#(i say about a man who could put me six feet in the ground)

[merakiui]

Any thoughts of having a FWB with Jade??

I feel like he would be curious to explore his human body more since it's quite different from his Merform

also, he's low-key, probably interested in the female human body, and who better to ask for help than the magicless only girl in NRC 👀

It’s a guarantee that fooling around in a fwb relationship with Jade will end with a pregnancy. >:) even he can be impulsive like Floyd when it’s regarding something he truly wants.

The feelings aren’t mutual (yet), so Jade makes it his mission to get you to love him. He might become a little more particular than he already is. He makes sure his hair is brushed and styled perfectly. He makes sure his side of the room always smells and looks pretty. He makes sure he says and does everything you like to hear and see. He tries to become your ideal partner in the bedroom, doing everything that’s suited to your tastes even if he has to forego his own pleasure. Normally, Jade wouldn’t go to these lengths if he didn’t want to. He never does anything he doesn’t want to do, so he really is devoted to ensuring you’re his partner for the long-term. He could cheat and use magic, slip small doses of love potion into your meals or drinks, but he wants to play fair this time. He does want a genuine relationship, after all. Loveless sex is fun, but he wants to be able to tell you he sincerely loves you without having to fret over the annoying barrier that is friendship.

Jade is so charming. Even when the both of you aren’t having sex or experimenting with mer and human anatomy, he’s so alluring and, oddly enough, cute. Sometimes Jade slips up (though sometimes it might be intentional) and you’ll see the real Jade behind the veneer he’s crafted for your sake. The real Jade gets excited over little things: his plants and mushrooms finally sprouting in the botanical gardens or a new recipe he’s learned recently and has been trying so hard to replicate. This Jade is very refreshing to be around because he’s so authentic, if only for a moment. Somehow he’s never considered that his real self could be lovable. You manage to surprise him when you comment on how cute he is when he’s so focused on cooking that new recipe or when his eyes light up while he’s tending to his fungi. Jade Leech, cute? That’s unheard of, so much so that shock briefly flickers on his face and his cheeks flare pink. To think it was possible to surprise and fluster Jade. Oh, the things you do to him…

He’s always so diligent when it comes to sex. He makes sure to wear protection, even if he has to stifle all thoughts of you waddling around campus with your pregnant belly. He has to be responsible because that’s what he’s been seen as for so long now: the responsible one. The one who is polite and respectful. The one who could do no wrong. The one who cleans up messes rather than making them. But there’s always the urge to sabotage all forms of contraception and knock you up so that you’ll finally be more than friends…

One day he will. That’s a promise. Until then, he has to make sure you’re properly in love with him so that when you do mysteriously fall pregnant you won’t be so averse to a forever relationship with him. It’s impossible to have a no-strings-attached fwb relationship with Jade because the moment you agreed to fool around with him he’s already attached his own secret strings to you. And these can’t be cut so easily.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #he’s so babygirl <3 #(i say about a man who could put me six feet in the ground)

[nastybuckybarnes]

Riding Lessons

Pairing: Dbf!Bucky X Reader

Summary: You’ve just passed your knowledge test and now you need someone to teach you how to ride. Who better than your dad’s best friend? 

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Smut, Age Gap (Reader is 21, Bucky is mid-forties),

Word Count: 3.8K

A/n: I have a new obsession and it’s dbf!bucky. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy this and I love you all very much!

~*~

You straddle the bike, feet planted firmly on the ground as your hands grip the handlebars.

“It’s heavier than I thought!” You tell your dad with an excited grin.

He only chuckles and pats your right hand.

“Yeah, it’ll take some getting used to.”

“Hey, Kid, be careful on that. Don't want you to hurt yourself,” A new, cockier voice says.

You hold back a shiver and an eye-roll as Bucky emerges from your house, a bottle of beer in hand.

“She just passed her knowledge test,” your dad says proudly, a smile on his face. You grin right back at him and nod, your eyes flickering to his best friend for just a moment.

“Now I just need to get in some practice with a good teacher.”

Your dad nods before his face lights up, and you can almost see the lightbulb over his head.

“Maybe Bucky could teach you how to ride!” He suggests, an innocent smile on his face.

Your bottom lip immediately goes between your teeth at the innuendo and you look over at the huge tattooed brunet whose eyes are now focused on you.

His steel-blue eyes get dark as he imagines you riding not only his bike, but his cock, too.

“Yeah, I could give you some lessons if you want, Kid. Can’t promise I’ll be the best teacher, but I’ll give it a shot,” he says after a moment, watching you lick your lips.

His nickname for you is a constant reminder that your crush is just that: a crush. Never to be more than a dream.

And, although being near him is hard enough to do without your panties getting wet, he’s been riding for almost thirty years. Where else are you gonna find a better -and cheaper- teacher?

“Sure, that’d be great, Bucky. Thanks.”

He nods, “it’s gonna cost you, though. Each lesson I expect a case of beer, yeah? Maybe a pizza, too.”

You roll your eyes but nod nonetheless.

“Can we get started now? I wanna be able to ride before the summer’s over.”

He swallows hard before answering, his wicked brain once again conjuring up images of you naked on his lap, bouncing on his cock. Those perfect tits in his face and that tight-

“Yeah, I, uh, I’m not doing anything later. I could swing by with one of my bikes, show you the ropes and whatnot,” he offers, shifting his weight to try and hide his growing erection.

“That’d be amazing! Thank you so much!” The excitement in your eyes does little to stop his swelling cock, but, thankfully, your father grabs your attention before you can notice the tent in his pants.

“Mark got tickets to the hockey game tonight, but you know you’re always welcome here, Buck. It’s not too late for you to change your mind about coming with me,” your dad says, already knowing the answer.

Hockey isn’t Bucky’s favourite sport, and he’s got much better plans for tonight.

He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, “no thanks. Tell the guys I say ‘hi’, though. And make sure you invite them to the barbecue, yeah?”

Your dad nods easily then heads inside the house, leaving you alone in the garage with Bucky.

Nervous winds give life beneath the wings of the butterflies in your stomach, and you nibble on your bottom lip.

“I’ll probably swing by around six. I expect a pizza and a pack of beer to be waiting, got it?”

You raise your eyebrows at him, “you’re gonna drink and teach me to drive?”

He chuckles and takes a step toward you, towering over you and looking into your eyes, “honey, I’m a grown man. A beer or two isn’t gonna put me over the limit. Besides, you’re not gonna be riding that thing fully today, anyway. Maybe you’ll make it out of the driveway, but I doubt it.”

You frown but nod, slightly intimidated by the man in front of you.

He slowly takes a step around you, taking a subtle inhale and holding back a groan at the sweet scent of raspberries wafting from your skin.

He walks over to his restored Camaro and slides in, giving you a raise of his fingers in farewell, before peeling out of the driveway and out of sight.

~*~

You spend the next several hours worrying about your lesson with Bucky.

You’ve only had a crush on the man for years, and now you’re getting to be alone with him. You’re not sure if you should swoon or combust.

The second option is definitely looking more appealing when you hear him pull up to your house, his bike rumbling.

With a deep breath and a final fix of your hair, you venture downstairs and outside, grabbing the pizza and beer on the way.

“Hey, Kid. I see you brought my payment,” Bucky says, a grin on his face when he sees you.

You smile, trying your best not to be shy but he makes it so hard.

His huge body takes up so much space in the garage, thick thighs straddling a Ducati.

“Yeah, hope you don’t get too carried away before actually teaching me, though,” you tease, setting everything down on one of the tables against the wall.

He only chuckles and kicks down the kickstand, then gets off of his bike to grab a beer.

“First I want you to tell me where the throttle is,” he says, popping the cap off with his belt buckle then bringing it to his lips.

You watch, entranced, as his pink lips wrap around the bottle. A drop of liquid trickles from the corner of his mouth down his chin, and you follow it with your eyes as it trails down his neck and then disappears beneath the collar of his shirt.

Bucky watches you as you stare at him, and he can’t help the pride that blooms in his chest when you pull your bottom lip into your mouth.

Slowly, he lowers the bottle and wipes the drop up, then takes a step toward you.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You gonna show me what you know?”

His voice snaps you back to the present and you raise your eyes to his, embarrassment filling you as you realize he caught you staring.

“Uh, the throttle is here,” you whisper, walking over to your bike and touching the right handlebar.

“Perfect. How do you get on a bike? Show me.” He could just ask you to explain it, but he wants to see you straddle the bike.

You walk to the left side then step over the seat, your hands coming to rest on the handlebars instinctively.

“Nice. Now, where is the rear brake?” He asks, stepping closer to the front of the bike to watch as you point just in front of the right footpeg.

“Now, front brake?”

Your fingers lightly graze the lever on the handlebar in front of the throttle.

“Gear shift and clutch?”

You point to the pedal in front of the left footpeg, then the lever behind the left handlebar.

“Look at you go. Where’s the kill switch?”

Your fingers dance over the button beside the right handlebar and he nods proudly.

“Very nice. Okay, I want you to kick the kickstand up and then just stand there, balance the weight of the bike, okay? That’s a big thing is getting used to how it feels to have something so big between your legs.”

Your core dampens at his words and your gaze drops to his crotch for just a moment before you do as instructed.

The bike is heavy between your legs, and you plant your feet to try and maintain control.

“Just like that, good girl.” It slips through his lips before he can stop it and you instantly melt into a puddle of arousal.

The bike wobbles and Bucky steps forward, grabbing the handlebars to stop it from toppling and taking you with it.

“Easy there,” he murmurs, his hands covering yours and squeezing as he steadies the machine.

You regain your strength and nod, holding the bike tighter.

“So now just walk it back and forth, okay? I’m gonna move with you until you get comfortable with the weight.”

You nod then take a deep breath and push the bike forward slowly.

Each step is small and wobbly, but after a few minutes, you start to get the hang of it.

“Okay, honey, I’m gonna step away so you can really feel it. I’ll be right beside you though.”

You nod and watch as he steps aside, slowly pushing forward and back again.

You give him an excited smile and he grins right back.

“Now start her up! You’ll be good in neutral, then I'll show you how to kick it into gear.”

You start the bike and it rumbles to life beneath you, the vibration shaking you slightly.

“Now, pull in the clutch and kick down on the gearshift into first gear.”

You do exactly that, keeping a firm grip on the clutch.

“Slowly let go of the clutch. Don’t give it any throttle yet,” he instructs, stepping beside you as you follow his directions.

The bike creeps forward and you instinctively squeeze the clutch again, squealing when you teeter away from him.

Bucky lunges forward, one arm coming across your legs to grab the side of the bike while the other grabs you, his hand resting half on your ass, half on your back.

He looks up at you to make sure you’re okay, but you can’t breathe.

He’s looking at you through his lashes, lips parted and pupils wide.

“Don’t let it scare you,” he teases softly, slowly rising up to his full height. His hand moves from the bike to your thigh while the other hand stays on your back, and you need to crane your neck to look at him.

He watches you as you lean your head back to look at him and he can’t help but wonder what your pretty face would look like if he were to spit on it right now.

Or cum on it.

God, he knows you'd look so pretty all covered in his cum, mascara running down your cheeks.

He wants to grab your face and shove his cock in your mouth.

Your innocent eyes look up at him, lashes fluttering, and it takes everything in him not to stroke your lips with his thumb.

He looks so intimidating from here. So tall and big and- your eyes drop down to his crotch only to widen comically.

Hard.

He’s hard.

And he’s fucking huge.

Your eyes dart back up to his and he has to hold back a chuckle at the wonder written across your face.

So many nasty thoughts swim through his mind. There are a thousand things he wants to say and none of them are appropriate given the fact that you’re his best friend’s daughter.

Instead, he takes a slow step back, then another, then walks to the table along the wall to grab another beer.

“We’re gonna try something a little bit different now, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

He walks back to you and steps over the back of your bike, straddling it and nudging you forward a bit until you’re as far forward as you can comfortably sit.

“Okay, I’m gonna explain everything, and you’re just gonna do what I say.”

A shiver races down your spine and all he wants to do is grab a handful of your hair and fuck you until you’re crying.

You nod, like the obedient little girl he knows you are, and a grin grows on his face.

“Ease up on the clutch again. We’re gonna walk in a little circle. I’ve got you, honey.” He’s one hundred percent doing this on purpose now, but he doesn't care.

The way you looked at him after seeing his erection is enough for him to know you’re not exactly opposed to whatever’s happening.

You ease up on the clutch and try to focus on the machine beneath you, not the heat radiating off of the man behind you. The man who now has one hand resting on your waist while the other holds his beer.

You pull forward slowly, then push on the right handlebar slightly, a jolt of excitement going through you as you move to the left.

“There you go, baby, just like that,” he whispers, his breath dusting over the back of your neck.

You clench your thighs around the bike, desperate for some friction against your dripping core.

You do another turn slowly but surely, walking your feet alongside the bike, and the hand on your waist gives you a squeeze.

“Fuck, you’re doing so well for me, sweetheart.”

You squeeze the clutch and the brake hard, clenching your hands into as tight of fists as you can manage, and you lurch forward, your heart racing as your core throbs.

The sudden stop surprises Bucky, and he bumps into you harder than anticipated, sending his beer spilling across your shirt.

You gasp, arching away from the cold liquid.

“Sorry, kid. Here, put it back in neutral and shut it down. I think we can call it a night. I’ll help you clean up.” Is he hoping he’ll be able to catch a glimpse of you in just your bra? Absolutely. Is he ashamed? Not as much as he should be.

You do as instructed, waiting until after he gets up to move because you’re sure you’ll leave a wet spot on the seat.

You only get up when his back is turned, and then you wipe the seat quickly.

“You coming?”

Your eyes dart to his and, judging based on the knowing grin on his face, you weren’t as discrete as you thought you were.

“Y-yeah.”

You follow him into the house, closing the garage door tightly behind you.

He leads the way to the laundry room and you slowly follow, your heart racing at all the different dirty thoughts swirling through your mind.

He waits in the doorway while you step into the cool room, your back to him as you take a deep breath.

This is it. This is where a line is crossed and your relationship with your dad’s best friend will change.

You pull your wet shirt over your head and toss it into the washing machine, turning to look at the older man.

He stares at you, his dark eyes focused on your chest.

“Looks like I spilled a little on there, too,” he murmurs, his eyes slowly finding yours.

You hold his gaze as you unclasp your bra and let it drop to the floor, your breasts bare and your nipples hard.

Slowly, he steps forward, his eyes never leaving yours as he approaches.

You tilt your head back when he comes to a stop in front of you, your chest rising and falling rapidly with your quick breaths.

“That’s better. Doesn’t it feel nice to be out of those sticky wet clothes?” He asks softly, his fingers lightly dusting over your sides.

Goosebumps rise on your skin and you nod, unable to form a sentence.

“You’ve got a little bit here, though. Don’t want it to stick.” He drops his head down, warm tongue darting out to lick up a drop of beer that found your skin.

A gasp leaves your mouth and your hands come up instinctively to grab his shoulders.

Taking that as a green light, the big man in front of you grabs you by the waist and hoists you up, dropping his hold to your hips when you wrap your legs around his waist.

His erection presses against your core and you can’t help but moan softly in his ear at the feeling of it.

He sits you on top of the washing machine and forces his way between your legs, holding your chin with one hand and forcing you to look at him.

Your eyes are hooded and you swear if he doesn’t touch you soon you’re going to explode.

“Do you want something, pretty girl?” He asks, pink lips pulled into a smile when you nod.

“Ask for it then, be a big girl.”

You lean your forehead against his chest and whine. You can’t help but feel tiny before him.

“Please, Bucky. I want you to touch me.”

Your words go straight to his cock and he can’t do anything to stop himself from doing exactly what you want.

One of his hands finds your breast, toying with your nipple while the other hand dips into your pants with practiced ease.

“Jesus, you’re soaked, sweetheart. Is this all for me, babygirl?” He already knows the answer, but seeing you all flustered is adorable and makes him want to fuck you even more.

“Yeah,” you whisper, pulling back to look up at him as he slides a finger inside of you.

He doesn’t have much room to work within the confines of your pants, but he makes do with what he has, one finger massaging your g-spot while another rubs your clit.

“O-oh! Like that, fuck... just like that...” your mouth drops open in a silent moan and he grins.

He leans forward and wraps his mouth around your other nipple and you toss your head back, arching your back and further pushing your chest into his mouth.

“Please... I’m gonna cum...”

He continues his assault on your young body, watching through dark eyes as you fall apart because of him, as your tight young cunt clenches around his fingers and fuck, he can’t wait to get his cock in you.

The front door opens and you hear your dad’s voice call out to you, making your eyes widen.

Bucky doesn't stop. He doesn’t even slow down.

No, he keeps his hand between your legs, determined to make you cum whether your dad finds out or not.

“You’d better answer him, sweetheart,” he whispers around your nipple, his teeth scraping against the bud.

You whimper softly and nod, bucking your hips into his hand as he continues working you closer and closer to that edge.

“I-I’m just grabbing a shirt!” You call, your voice faltering when Bucky bites your nipple roughly.

“Is Bucky still here?”

You bite your lip to try and hold back a moan as the coil in your belly tightens almost to the point of snapping.

“Answer him,” the man whispers from between your legs, scraping his teeth up your neck.

“Uh, yeah... somewhere,” you call, brows drawing together as you feel it coming.

“Okay. I’m gonna get changed, I’ll be back down in a minute.”

“O-Okay.”

Bucky licks your cheek then holds your throat, squeezing just hard enough to cut off your air.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream of pleasure and he grins, feeling your walls clamp down around his fingers.

“There you go, there’s my good girl. Such a good girl, cumming for me like that,” he whispers against your skin, peppering kisses wherever he can reach as he fucks you through your climax.

Finally, he releases your throat and pulls his fingers from between your legs, and you suck in a huge breath, body like jell-o as he licks his fingers.

“Find a shirt then come on out, I’m sure your old man wants to know how good you were for me,” he whispers, grabbing a handful of your hair and tugging your head back.

He plants a sloppy, erotic kiss on your mouth, then steps away from you and leaves the laundry room, fixing his erection on the way.

You stay there, panting on the washing machine for a long while before slowly climbing down on shaky legs.

You find a shirt and yank it over your head, then venture out to find your dad and Bucky.

The two of them are in the living room, sharing the pizza and some beer.

You take a seat next to Bucky, your thighs still shaking a bit, and smile at your dad.

“So how was the lesson?” He asks around a mouthful of food.

“It was good. He’s a good teacher.” You try to keep your voice level, you really do, but it’s hard to act normal while you recover from the most intense orgasm of your life.

“Nah, she’s just a good listener, picks up on things quickly. Real good at doing what she’s told.” Bucky’s hand squeezes your thigh and your dad nods, hardly paying attention.

“How was the game?” With those three words, Bucky has your dad launching into a detailed story of the hockey game. Thoroughly distracted, your dad doesn't notice when his best friend slips his hand higher on your leg to cup your mound.

You cross your legs and bite your bottom lip, hoping he doesn't notice anything.

When Bucky gets a little too daring, you stand up.

“I uh, I’m gonna go to bed. Thank you, Bucky, for the lesson.”

He nods, dark eyes on yours and filled with something that looks a little intimidating.

“Of course. If you’re free tomorrow night, maybe we can actually get you on the road, show you how it feels to actually ride.”

You swallow hard and nod, unable to look away.

“Goodnight, kiddo. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You turn without another word and race up the stairs as fast as your shaking legs can manage, your core throbbing with each step.

You try to fall asleep, you really do, but you can’t get the image of him out of your mind. Even when your fingers dip into your panties to try and alleviate the tingling between your thighs, nothing helps.

Now that you’ve had a taste of him, you know nothing will ever feel as good.

“I didn't tell you to leave,” his voice suddenly whispers from the doorway.

You snap your gaze over to him and yank your hand from between your thighs, your heart racing at the intrusion.

He steps into your room and shuts the door softly behind himself, his eyes dark and his cock straining in his pants.

“M-my dad-”

“Is asleep. Knocked on his ass from all that beer. It’s just you and me, babygirl. And I plan on finishing what we started.”

You swallow hard and scoot back on your bed as he approaches, his eyes focused on your face.

“Now, someone was a bad girl and left before I told her she could. Do you have anything you wanna say for yourself?” His hand comes up to hold your face, squeezing your cheeks and forcing your lips to pucker.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, eyes wide and focused on his.

He nods, eyeing you closely, and then he pushes your mouth open further and spits in it.

“I don’t think you are, not yet. But you will be. I’m gonna show you what happens when you don’t let me have what’s mine.”

#bucky x reader #dbf!bucky x reader #dads best friend!bucky x reader #bucky x young!reader #bucky x innocent!reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky smut #Bucky Barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky/reader #bucky/you #bucky x reader lemon #bucky/reader lemon #lemon #smut #marvel smut

[hoonvrs]

HOLD ME TIGHT — S. JAEYUN

req for 1k event!

PROMPT [ one, 19 ] picking up your partner and spinning them around in a hug to show them how much you missed them [ one, 20 ] aggressively cuddling your partner so they can't get out of bed

PAIRING jake x gnr

GENRE est. relationship, fluff

WARNINGS swearing

W. COUNT 0.6k

S. NOTE writing these aren’t helping my delusions

you hadn’t seen jake for almost two weeks now. your schedules just didn’t seem to make enough time for either of you recently, him with his idol duties and you with your university obligations.

its simple to say you both missed each other. a lot.

once the stars aligned perfectly, the second you both found a break in-between your hectic lives you both made plans.

what better is there to do with the man you love that you hadn’t seen for too long than a date at home where you can both be openly clingy, or more you. jake has never been shy to show affection towards you no matter where or who he is with. 

it was easy to decide to have the date at your apartment, you didn’t want to share your boyfriend with six other men for a single second, they’ve already seen him enough. 

when you heard the doorbell ring, you sped to the door opening to find the blonde puppy you’d been missing dearly. you ran into his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck before feeling your feet lifted off the ground, “jake!”

the giggly boy continued to spin you both in circles, “i missed you so, so much baby!” 

“i missed you too!” you finally feel him put you back down, quickly pulling on his collar to give him a peck, quietly laughing as he tried to chase after your lips. “come in, we have the whole day.”

“if im being honest, i don’t want to do anything today except cuddle.” he smiled, grabbing your waist to sway you two together.

“you read my mind,” you grabbed his arm, pushing him onto the couch where you had already prepared snacks and blankets with a list of movies you were planning to ‘watch’ ( or where you and jake talk using the tv as background noise. )

being able to finally talk to each other face to face and be able to feel each other was different to the phone calls you squeezed in every now and then.

this felt better, closer. 

catching each other up on new things in your respective lives, telling him about the new gossip from your uni group even though jake has never met them a day in his life without caring for the time.

“oh shit, it's almost midnight.” he whispered under his breath, looking at the missed calls and messages on his phone, “i need to go, love.”

you tightened your hold around him rendering him unable to get up, “no, stay here with me,” you whined, you weren’t ready to be away from him again for a long time, “and you said you don’t have anything important tomorrow either.”

huffing, he still tried to pry your arms from around him, “babe come on, i promise i'll come see you when i have another free day.”

not feeling your hold loosen any time soon, jake slowly stopped trying to fight against it even though he was barely putting in any effort before. “if you really loved me you’d stay here.”

“you’re manipulating me!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger at your face whilst you tried to hide in the nook of his neck.

“be a man and make a decision!”

you could see him from the little slip past his collarbone opening his phone and sending a message to a contact that looked awfully a lot like a cat. “you’re a horrible woman.”

“and you’re a horrible man, that’s why were perfect for each other,” you laughed, pulling him in for a kiss knowing you won, “so what’s you’re decision?”

“don’t act like you don’t already know!” he grabbed you, surprisingly pulling you closer than you were before. “now get back to cuddling me or watch me leave right now.”

“okay, you big baby.”

perm taglist @mesopret @tnyhees ​@haknom @shinsou-rii @redm4ri @lacimolela @llama-lyna @chiyuv @lazysmushi @flwoie @kocokookie @kyexvly @seongclb @dammit-jjk @flwrshee @produmads ​@teddywonss @aleiouvre

#( tag. events! ) 1k #enhanet #saints works ( madewithlove. ) #( tag. reqs! ) #sim jake x reader #sim jake drabbles #sim jake fanfic #sim jake imagines #sim jake fic #sim jake fluff #sim jake scenarios #jake x reader #jake fic #jake ff #jake fluff #jake drabble #jake imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff #enhypen ff #enhypen drabble #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfic #enhypen imagines #enhypen jake #enhypen scenarios #enhypen recs #enhypen reactions

[corazondebeskar-reads]

all I did was what I had to - part one

all I did was what I had to miniseries

part one: all I did was what I had to

series masterlist | part one | part two | part three

dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: A newcomer to Joel's group of raiders makes a pass at you. Joel reinforces his dominance.

Warnings: DARK. dead dove do not eat. raider!Joel is not a good man, dark!Joel Miller, mention of past assault (not by Joel), dub-con due to power imbalance and implied captivity, reader can have a little stockholm syndrome as a treat. watersports, piss drinking, canon-typical violence, gore, piv intercourse, unsafe sex, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), bit of both game and show joel, sorta d/s dynamics I guess, not RACK compliant

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 4 - Overstimulation / Human Urinal, inspired by this prompt list from @absurdthirst and this gifset from @a7estrellas. I did not come up with raider/hunter!Joel or dark!Joel and many great writers have built in this sandbox before me.

also on ao3

You’d like to say that six months ago, when the group of raiders “took you in,” you would have fought tooth and nail to avoid this situation. You wished you could say you ever really fought back at all.

But after Joel Miller had found you in a supply room during a raid, sobbing and struggling under a FEDRA officer, you had never even so much as told him no. Not after he pulled the man—your husband, who had been starving and abusing you since your wedding night three weeks ago—off your aching body and pummeled his face into the ground. When all that was left was pulp, he had helped you to your feet with bloodied hands. 

“You okay?” he said. His furrowed brow and cold eyes told you he was dangerous more than the corpse on the ground, as his concern was for you alone, entirely barren of remorse or disgust. 

You nodded, but the tremor of your hands betrayed you. He shucked off his jacket and helped you into it, numb as you were, and zipped it up. It was long enough to give you the illusion of modesty since your clothes were nowhere to be found.

He had led you down the stairs and outside, crowding you into the passenger seat of a dented, rusty pickup.

“Wait here,” he said, shutting the door. 

And you had. 

Now, you were knelt between Joel’s heavy boots in the living room of the main safe house. He was sprawled on the main sofa, beer in one hand and the other on the back of your head. The others were milling about, drinking shitty moonshine, and enjoying the spoils of today’s raid. 

You had an old, soft flannel on and Joel’s thick cock in your throat. He was holding you there, motionless, while your eyes stung and watered. Every so often, he’d guide you to bob up and down or shove your face down to lick his balls. He was dragging it out, savoring it in a rare display of luxury. 

Their haul today meant easy living for a couple months after striking an unfortunate band of Fireflies. After the slaughter, they had returned with crates and cases of supplies. You, however, had spent the last two days locked in your room upstairs.

The upper floor of the house was Joel’s. The door at the foot of the stairs locked from both directions, the sole key to which never left the chain around his neck. Your little room had a mattress and a door to a Jack and Jill bathroom. Joel’s room, where you actually spent most of your time, was on the other side. But it had been locked, and you had been left with plenty of food and water but absolutely nothing to do. 

So when Joel came home in a better mood than you’d ever seen him, you jumped at the opportunity to go downstairs. He didn’t like you down there most of the time, didn’t like anyone seeing you but him, unless he was putting on a show of dominance.

Like now. Your quiet obedience on full display, a reminder that even in a time of prosperity, Joel Miller was still the king. 

He took the last swig of his beer and handled the bottle off to a lackey (you didn't see them enough to tell them apart, or care enough to learn their names). He let go of your hair and gave your cheek two sharp pats, smirking when you scrambled to please him. Your hands had been clasped behind your back where they belonged, but he was ready to cum, so you wrapped one around the base of his cock and massaged his balls with the other, using your throat as roughly as he would.

This was second nature, now. The only days you went without his cock in your mouth were the days he was away on raids. When you had woken that morning without the ache in your jaw and throat, you had been sad. (Whatever that said about your life now wasn’t something you wanted to think about too hard.)

Saliva coated your fingers where they grasped the very root of him, smearing on your face as you buried him as deep within you as possible. Tears scorched your cheeks as you gagged and struggled to remember to breathe through your nose. 

He snapped his fingers in your face, drawing not just your eyes to his but capturing the attention of everyone else in the room. He held your gaze and your head in place as hot ropes of cum shot down your throat. 

Drained, he let you up, a lazy grin spreading as you coughed and sobbed for a moment. 

“Shit,” said one of the newer recruits, too young and stupid to survive for long. “I call next.”

The tension in the room was immediate. One of Joel’s smarter lackeys stepped away from the splatter zone. He was, after all, sporting a new denim jacket from the haul. 

Joel held your eyes for a moment before slowly looking up at the offender. He rose, forcing you to scramble back a few inches to make room. His flaccid cock was eye level with you now, but you didn’t dare look away from his face. The satisfied grin had sharpened, his dark eyes clear and dangerous. 

“Yeah? You want her to suck you off?” Joel drawled.

How this man had lived to his mid-twenties astounded you. He was making eye contact with a predator with apparently zero awareness of the danger. 

“Fuck yeah, man,” said the future corpse. 

Joel dragged his eyes back down to you. “Open up, sweetheart.” 

The other man made to move toward you, but Joel raised one finger and waited while you opened your mouth, tongue out. Your heart was racing. You didn’t believe he would actually let someone else touch you, but there was still a sharp jolt of fear.

Joel took himself in hand, lifting your chin up with the other. He cocked an eyebrow at you—not seeking permission, but granting a warning. You realized what he was about to do right before it happened, tensing every muscle to fight the instinct to snap your mouth shut.

It wasn’t the first time Joel had pissed in your mouth, but that didn’t make the acrid stream any more pleasant. It burned your raw throat on the way down. He didn’t look away from you, thumb stroking your jaw gently. When he finished, he held his cock out for you to lick the tip clean. You pressed a soft kiss, offering forgiveness he didn’t require, and sat back on your heels.

He looked up at the other man, waving a loose arm in your direction. “Ya still want her?” 

“You’re fucked up,” the newcomer said, shaking his head. “That’s fucking disgusting.”

Joel laughed and pulled your head to his thigh, one ear pressed against it and his large palm over the other. You squeezed your eyes shut just in time as he drew his pistol and shot the man in the crotch in one fluid moment. The bang still jolted you, and you pressed your face harder into Joel’s rough jeans. 

He took his hand off your ear to stroke your cheek. “Get him out of here,” he barked at one of the others, who immediately dragged the screaming, writhing man out of the house. 

Joel squatted down, hands on your shoulders. “You okay?” He inspected you, brushing his hands over “your” shirt to make sure none of the viscera had reached you. 

You nodded, though you were shaking a little and forcing slow, wavering breaths in and out. 

“That’s my girl,” he said, brushing a thumb over your swollen lips. He stood up and helped you up, leading you upstairs without another glance at his men. 

Your hand grasped tight in his rough, calloused palm, and he led you to his room, where you sat on the edge of the bed, eyes downcast.

He toed off his boots and slid his belt out of the loops of his jeans. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll wash the taste outta your mouth.” 

You looked up to watch him shuck off his gray t-shirt, captivated by the way it peeled off his biceps and fluttered to the floor. It was followed quickly by his jeans and boxers. His cock sprung free, hard again already after the thrilling turn of events.

You made to slide to your knees, but he clicked his tongue at you. “C’mon, I ain’t that mean. Lay back, sweetheart. You did so good out there for me.”

You obeyed, ass perched on the edge, knees bent and legs spread wide, braced against the footboard. He stepped between your legs, running a hand over your stomach.

“Look at you, princess, you’re soaked.” The crooked smirk returned as he lightly dragged a finger through your wet folds. “You liked that?” 

A wretched flush overtook you from your face to your chest, ears burning. You looked away, but the sharp tsk brought your eyes back to him. 

“Don’t hide from me,” his voice pitched low and dark, the drawl always thicker when he was stalking prey. “It’s a good thing, baby. Tell me why you’re dripping.”

“Felt safe,” you murmured, blushing harder. “I like bein’ yours.” 

He grinned and pushed his thumb down on your clit, watching as you gasped and jerked.

“Good girl,” he said and sank to his knees.

He chuckled, watching your eyes grow wide. He didn’t want to spoil you, so this was a rare treat. He spread you with two fingers, licking a wide stripe from your cunt to your clit. Your hips jerked, and he lay an arm over them, pinning you down as you sobbed a long moan. 

A rare treat, but a divine one. He ate you out like you were the first oasis in the desert. Licking and sucking, plunging three fingers deep into your pussy until you fell apart on his tongue. And he didn’t stop, teeth nipping at your clit until the aftershocks of your orgasm crested smoothly into another. And another. You were sobbing full out, thrashing to pull away from the suffocating pain and pleasure, but he held you in place until the sixth orgasm left you sprawled, loose-limbed, eyes dazed. 

“That’s it, baby,” he crooned, standing up and raising your knees to your chest. You hadn’t the strength to move where he wanted, but he was more than happy to manhandle your pliant, soft body. 

Your eyes fluttered open when he notched the fat head of his cock at your entrance, only to roll back and shut again when he pushed into the hilt in one smooth stroke. You were slick, and he had stretched you with his fingers (another luxury you weren’t always awarded), but the sheer size of him never failed to take your breath away.

There was no slow, gentle sex with Joel. Only the rough, demanding pace he set immediately, hands bruising your already mottled hips. It didn’t take long, him having already spent once that day and your body in no condition to handle a long session. When he began to flood your cunt with his warmth, he reached down and pinched your clit, twisting cruelly. Your scream was loud but broken, rough with overuse, as he ripped another orgasm from you. 

He slipped out and crawled onto the mattress, gently moving you up to rest against the pillows with him. “Open,” he said, tapping at your jaw. 

You let your mouth fall open, not a spare thought in your brain, as he made good on the promise to wash the taste of his piss out. Reaching between your legs, he scooped up a glob of your mixed juices, bringing them to your tongue. You automatically closed your lips around him, sucking and licking. He repeated the motion twice more until he was satisfied, then pulled you in for a deep kiss, chasing the taste of both your pleasures. 

It wasn’t until after he lulled you to sleep, brushing the sweat from your brow, that he pulled his clothes back on and crept out of the room.

Outside, his men had tied the injured sonofabitch around the wrists and slung the rope over a solid branch, his feet just barely dragging on the mud below.

He jolted alert as Joel approached and began sobbing in fear. Joel spit at his feet.

“Shame you didn’t bleed out already,” Joel said, drawing his finger along the blade of his favorite knife. The blood pooled on Joel’s fingertip, dripping down to his wrist. 

The other man watched, eyes wide with terror, and began screaming around the rag in his mouth. 

“I mean, a shame for you,” Joel said, with a shrug and a quirk of his lips. “I’m gonna have a real good time, though.”

*title from "There's No 'I' in Team" by Taking Back Sunday.

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #the last of us fic #raider!joel #dark!joel miller #dead dove do not eat #kinktober 2023 #raider!joel miller #dark joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #corazondebeskar-reads and writes

[boraswan]

hiiii can you write a jungkook x reader where he introduces you to his friends but u have anxiety so u are worried that u made a bad impression and and he reassures you that they loved you <3 thank you <3

thank you sm for the request. hope you like it.

❤️

jungkook x reader

fluff/comfort, reader has anxiety, mention of therapy.

800 words.

You walked up the front door of his friends house, anxiety increasing by the second. But of course, your loving boyfriend has been very patient with you all day. Very sympathetic to your worries about meeting his friends. Not enough, however, to let you stay home.

“Stop dragging your feet, babe.” he said as you sat in his desk chair, hands coming behind you to lazily massage your shoulders. He was right. Yes, you were stalling. But you weren’t about to admit it.

“I’m not, kook. Its just, there’s something wrong with your chair! I have to figure it out before something happens!” you said, feigning innocence.

“Yeah cutie. I totally appreciate you looking out for me. But… it can wait until we get back.” he replied, looking at you knowingly.

“Yeah, I mean technically it could wait but, what if we forget?” you asked, much quieter this time.

“We won’t forget, baby. I’ll put it at the top of the list.” he said, pointing to his head.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing. Everything is gonna be okay. Don’t think about the chair too much, okay?” he said sweetly, rubbing your back up and down. You both knew he wasn’t really talking about the chair.

“Okay, thank you.” you said with a half smile, looking up at him. He knew you were trying. “Gentle encouragement” is what the therapist has called it. Your sweet boyfriend agreed to attend a session with you, listening very intently to everything that was said. You could tell he really cared. But the only downside was now he was too aware. He knew your antics, and wouldn’t let you close in on yourself.

So that led you to where you are right now. Standing outside his friend namjoon’s house. Six random people you had never met before. And your boyfriend talked about them endlessly. They meant so much to him and you were worried that something bad would happen, that they might not like you.

“Your hand is shaking like a leaf babe, relax.” He grabbed your hand into his, sending you a soft smile.

“I’ll be with you the whole time, mkay?” he cocked his head cutely at you, sending a reassuring look your way.

“Mkay.” you said back, mocking his voice.

Jungkook extended his free arm to open the door, and you braced for the worst.

Only a few hours. You can do this.

Your boyfriend led you into the house, slowly making your way through the hall towards the living room, where several voices were heard overlapping each other.

You almost reached the source, when a voice behind you interrupted the tension you felt in your chest.

“Y/N? Jungkook?”

You guys turned around at the call. A tall man was smiling fondly at the two of you.

Jungkook let go of you momentarily to hug the man, who was still smiling at you kindly.

“Did he say y/n?”

“Oh my god I think so.”

Before you knew it, multiple people flooded into the hallway. They all exchanged hugs with your boyfriend. A couple of them even hugged you too. They were all welcoming, but it was so crowded, and the hall was starting to feel smaller, and your shirt was too tight. And-

“Let’s go sit down shall we?” Jungkook smiled at them, hand settling on your lower back. A nice grounding feeling. They all agreed and made their way back to the living room. You guys were the last to walk in, far enough behind for him to discreetly whisper in your ear.

“I’ve got you babe. You’re doing amazing.”

As the night went on, the boys enthusiastically told stories about their youngest member. They didn’t spare him either. It was funny watching him cringe, leaning into you to hide from the embarrassment. This went on for what felt like only few minutes, until jungkook quietly asked if you were ready to go. You confusedly clicked your phone screen on, only to see that 3 hours had passed.

“Oh my god!” you whisper yelled.

“I didn’t realize it had gotten so late, I’m sorry.” You whisper yelled. Not that the boys would have noticed anyways. They were in their own world arguing about the timeline of a story.

“That’s okay baby, I’m glad you’re having a good time, it’s nice to see you all getting along like this.” he said looking at you fondly, before letting out a yawn.

“Tired?” you asked with a smile.

“Yeahh.” he admitted giggling.

“Alright, let’s tell them bye.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to separate you from your new besties.” he joked.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Besides, we can hang out for longer next time. We can meet up earlier in the day.”

“Next time?” He asked teasingly.

“Next time.” you confirmed.

❤️

#jungkook #jungkook reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts comfort #jungkook comfort #army #bts army #jungkook drabble

[howtofightwrite]

If I had a character in a medieval fantasy setting who was a short-statured young woman with some limited basic training in short bow archery and other combat arts, but generally a bit weedy, how quickly could she adapt to a longbow? The bow is notably too big for her, having been inherited from a large adult man. The process of learning and gaining the strength is intended to be difficult. Thank you!

I feel like I'm repeating myself, and we may have covered this recently, but the process of using a bow will result in a lot of upper body strength. It's fairly strenuous exercise and that will result in some bulking up. I've mad the joke that archers will be absolutely ripped, but it's also true. If she's pulling eighty to ninety pounds of force with every shot, that will quickly build muscle. That's true of both short bows and longbows. This should be fairly self explanatory, but less weight in the draw, the less power the bow has. If you have a very light draw (say, around 30lbs), then your bow won't be useful for much beyond short range target practice. Short bows tended to start around 80lbs. This is contrast to modern bows (usually used in hunting), which rarely exceed 60lbs as their maximum draw weight. There's debate on the draw weight of a historical English longbow, but estimates range from around 80 to 185lbs. (There was also a belief at the time, that you had to be raised to use the English longbow, because of it's extremely high draw weight. So, under conventional wisdom at the time, it wasn't a weapon you could learn to use later in life, you needed to be raised from childhood to use these things.)

So, here's something kind of goofy about this, that's really worth thinking about. The English longbow was ~6ft long (about 1.8 meters.) This is the average height of an adult male (at least, in theory, the statistical average is a few inches shorter.) Now, if you've ever looked at a bow, you may have noticed that you don't hold it on one end. In fact, you grip the weapon at the mid-point. Meaning, that while the weapon itself is 6ft long, only about 3ft of that protrudes up or down from your arm. Similarly, the draw length of the English longbow is slightly under 3 feet. (I don't have the exact draw length, but the arrows used were 3ft, and for obvious reasons, you can't overdraw beyond the length of the arrow.)

So, just how small is your character?

Arm span will be slightly greater than an individual's height, but for someone to be too small to draw the bow, they'd need to be under 4ft tall. They also wouldn't have meaningful difficulties aiming the weapon unless their shoulder height was less than 3ft from the ground. That works out to someone who's about 3'10.” Going by modern growth rates, that would put her at around six to eight years old. (Ironically, this correlates to roughly the age where children would begin training on the English longbow.)

So, you're telling me, your character is smaller than a 10 year old?

Also, to be clear, we're talking about the English longbow, one the largest handheld bows ever fielded. If you're using, “longbow,” in the more modern colloquial meaning, and referring to something like a war bow, the bow would be significantly smaller. So, for weapon size to be a serious issue, they'd need to be even smaller than I'm estimating.

Before someone says, “maybe they meant the siege bow,” yeah, that's not a real thing. Siege bows are (as far as I've ever been able to find), a modern item. They're roughly the same size as an English longbow, and it's possible that someone once referred to the longbow as a, “siege bow,” but I've never seen that. The closest thing to what the name evokes, would be the ballista, which was an actual artillery piece, and is slightly closer to a crossbow than a bow. Somewhat obviously, your character is not going to be trying to carry around and deploy a ballista from her backpack.

I get the whole idea of the, “small girl, big weapon,” (and, yes, I know you described her as a woman, but then proceeded to try to infantilize her by giving her a weapon too large for her to effectively use.) Adult women, on average, are not that much smaller, on average, than their male counterparts. If a weapon is too large for a woman to use, it's too large for a man to use. If you're trying to say, “well, she's little and weak,” you are deliberately trying to infantilize her. Please, cut that shit out.

And, while we're on that subject, if she's an archer, she's going to be absolutely ripped. Now, no judgment whatsoever if that's not the mental image you had planned out, and yes, because of their layer of subcutaneous fat, women tend to display less of their musculature development than men with similar builds. (Actually, both men and women rarely display much of their muscular definition unless they're intentionally dehydrating. Regardless, she's not going to look like a body builder.) All this really means is that her muscles would be stealthier, and trying to hide from casual examination, but, you're also talking about a character who could probably bench press you, before she started training on the longbow. (And, yes, I'm saying this without knowing your gender or overall level of fitness.)

How quickly could she learn? That's not incredibly clear. On one hand, my perspective is that a bow is a bow, and while there would probably be some learning curve, it is still the same weapon. Beyond that the hard part would be adjusting to the higher maximum draw weight. However, contemporary sources claimed that learning the English longbow required that you start training with it in childhood, and that it was effectively impossible to learn later in life. I'm inclined to believe that this wasn't exactly as impossible as those authors believed, but they also documented that the method of drawing the English longbow differed from methods used with other bows, and that could create a serious issue for an archer trying to learn it later in life. (Specifically, the description states they would put their body weight into the draw, which sounds like a fantastic way to seriously injure yourself, so clearly I'm missing something here.)

-Starke

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#writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers #the bow #archery

[ackleskittles]

SUPERNATURAL FINALE : an honest, maybe sometimes controversial, take on tv's biggest disappointment of this decade.

DISCLAIMER : in this essay, i will give my opinion about 15x20 of the silly long-running show Supernatural (no kidding???) and i stand by the fact that i hate it, BUT i am not just going to trash talk my comfort show the entire time, and will try to bring into light the things that actually worked (ahem, yes, i will try to find some...) in this episode. i don't need any attacks on my opinion, you can disagree with the things i am going to say, but let's stay civil, right ? hope you enjoy it !

let's face it, no need to beat around the bush : Dean's death is THE worst thing that could've ever happened to us. 15 years of adoring, worshiping THE best character ever created on tv just for losing him ?? this way ?? feels (sorry but...) fucking disrepectful to me. and listen, i haven't seen that cursed episode again in six months, so don't mind me if my blurry memories are failing me... it still makes me so mad, that the episode starts on OUR beloved hero living a peaceful life, happy, kind of, finally free from god's (yeah, more like chuck) who's been through literal hell, faced a hundred deaths, just to end up on that stupid rebar. fuckin stupid quick, meaningless death of a HERO. i can't even think straight when it comes to this but what makes it EVEN WORST is the freakin comedic part of this episode. the pie in the face ??? when THE Dean Winchester is about to die ??? or Sam's fuckin hideous wig ??? the episode focuses on some POINTLESS hunt involving a fuckin vampire literally no soul remembered from season 1 (if you did remember without even looking it up and just happen to have this knowledge, i am sorry AND really impressed) ?? are you just kidding ?? your main character dies, and you just make it absolutely no big of a deal ? i could not. disrespectful, once again.

Dean isn't even the only one who's been failed on this finale because the same disrespect is put on Sam. i'm not bringing back the wig again (BUT THE WIG THO ??? i know the budget is low with covid and everything but come on ??) but the blurry wife is the icing on the cake. but where they failed Sam the most is the way in 15 years (okay this is not only finale related but i thought it deserved to be brought into light) they never EVER gave the man a real closure with Jess. they literally bring every character back from the dead, or at least give the boys an opportunity to say goodbye at some point but they never even cared giving Sam a proper closure from the most important relationship in his life. this, pals, makes me insanely angry. but at least, Sam gets to live and have an ordinary life until his last breathe.

Castiel isn't even really mentioned again ?? i mean, no need for a long thesis about this shame but he's been a fan favorite for YEARS and they just ???

i reached the part where i have to list the things that worked for me in this cursed episode. well. it gave us Dean x Miracle ? the man deserved to have a dog. and it was one of the cutest thing they ever did on this show. Miracle is somehow Dean's little sparkle of joy and hope after losing Cas. kudos (somehow, in a way, i don't know) to Dean's last speech to Sam, and their heartbreaking exchange. it really moved me, and made sense, it was in character. Dean dying on his feet was also appreciated (and those kudos go to Jensen, thank you buddy) but i will explain why in the next paragraph. anyway, i don't have anything more to add, and trust me i tried really hard!! oh, the photography was also decent, but it's one thing Supernatural always did well, so... not surprising.

i am NOT a supporter of Dean dying in the finale, and i am thankful to the wonderful talented writer in this fandom for their amazing fix-it fictions on the finale. this ground is covered, so i am leaving you with ao3 for all the ways the show could have ended WITHOUT Dean dying. my man deserved to be happy and free ans well. i am going to cover the ground of THE WRITERS REALLY WANT DEAN DYING. fine. i don't agree, but you do you baby. 15 years of the show, Dean Winchester was depicted as a HERO. the fanbase has been dedicated for FIFTEEN FUCKIN YEARS and being myself a 2006 Supernatural fan, this finale made me feel like it was a total loss of time. as i said before, i WORSHIPPED (and i still do) this character like i've never worshipped any other character. what he (and we) deserved for always sacrificing his own happiness and life was to die the hero he's always been. to die, i don't know, saving Sam one last time ? with a show with great biblical implication, didn't he deserve a great biblical tragedy ending ? something huge, epic ? and i know this could be controversial because they are no longer under the influence of god himself, but he could have been paralleled to Jesus somehow, just joining heaven next to Jack and Cas as his mission on earth was over. i don't know. just thinking about things.

what could've also been great would have been Dean's life flashing before his eyes as he was dying. glimpse of unseen good moments, memories, as a tribute to the character. once again, he deserved no less than to be praised for everything he did for his family, and for the world.

anyway. revival is now a thing all over social medias and it could both heal us, or destroy us. it raised a lot of concerns, the most important being will Cas' confession finally be aknowledge ? i sure hope it will for misha's perfect delivery of it, and his fight to allow his character to be himself fully. but i also hope this revival finds a way to "cancel" the mistake the writers made with this finally. it could make sense. it could be yet another illusion, trick, anything really and they could (just like us) pretend it never happened (spoiler alert : it really never happened) and i don't want my hopes too high. but it's possible.

thank you so much for your attention. i wanted to write an essay about the finale but i feel like i've been here and there talking nonsense. i've never really expressed my disappointment before, as it was something really personal to me, but i am glad i finally did. there could have been so much more things said. or said in a better way, but i tried my best :(

love y'all, spn family <3

#supernatural #spn finale #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #dean x castiel #crowley #jensen ackles #destiel #misha collins #jared padalecki

[ladykailitha]

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 5

This is for @goodolefashionedloverboi and @zerokrox-blog who while I was writing this said the same thing Robin does in this in the comments of part 3. “Eddie this isn’t high school anymore, shut up!!” LOL! Thanks for the laughs, guys.

Also originally I had a darker meeting with Joyce (she tells him that if something else happens involving him {the fight with Michelle and the seizure being the first two strikes} he be out of the class) but then I realized Joyce would never. So she didn’t.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

*

Robin’s feet ached as she makes her way to her apartment. Diamond worked the bar to help Opal out, but Steve was missed. Diamond could tend and often did, but it didn’t have the flare Steve did when he slung drinks. Not that Opal was bad either, but again...she was biased and she missed her Steve.

She was so focused on getting home that she nearly ran someone over in her rush.

“Oh shit!” she said, trying to untangle herself from the poor person.

“Buckley?” a voice above her asked.

She looked up to see Eddie holding her up to keep her from falling to the ground.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Robin asked as she finally got her feet under her. “If you followed Alice and Steve back here, I’ll call cops. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he said holding his hands up in surrender. “For starters I live it that building over there.” He pointed at the building across from her and Steve’s apartment. “I moved in last month.”

Robin eyed him suspiciously. “You aren’t here to harass Steve?”

Eddie frowned. “When did you get so far up King Steve’s ass? I knew you in band, you hated him as much as I did.”

Robin put her hands on her hips. “Look, yes Steve was an ass in high school, but he changed. And you don’t get go throwing the past in his face. It’s been five years, man. Let. It. Go.”

Eddie shrugged. “You have that girl take Steve back to your apartment because Loch Nora is too far away?” At her blank expression. “You know when you insinuated that I followed him here?”

Robin frowned. “Steve and I live together...” she said slowly as if she was talking to an idiot.

“I didn’t think Harrington was your type, Buckley,” he said, raising an eyebrow knowingly.

“He’s not and he knows that, too,” she defended.

“We are talking about the guy who slung the slurs ‘queer’ and ‘fag’ around like his stupid baseball bat, right?” Eddie growled.

“It’s been years!” she bit back. “Let. It. Go.”

Eddie just threw his arms in the air. “Whatever, I need to get home.” And he stalked off toward the building he said was his.

Robin watched as he ran up the stairs, biting her lip. She was going to have to tell Steve about their new neighbor.

Fuck.

*

Robin opened the door to their apartment to see Steve on the couch reading, the only light on in the place is the lamp above him.

“Shit, the seizure cause a migraine?” she whispered as slipped out of her coat and shoes.

He nodded and set the book down. “So it’s a good thing I got you to call me in.”

She nodded and sat down next to him. “I missed you.”

Steve nodded and curled up against her side. “I called Dr Thompson and set up an appointment. I shouldn’t be seizing after just one missed dose.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed, threading her fingers through his hair. “It really scared me.”

“I’m glad you were there,” he murmured. “Did Joyce call you?”

She sighed. As much as she would like to lie and tell him yes. He needed to know the truth. “It was Eddie.”

Steve huffed a bitter laugh. “I guess he’s not a complete ass. He just doesn’t like me.”

“Yeah, well,” she grumbled. “He also lives in the building across from us.”

Steve straightened up to look her in the eye. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Yup!” she said, popping the P. “Met him outside just now.”

He cuddled back up to her side. “I just have to last six months and then I’m gone.”

“I’ll beat him up if he says anything to you,” she growled. “I swear it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the stress of him being an ass was what caused your seizure.”

Steve sighed heavily. She was probably right was the problem. Dr Thompson was going to ask about stressors and Eddie Munson was going to have to go on the list.

She stroked his hair until he fell asleep against her.

*

Eddie didn’t have band practice the next night, so he offered to pick Chrissy up from work. Which she gratefully accepted. When he pulled up to the bar, standing next to her was a large, burly man in a white pinstripe suit. He looked like the comic book character the Kingpin come to life. The only thing he was missing was a gigantic cigar to chew on.

When Eddie pulled up to the curb, Chrissy waved at the man before climbing in.

As he pulled out of the parking lot he asked, “Who was that, then?”

Chrissy smiled. “That’s my boss, Diamond. He’s really nice. Sometimes if it’s too dark, he’ll walk me to the bus stop and stay with me until it comes.”

Eddie nodded. “Seems like a nice guy.”

Chrissy nodded. “They’ve all been great. Although apparently I haven’t met the weekend bouncer, Onyx and he’s not so nice.”

He hummed. “Well, he wouldn’t be a very good bouncer if he was nice.”

She laughed. “That’s what Garnet said.”

“Garnet is the guy you’re training to take over for?” Eddie asked, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music in his head.

Chrissy grinned. “He’s really nice. And despite the silly rule of not knowing who we are outside of work, he still really close with most of the crew.”

Eddie grinned back. “So a real mother hen, huh?”

Chrissy shrugged. “I mean, I guess. I think the only reason he hasn’t offered to drive me home after work is that Diamond would frown on it.”

He licked his lips slowly. “I’m glad you got this job, sweetheart. It seems like you’re going to do great.”

They were silent in the van for awhile.

“Oh!” Chrissy said suddenly. “You have to come to open mic night!”

Eddie deflated. “A posh place like The Queen’s Crown isn’t going to want to listen to a bunch of washed up metalheads.”

Chrissy pushed at his shoulder. “Apparently lots of big name bands have gotten their start at The Queen’s Crown. What harm would it do to try? You get up there, play three songs, and leave. And maybe, just maybe Diamond will pick Corroded Coffin for one of his fancy gigs where actual fucking music producers show up.”

Eddie pulled over to the side of the road to look her in the eye. “Come again?”

Chrissy rolled her eyes. “Open mic night is one Saturday a month. And from that list of ten or so bands and solo artists, he picks three to show up and do a full set in front music producers. Not everyone gets a record deal, but they all get a chance.”

Eddie let out a shuddered breath. “Holy fuck, Chrissy.”

She kissed his cheek. “I thought you’d like that. Which is why I signed you guys up for the next one.”

Eddie blinked at her for a moment and then threw his arms around her tightly. “You’re the best!” He kissed her cheek. “Why didn’t we work out again?”

Chrissy laughed, pushing him off her. “Because I’m gay?”

Eddie laughed, too. “Oh, yeah. That’s right.” He grinned at her and then pulled back into traffic to take her home.

*

Steve showed up early to the next class as requested. He was so nervous. He was really worried that she was going to kick him out of her class. He was keeping his head down and his mouth shut. He didn’t want to take a summer class, because then he wouldn’t graduate in June and he’d lose his student teaching position.

Joyce waved him in. “Come in, come in.”

Steve shuffled in and closed the door behind him. He walked up to her desk.

“Pull up a chair,” she instructed.

He pulled out one of the stools and straddled it. “You wanted to speak to me?”

Joyce nodded. “How are you doing?”

Steve shrugged his shoulders. “I’m okay, I guess. I have an appointment with my neurologist next week to discuss what happened.”

She laced her fingers together and placed her hands on her desk. “How long has this been going on?”

Steve didn’t want to say, but she leveled her mom stare at him and he folded. “Since my second concussion about seven years ago.” And then silently begged her not to do the math.

But she did it anyway. “Ah. From your fist fight with Jonathan.”

Yup. Her oldest son had one hell of a right hook. “I’d rather you didn’t tell him that I have seizures because of that fight. He doesn’t need the guilt.”

She tilted her head and sighed gently. “You say it was your second concussion. When was your first?”

Steve cleared his throat and looked down at the floor. “When I was about one years old, my mom accidentally dropped me and I was rushed to the hospital. My neurologist tells me that when Jonathan hit me he knocked loose something from that first injury that caused the seizures and the migraines.”

“Oh, Steve...” she murmured. “That’s awful. I wish you boys would tell me what you were fighting over.”

Steve licked his lips. Yeah. He was going to take that little secret to his grave, thanks. The last thing he was going to tell Joyce, especially now that she was his teacher was that Steve had hit him when he caught Jonathan taking pictures of girls undressing. And Jonathan had hit back harder.

Him and Jonathan made up later. Steve got him to agree to never do that again, and he wouldn’t tell his mother that her sweet boy was a pervert.

Joyce shook her head. “Are you able to continue the class?” she asked after several long moments of awkward silence.

Steve nodded. “It was a fluke thing. I’ve had a lot of changes in my life recently and it activated my epilepsy. My doctor will probably adjust my dosage for awhile and then I’ll be back to normal.” He cocked his head to the side. “Or as normal as I get.”

Joyce nodded. “If you need anything let me know. I want to see you do well in this class.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I do too.”

She looked up at the clock. “All right, it’s about time for class to start, so go ahead and sit down. I’ll open the door.”

Steve got up and went to his seat. He watched as the other students filed in. That had gone better than he hoped it would. Robin would tell him that it was just his anxiety talking when he got like this. Didn’t stop his brain from filling in the worst doom’s day scenarios, though. 

Part 6  Part 7  Part 8 Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12 Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Epilogue

Tag List: @artiststarme @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @m-owo-n @zerokrox-blog @runyousillydetective @grimmfitzz @wonderland-girl143-blog @sapphirecobalt-1@scheodingers-muppet @victor-thee-corvid @apricottree @bookbinderbitch @sleepyboosstuff @biatcgh @pixiefallingupthestairs @grtwdsmwhr @thepainisspicy @carlyv @eboyawstenn @bisexualdisastersworld @bidisastersworld @abstractnaturaldisaster @evix-syne666 @nerdsconquerall @lololol-1234 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @a-little-unsteddie @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @elluminis @tailsfromthecrypt @danili666 @plyerice27 @alittlegreyfish  @n0-1-important @no-upper-limit-to-stupidity 

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #art school au #gay steve harrington #bisexual eddie munson #ladykailtiha writes

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Jaskier and Lambert learn they have more in common than first thought.

CW historical abuse, child abuse, beating.

Jaskier silently ground his teeth in agitation as Lambert kicked off again, saying something about the little Lordling not liking hard work when Jaskier collapsed at one of the long tables after spending the couple of hours before dinner helping them repair one of the walls (typically, the three Wolves hadn’t even broken a sweat). People underestimated how thick a skin you needed as a Bard, but even Jaskier could only take so much and Lambert was relentless. Geralt had imparted the usual, trite advice of ‘ignore him and he’ll get bored’. Unfortunately, whilst Jaskier may have succeeded in keeping his mouth shut in the name of civility, his emotions were doing all the talking for him and the scent of Jaskier’s hurt and annoyance only seemed to spur Lambert on. If the sneer on his face was any indication, he could tell the Bard was nearing the end of his tether.

“Give it a rest Lambert.” Eskel growled warningly, “It’s been four days. If Jaskier’s not had enough of your shit by now, the rest of us have.”

“Not my fault. Maybe next time Geralt should bring somebody who didn’t have such a spoilt, cushy upbringing.”

And there went the remnants of Jaskier’s self control. He stood up quickly enough to tip the bench, turning to Lambert with a snarl of his own. The Wolf smirked in return at having finally gotten a reaction.

“Let me show you how cushy I had it.” Jaskier scoffed. Before any of the others could react, he turned his back and lifted his shirt. The tension in the room switched from uncomfortable to stifling as the Witchers took in the sight of the Bard’s bare back. Raised scars from both whip and belt crisscrossed his flesh, some of them showing the outline of a buckle.

“My father wasn’t a very nice person.” Jaskier said dryly, “First time he took his belt to me was because I was laughing too much. I was six.”

Geralt felt a wall of ice slam into his gut as he thought back on all the times he’d told Jaskier to shut up, manhandled him. That time he’d actually punched him....

Jaskier lowered his shirt, “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’ll be in my ivory tower.”

“Jaskier-“

“Don’t. Just...don’t.”

As soon as Jaskier was out of sight, Eskel rounded on the youngest Wolf, “You never learn. You always have to take shit too far.” He snarled.

“How was I to know?” Lambert bit back, “Geralt, you’re the one who’s been travelling with him for years. Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?”

“I... didn’t know.” Geralt said truthfully. All things considered, it was rare he saw the bard shirtless and when he did, Jaskier always made sure to stay facing Geralt. Even here at Kaer Morhen he was always the first one in and the last one out of the hot springs, “He never put his back to me.”

“And that didn’t seem strange to you?”

“Not turning your back is one of the first things they drilled into us here, so no.”

“Oh, for fucks sake.”

Jaskier sat at the top of one of the more stable towers, swinging his feet idly in the open air below him and occasionally swigging from the half bottle of wine he’d retrieved from his room on the way up.

He was half aware of someone sitting next to him, spite and petulance making him continue to stare ahead rather than turn to see who.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before his mystery companion spoke up.

“My old man was always careful not to leave any lasting marks. Nothing that couldn’t be explained away by our own clumsiness.” Lambert said, taking a swig of his own bottle.

“Hmm, mine was determined to make sure the lessons stuck. Apparently I was a slow learner.”

“He still living?”

Jaskier shook his head, “Died not long before I met Geralt. Yours?”

“Died decades ago, probably. I swear, if I knew where he was buried - if he was buried. It’d be more than he deserved - I’d go and piss on his grave.”

“I actually did that. It’s not as gratifying as you’d think.”

That startled a laugh out of Lambert, Jaskier giving a small chuckle back.

“To arsehole Sires.” Lambert said with mock solemnity, holding his bottle out to Jaskier.

“May they enjoy eternity in the deepest pits of Hell.” Jaskier replied with equal gravity, knocking his own against Lambert’s in a toast.

They sat drinking and watching the sun disappear behind the mountain tops, each of them lost in their own memories. When the night time chill started to descend, Lambert silently offered a now slightly tipsy Jaskier a hand up. Jaskier wordlessly accepted.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #witcher lambert #lambert #witcher jaskier #jaskier #whump #whump writing

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

While @aifsaath and I are working on getting the next chapter ready, since it's been awhile, have a snippet from chapter 7 of Our Fathers Clad in Red, in which Baela and Rhaena get into an argument that has been brewing since Rhaena arrived:

Baela had known it was coming, ever since Queen Alicent had made a remark at dinner. “There will be other young men,” the dowager queen had said. “When my gooddaughter has birthed an heir, you will be free to marry.”

“I didn’t know,” Baela protested. “Not until I saw you dancing with him at my wedding.”

Rhaena stalked across her room, collecting Morning and cradling the hatchling in her lap. “I’m surprised you noticed anything at all, as busy as you were making moon eyes at  the king.”

Baela scowled. “And what do you mean by that?” 

“It means you put on a big show of sacrificing yourself for peace, for the good of the realm.” Rhaena rolled her eyes. “For Aeg’s sake, you said. But admit it, you couldn’t wait to whore yourself to the usurper! What is it Baela, if you couldn’t be Jace’s queen, you decided you’d take the first man who offered up a crown?”

If it hadn’t been for the dragon in Rhaena’s lap, Baela might have slapped her sister. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You think I married him for power? To be queen?”

“Well it certainly wasn’t for his looks, was it? Lady Arryn says it’s doubtful he can even perform.”

Baela felt her cheeks heat. “Shut up, Rhaena. Don’t speak of him like that.”

Her sister’s eyes widened, and Baela knew she had given herself away. Rhaena was her twin, the one person who knew her better than anyone. “You don’t mean to tell me you care about him?” 

“It’s not like that. He is not— You don’t know him,” Baela stammered. She wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t force herself to say the words and disavow him. “There are things you don’t know—”

"Then tell me.” Morning climbed from her lap to curl about her shoulders. “How can I know if you won’t tell me? You keep saying there’s more, that there are things I don’t know, but you can’t tell me anything, can you?”

“Some things are not mine to tell.” She shook her head. It was true that she was not at liberty to speak of Jaehaera, but there were things she could say, surely. “Did you know that our stepmother put a bounty on the head of Aegon’s youngest child, and a mob tore him limb from limb? Did you know an angry mob of smallfolk chased Aeg and our stepmother out of the city?”

“Aegon,” Rhaena mocked. “How sweet of you call him by name.”

“We are married! Do you expect me to call him 'the usurper' in the bedroom?” Baela flounced into a chair, her feet sore after the long day spent mostly standing. “And did you even listen to what I said, or were you too busy being outraged that I dare to call my wedded husband by his given name?”

Rhaena frowned. “I’d— I’d heard about the mob. A group of religious fanatics, they killed the dragons, and poor Joffrey—”

“Yes, the shepherd,” Baela said impatiently. “But it wasn’t just the shepherd. It was the city. It rose in revolt against her, in under six months. The policies were dreadful— Rhaena, she wasn’t a good queen!”

“And whose fault was that? If she’d taken the throne unmolested, none of the rest would have ever happened. They all brought it upon themselves!” 

“Perhaps,” Baela conceded. “But 'ifs' make no difference now. Aegon had his reasons for seizing the throne. I won’t stand before you and defend them, because the truth is, none of us knows what would have happened. But you know how father was. Tell me he would have left our cousins unmolested, that Aegon was wrong to fear him. Look me in my eyes and say it.” She held her sister’s gaze, forcing herself to stand her ground. “He’d killed for much less, Rhaena.”

@evabluepark888 @dr-aegon @emilykaldwen @ @branwendaughterofllyr @prodogg @maryonaccross @aleksandravill @alexandria-millie

#our fathers clad in red #gwenllian writes! #aife writes! #baela targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #baegon #post dance fic #f&b fic

[storiesbyrhi]

Vintage Reeboks - Chapter 6: Operation '86

Eddie Munson x Reader More Eddie fics here

4519 word count

Warnings: Canon typical violence; reference to physical child abuse; discussions of being queer in the 80s

Synopsis: The gate at the bottom of Lover’s Lake was meant to spit the quartet out in the Upside Down. Steve, Nancy, and Robin were meant to be there. He wasn’t meant to be alone. But when Eddie comes to on the shoreline, you’re there. It’s not the Upside Down. It’s not Lover’s Lake. It’s not 1986.

Previous Chapters: 1 - Lover’s Lake; 2 – Hey, Siri; 3 - World Wide Web; 4 - Cemetery Drive; 5 - Red Bull

Chapter Synopsis: Welcome back to Hawkins, old friends. Get out your whiteboards and red string. Keep a look out for the ‘Exit 2022’ sign. Buckle up, because this is the penultimate chapter.

Author’s Note: I am hugely grateful to everyone who gave feedback about the Gareth reveal. I’m glad you love him, because he’s here and friends… he’s queer. Pls see the end note!

1985 - 1986

Gareth knew he loved Eddie. He loved every performance. Lunchtime drama. Hellfire campaign. Corroded Coffin show. He loved every act of kindness. Rides home when it was raining. Arms around the shoulders when Gareth turned up to school with a black eye. Taking the heat when Jason Carver was in the mood to beat the freak out of someone.

Yeah, Gareth knew he loved Eddie. Was in love with him. He’d done a pretty magnificent job at pushing all that down though. He’d resigned to a life of longing, hoping that maybe the world would be different or maybe when he could get himself out of Hawkins.

Then, ’86, baby. That was the last he saw Eddie. The scene was imprinted so vividly in his mind. The magazine. The table tops. Dustin and Mike. Army crawling towards a D, and it was going to be his year.

Everything happened kind of slowly and all at once after that. People were saying that Eddie murdered Chrissy and that Hellfire was a cult. The town was losing their collective shit and Gareth was frozen into inaction.

After Jason smashed Gareth’s head into the ground, snarling with the pious venom of a man possessed by grief-stricken denial, Gareth sobbed. He threw things around his bedroom, swore at his sister, and got his second beating of the day.

In the aftermath of the earthquake, Gareth found all the other members of Hellfire, but not their beloved dungeon master. Dustin, always larger than life, seemed so small as he told Gareth that Eddie was missing.

Something broke in him that day. Whatever hope Gareth was holding onto for a better future was snuffed out.

He watched his sister leave Hawkins and he was happy for her. She had started a family; he loved his niece. You were rambunctious and comfortably weird and totally yourself from the get go.

Gareth never left, and although he never spoke of his teenage years, he was constantly reminded of them. Hawkins made sure of that.

Then, his sister moved back, bringing you. You with all your questions and interests and outspoken queerness. Gareth liked having you and your mother there though; it was the least lonely he had felt since before Eddie went missing.

2022

Eddie.

Eddie who was standing in front of Gareth, looking the exact same as he did back in 1986.

“Gareth?!”

Dustin Henderson’s voice was loud as he called over the fence, “Guys? We’re here!” The group let themselves through, congregating just outside the pool house’s open door.

He couldn’t take it; Gareth took a wobbly step backward and ran for the house. Eddie went to go after him but you put your arm out to block his way.

“Let me… Let me go talk to him. You deal with them,” you told Eddie, motioning to the group of ragtag adults standing in your backyard.

Giving Dustin a kind of ‘hi/bye’ smile, you left them to head inside. You could hear the reunion behind you, thirty-six years in the making.

You found your uncle in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed staring down at the sensible shoes on his feet. Carefully, you entered the room, sitting next to him.

“You knew Eddie… in high school?”

He took a while to answer, barely moved as he spoke. “I was… I was in Hellfire. And… Corroded Coffin.” Gareth hadn’t said those combinations of words in so long, they felt foreign on his tongue. Bitter to taste.

“Do you want to know-”

“No. No. I don’t want to know anything. I can’t do this again.”

There was no correct amount of time to let pass in silence. What could you possibly say to explain the presence of Eddie and how he was – unchanged and in the pool house? Although, it wasn’t the time travel that seemed to be impacting your uncle the most.

“We’re going to send him home,” you eventually whispered. “They’re gonna fix this.”

Gareth moved then. He turned to look at you, the sadness replaced with a sort of fearful realisation. “You’re sending…” He struggled to say his name. “Eddie back?”

When you nodded, Gareth stood, his mind ticking over a million miles an hour.

“How does that work? He goes back and-and history’s just… rewritten? What if it changes everything? Or does it… I don’t know, create a new reality?!”

“Woah, woah, I don’t know? Okay? That’s kind of Dustin’s thing?” you said, standing too.

“Dustin’s thing?!” Gareth repeated, all the images in his head of Dustin Henderson flashing through his mind.

“I know this is a lot… But surely it explains some things, right? Eddie said when he found out that, like, the supernatural was real, it freaked him out, but it made sense. And now you know that Eddie didn’t kill anyone. And where he went,”

“I knew he didn’t kill anyone. And we all knew something was wrong here. That there was something wrong with Hawkins. That’s not why- That’s…” But your uncle, who apparently you didn’t know at all, couldn’t explain why he was on the cusp of a panic attack.

Gareth paced and you didn’t know what to say. You wanted to hug him. Desperately, you wanted to ask a million and one questions.

“I’ll… let you process. I got a new phone, so message if… if you need anything. Or want… I don’t know. I’m sorry, Uncle G… I didn’t know.”

Gareth watched you leave, the same moxie in you that he saw in the kids he grew up with. It scared the absolute shit out of him.

…

“You’re Gareth’s niece?!” Dustin said when you got back to the pool house.

Before you could answer, Eddie was up and hugging you. His face was buried in your hair, and he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s not your fault. He’ll be alright. I think. I don’t know. Let’s just focus on this right now.”

Letting Eddie go, you looked around the room. “Um… Hi. Everyone.”

Dustin moved to pull you into a bear hug. “It’s good to meet you in person. Guess you’ve been family all along, huh?”

“Hawkins is… small…” was all you could say.

“Small and evil. Let’s do this. I wanna get out of here,” a voice added to your statement, prompting Dustin to let you go.

“Didn’t expect you to show up, Applejack,” Eddie said, nodding to the owner of the voice.

“Yeah, well, let’s be real. I’ve always been half the brain of this operation, and someone needed to watch out for these idiots,” she said. “Hi. I’m Erica,”

“Sinclair, right?” you replied, taking the hand she’d offered. Erica nodded.

Lucas’ kids had snitched on him; they had told their cousins about his trip with Uncle Dustin back to Hawkins. Erica had called her brother as soon as she heard. “What on God’s green earth has possessed you to go back there?!”

“It’s Eddie. Eddie. He’s there,” Lucas had said.

That’s all it took. Eddie had been nice to Erica. She still remembered his graceful bow to her when she took out Vecna in Hellfire Club’s final session.

Honestly, that’s all it took for them all. Max, Steve, and Robin all remembered Eddie’s terrified eyes. They remembered the week he spent cold and hungry and hunted in Rick’s boat shed. They remembered how sick everyone was guilt and grief when he never came through Watergate. They remembered Dustin never being the same again.

Of course, his name was all it took.  

After the introductions were had and the shock of seeing Eddie unchanged had waned a little, Dustin asked, “Do you have, like, a whiteboard?”

“No. No, I don’t. No red string and pins either. Sorry,” you replied.

“Yeah, man. You already look like you’re having too much fun with this,” Eddie chimed in. He was leaning against the bar, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes kept flicking from person to person, trying to make himself recognise his friends.

“This is a trip,” Robin said, for the third time.

“Yeah. Can you like, stop staring at me though?” Eddie said. “Harrington, can you do something about her?”

Steve looked from Robin to Eddie and back again. “Uh… No?”

“Good to see you’ve not changed,” Eddie told him, patting him on the back.

“Time travel’s real,” Robin stated. “Like, real real,”

“After everything, that’s where you draw the freaky line?” Max asked her. Robin just shrugged.

…

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you had no hope that any of the ideas were going to pan out. They were already clutching at straws and it was only the first day of Operation: ’86.

Dustin, Lucas, Erica, and Steve had taken Steve’s rented car and headed back to the lake. Although you had gone diving looking for the gate, they figured they knew what they were looking for. They were going to the site of all the gates that had ever existed. As far as they knew, Eleven had closed the rip between here and the Upside Down but it was worth checking out.

Max and Robin set up at the bar. Robin was on the phone to Nancy Wheeler, who wouldn’t step foot in Hawkins, but agreed to do what she could from New York. Max was calling anyone else who may have ideas, information, or supernatural spider senses.

“I feel useless,” Eddie said.

The couch had returned to its sofa state, and you sat next to him, holding his hand.

“I don’t think there’s a whole lot you can do,” you told him. What you wanted to add was that maybe he needed to be prepared for the fact that there might not be anything anyone can do.

Eddie was leaning forward, his free hand rubbing his face and shaking.

“So, my uncle…” It was purely a distraction attempt. But it worked.

“Christ. Yeah. Gareth. He isn’t a part of… all this,” Eddie told you, pointing to the two women at the bar. “He is… was… my friend. Known him almost my whole life, you know?”

“What was he like then?”

Eddie grinned. “He tries real hard to be a tough guy, but he’s the sweetest kid. Wicked drummer. Like, he’ll always have the songs down first. Always says we could go harder. Faster. And, uh,” Eddie paused to chuckle. “Always picking splinters out of his fingers. From his sticks,”

“I didn’t even know he played,”

“Guess having a murderer in your band takes the shine off the rockstar dream,”

“Eddie. He knows you didn’t do anything. He said he knew then too,” you tried to reassure.

Eddie nodded. “Gareth the Great…” he mumbled. “Cautious player, but smart…”

You’d succeeded in distracting Eddie from the task of time travel, but you’d replaced one trauma with another. What kind of life was waiting for him back then? What had happened to the rest of Hellfire Club, now the pitchforks were sharpened and the town mob’s torches were lit?

Eddie had hope though. You could tell. It wasn’t just that he spoke in present tense, like his life still existed, ready for him to step back into. There was a brightness in his eyes that Dustin and co. had switched on.

By the end of the day, it had dimmed.

There were no gates. There was no Hawkins Lab. Redevelopment and gentrification had claimed much of the land that once seemed critical to the fate of Hawkins. There weren’t any old buildings for ghosts to find home in. There was nothing.

Max and Robin came up short too. They’d even tried to get in touch with scientists, people with some level of credibility studying anything remotely related to time travel.

“They either thought I was crazy or they were too interested,” Max reported.

“Too interested?” you asked.

“Like kidnap Eddie and keep him in a lab interested,” Robin clarified.

Eddie didn’t like the déjà vu he was experiencing. Dustin sat on the coffee table in front of him, trying to reassure him that there was nothing to worry about.

Max was quiet; Robin not so much. “We’ll be able to figure this out, right? Even without… everyone. He’s not just stuck here, is he?”

“Na. No. Of course not. Right? Dustin? Right?” Steve said, the only one willing to answer Robin. Steve stood with his hands on hips. He was too old for this bullshit, he thought.

It was all too familiar, besides Erica and Lucas sitting side by side on the end of your bed. And you. Eddie turned to look at you, one hand still in yours and the other rubbing the back of his neck.

He began to shake his head. There was nothing you could say though.

“We need to stop with the phone calls,” Steve decided then. “We don’t know how you got here, but we know the type of people who involve themselves in this sort of thing,”

“This sort of thing?” you asked.

“Trust us. We know about… this sort of thing,” Robin asserted.

“Last thing we need is to be on anybody’s radar,” Steve continued.

“Too late,” from Lucas.

“Excuse you?” Erica said, leaning back to look at her brother, entirely unimpressed.

“Not me! Him!” Lucas accused, pointing at Dustin.

“Don’t worry. It’s not about this,” Dustin said like it was going to answer any questions. All eyes were on him. “I’ve been… tinkering. With some ideas. Prototypes. Nothing big. It’s just got me noticed. Nothing to worry about,”

“He’s on the C.I.A.’s watch list,” Lucas clarified.

“What?!” Steve yelled. “Our kids are friends, man!”

The group erupted into the type of bickering only possible within a group of people who loved each other dearly and had been to hell and back together.

Eddie remained silent, leg bouncing, deep in thought.

“Ed?” you whispered, pulling him back to reality.

He looked over at you, a myriad of emotions in his eyes.

The group settled into a moment of silence. Then Steve asked, “Does that mean you could, like, build a time machine?”

“How’d you get dumber with age?” Dustin replied, staring in disbelief.

They stayed until well after the sun set. In the end though, they still had nothing. The finality of that was settling into your consciousness as you served pizza up on paper plates to Max and Robin.

“I don’t wanna jinx it,” Robin started. “But if… If we can’t find a way, are you going to… keep him?”

“He’s not a lost dog,” Max laughed.

You looked over to where Steve and Eddie were engaged in conversation on the sofa. Steve was talking and Eddie was just watching him, his brows knitted in confusion but the edges of his mouth turned up in a dead giveaway indicator that he was amused.

Dustin, Lucas, and Erica had ventured inside the main house, going to see their old friend and hopefully provide some sort of comfort.

“I’m just asking because you seem close… already,”

“Uh, I don’t- We haven’t, like, talked about that. We’ve just operated under the assumption that he is going home,” you told them.

“But if he can’t?” Robin pressed.

Max gave you a knowing smile. “Kind of makes sense that he stays here. Gareth can like, bridge the gap. And you like him,” she reasoned.

Eddie had reached out and pulled Steve into a hug. He glanced up at you though, smiling wide.

When the others returned and the pizzas were demolished, the room fell into a sad quietness that was meant for Eddie, and only Eddie, to break. He cleared his throat.

“So, that’s it then,” he said nodding his head once, his hands clasped together in his lap.

“No, man, we-” Dustin went to say.

“No. Don’t… don’t bullshit me, man. We were making it up as we went along then. Still doing it now,” Eddie interrupted.

“If we knew why the gate spit you out here…” Lucas tried.

“There’s no why. It doesn’t make sense. Gone through it all. Vecna. The Upside Down. Eleven. Creel. Fuckin’ hive mind. I don’t think this was on purpose,” Eddie stated more matter-of-factly than emotionally. The emotions would come later.

“It was random. There’s… anomalies in everything. Maybe you just got really unlucky, Eddie…” What Max had said made a lot of sense; she was right. Every law of science and the supernatural had exceptions. One offs. Strange things. Unexplainable events that couldn’t be repeated.

“Eddie, you’re welcome to come back with me. We got a guest room all set up. You can teach the rugrats Dungeons and Dragons,” Steve said, his words spilling out fast in a desperate attempt to fix the problem.

“Nah, Harrison. I think your days of adopting people way younger than you are over,” Eddie joked, that emotion starting to seep in now.

“What he’s saying is that you have family here. The offer is the same for me. Suzie already said if you needed a place to go, you’re always welcome,” Dustin told him.

“Same with us,” from Lucas.

Eddie was going to turn them all down and you knew why. He looked at you.

“He stays here,” you announced to the room. “He…” Eddie’s eyes were glossy with tears. “He belongs here. We’ll figure it out.”

They stayed for a beer or two, then made their way back out the gate and around the front to their cars. Staying away from their lives – partners and children and careers and C.I.A. watch lists – couldn’t be justified when there was simply nothing to be done.

As soon as you were alone with Eddie, he was on you, pulling you into a tight hug. He was shaking and holding in whimpers.

“I mean it, Eddie. We’ll figure it out. You’re not alone.”

…

Once Eddie could stand without leaning on you, you ushered him into the tiny bathroom for a shower. Leaving him to it, you went back inside the house, finding your mum had returned home from work.

“Eddie Munson – THE Eddie Munson – is out in the pool house?!” she yelled as soon as she saw you.

“Why does it seem like the issue is that it’s Eddie, not that time travel happened and there’s been fucking monsters in Hawkins this whole time?”

“Oh, of course all that magic monster stuff is real. It was either that, or my brother was truly an agent of Satan and believe me – Gareth is the last person Satan would want as the face of the company,”

“That… feels like an insult?” Gareth said.

You were standing in the kitchen, your mum not pausing her vegetable preparation despite the conversation being what it was. Your uncle was sat at the table, picking at his nails.

“Right, well if you don’t think Eddie is the devil, why are you acting all high and mighty about it?” you asked her.

She sighed and shot her brother a look. The silence was heavy.

“I’ve done a super good job at not asking you guys about, you know, Hawkins or how you grew up or my grandparents or anything. And now that I know about some of it, I get it. It fucked you up. But I just met a whole group of people that were smack bang in the middle of it and they’re willing to talk about it. They went on with their lives, you know?”

“Now who’s being high and mighty?” your mum mumbled under her breath. You were too much like her.

You couldn’t have known but you weren’t being fair. You weren’t even being factual. Yeah, you’d met some people who made it out of Hawkins semi-adjusted enough to forge lives. But you didn’t know Nancy or Jonathan. You never knew Eleven or Mike. And you sure as fuck never knew Will Byers – who had so much in common with your uncle but could never shake the violent cold of the Upside Down.

Gareth was not unkind though, and he didn’t want you to be angry or feel lied to. Maybe it was time to let go of what he had been holding onto his whole life.

“Eddie was the first person I ever loved,” he said. Your mum put her knife down and looked at her brother. He’d never said it out loud.

“Like, loved loved?” you asked.

Gareth nodded. “Yeah. Straight away. He walked up to me one day, said he liked my shirt, and told me about D&D… Didn’t know about it before him. But, ah, changed my life, I guess. That and the band. Gave me something to… Focus on.”

The revelation made you desperately sad, but it began to glue together pieces of information you knew.

“You know why we don’t see your grandparents,” your mum added. “If you think they’re bad now, with their Trump bullshit, you should have seen them back then when it was okay to be like that. The way they-” but she couldn’t finish the sentence, her words swallowed by memories.

You understood the subtext of the conversation. For the first time in your entire life, you were on the exact same page as your mother and uncle.

“Do you want to… see him?” you braved the offer.

“It’s been a big day,” Gareth said, smiling up at you. “Maybe tomorrow. Sounds like he’s going to be stuck here for a while, huh?”

“Yeah, maybe. Probably. Dustin’s meant to be the smart one and good with… this stuff. But I don’t think he has any idea really,”

“Well… Maybe it’s for the best. You have no idea what sending him back could do,” he replied, echoing what he had said earlier in the day.

You nodded.

After kisses on the cheek, you left brother and sister in the kitchen of their house. Your mum went back to cutting vegetables, but Gareth knew her better than that.

“Something you want to say?” he deadpanned.

“Well, this could be a good thing. Resolve all the ‘sad gay boy loses love of life and never recovers’ thing,” she said in one breath out, like she had been holding it in for years.

Gareth looked at her. “I think that was hate speech.”

…

Eddie was still in the shower when you stepped back into the pool house. You got changed into something more comfortable, including Eddie’s new/old Gremlins shirt that didn’t smell like him but it was as close to ‘girlfriend feels good wearing boyfriend’s clothes’ as you were going to get.

When he did make his way out, eyes crying-bloodshot red, he lit up at you.

“Thought you bought that for me?”

“Sharing’s caring,” you sing-songed back.

“Guess if I’m… sticking around, I better figure out a way to make some money of my own,” he said, jumping onto the bed in only the towel that hung low on his hips.

“2022 has a surplus of drug dealers. What’s your backup trade?”

“Heavy metal.” The reply was instant and his expression blank for a few seconds before he grinned ear to ear. “Seriously though… My plan was to graduate. That’s taking longer than first anticipated. Then, I don’t know. Get of Hawkins.”

You thought for a second. Eddie was scared that maybe you’d judge him; maybe his lack of a five year plan and real life adult skills would be unattractive. But when you spoke again, there was still the same softness and affection in your voice as before.

“Can I be honest with you, Eddie? Like… Really honest?”

He nodded, eyes flicking over your face, trying to find clues that would tip him off to what you were about to say.

“I’ve been thinking about the whole time travel thing. Something my uncle’s said a few times. If you go back-”

“I could fuck everything up for everyone? Yeah. Yeah, I keep thinking about it too.”

You and talked through the possibilities; while acknowledging that anything was possible, there were two more likely outcomes of a time traveler returning to their original place in time and space.

First: multiple universe theory. Eddie would leave your known reality, and return to his, setting it on a different path, but leaving yours unchanged. That was best case.

Second: rewritten history theory. Eddie would leave 2022 and return to 1986, thereby changing history entirely. Given he was now armed with all known information about Vecna, the subsequent events in Hawkins, and not to mention – everything that has happened since ’86, that could be very dangerous.

“Can’t even pretend I’d go back and not use what I know,” Eddie said. “And if I don’t go missing, if all that shit doesn’t happen to Gareth and your mum doesn’t leave Hawkins and… What if I like, unmake you?”

It really wasn’t funny, but you laughed. “I mean, it could be worse, I guess?”

“How? How could it be worse than you not existing?”

You were cringing before you finished speaking. “Let’s say you go back. You hang out with Gareth more, because, you know, he loves you so much. You get to know my mum. My mum is kind of amazing. Like, she’s super sassy and likes metal. Heart of gold. You fall in love with-”

“Stop! I get it!” Eddie almost screamed, standing up and grabbing the towel before it could fall to the ground. He busied himself finding clothes.

“Eddie. What if you married my mum?” You were just teasing at that point.

“Sweetheart, I’m warning you.” Eddie was half naked and pointing at you, dead serious but looking ridiculous.

You lowered your voice and scrunched up your face in a disgusted expression. “You could end up being my dad.”

Eddie froze, his head tilted just enough that you knew he was about to do something. Then he did; he leaped across the room in a few long bounds and you barely made it out of the way.

“Take it back!” he yelled, chasing you.

“No! Time travel’s fucked up! Why are you wearing that stupid man suit?!” you squealed back, laughing until Eddie caught you.

His tickling very quickly turned to peppering you with kisses. “I.” Kiss. “Don’t.” Kiss. “Understand.” Kiss. “That.” Kiss. “Reference.”

Sighing, you playfully kicked him away, sitting up. “Eddie. I don’t think you’re going back there.”

He sat opposite you, holding both your hands in his. “Yeah… I know. Even if Gandalf’s eagles get here, I can’t go back to the Shire now. They were happy. Today. Everyone. They’ve made it, you know? Dustin has his own little freak Hendersons. I can’t risk that…”

You agreed with him, entirely, but felt suddenly compelled to offer an alternative perspective. To give him options.

“You could go back and be the hero though, right? Save the others? Mike, right?”

Eddie winced at the name. It hurt to know that not long after he went M.I.A., little Wheeler, with his lanky arms and steadfast obliviousness, had died.

“I’m no hero,” Eddie whispered, looking up at you, the saddest you’d seen him since you pulled him from the water. “I’m more of a liability than anything else. I can’t go back.”

End Note: Anybody wonder what Steve and Eddie were talking about? Hmmmmmm. One chapter to go, so please place your bets and put in your requests for any final details you wanna seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Taglist (open): @fangirling-4-ever @nushy @writers-hes @onceuponathreetwoone @alexfms97 @goldencherriess @tpwkstiles @getbillzoned @soapbar99 @da-disappointment @medusaslilsister

#Mine #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Eddie Munson Fanfiction #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson x Reader #Stranger Things #Stranger Things Fanfic

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

Queen of Shadows

pairing: nikolai lantsov x shadow summoner!reader

genre: fluff

nikolai masterlist

el's thoughts: i loved writing this!! this pairing owns my heart now! @eloquentree thank you for requesting!!! @maliciousbrekker and @jahayla-parker thank you for helping me work out how to write a powerful reader and help proof read it&lt;3

“Ah, there she is!” 

Shoulders back, head held high. Y/N walked towards where Nikolai, Zoya and Genya stood in front of a large table. Her eyes, empty and cold as she looked over the sea of young faces staring at her with both fear and amazement. She couldn’t blame them of course and she wouldn’t want to. The stories that went around about her were quite terrifying. She used it to her benefit, it instilled a ready fear into people. It was a silent dare to cross her, but a warning at the same time. 

Growing up with the Darkling as her father, she was raised to walk and act as if she was a queen. That was the one thing she took with her for the rest of her life. Give people a reason to fear her and carry herself like a royal. She was a royal in her own respect. Queen of shadows, thanks to her father. 

It was easy for people to assume that Y/N stayed loyal to her father through everything. Only her closest… Friends knew the struggles she went through during the civil war. No one would ever be able to understand her better than Nikolai. 

He stood by her side through everything. He helped her understand that the wrongs of her father didn’t carry onto her. She was her own person, and she had the power to create her own legacy. And he wished, hoped and prayed to every Saint he could think of that she would choose to make her legacy with him by her side.

“What’s she doing here? What could she possibly teach us? She’s a murderer! A heritic!” 

Her eyes snapped to a brown eyed boy who stood from his seat, face holding a scowl. She walked forward just enough to show him he had her full attention. “You’re right, I am a murderer.” The room stilled instantly, everyone sat up straighter as a thick silence fell over the room. "The number of people I’ve killed is five times the number of years you’ve been alive. I also fought beside your king in the civil war, and we put my father six feet in the ground.” The glare her eyes held was bone chilling. “So if you want to talk about who’s qualified to help prepare you all… Think about just who you’re talking to.” Her voice was smooth, never changing the dangerous tone once as the words fell from her lips. Sharp enough to cut through the young man’s pride. 

Brown Eyes sat down sheepishly, muttering apologies.

~

Once everyone else had left the room, Nikolai turned to his girlfriend and smirked. “We’ve missed you around here.” Y/N smirked back, “Of course you did. I’m quite pleasant to be around.” The blonde laughed, “I’d say the kids would think otherwise.” She scoffed, “Kids… you’re not that much older than them yourself, darling.” Her eyes lit with pride when Nikolai’s cheeks tinted red and he avoided eye contact. She walked to him and grabbed his chin softly, directing his head to look her in the eyes. “Have you really missed me while I was away?” Nikolai nodded silently, “Everday.” His voice stuck in his throat making it sound like a strained whisper. 

Y/N’s smirk returned to her lips, she loved the visible effect she had on him. Knowing he did the same to her, but she could control it better and they both knew that. 

He was the king of Ravka and she was the queen of shadows. They both couldn’t have been brought up anymore differently, but they were to rule side by side. One day.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x y/n #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagines #ellora.writes

[kimberly40]

Southernisms:

Dumb as a bag full of hammers.

Meaner than a skillet full of rattlesnakes.

I won't say it's far, but I had to grease the wagon twice before I hit the main road.

If a trip around the world cost a dollar, I couldn't get to the state line.

He looks like he was inside the outhouse when lightening struck.

She looks like she was born down wind from the outhouse.

Never kick a fresh turd on a hot day.

Never smack a man who's chewin' tobacco.

The quickest way to double your money is to fold it over and put it back in your pocket.

Scared as a sinner in a cyclone.

Scared as a cat at the dog pound.

She's so ugly she'd make a freight train take a dirt road.

He's so ugly his cooties have to close their eyes.

So ugly his mama takes him everywhere she goes so she doesn't have to kiss him goodbye.

She looks like she fell face-down in the sticker patch and cows ran over her.

He looks like the dogs have been keepin' him under the porch.

He's about as sharp as a mashed potato.

So dusty the rabbits are digging holes six feet in the air.

It'll last about as long as a fart in a whirlwind.

He's rough as a corn cob.

He's got enough money to burn a wet mule.

He's about as sharp as a bag full of wet mice.

It's as dry as the dust in a mummy's pocket.

It's about as scarce as bird crap in a cuckoo clock.

He's as tight as the pages in a book.

This race is as tight as the rusted lug nuts on a '55 Ford.

It’s hot enough to peel house paint.

Running like a squirrel in a cage.

Safe as a tick on a dog with a stiff neck.

He couldn't pour rain out of a boot with a hole in the toe and directions on the heel.

If dumb was dirt, he'd cover about half an acre.

So windy we're using a log chain instead of a wind sock.

Tighter than bark on a tree.

As welcome as an outhouse breeze.

Her hair looks like a cats been suckin' on it.

We were so poor my brother and me had to ride double on our stick horse.

As bad-off as a rubber-nosed woodpecker in a petrified forest.

As confused as a cow on astroturf.

It was so hot you could pull a baked potato right out of the ground.

It's so dry the trees are whistling for the dogs.

Busier than a cat covering crap on a marble floor.

If things get any better around here, I may have to hire someone to help me enjoy it.

Well knock me down and steal muh teeth!

Cute as a box full of puppies.

You can't get rid of 'em. He's like a booger you can't thump off.

It's about as hard as trying to steer a herd of cats.

The wheels still turning, but the hamster's dead.

He's so confused he doesn't know whether to scratch his watch or wind his ass.

She was as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

So crooked you can't tell from his tracks if he's coming or going.

I wouldn't trust him any farther than I can throw him.

He's got more guts than you could hang on a fence.

So dry the catfish are carrying canteens.

So dry I'm spitting cotton.

So hot the hens are laying hard-boiled eggs.

Cold as a frosted frog.

Cold as an ex-wife's heart.

Cold as a cast iron commode.

Cold as a banker's heart.

She's about as useful as buttons on a dishrag.

He's tougher than a two-dollar steak.

Happy as a puppy with two tails.

She’s got enough wrinkles to hold an eight-day rain.

That’s about as useful as a trap door on a canoe!

He’s busier than a one-legged man at a butt-kickin contest!

He’s so dumb he couldn’t piss his name in the snow.

That politician’s so crooked he could hide behind a cork screw!

That baby was so ugly the Doctor spanked the Momma!

She’s so ugly she’s got ten-foot pole marks all over her.

It’s rainin’ so hard it sounds like a cow pissing on a flat rock.

He’s so bad off, his eyes looked like two piss-holes in a snowbank.

Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit!

Her hair looks like it caught on fire and somebody put it out with a brick.

He couldn’t find his rear with his hands in his back pockets.

It’s raining so hard the animals are starting to pair up.

His pants were so tight that if he farted, he’d blow his boots off.

Raising kids is like being pecked to death by a chicken.

He’s so skinny, his pants had only one back pocket.

He was mean enough to hunt bears with a hickory switch.

He was ugly as a burnt boot.

Tougher than the back end of a shootin' gallery.

...Thank You, Dear Lord, for blessing me with being a Southerner.

•Photo taken near Spruce Pine, North Carolina

#southern style #southern life #southern living #southern

[rea-grimm]

Dullahan Malik Al-Sayf

Warning: beheading, no blood

It was already late in the evening and only a few children were hanging out on the streets and here and there a drunken high school student who didn't know their limits. You and Malik were headed to meet Kadar and Altair who were holding a small Halloween party that the rest of the party was supposed to be at.

You walked in the middle of the road, as it was closed to cars today, and you had a nice chat. Malik told you about Altair and how stupid he was again. Although he always spoke the worst about him, he would never betray him on the other side. Moreover, thanks to his words, Altair was able to motivate himself and overcome himself.

As you walked, there was a noise behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see a group of about six drunken students wearing masks. You leaned closer to Malik and took his hand. He also noticed them, but he didn't show his worries. He gave you a reassuring little smile and you picked up your pace slightly.

However, this did not deter the students at all and they continued to follow you. You heard them start to run and get dangerously close. You'd rather run away too. You looked at Malik and wanted to suggest that it would be best to take it elsewhere.

But before you could say that, the students caught up with you and knocked Malik's head off. Literally. As if he only had it on there. With horror in your eyes, you watched as it separated from his body during the impact. His hand let go of you in a futile attempt to grab his head. However, another student pushed him and his body fell to the ground, while his head continued to roll a little further.

You stood there transfixed. Your brain was trying to process what had happened and couldn't control your mouth, which opened in shock. You didn't even have time to scream when the rioters took your boyfriend's head by the hair and started throwing it between them like a ball.

"Look, I have a head!" "It’s disgusting!" "Blah!" they yelled at each other as they threw it at each other. However, one more voice could be heard in their uproar.

"How about we trade it for the head of the statue in the square?" suggested one in a clown mask as he was about to grab Maliks head. As he was grabbing it, the head bit into his hand. The young man screamed rather in shock and threw it aside again.

Before you could decide what to do in such a bizarre situation, Malik's head landed in your arms. You almost dropped her. The others looked at you before walking over to you. At that moment, as if your body finally reacted, you ran away with his head.

You looked over your shoulder when you heard a startled yelp. Something completely different caught the attention of the students and it was as if they had forgotten about you. Panicking, you hid behind the nearest bush that still had enough leaves left to cover you.

You sat there curled up with his head in your lap and at that moment it didn't even occur to you to put her aside or call the police or an ambulance. You tried to calm your panicked beating heart when suddenly Malik's head spoke.

"You don't have to hold me so tight. You'll crush my head," he complained. You cried out in shock and almost tossed him aside. You had to control yourself a lot not to do that.

"W-what...? How?" You originally wanted to ask what, but you ended up asking differently and adjusted his head to look at you. It was so strange and real that you started to worry that it was all just some cruel prank.

"I promise I'll explain all this to you later, but right now I need to know what's going on around my body," he said calmly, weighing every word he said.

“Okay,” you said uncertainly as a shout from the street reached you. You cautiously peeked out of the bush. Masked students fled in all directions, except for a few brave ones who circled Malik's body, which, even without its head, stood firmly on its feet and with the movements of a killer, defended itself against their attacks. The most interesting thing was some sort of dark blue smoke or flame coming out of where his head should have been.

“Y/N what's going on there? he asked you as you seemed to have forgotten about him.

“Oh, sorry,” you said quickly before carefully taking his head in your hands and lifting it above the bush so he could see. When that happened, his body automatically went into a counterattack and could cover attacks even from blind spots. As if he could control his body remotely.

Soon the rest of the attackers also fled. You ducked behind a bush as one of them ran screaming towards your cover. Luckily for you, he didn't see you and just ran blindly in a random direction away from danger. He almost broke his nose when he jumped over the hood of a car and failed.

Once the screaming died down and everyone seemed to run away, you peeked out from your hiding spot. Malik's body was walking towards you with a slow step, staggering from side to side as if he were walking on the deck of a ship on rough seas, his good hand fumbling in front of him so he wouldn't bump into anything.

He tripped over his foot a short distance away from you and almost fell if you hadn't jumped out of your hiding place and caught him. As you supported him, your eyes drifted down to his neck. 

You were afraid you would see blood, a spine, and other things you would normally see there, but there was almost nothing to see. It looked as if the place had been burnt as it was almost black. That smoky flame was forming from there. Like a real fire, you could stare into it forever.

But now was not the time for such a thing. You took his body by the hand and slowly led him to his head, which you had forgotten in the safety of the bush. In retrospect, it was a bad idea. What if someone stepped on his head? You immediately returned for her. His body followed you and awkwardly knelt next to you.

“Sorry, I'll help you,” you said, carefully lifting his head. You walked over to his body and wondered how his head was holding there. You'll ask him about it later. But now you wanted to put his head on his neck, but your hands were shaking terribly.

Once his head was in place, the smoky flames disappeared as they had nowhere to escape and there was no scar or mark on his neck from his head being somehow separated from his body.

"It's much better this way. Thank you," Malik thanked you as he rubbed his neck. "Are you okay?" he asked you as he noticed you shaking like a leaf in the wind. You just nodded your head.

You had no idea what to answer and you had the impression that it was all slowly weighing on you. He stepped closer to you and took your hand. You looked into his eyes, which were filled with worry and fear.

You didn't see that very often with him. You bit your lip. You had the impression that despite all this, he was the same Malik you knew. With another breath, you wrapped your arms around his neck, taking him completely by surprise.

“I'm glad you're okay,” you finally said. Malik chuckled lightly before hugging you as well.

"You're such a novice," he laughed.

"And what did you expect? It's the first time I've encountered something like this," you retorted, pulling away from him. You knew he was just teasing you.

"You handled it perfectly too. I admire that about you," he said pulling you closer.

“That's why I deserve some explaining then,” you replied with a small smile.

“That won't be a problem,” he said, kissing your lips. It was a short kiss and you could have easily made it longer, but you knew there would still be plenty of time.

Malik wrapped his arms around your waist and together you set out to find his brother where you were originally headed.

"Is Kadar like you too?" you asked him on the way.

"What do you think?" he answered with a question. You glared at him before answering.

"I'd say so. Did you always talk about it in Arabic?" you asked him, searching your memory for anything that might give them away.

"Yes and no. We don't just talk about that in Arabic," he replied.

“So anything you don't want me to understand,” you blurted out.

"Don't look at me like that. There's a bigger story."

“I'd love to hear that one,” you nudged him lightly.

“Maybe later,” and he pulled you closer.

Assassin's Creed Masterlist

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed x reader #malik x reader #malik #dullahan #dullahan Malik

[cynicalone94]

Buried Alive

“I told you it wasn’t a concussion.” Jay says as he puts his jacket back on and follows his friend out of the treatment room. 

“Pardon me for not accepting that from a guy who once insisted that he was fine and then ended up getting fifteen stitches.” Adam grouses. 

It takes effort but Jay manages to keep from sticking his tongue out. 

He sees Will and is about to approach his brother when he realizes that he’s talking to a patient – or maybe a family member – he recognizes the look on his brother’s face.

A death notification. 

Shit. 

Then the man lunges at his brother. 

“Hey!” he shouts, sprinting forward to dive between them. “Don’t touch him!”

It doesn’t take long long for him to wrestle the man away from his brother, slamming him against the wall. 

“It’s okay, Jay, it’s okay.” Will says. 

“He attacked you.” Jay growls. 

“I just told him that his daughter died.” Will says. “Cut him some slack.”

“He hurt you?” Jay asks. 

“No.” Will assures. “You got there first.”

“You gonna try again?” Jay asks, directing his words to the man who’s arm he’s holding. 

“No.” the man says, his tone broken and defeated. 

Jay releases the man, guiding him away from Will and giving him a light shove. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” he says. “But the doctors here did everything they could for your daughter. They shouldn’t be the ones that you’re directing your anger at.”

The man shakes his head, glaring at Will.

But then he turns and walks away. Jay watches until he’s out of sight and then turns his attention back to his brother. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, reaching out to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. 

“I’m fine.” Will promises. “Good thing you were here, huh?”

“I’ve been telling you that for years.” Jay jokes. “I have to get back to work now. See you later?” 

“Yeah.”

By the time he and Adam had made it back to the district the team had mostly finished with the paperwork on the case so they mostly just shoot the breeze with the team until Voight kicks them all out. 

Jay walks down to his truck, rubbing his forehead distractedly as he fishes in his pocket for his keys. 

Something collides with the back of his legs sending him dropping to the ground. 

“What the -” 

He’s cut off as something slams into his face, slamming him back against the door panel of his truck. 

Another hit sends him into the black. 

Which is where he still is when he comes too. 

He tries to sit up and his head crashes against hard wood. He falls back flat, rubbing at his temple. 

With a groan, he feels around the space that he’s in, searching out the dimensions. 

He’s in a box. 

A box that doesn’t extend far above the top of his head or far beyond the bottoms of his feet. There isn’t enough room at his sides to bring his arms out more than a few inches. And he’d bashed his head on the top of the box within six inches of lifting it off the bottom . 

He’s in a coffin. 

If only answering that question didn’t bring up a lot more. 

Is he just in a coffin or has he been buried? If he is, how deep is he? How much oxygen does he have?

Why is he here?

He remembers getting jumped in the parking lot of the district. Tries to remember if he’d seen his assailant. 

Shit. 

The guy from Med. 

He should have just arrested him when he had the chance. 

Will leans against the desk, working on charting.

The brief lull between patients gives him the chance to desperately try to catch up on paperwork. 

Which is why he’s more than a little annoyed when someone walks up next to him, dropping something on top of his tablet. 

“I don’t really have…”

He trails off, glancing up to see the man who’d attacked him this morning. He swallows hard and looks back down at the photo of his little brother. 

He’s in a dark space with glimpses of wood surrounding him. He’s also deeply unconscious with blood on his forehead. 

“What did you do to him?” he asks quietly.

“Just a little knock to the head.” the man tells him. “Enough to get him in the box.”

“What box?” Will asks. 

“You let my daughter suffocate.” the man snarls. “And now your brother does the same.”

Will shakes his head. 

“You can’t do this. I’m so sorry about your daughter but there was nothing I could do. The blunt force trauma was too severe.”

“You should have tried harder.” the man says. “It’s too late now. My daughter is dead and soon, your brother will be too.”

“Security.” Will calls out, grabbing the man’s arm as he steps away. “Keep this man here.”

“Would you like me to call the police?” the security officer asks, talking hold of the man’s arm. 

“I’ll take care of that.” Will says, reaching for his phone. “How long does he have?”

The man doesn’t answer and Will steps forward. 

“How long has he been in there?” he growls. 

“I buried him an hour ago.” the man admits. 

A coffin can keep the average human breathing for five and a half hours. Jay’s size will work against him but his fitness will help. His training and ability to stay calm in stressful situations will also but him some time. 

But none of that will mean anything if they don’t find him. 

Voight answers on the first ring. 

“Will. Is Jay okay?”

“Not really.” Will says. “I really need you to get to Med.”

“I’m on my way. What’s going on, Will?”

“I lost a patient this morning. Her father was angry, lunged at me. Jay got in the way which must have been where the bastard got the idea.”

“Will.” Voight says, gently but firmly urging him to get to the point. 

“He buried my brother, Hank.” he gasps. 

“Alright, Will.” Voight says. “We’ll find him.”

Jay thumps against the lid of the box for what feels like the hundredth time. 

He doesn’t know why he keeps doing it. It isn’t helping the situation, isn’t helping him get out of this damn coffin. 

Does Will know what’s going on? He assumes that the man would have told him, wanting to prolong his brother’s misery. 

But Will would have called Voight so hopefully his team is looking for him, trying to get him out of here. 

He just needs to stay calm, to keep breathing until they find him. 

He doesn’t want to die here.

Hot tears streak down his cheeks and he scoffs, squeezing his eyes closed. He’s been in tight spots before, been pretty sure that he was going to die. 

Why can’t he keep it together?

A sob escapes his throat and he maneuvers his hands up to scrub at his eyes. 

He needs to stop crying. He’s wasting valuable oxygen by not remaining calm. 

He needs to calm down and just breathe. 

That just makes him cry harder, rolling his head toward the side of the box. 

He wants to go home. 

Voight stares through the observation window at George Penrod. 

It’s been an two hours since that frantic call from Will, three hours if this man’s words are to be believed since Jay had been buried. 

And they have nothing. 

The bastard isn’t talking and they haven’t been able to track anything from his movements to tell them where he’d taken Jay. 

The door swings open. 

“Voight, I’ve got something.” Adam bursts out. “George Penrod is the undertaker at a local cemetery. We pulled records on upcoming burials at the cemetery.”

“Upcoming?” Voight asks. 

“Kim’s idea. She figures the graves would have already been dug for burials over the next few days which would have made it easier to bury Jay.”

Voight nods. 

“How many gravesites are we looking at?”

“Eight.” Adam answers. 

“Let’s get out there.” Voight says. “Jay doesn’t have time for us to waste.”

Adam nods, scrambling back down the hall. 

The tears have dried up. 

In their wake, he’s just exhausted. He can’t even lift his head, as if there was anywhere to lift it. 

He coughs weakly. 

The air is getting thinner. Though maybe that’s just in his head. 

It isn’t. 

He knows it isn’t. 

He doesn’t have much longer. 

It’s an enormous cemetery and all of the spots on Adam’s list are spread out across the acreage. 

It takes too long to check them all and the team’s desperation rises rapidly as one by one they all come up empty. Some of them haven’t even been dug yet and others are just empty holes in the ground. 

After the seventh plot, even Voight is showing the weight of the pressure. 

By the best account they have, Jay has been in the ground for over five hours and oxygen has to be running out. 

In the dark, as they approach the eighth and final gravesite, it looks as if they’ve come up on another grave that hasn’t been dug yet. 

“Dirt’s loose.” Kevin shouts. “This is it.”

His call electrifies the team as they scramble for equipment. The backhoe had been left nearby and Adam wastes no time diving behind the controls and starting it up. 

The team watches with bated breath as he begins to clear the dirt. 

It feels slow going, the fear of hitting the coffin and hurting Jay all too close to the front of his mind as he digs. 

At five feet, he stops, backing out as Kevin and Kim jump in with shovels to continue digging. 

Soon enough they hit something solid and the shovels are traded out to keep moving dirt by hand until they’ve cleared enough to open the lid. 

Jay isn’t moving. 

His face is pale with tear tracks marking through the dirt and sweat covering his cheeks. 

Kevin presses his fingers into the side of their friend’s throat. 

“Weak pulse but he’s not breathing.” he shouts back up, starting compressions. “Where are those paramedics?”

“Four minutes out.” Voight shouts back. 

“Be real great if they could make it four minutes faster than that!” Kevin says. “Come on, Jay! Stay with us!”

Three minutes of compressions later, Adam is pulling Kim out of the hole so that a paramedic can jump down. 

Kevin continues compression as she starts an IV, pushing medication. 

Getting him onto the backboard and lifted out of the grave is a tricky scramble but they manage it, Adam taking over compressions at the top while Kevin and the paramedic are being helping out. 

Just as they’re settling the backboard onto the stretcher, Jay comes back to life with a sharp inhale. 

Adam stumbles slightly as he pulls back, righted by Kim’s hand on his shoulder. 

Jay keeps trying to sit up, coughing and gasping. 

“Easy Jay.” Adam tries to soothe, putting a hand on Jay’s shoulder, gently pushing back. 

Terrified eyes lock on his face and he rubs circles on Jay’s shoulder with his thumb. 

“We’ve got you.” Adam promises. “You’re out and we’re going to take care of you, okay?”

The skidding of tires through gravel sounds nearby and Adam looks up to see Will bailing out of the driver’s seat, his hair even more ruffled than usual. 

“Jay!” 

Jay jumps, twitching under Adam’s hand, eyes searching for his brother. 

Adam takes a step toward Jay’s feet, reaching back to tug Will into place next to his brother’s head. 

“Hey Jay.” he says, voice carrying an audible tremor as he fights to calm his nerves. “I’m here, okay. I’m here.”

“Will?”Jay breathes out, hand moving toward his brother. 

“I’m here.” Will repeats, taking his brother’s hand. “I got you, kiddo. Let’s get him in the ambulance.”

“Will.” Jay repeats. 

“Yeah.” Will says. “It’s going to be okay, buddy. How is he?”

The question is directed toward the paramedic.

“His vitals are stable but we have no way of knowing how long he was deprived of oxygen and how much.” the paramedic answers. 

Will nods. 

The fear and panic in his brother’s eyes, the way he just keeps repeating Will’s name. 

All of that could point to damage from hypoxia. 

Or it could just be the natural, completely expected terror of a man who spent five and a half hours buried alive in a coffin. 

A man who slipped into unconsciousness not knowing if he’d ever wake up. 

“Will?” 

“I’m here buddy. It’s going to be okay.”

Hours later, with MRIs and CT scans cleared, neurological evaluations passed with flying colors, Will is sitting watching his brother sleep. 

After the terror of those hours, of searching and wondering if they would be too late, Jay is going to be fine. 

He’s being kept overnight for observation and in the morning Will gets to take him home. 

No lasting damage. 

At least not physically. 

As his brother jolts awake for the second time in the last thirty minutes, Will leans forward, taking his hand. 

“Easy Jay.” he soothes. “You’re at Med. You’re safe.”

Jay’s eyes lock on his, the fear slowly fading as his mind catches up with the fact that whatever horrors his nightmares had shown him were not true to the present. 

Will keeps talking, providing gentle reassurance that the nightmare is truly over. 

He almost thinks his littler brother has fallen back asleep when he hears the quiet voice. 

“It wasn’t your fault, you know?”

“He hurt you because of me.” Will says. “Because I couldn’t do my job.”

“Your job is to treat patients not to be a miracle worker.” Jay tells him. 

“I should have saved her. I should have been better.” Will argues. 

“You are an incredible doctor. And you care so much about every single patient you treat.” Jay says. “His daughter died because her injuries were too severe to treat. You did everything you could for her.”

“I should have done more.” 

“We do what we can.” Jay says, the distant look on his face reminding Will that his brother also has a job where sometimes his best just isn’t good enough. 

“I’m still sorry he hurt you.” Will says. “Sorry you went through that because of me.”

“I am too.” Jay says. “I wish he hadn’t lost his daughter, wish I’d realized how dangerous he was when I had my hands on him, and I wish you hadn’t had to deal with losing a patient today and then had the fear of losing me stacked on top of that. And I can admit that not being buried alive would have really improved my overall evening. But that doesn’t make what happened your fault. You’re a great brother and I’m lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have you too, little brother.” Will says, carding fingers through Jay’s hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jay says, jerking his head away from the touch. “Now stop being sappy on me and see if you can’t find a hockey game on, huh?”

Will chuckles but reaches for the remote. 

Yeah, he’s going to be just fine. 

#whumptober 2023 #no.25 #buried alive #Chicago PD #fic #Jay Halstead

[barry-j-blupjeans]

Also if you want more - 30 and Angus, with whoever you want! :3

30. Yeah I’m fully understanding the murder part, just not why you’re the one who needs to solve it?? 

--

Look, Kravitz's job was nowhere near normal. He fully understood that. It wasn't exactly a nine-to-five. Death can't really take vacation days, y'know? But it got monotonous really fast. Surely necromancers could come up with a new evil number every once and a while? It was all always the same thing- cheat death, live forever, become a god. That last one always made Kravitz roll his eyes. Like the Raven Queen would ever even think about voting a necromancer into Godhood. Honestly.

So he didn't exactly mind when things did get shaken up every now and again. If there was one thing you could say about Kravitz, it was that he loved the chase. Did it make the assignment take longer? Yeah. But the Raven Queen certainly didn't seem to mind if he played with the necromancers a little bit before locking them away. Sue him, he had been here for hundreds of years and things got a little spicy maybe once every twenty.

That being said: There were certain things about the job that Kravitz did not enjoy seeing unexpectedly. Anyone who legitimately seemed to enjoy hurting the people they were using for their experiments- necromancy was a sick type of magic, but using others for your dark deeds was a strict no in Kravitz's book. Even more so if it was children. He had seen in all by now. Parents with twisted ambitions, kidnappers who didn't seem to care, the whole shebang.

But Kravitz had never, never, seen a child not only interrupt him but then start doing his job.

"It was very nice of you to help out, sir," the child said. He had large, circular glasses that made his eyes look a little too big. His hat had a feather in it. A feather. He peeked over Kravitz's shoulder to see the necromancers all huddled in a corner. He had taken the soul of one already, who was lying on the ground next to Kravitz's feet.

"Is it, like, take your kid to work day?" one of the necromancers, who was bleeding rather heavily, said weakly.

"No, sir," the kid answered before Kravitz could. "At least, not for me. I don't know who this man is, nor am I his child, but I do know who you are!" He bounced in place, the blood around their feet sloshing a little. He pulled a file of papers out from his messenger bag and flipped it open. "Mason Redrick, correct?"

"Uhm," said the bleeding necromancer. "Yes?"

"And you're partners, Wanda and Leslie? Right?" Two nods. Kravitz had no idea what was fucking happening anymore. The kid put the notes back into his bag and pulled out a badge instead, flipping it open. A shiny detective badge was displayed. "I work for the Goldcliff Militia and under that power, and the power of my superviser, Captain Captain Bane, I'm going to have to arrest you."

"For what?" the necromancer from the left- Wanda, apparently- said.

"Well, several things, actually," the kid said. "The murders of Ralph Wittle, Reenie Barnes, Greggory Holzman, Ju-"

"Excuse us for a second," Kravitz said, stepping back. The child turned to him, eyebrows raised, and Kravitz pulled him back a little by his sweater vest (good gods, who wears sweater vests anymore?). They huddled in another corner of the room, so Kravitz could still see the necromancers, but he could also talk directly to the kid.

"Sir, I have half the mind to ask you who you are and what you're doing here," the kid said, voice lowered. "As far as I know, you could be aiding these criminals in-"

"What I'm doing here?" Kravitz asked, a little too loud. He coughed, lowering his voice as well. "What are you doing here? You're like, six. This- this is a crime scene-"

"I'm eight, actually," the little boy said. "Almost nine. And I'm here because I was assigned this case and I fully intend to do so, sir. Now, if I can ask again, who are you and what are you doing here?"

Kravitz let out a breath, resting the urge to sink to the floor and never stand up again. Did kids get jobs at eight now? Maybe? Maybe. Kravitz was pretty out of the loop but he was pretty sure eight-year-olds were supposed to be making mud pies and learning multiplication.

"My name is Kravitz," Kravitz said. The kid had taken out a notebook and was writing this down. "And I-"

"No last name?" he interrupted.

"N- no, no last name," Kravitz said. "I'm... I guess you could say I'm an employee for, uh, the Raven Queen."

"Like the Goddess?" the kid said, looking a little more interested. "Can you tell me a little more about that, sir?"

"Not- not at the current moment," Kravitz said.

"Well, I'm sure I could tell my supervisor that you were at a crime scene and refused to elaborate on why-"

"I gotta-" Kravitz made a frustrated sound. "I'm here to- to take these guys in! To hold them accountable for their actions and to uphold the laws of life and death-"

"That's nice, sir," the kid said. "Is that going to interrupt my business with them?"

"Probably," Kravitz said. "I- I do have to kill them to, uh, to reign justice and all."

"And how many people have you killed, exactly, sir?"

"Listen," Kravitz said, feeling a headache coming on. "What's- what's your name?"

"Detective Angus McDonald," the kid said, holding out his hand for Kravitz to shake. Kravitz did so. His entire hand was just slightly bigger than Kravitz's palm. "But you may call me Detective McDonald, or just Detective."

"And you're eight," Kravitz said.

"Nearly nine, sir, and I don't see how that's relevant right now," Angus said, turning his nose up. "Now, if I have you here, I would like your assistance. Since we both are trying to achieve the same goal, sort of, I was thinking you could help me with this murder case-"

"You're eight," Kravitz said again.

"And they're murderers," Angus said. "I think you're focusing on the wrong thing here, sir."

"No, I fully understand the murder part," Kravitz said. "I'm- I'm just not sure why you're the one who needs to solve it?"

"I feel like you're doubting the full range of my abilities, sir," Angus said, frowning. "Are you going to assist me or am I going to have to arrest you as well?"

Kravitz imagined putting that on his mission recap. The murder went okay, but then an actual child arrested me! He sighed again.

"What do you need me to do?" Kravitz asked.

#angus mcdonald #kravitz #taz #taz balance #im just love them. i cannot change this #mine #asks #titaniumcanary #ise cube writing