends were very well known for freeing dragons from traps and greedy humans who saw them as nothing more than pests. But just because you were well known doesn’t mean you were good at it. In fact, maybe one of your hundreds of raids had gone perfectly to plan, many of them were successful, but never stuck to the plan.

`

This time was no different.

In fact, this time might have been your worst attempt yet.

Hiccup had gathered you and your collective friends to go searching for dragon traps to try and disarm them. You didn’t think that would be too hard because they often shined through the grass no matter how hidden they were.

It wasn’t often that dragon traps would be placed on Berk, but you had heard a few complaints from some of the residents and figured it would be best to check it out.

“Okay, you head down first, see how many traps we need to hit. I’ll send down Ruff and Tuff to keep watch if needed. If anything goes wrong, you know how to call me.” Hiccup instructed, his mask muffled his words a bit but he was still very easy to understand. His thought process however, lost you. Why he thought Ruff and Tuff could stay out of each other's way long enough to actually be a useful lookout was beyond you.

You thought it best not to question it but in hindsight… maybe you should have.

You went on with the plan, flying down to the very dense woodland area. There had been a few issues with net trappings along the coast, and someone had to deal with it. The twins followed you, landing their Hideous Zippleback a few meters behind you, staying as quiet as they could.

You were actually impressed that you couldn’t hear them arguing with each other… yet.

Nonetheless, you continued on, hopping off your dragon and began to do your usual sweep. You weren’t entirely sure what kind of traps you were supposed to be dealing with here, but that’s why the twins were there, to keep you safe in case anything went south.

You carefully scanned the area, looking out for anything shiny or out of the ordinary that might give away the presence of a trap. You looked for a fair few minutes but you couldn’t seem to find anything.

“Hey guys, I think we might have gone to the wrong spot. Should I call for hiccup?” You asked before turning around to realize the twins were gone. In a panic you began turning every which way, listening for any sign of them but there was nothing.

“Real funny guys…” You said sarcastically, realizing that they probably just thought it would be funny to leave you on your own. Your dragon walked up behind you, purring a bit as happy dragons often did.

“What happened to them girl?” You asked her as if she could respond to you. You figured this would be as good a time as any to call for Hiccup. You put two fingers in your mouth and gave a loud whistle, signaling for Hiccup to come find you.

It was only a matter of seconds before the large Night Fury landed smoothly very close by. Hiccup hopped off, his trusted fire sword tight within his grip, and his mask down to protect himself.

“What’s wrong, did something happen?” He asked frantically, despite clearly seeing you standing there calmly.

”Well, other than the twins leaving me behind, nothings wrong. Including the fact that there aren’t any traps here.” You answered honestly, shrugging your shoulders as you stepped towards one of the trees you had already checked. Hiccup looked around skeptically, but he too couldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, so he walked up beside you.

“That’s weird, we’ve gotten a multitude of complaints about this specific area…” He muttered quietly, tapping his finger to his chin, deep in thought. You simply stood there, waiting for him to think of something like usual. As you waited, your attention had been drawn towards Toothless, he was sniffing the tree the two of you had been standing by.

At first you didn’t think much of it, dragons were a lot like dogs in a way, they loved to sniff every single thing within their reach.

However, once you took a closer look you realized he had begun to gnaw at something on the tree. A rope.

Your eyes followed the rope as it went around the tree, and down… around you and Hiccup. Once you had realized what was happening, you looked to Toothless who had already chewed through most of the rope.

“Wait, Toothless don’t!” Before you could get him to stop, or even move out of the way, Toothless had chewed through the rope, thus setting loose the trap and lifting both Hiccup and yourself up into the air and into a very cramped sack.

The sack was extremely small, definitely not the size needed to capture or even remotely harm a dragon. And that’s when it hit you…

“This is a boar trap. No wonder we couldn’t find anything…” You muttered, trying to adjust yourself in a more comfortable position to no avail. You continued to shift before Hiccup had finally said something,

“Hold on, stop moving, just let me-“ He said, trying to move his prosthetic leg which was very uncomfortably digging into your side. You were a lot closer than you had wished you were. You did like the guy, but this was NOT how you wanted to be reminded of that fact.

After a little more awkward moving around and uncomfortable elbow jabs you two eventually gave up, managing to now face each other but in a very uncomfortably close vicinity.

“Well this is just… wonderful.” He sighed, as he looked past the very wide netting of the sack you two sat in, looking down to Toothless who looked confused as he sniffed the trap.

“You just don’t know when to stop, do you bud?” Hiccup asked down to Toothless who looked at him with a very deadpanned look. The dragon then turned away from you two, almost pouting like a child seeming to say ‘this isn’t my fault.’

Hiccup rolled his eyes, turning back to you, sighing yet again.

“So… what now?” You asked, trying not to move in fear of making you both uncomfortable. Hiccups eyes wandered, following the intricately woven pieces of rope that held the netting together, he followed the rope up to the branch that you both were being held by, and then back down to the ground.

“Hiccup?” You asked, trying to even begin to follow his train of thought.

“Okay listen, I’m gonna try and reach down and grab my sword, to do that I’m gonna have to move so it’s gonna be a little uncomfortable.” He said awkwardly, before looking back up to you, “okay?” He asked.

You nodded, considering it truly might be the only way you’d get out of this mess now that Toothless was being entirely distracted by your dragon.

“Okay, I’m just gonna, move my legs…” He started, doing exactly as he said, shifting his weight more to the side as his legs surrounded your body. The sudden movement caused the bag to sway the slightest bit, making the rope creak every so slightly. It would’ve been a soothing sort of noise if not for your current situation.

His body moved again, sort of putting himself on your lap as he began to lean over. You couldn’t help but feel even the slightest bit embarrassed by the current predicament. You tried not to pay it any mind but the guy you’ve had a crush on for god knows how long was currently sitting on your lap, of course you were going to get a little flustered.

Hiccup however was clearly far more concerned with the act of retrieving the sword, something you wish you could focus on as well. He leaned over, sticking his arm through one of the holes in the netting and began to stretch his arm, reaching for the weapon. You sat there uncomfortably still, not knowing if you should, or if you even wanted to move.

It took him a few tries to realize that this wasn’t working, meaning a better position would need to be devised. He sighed again, thinking through if he truly wanted to risk trying this, but it was either get embarrassingly close with the chance of freedom or stay in this uncomfortable position until Toothless finally decided to let you both free.

“I have another idea, but it's not going to be entirely comfortable.”

“Can't be any more uncomfortable than this is.” You responded, to which Hiccup averted his gaze for a moment as he began to awkwardly gesture.

“Well… actually it can. But, this is just to get us out of this mess and then we never have to talk about this again.” He looked to you, waiting for some sign of approval to continue. You nodded, giving the go ahead and silently hoping it won't be as bad as he’s making it seem.

Hiccup ever so carefully moved his legs off of you, and instead moved to more of a laying down position. Right on top of you.

Holy gods above, please let them save you from this nightmare disguised as a dream. One would think this would be a great scenario to be in. You, the guy you like, trapped in very close proximity for a long period of time. It could be like seven minutes in heaven on a budget in the woods.

Except it's not like that at all. Yeah sure, you’re both extremely close to each other, uncomfortably so. But you didn’t ask to be put in this situation, in fact you wished you weren’t in this situation to begin with. Mainly because you were currently trying to forget about the fact you liked the scrawny guy that was now not even a foot away from you, and this situation was not helping in the slightest.

“Okay im just gonna… lean over you…” Hiccup said, straining as he leaned over on top of you, reaching his hand through another hole in the netting that was now more towards the bottom of the sack.

You very quickly stopped paying any attention to what he was doing and focused more on trying to get yourself too chill out. You could see Hiccup was saying words but you hadn’t a clue whether they were directed at you or not, you couldn’t hear him over the sound of your rapid heartbeat that filled your ears.

He was trying to prop himself over you as he reached down past you to the ground. His face was very close to yours, so much so that you could even make out some of the details in his eyes. You hadn’t really taken into account just how green his eyes truly were, most of the time you barely made eye contact with him. His hair had grown a fair amount and there were still a few braids that rested unbothered towards the back of it. Hiccup himself had grown a fair amount, much more than you had realized. When you looked at him before you always saw the little weirdo that you remembered from dragon training. The Hiccup you were staring at now, wasn’t that Hiccup. Well realistically he was, and his personality was the same but… he was different now.

Luckily he wasn’t looking at you so you thought he hadn’t noticed you staring at him. He leaned more towards your side, resting his face next to you as he strained to reach the weapon. You simply stared at the sky through the netting because now you could feel his breath on your neck… and again… not what you needed right now. Hiccup paused for a moment before propping himself back up over you, concern was riddled throughout his features.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his entire focus was on you all at once.

“Me? Never better, why?” You tried to play off your nervousness which Hiccup very clearly took note of.

“Your heart is racing. I’ll get us out of here in no time. You don't have to be nervous.” He said in a comforting tone. In all honesty you weren’t used to him speaking in such a way, especially not directed at you. It felt as if you couldn’t speak at that moment, all you could do was nod as you stared at his striking green eyes.

Why now? Why did the feelings have to rush back to you now?

You were doing fine, ignoring all feelings for him and just living your dragon filled life, but now? Not only was he only a few inches away but also, he was taking over a lot of your mind. You could barely even think as he returned to the position he was at before. Somehow it seemed as all of his usual awkwardness had gone out the window, which you guessed was because he was so focused on getting you both out of there.

After a few more minutes of you both struggling in very different ways you finally heard Hiccup joyfully shout,

“I got it!”

As he held his sword. He laughed excitedly, pulling it back up to you both, not without struggling to get it through the netting a bit first.

Through Hiccup’s celebration, you could very faintly hear a noise coming from some of the trees behind you. A very low rumbling noise.

“Uh… Hiccup?” You said, trying to get his attention but he was still very occupied with trying to figure out a way to cut the netting without harming you both. You listened again, now turning to where the noise had come from. Hiccup was no longer laying on you and had very awkwardly moved himself to sit back up again as he continued to plan out your escape.

You looked through the wooded areas, squinting your eyes and trying to adjust them to the low light, attempting to see something. That’s when you saw it, a very, VERY pissed off looking Thunderdrum.

“Hiccup.” You called, your eyes not leaving the dragon. You were afraid that if you weren’t looking it would do something drastic. Hiccup still was deep in thought, entirely unaware of the situation that was about to unfold.

“Hiccup.” You said a little louder, starting to shake him.

“Hold on, I’m just-“ He began, but his voice trailed off as his eyes continued to follow the contraption. You however, watched in fear as the Thunderdrum began to approach and its unhappy demeanor had not changed in the slightest. You would never expect a dragon to attack without reason but it was probably very hungry and you both were basically sitting ducks in a trap that the dragon was probably accustomed to having boars in it. Then without warning, the dragon began to charge in your direction, heading straight for the sack you both sat in.

“Hiccup!” You shrieked, finally getting his attention. Once he looked up, he also screamed and very quickly, and very recklessly you might add, used the fire sword to quickly cut you both down and get you out of the way of the Thunderdrums initial attack.

You both fell straight down to the ground, you landing right on your ass as you didn’t have a lot of time to truly brace yourself for the fall.

“Toothless, a little help here?” Hiccup called out to the Night Fury who was already on his way over. Your dragon followed behind, scooping you onto her back and quickly darting off. You both escaped the situation majorly unscathed, now flying back to the village in mostly silence before Hiccup cleared his throat,

“So… is that why you were so nervous?” He asked, clearly referring to the dragon.

“Um… yeah.” You answered, clearly lying. This was not really a conversation you’d want to have on the back of your dragon.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I can only do my dragon thing with proper notice.” He joked trying to lighten the awkward tension.

“Well… because-” You tried to think of a reason on the spot before Hiccup cut you off.

“Unless that wasn’t the reason? I don’t want you to lie about this.” He said in a lighthearted manner. You knew Hiccup wouldn’t judge you for anything you wanted to share with him, but this? This was a bit too far in your eyes, you couldn’t risk your friendship with not only him but with Astrid too. You were almost a thousand percent sure that they had feelings for each other and you didn’t want to get in the way of that. But then again, maybe you should just be honest with him, it would definitely lift a large weight off your shoulders.

“Can we just… wait till we get back to the village before we talk about this?” You asked and he respectfully obliged, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“Last one back has to clean up after the other one's dragon!” He shouted before flying off quickly with Toothless. You smiled, appreciating his efforts to change the topic as you followed behind him laughing.

“No fair, you got a head start!”

Once back to the village, Hiccup invited you into his has to continue your previous conversation. Thankfully Stoick was not home at the moment so you two could have some time to discuss this privately.

“So, what’s the real reason?” Hiccup asked, leaning forward in his chair. Clearly he was very interested in what you had to say.

“Well,” You started quietly, not wanting to even look in his general direction, “It was just a very… awkward situation and you know… we were very close and…” You continued on but you muffled your words, not wanting to actually say them outloud. Hiccup continued to stare at you, gesturing for you to continue. It seemed like he knew what you were trying to say but he just wanted to hear you say it.

“This is stupid, I shouldn’t even-” You began to get up from the chair that hiccup had offered you only for him to get up as well and make his way over to you.

“Wait, wait, just hold on.” He said, trying to stop you from leaving.

“Hiccup, seriously it's not that important, I'm just going to leave and we don’t have to bring this up ever again just like you said.” You began to ramble, reaching for the handle on the wooden door before Hiccup blurted out,

“I love you.”

You froze. Your hand came off of the door handle as you simply stared, not knowing what to do.

“What?” Was all you could ask before you turned around to look at Hiccup who was standing there, staring right back at you.

“I know I’m not supposed to say it that fast but… I mean it.” He admitted, his serious demeanor very quickly melted back to his usual awkward one as he quickly realized what he just said. “I just figured, maybe the reason you were nervous was because you felt the same, but now that I think about it I probably should not have assumed.” He continued to ramble, He was no longer paying full attention to you and he had not noticed that you had slowly made your way over to him. He sighed heavily before continuing,

“I shouldn’t have said that, it was wrong of me to assume and if you don’t feel the same then we can just both forget this ever happened and-”

“Can I kiss you?” You asked. This time it was his turn to pause, looking up to you quickly, his eyes open wide as he stared at you.

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?” You asked again, a smile very slowly crept onto his face, as he nodded moving closer to you. Without another thought or word between the two of you, he pulled you in close and closed the gap. He smiled, elated that his assumption was not wrong as he continued to kiss you. Neither of you truly wanted to pull away but alas the human body still needs air to live so you had to.

Who knew getting awkwardly stuck in a boar trap could end up being so eventful.

#httyd #hiccup haddock x reader #hiccuphorrendoushaddockiii #hiccup how to train your dragon #hiccup and toothless #i need him #embarrassing #xreader fanfic #x reader #x gn reader #hiccup x reader #httyd fanfiction #httyd hiccup #httyd 3 #httyd fandom #httyd 2 #hiccup #hiccup haddock