#Flash sweating all over potatoes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hellfirexwhore · 1 year

Text

Forget What You've Heard E.M.

Line cook!Eddie Munson x Bartender!Reader

Sorry it took so long between posts! I've been working all day every day so it's busy over here. I hope you enjoy!

I do not give permission for my work to be copied / posted as original work on any platform.

Your favorite co-worker's flirty nature is your favorite part of the workday, but is it genuine? Someone is feeding you lies just as your patrons are being fed mozzarella sticks and Eddie is determined to convince you he's not just playing games with your heart.

Misunderstanding, hurt/comfort, fluff, cursing, an asshole named Dylan (We all know one), use of Y/N

Wordcount 4.7k

You smile to yourself as you count up the tips you've made so far. Bartending has done wonders for your wallet, and it's totally worth it if you can look over the long hours on your feet, creeps trying to get into your pants, and going home smelling like sour mix and sweat. You just moved to Hawkins 6 months ago and since living on your own is expensive, you serve beers and shake cocktails at the karaoke bar downtown to make a living. It's easy work and you're good at it, but there's just one issue; your favorite co-worker is a huge distraction. Eddie is the cutest damn line cook you've ever seen with his curly hair always tied into a low bun and his smile that you're sure could cure a number of diseases, but those things don't make it easy to do your job efficiently. It's nearly impossible to grab a platter of nachos from the window without him throwing out a wink and calling you sweetheart, telling you you're doing a good job, or even sliding a basket of fries to you with a finger to his lips as a way of saying "Don't tell on me, honey."

Tonight is no different. Eddie has been a total menace all night, flashing you that flirty smile, keeping you from your work with his corny pick-up lines that he insists will get him a date with you one day, making conversation, and giving you extra sides of ranch without making you ring them in first like the kitchen manager does. The second you walked into the back to set your bag down after arriving, he told you your hair looked absolutely ravishing even though it's just thrown into a clip like always, making you blush like crazy. It took nearly 20 minutes to get the scarlet red tint to leave your cheeks, and though you tried your hardest to hide it, Eddie sure as hell noticed, leaving a smile on his face throughout the busy evening.

"Hey sweetheart, I've got those wings for the bar top ready for you." You hear from behind you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You smile to yourself at the nickname and put the glass you've just finished washing upside down on the drying mat.

You turn around to an always grinning Eddie leaning his elbows on the stainless steel of the mini counter under the window to the back of house and holding the ticket in between his index and middle digits. You take the slip of paper out of his hand slowly, letting your fingers touch for a moment before stabbing it through the small metal spike to your right. Every once in a while, you like to indulge in his flirtatiousness, though it makes you nervous. Eddie's fun, he's nice, and dishing back what he gives to you every day isn't hurting anyone. "Thank you, Eddie."

"Any time, sugar." He replies, winking and turning to grab a new ticket and drop an order of potato skins in the fryer. You shake your head, smiling from ear to ear, turning to serve the hot plate to one of your regulars.

The rest of the shift goes great. Your tips are higher than you had planned, nobody had to be thrown out for fighting, and you got to hear a wonderful rendition of "My Heart Will Go On" sang by a very intoxicated older gentleman during the karaoke session. As you clean up the bar for the night, as always, you can't stop thinking about Eddie. You think tonight might actually be the night you ask him to hang out with you outside of work, though he's invited you to go get some late night pizza before, playfully pouting when you have to decline, telling him that you're exhausted and have to go back to the bar to open the next day. You've wanted to say yes, but Eddie makes you nervous. You're feeling bold tonight though, and you're optimistic.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie is in the kitchen cleaning the fryers, taking out the trash, and scrubbing the floors absentmindedly, almost like he's in auto-pilot because he can't get you out of his head. He wants so badly to ask you out, but he's tried that and you don't seem interested. He realizes you probably just flirt with him for fun, a harmless workplace friendship with some winks and pet names sprinkled in, but over the past four months, he's developed a serious crush on you.

There's just something about you that makes you so different from everyone he's ever dated or been interested in. He doesn't feel like he has to change who he is for you. There's nothing better for Eddie's ego than how easy it is to make you smile, and goddammit what a beautiful smile it is. Every time you look at him through your lashes, blushing at something stupid he's said, Eddie feels like he could lift the entire building up with one hand and not even break a sweat. He fears he's in too deep at this point, the innocent flirting leading to him finding himself thinking about you even once he's gone home for the night.

"Hey Eddie boy, I think you missed a spot." Eddie rolls his eyes at the irritating voice coming at him from his left. Dylan is one of the most insufferable people he's ever met and of course, he has the honor of working beside him at least 3 nights out of the week.

Eddie doesn't turn his attention to Dylan, just continues wiping down the steel counter top. "Bite me, jackass."

"Wow, someone's sassy today, huh? What, you didn't get enough attention from your little bartender tonight?" He smarmily replies, a disgustingly annoying grin on his face. Dylan, to Eddie's dismay, has picked up on the little "situation" between you two, making a joke of it every chance he can in an attempt to piss him off.

Eddie laughs humorlessly, throwing his rag down and turning to the bane of his existence, crossing his arms over his chest. "Dude shut the fuck up."

"Hey look man, I get it! I'm just saying it's embarrassing watching you stare at her like a fucking creep all day. She does look pretty smokin' in those jeans though, so I don't blame you. Hey maybe I'll ask her out tonight, see if I can get some tail. Think she'll give up the goods?" He's smirking while Eddie's blood is raising in temperature. He can practically feel smoke coming out of his ears hearing this sorry excuse for a man speaking about you like you're just a piece of ass and not the sweet, funny, beautiful person you are.

"I swear to God, I'll bust your teeth in." Eddie seethes, trying to keep his cool, at least while you're in the building. You're blissfully unaware of their hatred for one another and the last thing he needs is for you to see him throwing his fist into Dylan's face for talking about you. That wouldn't be very "innocent flirtationship" of him.

"Guys! Come on, finish cleaning and knock it off. I don't have the energy for your cat fights tonight." The kitchen manager huffs, stepping between the two of them with a severely annoyed look on his face. Wordlessly, Eddie takes one more look at Dylan, picks his rag back up, and continues his task of degreasing all of the surfaces. He wants to get it over with and be able to clock in time to catch you before you leave and walk you to your car.

Dylan, the vindictive man he is, takes the opportunity to make his way through the swinging kitchen door and into the main bar area while Eddie isn't paying attention. You look up, expecting to find Eddie standing there, but confused when it's the guy you barely speak to heading in your direction.

"Hey Y/N, you do good tonight?" He asks, leaning against the bar. You smile politely, still wrist deep in soapy water from washing the bar glasses and beer mugs.

"Yeah, better than I expected actually. Did you need something?" You ask, not rudely, but assuming he came for something specific seeing as he's never made small talk with you before.

Dylan takes a breath and rests his elbows on the hard wood of the bar top, shaking his head like he's trying to think of how to tell you what he sauntered up to you for. You begin to dry your hands, getting a little nervous thinking that maybe the manager had sent him up here to tell you something you've done wrong. You're still relatively new and you've never gotten in trouble here before, but you can't think of anything else he would need to say to you. "Look, I know you and Munson are friends, and I see the way you look at him. You like him, and before you deny it, just listen to me."

Your heart starts to race. Did he tell Eddie? Did Eddie say something to him? How are you going to face him when apparently other people are picking up on this? Are you this obvious? You can't take it anymore so you nod, waiting for more information as you toy with your hands.

"You seem sweet, okay and I don't want to see someone like you hurt by someone like him. Eddie and I are cool, but this is what he does. he flirts with the new ones, takes them home, and never speaks to them again. When another newbie comes in, he starts it all over again. I just thought you should know since I'm sure you're a genuinely nice person and I'm certain Eddie is taking advantage of that." Your heart drops at his words. You feared you were being played with, but you didn't want to believe it. You fell for Eddie's charms, and now it's time to face the harsh reality that you had completely misunderstood this whole situation and made yourself look like an idiot in front of everyone.

"Um, wow. Well thanks for telling me, I appreciate it. I'm gonna finish up here and head out. Have a good rest of your night." You say, rushing through so you don't tear up mid-sentence. Dylan nods, not saying another word but offering a sympathetic smile before turning on his heel and going back through the door he came. You pull the plug to the dish sink, gather your signed receipts to shove into the drawer, and give the glazed wood one last wipe down. You hear Eddie say your name through the window but you act like you can't hear him.

This whole thing could have been avoided if you wouldn't have fallen for the good looks and quirks of the fuzzy-headed, wild-eyed line cook. You never should have caught feelings in the workplace; that's like rule number 001 in the service industry. Never, under any circumstances, canoodle with your co-workers. You thought maybe this was an exception but now here you are, proven wrong.

Heading through the swinging door to the kitchen, you avoid eye contact with everyone, especially Eddie, as you walk straight to the back to gather your things. You feel humiliated and giving Eddie the satisfaction of seeing you upset is out of the question so the sooner you can get out of the building, the better. You give quiet goodbyes to the managers and make a quick escape, or you at least try to before a hand reaches out to hold your forearm.

"Hey, wait for me. I'll walk you to your car." Eddie says softly, giving you a soft smile. You can't bear to look him in the eyes, so you gently pull away, shaking your head.

"It's fine Eddie, thanks though." You reply, turning to finally leave. Eddie watches as you throw your bag strap onto your shoulder and hurriedly make your way to the exit. Hurt washes over him and he's more confused than when he learned what a tampon is in middle school. He furrows his brow and slumps his shoulders, going back to his final task before he can leave for the night. He doubts you're still going to be in the parking lot by the time he can get out there, but his heart is racing like he might have a shot at catching you before you leave.

Did he say something? Did his flirting finally make you uncomfortable tonight? He racks his brain trying to come up with some sort of reason why you would be upset with him. Normally, he would suggest that maybe you're just tired but even when you're on the verge of falling asleep where you stand, you can still manage to give him a sleepy smile and a breathy laugh at another one of his terrible jokes. Maybe he took it too far. Maybe he weirded you out or gave you the wrong idea. It wouldn't be the first time he's scared someone off.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You continue to go to work as normal, doing your best to not entertain anything Eddie had to say. The more distance you can create between the two of you, the less likely you'll get hurt. The time for stepping away from him to protect your feelings ended long ago but now it's time to do some damage control before you get worse. You get attached to people, and unfortunately that includes the bad people too.

You thought long and hard about whether or not you actually believed Dylan. I mean it's his first time actually talking to you and he breaks the news to you that Eddie just wanted to get into your pants? Why would he care? After going back and forth with yourself over it for your entire day off, you don't know what to think but what you do know is that if they really are friends and if Dylan actually does care, then the safe bet is to just stay away. If he's telling the truth and you ignore that to continue growing your feelings for Eddie, you're in for a world of hurt and that's just not something you can deal with right now.

You're not mean to Eddie when you work now; you just treat him like everyone else. You say "please" and "thank you", you ring in your extra sauces when you need them, you greet him just like you greet every other cook, and you don't flirt or bat your lashes at him anymore. Eventually, he is going to ask why but until he does, you can't bring yourself to ask him about it. It's humiliating and if he does have bad intentions, he's not going to be honest about it anyway so what's the point in starting that conversation?

Eddie is trying everything. These past few days have been hell for him and he's grasping at straws. He offers to make you fries, you tell him, "Thank you, but I'm not hungry." He tries to ask you about your day, you apologize and say you're busy. He tries to catch you before you leave at night, but you practically sprint for the door the second you're finished with your side work.

He watches through the window as you smile at your last patron of the night, desperately wishing that smile was for him. You haven't paid him any mind in 3 days and it's driving him crazy. It might be a little better if he actually knew what he did, but he's completely clueless. The awkward interactions are eating away at Eddie, and he knows if he doesn't say something soon, he'll explode. He starts his cleaning and breaking down the line as quickly as possible in an attempt to finish before you do so you don't run away from him again like you have been. If he doesn't get this straightened out, he doesn't know what he'll do.

Your last tab is cashed out and you begin your cleaning, causing Eddie to pick up his pace. He knows it'll take you 20 minutes max now that you and him aren't chatting throughout to slow you down. As long as nobody gets in his way, he's determined to finally be able to talk to you tonight. Not playful banter, no pick up lines, just a real conversation. The sooner he gets back into your good graces, the better.

"Trouble in paradise?" Eddie turns to see Dylan smirking with his arms across his chest. So much for nobody getting in his way.

Eddie laughs humorlessly and goes back to his work. "Fuck off, dude."

"Look man I'm just saying it seems like there's a little riff between the lovebirds lately. I wonder what happened, hm?" Dylan replies, his tone condescending as ever, doing his best to get a rise out of Eddie. To his dismay, it's working.

"You don't know shit." Eddie mumbles, wringing out a sanitizer rag, his fingers already becoming little prunes extended from his hands from the extensive cleaning.

"I don't know about that one, Ed. We had a really riveting conversation, seriously it was interesting, and I'm sure I know a little more than you think." This stops Eddie in his tracks. He breathes hard through his nose and turns on his heel, grabbing Dylan by his shirt and shoving him against the wall.

"What the fuck did you say to her? Huh? Are you the reason she won't fucking talk to me? What the hell is wrong with you, you jealous son of a bitch?!" Eddie shouts. The manager on duty is already trying to break the two of them up and you hear the commotion from the front, peering your head into the window to see what the hell is going on.

"Ooh Munson is mad! I just told her exactly what you're up to, that's all." Dylan says, calm as ever, a disgusting smile on his face. "Punching me won't undo it, so go ahead."

"Enough! I swear to god, I will kick you both out." Eddie reluctantly loosens his grip on the boy's clothing, only pulling away completely when he's certain the risk of getting fired isn't worth hitting Dylan, even though the want to is overwhelming.

Eddie looks to you, his heart breaking at the disappointed look on your face. He decides this ends now. He has no idea what filth and lies have been planted in your head, but he needs to fix it and fast. He gives one last scowl to the man he was just threatening, and backs up, walking out of the kitchen door.

He approaches the bar and you freeze. You don't know what you're supposed to say or do, so you do and say nothing. He has a soft look on his face, one very different than the one he was wearing in the kitchen just a minute prior. It's almost as if his rock hard persona turns to cotton candy when he's in your presence, and if you ask Eddie, that's exactly how that works.

"Look, I know you don't want to talk to me and I'm still not entirely sure why, but please wait for me. Please talk to me, let me figure out what the hell happened, and let me fix it." He pleads. You think it over quickly, trying to figure out of this is something you even want to get into right now. You question his motives, still confused as ever. Helpless, you nod and see the relief wash over his entire body, giving you the same feeling as when you're in the middle of a horrific thunderstorm, and in an instant, the sun comes out of the dark clouds. Whether this conversation leaves you feeling like a sunny summer day or it leads to another crack of thunder, you're unsure but you have half an hour before you find out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sit there at the bar having finished your closing work, waiting for Eddie to finish his. Against your better judgement, you're happy to talk to him again but nothing can stop the knot in your stomach from growing tighter. All you wanted to do today was make some money, go home, cook dinner, take a bath, and watch a movie in bed but now, you're sitting here, anxiety building up in your body like a tower of mix-matched Lego pieces.

You're taken out of your thoughts when Eddie exits the kitchen and walks toward you, not looking any less nervous than he did earlier in the evening. "Hey, sorry I took so long."

"It's okay." You say quietly, standing up from the bar stool and pulling the strap of your backpack up onto your shoulder. "Do you want to talk outside?"

Eddie nods, giving you a tight smile. He leads you out of the front door and around to the side of the building to the employee parking lot, not saying a word just yet. the silence is broken by the flick of your lighter, illuminating the tip of a cigarette freshly placed in your mouth, inhaling the smoke and feeling the tiniest amount of tension wash away.

You lean against your car waiting for him to speak, still not really sure what you're supposed to say. He's the one that needed to defend himself, he's the one who wanted this conversation to happen.

"Look, I don't know what Dylan told you but I can assure you it was a lie." He starts. He's fidgeting with his fingers, avoiding eye contact. He's lost every ounce of confidence he once had when he's on the other side of the wall passing you a basket of chicken tenders.

"If you don't know what he said, then how would you know that?" You reply, taking another drag of your cigarette. You're hoping he's being genuine and not just defensive right off the bat, but if someone is lying about you, you'd feel defensive too. Everything is still fuzzy and figuring out this mess is like putting the pieces of a clear puzzle together.

"Because he fucking hates me. He does shit just to piss me off." Eddie shakes his head, pulling his own pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one between his lush lips.

"Why would he hate you, Eddie? What did you do?" You don't mean to point blame at him but he had to have done something to make someone hate him to the point of making up a lie to make you ignore him for days.

"When I first started, he thought I was flirting with this girl he had a thing for, and she got a crush on me. She didn't want to hang out with him anymore and he thought I just swooped in and stole her. I didn't even like her like that but since then, he's made it his job to make my life a living hell when he's here. That includes fucking this-" Eddie gestures his hand between the both of you, "-up for me."

"He told me you're fucking with me." You say, suddenly fixing your eyes on your sneakers. You almost shudder thinking back at the way your heart dropped to your stomach when Dylan first spoke to you. "Said you flirt with the new ones to get into their pants and then move on to the next one."

Eddie's eyes widen, looking like he's a child being told Santa isn't real. The genuine look of shock is very convincing, and you're close to dropping every allegation from that expression alone. "Jesus Christ. Y/N, I promise that's not what's going on here."

"How can I know that for sure? I felt like an idiot after he told me that. I was humiliated thinking I fell for some sleazy game you were playing." You're trying not to tear up. You can feel the thickness in your throat as you speak, hoping Eddie doesn't pick up on it. Six months of growing feelings for someone isn't something to fuck around about, and you might have taken this more seriously than it was intended, but when you're in that close of proximity with someone for that long, itching for the other to make a move, it's hard to not be heartbroken when something happens to it.

"Sweetheart, I flirt with you because I like you. At first, it was just fun and I thought you were cute, but now I have a big, fat, stupid crush on you and I think about you all the time. I don't ask you to hang out with me after work so I can take you to my van and get your clothes off. I ask you to hang out with me because I like the way you make me feel." Eddie responds, making eye contact with you finally, searching your eyes for any trace of doubt. He wants you to know how serious he is. This isn't just a fling for him, much like it never was for you. You had a feeling this could turn into something special, though it goes against everything people tell you about workplace relationships.

"And what would that feeling be?" You inquire, not breaking the contact between his chocolate pools and your own, finding a boldness in yourself that you didn't know existed.

"You make me feel like I'm the coolest guy in the world. You laugh at my stupid jokes, you compliment me, you're interested in what I have to say.." He trails off with a fond smile on his face. There's a softness about him that balances out the roughness of his edges, endearing you even further. He reaches out to grab your soft hand with his rough one. "I really fucking like you."

"I really like you too. I was going to ask you out the night Dylan dropped a bomb on me." You admit, rubbing your thumb over the skin of his hand.

"That motherfucker." Eddie shakes his head, getting angry all over again at the fact that he finally had his chance and it got ruined for him in an instant. "I'm going to kick his ass."

You pull your hand out of his and smack him lightly on the chest. "No, you can't get fired! Who will I talk to all day?"

"You've been doing just fine not talking to anyone." Eddie jokes, raising his eyebrows and bringing his cigarette to his lips, inhaling the smoke that seems to make this whole thing easier. After having a sick stomach for hours, he skipped his smoke breaks, partially leading to his angry outburst.

"Yeah and it was miserable! Do you know how much I hated having to go through my shift without hearing you call me sweetheart?" You laugh, a sound Eddie missed, even for just three days.

He smiles down at you, dazzling as always. You missing him as much as he missed you is actively washing away his worries one by one like a salty body of water washing away a structurally questionable sandcastle. "I won't deprive you anymore."

"I appreciate that." You grin, taking his hand back into yours.

"Does that mean you believe me? You can ask anyone, I'm serious. I talk about you all the time. The guys make fun of me for my "heart eyes" the entire time you're here. Ask Adam, Levi, Grant, Brandon-"

"Okay, okay." You cut off his adorable rambling. "Yes, I believe you."

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief. You can see his shoulders relax, his jaw loosen, and his posture seems straighter. "Good because I mean it. I'm sorry this was such a mess for you. Hopefully I can make up for it?"

"And how do you plan to do that, Munson?" You tease, giving him the flirty look he had been wishing to see from you again. He can't take his eyes off of the way you look at him through your thick lashes.

He moves closer to you subtly, moving slowly so he can relish in the moment. "Can I start with that date?"

"You sure can." You say just above a whisper. You're lost in his eyes once again, but this time, it's not just playful. There's a brand new feeling getting introduced here and it blows your mind that it was first kindled in a greasy kitchen.

As long as Eddie is here, things are easy. You have your flirty boy back and being at work is a little easier again. With Eddie right behind you serving up winks and pet names just as often as he serves up appetizers, going home smelling like beer and deep fried cheese is worth it.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson x reader hurt/comfort #eddie x reader #eddie x reader angst #eddie x reader fluff #eddie x reader hurt/comfort #line cook eddie #line cook!eddie x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

585 notes · View notes

myosotisa · 10 months

Text

It's been a long year - e.m.

Eddie Munson x Reader

ǁ tags: angst, hurt no comfort. major character death. everybody dies. its just sad. its really just so fucking sad and thats it. gender neutral reader, no pronouns used, no y/n. canon compliant. honestly? dont read it. i just wanted to cry for 30 minutes straight.

ǁ word count: 800

It wasn’t supposed to go this way.

1986. It was supposed to be the year. The year you both got out. The year to end all years.

You and Eddie were going to go to prom underdressed and over intoxicated. Spike the punch bowl. Maybe try to steal the crowns from the King and Queen.

You were going to graduate – walk across that stage and wait at the other side while he gave the entire crowd the bird, maybe gave Mrs. O’Donnell a big wet kiss on the cheek just for the fuck of it. Hold his hand while the two of you ran off like Bonnie and Clyde to whatever your next adventure held.

You were going to pack up in his van and just go. Take his savings from dealing and yours from slinging coffee, give Wayne the tightest hug imaginable and a promise to call, get in the passenger seat, roll the windows down, blast the escape mixtape, and kiss buttfuck Hawkins, Indiana goodbye.

Maybe end up in Indianapolis. Maybe Chicago. Maybe further. Hell, you’d take that stupid van to California if you could. You’d spend a weekend making it watertight and buoyant if you thought you could take it across the ocean. It didn’t matter, not at all. Not as long as you were hand in hand with Eddie Munson wherever you ended up.

To be fair, maybe you should’ve been more specific in your wishes. Maybe you should’ve clarified to whoever was listening that when you promised to love each other to the end of the line, through everywhere and everything, that you had planned for it to be a long time. Planned for it to be a lifetime of adventures together.

That was always the plan. Written in promises on the palms of your hands and then collapsed together, letting the sweat and tears smudge the pen into a pool of ink on your intertwined fingers. A promise made in blood and sacrifice and in sickness and in health and in breaking the law and in dinner with Wayne on Sundays and in stolen kisses and in lost virginities and in first and only loves.

It was always ‘you and me against the world’. Spoken to the stars above Lovers Lake and the faded glow in the dark stars above his bed and the dark screen at the drive in theater and the back of his throne at Hellfire and into the carving of your initials in his locker. ‘Til death do you part.

Maybe this was the cruel joke of a cruel god who heard ‘you and me against the world, til death do you part’ and thought, “I can make that happen.” Malicious compliance to the promise the two of you had written on your skin in sharpie like it would last a lifetime.

Because it’s true. Laying on the grey floor of an alternate dimension, hand in hand with the love of your life – it's you and him. Growing cold, rapidly losing blood and feeling, pain fading away into near nothing. Just your hand in his.

It's choked, feeling like you're drowning in your own blood as you stare up at the darkened sky, you ask, “Hey Ed?”

His fingers move in your hand, the best answer he can offer. He’d taken the brunt of the attack at first, trying to protect you. Part of you wants to look over at him, just one more time. But you can’t even turn your head. Can’t do anything but stare at the sky that isn’t yours and watch it sometimes flash red like the blood pouring from your body. And maybe it's better that way. You can remember him in your mind, behind your closing eyes. Happy, smiling, shirtless in bed, a face smeared with mashed potatoes, and a ring of yours on a chain around his neck that you’d traded for his guitar pick.

You do wish you could hear his voice one last time though. Maybe he wishes that too.

“I think I–” a cough, a gasping breath that feels like knives and fire, a whimper of pain. “I think this settles it. I… I don’t think we would have survived in a horror movie.”

And he makes a noise, his hand lightly gripping yours again before going almost limp in your grasp. You know he’s slipping faster than you. You tell yourself the noise was a laugh. That you could make a shitty joke at the end of the world and he would appreciate it. That it was the right thing to say.

And even though it probably doesn't change anything. Even though it hurts so fucking much. Even if you don't actually know if he can still hear you anymore. You just have to say it one more time.

“I– I love you, Eddie Munson. ‘Til the end of the line.”

I wanna love you ‘til we’re food for the worms to eat. ‘Til our fingers decompose, keep my hand in yours.

thanks for reading. sorry.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt no comfort #eddie munson image #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #myos ideas #myo4munson #Spotify

125 notes · View notes

wordywarriorwrites · 8 months

Text

Clearly

Title: Clearly | A03 | Rating: T+

Pairing: Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: Joel’s spent a year trying to get a read on you. One night, you finally let him.

Warnings: Brief mentions of violence. Hints of spice. Language.

Joel can’t remember the last time he really wanted a woman.

Being a single father had made dating a challenge. Then, the world ended. And as for Tess? Well, they never managed to be on the same page – her always needing something more and him being unable to give it.

Now, things are different. And there’s you. Sitting across from him, feeding Tommy’s son, and looking like a confusing combination of a bad idea and something that might be good for him.

This isn’t the first meeting. Or the first shared dinner. Still, Joel’s so damn nervous just being near you that his palms are actually sweating where they rest on his knees beneath the table. There’s an edge and an air about you – something that makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

It beckons him – tempts him to take a risk and get a closer look.

You’re a mutual friend of Tommy and Maria. Joel’s known you for about a year now and has seen you around town enough to know people respect and trust you. In addition to teaching the kids of Jackson their ABCs and 1-2-3s, he’s watched you plant flowers, sew busted buttons, and calm unruly horses. You’re damn good with a rifle and decent at darts.

Hell, even Ellie likes you – in fact, she’s practically monopolizing you, peppering you with questions while Maria and Tommy set the table, and you answer everything while simultaneously (and successfully) scooping mashed peas into the gummy mouth of a gurgling, wriggling baby who seems to adore you.

Joel used to be so good at knowing what people were thinking, what made them tick, but consistent food, safety, and shelter have made him softer and more complacent than he ought to be. He thinks he gets glimpses – brief flashes of bridled wildness that appear when you’ve had a few too many, or when the townsfolk get a little rowdy, or when the odd fight breaks out. It’s rare, but he swears he’s seen it. Then again, perhaps he’s misreading you entirely.

Maybe he just sees in you the edge he used to have.

If he recalls correctly, you’re around his age – maybe a handful of years younger. Save for a vicious scar of unknown origins at the base of your throat, you seemed to have fared better than he did, all things considered. You sure as hell aged better – becoming laugh lines, no grays, and zero complaints about your back and knees. You’re a damn fine-looking woman, but he’s met beautiful women before, and he’s never been this affected.

In fact, it’s been more than twenty years since he’s felt the type of pull that makes him want to do something other than run or just ignore it. You’ve piqued his curiosity. Made something misfire in his brain. He doesn’t know whether to be wary, turned on, or scared.

“You alright, Miller?” you prompt.

Joel stares dumbly at you. You waggle the bowl of potatoes at him. He offers an awkward head bob and a mumbled thanks before overserving himself and clumsily passing the dish off to his brother.

Aside from his blunder, the rest of dinner is uneventful, with the evening being mostly comprised of small talk centered around work rotations, wall maintenance, and supply audits. Joel doesn’t really have much to contribute and save for the occasional yes or no response to a direct question, he’s silent. The baby gets passed around a few times before the night’s over, and by the end of it, he’s exhausted and can’t exactly pinpoint why.

Maria and Tommy see everyone out, sending you and Ellie home with baskets brimming with leftovers. Joel heads off with a wave and a yawn, following the two of you down the stairs and onto the street. He’s not paying much attention, just moseying along until the place he and Ellie call home comes into view.

“You head inside,” you murmur to Ellie. “I wanna talk to Joel for a minute.”

Ellie looks back and forth between the two of you, “Everything cool?”

You laugh, “Yeah. Just boring, adult stuff. Nothing that would interest you.”

The quirk of the kid’s brow suggests she knows better, and she doesn’t budge until Joel waves her off. When Ellie slows and looks back, he shoos her again. As soon as she disappears into the house and closes the front door, you set your basket at your feet and let out a sigh.

“Well, I’m sure she’s looking out the window, so, let’s get to it,” you declare.

One moment, he’s standing across from you, watching the moonlight highlight the apples of your cheeks. The next, you’ve got the lapels of his flannel balled up in your fists, and you’re yanking him forward. You kiss him hard – almost like you’ve got something to prove – but you don’t fumble it. You hit him with a heady, one-two-punch combination of teeth and tongue that sends something scorching zipping up his spine, turning him from a passive spectator to an aggressive participant.

In his haste to reciprocate, he kicks over your basket of leftovers, but you don’t protest. And when he palms your ass, bringing your bodies flush and pressing against you tight, you don’t stop him. In fact, you make a little sound in the back of your throat that shakes the hell out of him – like this is what you were after and what you wanted all along. Joel knows he’s in danger because he’s already flying high with just a kiss, and your fingertips grazing his patchy beard before finding their way into his messy hair makes his belly swoop and his breath catch.

You pull away first, and he chases your mouth, eagerly and greedily brushing his lips against yours a few more times before clearing his throat and standing to his full height.

“Dunno about you,” you sigh, tone warmer than a banked fire. “But I feel better.”

He laughs, and your answering smile cranks up the odd, giddy feeling that’s floating somewhere in the region of his chest. Joel stares at you for a time. You stare right back. No awkwardness, no apprehension. The shared moment comfortably dissipates, and the two of you work together to repack the basket.

“Can I walk you home?” he offers.

“Better not,” you banter, tone all flirtatious as you secure the basket’s handle in the crook of your elbow “If I get you alone or near a bed… Could be dangerous.”

Joel grins and rubs the back of his neck, “Well, if you change your mind.”

You don’t have to say it because he knows. Joel knows he’ll see you again. Kiss you again. That you’ll claim him as your own and that you’ll belong to him. He knows it because when he looks into your eyes, he’s finally – and perhaps with only your blessing – able to see you clearly.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fan fiction

82 notes · View notes

imaginewarehouse · 7 months

Text

Human!Sheriff x Reader x Human!Doc Hudson || Drabble

Plot: Flo's diner on Friday Night's is always a lot of fun- there's good food and drink (Which is not out of the ordinary, admittedly), good company (The whole town ends up there at some point in the night), and theirs dancing. You're determined to get the hot old men to dance with you.

Warnings: Age difference I guess but its not a focus point.

I have had this fic in my drafts, finished and all, for years. Since like, 2019-2020, but since I wrote it just for me (Also the reason for the fist person perspective), I had never bothered to edit it- well I finally did and I think its kinda cute ^^

🔆🔆🔆

“What are you two doing just sitting around and drinking over here for?” I ask Doc and the Sheriff, as I sweep off the dancefloor in exhaustion and rest in the chair beside Doc (The material of his blazer grazes my bare arm and I get a little jolt from the innocent touch). Mater’s a sweetie pie, and a great dancer but… boy, does he have more endurance than I do. After I take a second to gather my exhaustion and banish it, I turn to the two men and flash them a smile. “It’s fun out there!”

“Hmm, your exhaustion and the sweat completely bucketing off of you is especially encouraging.” Doc rolls his eyes, and turns to look back at the dancers. Ramone and Flo are dancing smoothly in the middle, like they’re practised, like they do it at home because they just love each other like that- unsurprisingly. Then Sally and Lightning are there, too, Mater’s found a new partner in Guido while Luigi laughs at his friend’s expense off to the side, and Lizzie's talking on happily to Red off to the side. A soft smile rests on my lips, until I turn away from the scene and back to the two men I’m sitting with. Sheriff’s already looking at me, which makes me smile wider.

“Being tired and sweaty is a good sign!” I exclaim, winking. “Sheriff, what about you? Fancy a round with me?” How many innuendos can I make with these men and get away with it? How many until they get it and take me? I’m not saying take advantage… because neither of them would do that- but at least recognise what I’m trying to get at here and ask me about it!!

He chuckles, moving in his bar stool chair to be more comfortable. “That’s a lovely offer, darlin’, but I’m afraid I’d probably just slow you down. I’m not as young as I used to be!”

At this, an opportunistic light switches on behind Doc’s calculating eyes, swivelling on his stool ever so slightly in order to turn that piercing stare on the sheriff. “Yes, he’s missed his last 3 check-ups, Y/N. Anything could be wrong with him.” Sheriff bristles and his expression dissolves into guilt, as he refuses to look at Doc who’s smirking. “Damn hot rods not allowing you a single day off to visit the office, right Sheriff?”

“Uhuh, ri-right.” Sheriff quickly clears his throat, straightening in his chair now to look around at anything other than Doc. As he does that, Dr Hudson glances to me with a quiet, conspiratorial look before taking another drink from his mug, making me giggle quietly.

In a moment, I raise my eyebrows at him. “Why don’t you take a dance with me, then? You must be at the height of health, ey Doc?”

A grunt is his response, as the amusement leaves his blue eyes and he looks away again.

“Come on, one of you? Both of you? I’m not picky- I’m desperate! Mater’s got a new partner and… “I risk a glance at the tow-truck owner and can’t stop a laugh from bubbling up to the surface. “Guido’s a hard act to beat! He’ll never want me back. I’m dying to get back on the floor, though!”

“Guido’s seemed to have transformed miraculously into a sack of potatoes.” Doc states in that slow, gravelly drawl, assessing the dancing couples as well. And it’s true, making me really chuckle this time at his analogy. Mater is just swinging the little Italian around at this point, with absolutely zero help from Guido himself. Guido’s toupee keeps bopping around and slipping out of place.

I stop my chuckling by biting my bottom lip, and scraping it through my teeth as I turn back to them. Sheriff’s stopped avoiding Docs gaze now and is looking at me with him like they’ve won- like together they can ward me off- Oh, ho, ho, though. These two think they’re so clever and victorious. But they haven’t gotten out of this. No, no. I’m determined; I’ll get one of them to dance with me tonight, even if it takes begging!

“You’re right.” I admit, then lean closer into the table pleadingly. “But I don’t want to dance with Mater, I want you two! Come onnnn,” I whine, looking as pleadingly as possible to them.

Doc sets me with a firm, straight lipped look. “And you’ll continue to want me.”

Well, that’s that then.

I turn from him, to Sheriff. When Doc’s mind is set, he usually will never change it. Sheriff, though… he’s a bit more lenient. A softie. A sweetheart. That’s one of the things I really love about him, in contrast to what I really love about Doc; his cleverness, his sternness. Unbelievably sexy qualities.

And I’m right, too. The Sheriff’s looking at me a with worried frown under that moustache and thoughtful deep, dark blue eyes. Oh lord, these men and their blue eyes. They had me my first day here in Radiator Springs.

I offer my hand across the table to him, and up the ante with my cute pleading look, which I hadn’t even known was possible. I do so by adding a little pout, and it does the trick. Sheriff heaves a great sigh and drops his large hand into mine, getting out of his chair. He rolls his eyes. “Hot damn… “He mutters something about the lord saving him, as I get up from my seat with the biggest beam on my face and springing into place next to him like a slightly overexcited puppy, before returning his gaze to me. “Remember what I said, I’m not as springy as I once was. And, I was never a very good dancer in the first place, so- “

“Let’s go!” Now that I’ve got him up, I’m not about stand here and listen to him talk himself out of this again, so I take us off to a spot on the floor. When I turn back to him and let go of his hand, I flash him a bright grin and think out loud in anticipation as the song ends and we wait for the next one to play. “Besides, the point of this is not to look good, it’s to have fun! Wanna have fun with me, Sheriff?” Okay, so I might have gone a little far with that last comment as the poor, sweet man goes a little pink, but I pretend not to notice that and just listen out for the first few beats of the next song. Before I can make the first move and pick up his hands again, as the song’s a bit boppy and perfect for twirling, he takes up mine first and then, before I know it he’s dancing with me. It’s so much fun!, he’s not half bad at dancing like he let on- there’s a little bit of funk and we slip out of time every now and then but that just makes us laugh. And he twirls me!! He twirls me!!! I’m also starting to think he was just being modest, with all that ‘I’m not as springy as I once was’, crap. Sheriff’s in shape! We’ve been dancing for the past 8 songs and he has not once needed a break or looked like he would be needing one any time soon.

It’s so much fun that I nearly forget to want a drink, or a break myself. The music is so hillbilly it’s fun, the laughter is elating, and the company is addictive. Every time a song ends, he’ll dip me and I’m not afraid that he’ll drop me; he’s strong, and his grip on me is firm. I laugh quite a bit when he does that, and when I get to twirl, and at some point he throws his hat off to Doc, and I’m surprised there’s still a Ford-Pines-Tom-Sellick-level head of hair there. Man, does this place know how to grow ‘em…

We go on like this for a few more songs, until he reminds me to get a drink and a rest for a moment and see how Doc is doing. “Hey Doc, I don’t think you should be worried about Sheriffs health, he’s fitter than me!” I exclaim elatedly as I collapse back into my seat beside him, exasperated but not really. Tired, yes, but annoyed, not at all.

“Hmmm,”

“Still don’t wanna get a dance in before the night’s over Doc? It really is fun!” Sheriff pours us both some water from the jug Doc ordered for us, laughing a bit because of the left-over endorphins, and I nod along intently.

“Yes, the offer’s still on the table until the last song ends. So, keep that in mind.”

“Sure.”

I giggle, widening my eyes exasperatedly at Sheriff over my cup as I take a sip, before Doc starts up a conversation about Chick’s latest Lightning slander in the news.

6 songs later, and the night’s about to end, sadly. I watch, quietly and honestly tired, as Ramone goes up to Red and requests a certain song, quietly. I guess it’s something special between him and Flow, but as the slow song starts to play, Sally and Lightning dance too- and I’m actually perfectly content and happy in just sitting by and watching, when a shift beside me catches my attention and I look to see Doc getting off his stool and stretching his back. “Ah… this is much more my speed. Y/N?” He raises his hand in front of my face without looking back from the dance floor, and I raise an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“You said the offer to dance was on the table until the last song. I believe this- is the last song.” A slow grin spreads across my face, and I cautiously, tiredly hop off my own stool, taking his hand in the process.

“Sure is!”

“Now, Doc, I’d’a thought you’d be up for something faster!” The Sheriff teases after us, with laughing eyes as he sits comfortably still in his seat.

A tiny smile graces Doc’s face, making me feel squirmy like it always does. “Yes, but my physical ability extends only to the minimum of what a driver’s required to be. Dear, now shall we?”

“Mhm, yeah, we shall!” I agree, grinning cheekily at him and waiving quickly to the Sheriff as Doc walks me onto the floor and swings me around to face him. The song, slow and easy, plays on around us as he fixes his hands carefully on the okay zone around my waist and mine find his shoulders. As we sway around the floor, I wonder; Will I ever get to do this with them as my men? Go out dancing as a date?.. Will these two ever realise how much I really like them?

When Doc grins again I wonder, if he actually already does know.

#Sheriff x Reader x Doc Hudson Drabble #Sheriff x Reader Drabble #Doc Hudson x Reader Drabble #Sheriff x Reader #Doc Hudson x Reader #Sheriff (Cars)#Cars Sheriff #Doc Hudson #Drabble #Cars x Reader Excerpt #Cars x Reader

81 notes · View notes

rubylovessharks · 3 months

Text

Vil x fem!reader

Smut!! Bottom vil x top reader. Reader wears a strap at some point. Also cumming inside- there's that too. Not much else to it ig I mean there's a lot of praise soo yeah :D ALSOOO this is something I have been thinking about- what if in chap5 they did win?? This is where it takes place - we win, vil's happy and now his gf wants to reward him for a job well done :3

Nothing could rival how Vil felt after the VDC. Finally he won! Won against that little brat that was his rival. He didn't think he'll be able to win yet here he was, the winner and now beneath his girlfriend, You. On his lap you sit, his cock inside of you all the way in as you smile down on him. "My~ what a good job you've done today my love!" You'd stop at your sentence to kiss his neck. Kiss after kiss going up more and more as you get to his face. "You really are my star aren't you?" One kiss on his cheek and another on the other, "I'm so proud of you! I knew you could do it~" you give him yet another kiss, now on the lips as you get ready to move.

"It was only with my efforts and your support that I could pull this off, my sweet potato." He's face a flash, tinted with pretty pink that really compliment his face. He really is beautiful, isn't he? As you hold onto his shoulders you move up and down, making sure to live in the moment as much as possible. To feel him, to love him, to enjoy every second of his company. "Gosh I'm so glad I have such a cute boyfriend <3" with your own eyes you see and take in his expression, filled with love and pure enjoyment. After all you were taking such tender care of him, what else could he feel?

Clenching around his length much more now you feel yourself getting closer and closer to release you bet he is too, after all when you take good care of your loved ones you also get sweet rewards. "Oh I'm getting close.. my how good you are for me" your hands start to get closer to his face as you cup his cheeks and get a bit closer to his face, inches away from his nose, almost kissing. "You feel great too <3" Vil closes the small gap between your face and his as you both have a passionate kiss. First just the lips meeting one another but soon you both melt into eachother as your tongues intertwine and dance together. Lost in the moment the moment you don't even feel him twitch as you both come at the same time, still going off with kissing eachother.

Once you both finally stop and wait a bit after your high, panting and sweating you get a woundfull idea! "Lovee~ want me to get the strap??" You look at Vil with pleading eyes as he doesn't always want to go that far to the point where his ass is getting fucked, yet he can't seem to disagree with you that this might be a nice idea for tonight. "As long as you don't take on more than at least TWO rounds.. it's all good." He tells you as you are already getting up from him and feel him leave you from inside. You're already near both of yours toy drawer and opening it to find your strap. As you look for it waiting Vil is thinking. Thinking about you, his sweet girlfriend who is sooo nice to be passionate with him even after his horrible accident.. He can't believe he has such a amazing girlfriend as you! <3

As you already put on the strap you call out to Vil "what's up? Something wrong? Or am I really that hot~" as you walk up to him he snaps out of his travel of thoughts and already gets into position. Laying down, legs up and widely spread and of course hands already waiting to open up his sweet hole for your taking. "Oh just thinking of how lucky I am to have you my love~" as you position yourself you first pull out some of the lube you took with you too and spread it all over the strap. "Well as much as this is sweet of you, and of course I feel lucky that I have you too. I know that soon you won't have a single thought inside that lil' head of yours~ <3" "I know."

As he opens his asshole to you, you start to push in. As you start to bottom up Vil's sweet moans could be heard, soft yet shocked ones, more adjustmenting to the size ones and of course these won't be the only he makes once you really start. "It's alright love. I'm here with and for you, you are taking me so well~" you take his hands in yours as you finish bottoming up. You can already see tears forming in his eyes yet not falling yet- oh bust soon they will fall, and quite a lot actually! "Tell me when you're ready, I bae?" You softly say to him "I've been ready for quite some time"

He really is your lover isn't he?

#disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #vil shoenheit x reader #vil twst #vil twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #vil smut

35 notes · View notes

z0-ne · 7 months

Text

Fish eyes (PLATONIC! Illumi + !Child! Reader)

PART TWO TO THIS HERE

~!warnings!~ This specific chapter contains triggering subjects such as child abuse, starvation, mental abhse, kidnapping, gaslighting, grief, hisoka is his own warning and illumi is NOT a good person in this! HISOKA IS NOT GOOD EITHER DONT LET HIM FOOL YOU

It's been a day... no...more than that its been at least three days. You've been crying for three days on and off, silence engulfing the room only when you reach the peak of your exhaustion and can no longer shed tears.

Then comes the next morning when you wake up in a cold sweat, each time hoping to wake to the warmth of your bed and the comfort of your nanny, hugging you and telling you its just some silly dream..

Unfortunately everytime you open your eyes you awaken to this cold dark room barely illuminated by the small window you cannot reach, but even when you get a good look you see the bars are made of iron.

The door is just as much if not more hard to escape from, covering in scratches from clawing at it for hours and parts of wood chipped at. You can't find a way out of that, your dad, mom or oldest sister could but not you.

As you look up pathetically staring at the iron bars hoping someone will come for you, your stomach begins to growl, you feel yourself growing hungrier by the minute and you have to sit down.

Thoughts of the warm food you had eaten so many times over comes to mind in an instant,, steamed buns, miso soup, chicken, baked potatoes, ect all of that sounds delicious right now.

The immediate thought to ask your nanny Misa for some pancakes come to mind but then the haunting imagery comes back to you full force as you struggle to stand.

Remembering what happened that day.. how helpless you were while Nanny Misa threw her life away for you... she always said she'd give her life for yours but this just....doesn't feel right.

'Why didn't I move...?'

Looking down at your trembling hands it flashes from being dirty with a bit of grub and dust to being stained crimson, the cold dark floors underneath you suddenly looks and feels like the same grass from that day...

Your breath quickens as you feel your eyes widened and your chest tighten. You feel your lungs squeezing together as your breaths quickens your pupils scan the room.

'Why...didn't I move...? Why couldn't I move?..' You ask yourself in your head over and over again as your mind transfers you back to that terrible day.

All you can do is look up, you see the scene play out again, Your nanny raising the blade...preparing to slam it down as the strange man walks past her...then the blood.

She flinched as the blood spurted from her neck, her arms going limp,, you winced as she went limp and the blood begun to spurt. Watching as she falls to her knees you can only watch again helplessly as she falls over...

'Please...move..! Help her! Run away! Do something!' You mentally yell at yourself but nothing happens as you just stand and your mind tortured you with that same memory again, her cold body laying on the ground, crimson dirtied her pretty uniform you adored, jt was so pretty, so clean no matter how many times you buried your dirty face into it or grabbed it with hands covered in mud from a new mudpie

'Why couldn't I do anything...?'

You think as your vision is invaded by this cruel imagery. You can't help it. Once it fades all you have now is your own sorrows as your tears well up in your eyes and you fall to your knees.

Choked sobs slip out your lips as yo land on her knees those choked sobs become more than that as time passes and you're back to the loud wailing you started with when you were first brought here. You coughed on your tears, choking on them as you wailed.

You wail, you don't hold back, you can't hold back, tears being the only way you can smudge some of that dirt off your hands. Your tears being the warmest thing about this room as you continue to wail.

It isn't until you hear that large door creek again do you finally snatches your head out of your hands and stare up, hoping the culprit was found and your father or sister had come for you! Tears still pouring down from your eyes like waterfalls, your hands trembled with every cough.

"Still crying...how odd...." That voice...that terrifying voice, it sends chills through you as you turn, and all you see...are those cold black fish eyes, you can't see anything else except those eyes, they scare you to no level. You jump to your feet and scramble away from him.

You want to scream but no sound comes out, you feel so weak, and its because you are. You're only a child in the face of this monster, you're alone and trapped in this cruel situation. All you can do is step back as he steps forward

He stares down at you, watching as the warm tears roll down your face. 'So pathetic...at this rate you would have never unlocked your potential had I left you with Killua.' He thinks to himself, watching you tremble.

As he takes a step forward you take one back. Its all you can manage to do afterall, your words are caught in your throat as he approaches.

He stares at you, silently as he approaches, those fish-like eyes staring you down. Your scared. Its so easy to be scared at this age, but this is a different type of fear.

All you can think about, is how he may hurt you. How he'll reach out and you'll be hurt for your tears by this man you've never met until three days prior. Only three days and he's instilled an unimaginable amount of fear within you.

It leaves you frozen in fear. The hunger in your mind now lost in the everlasting ocean of terror seeping through your core, you feel it. That cold tingling, its painful. From the top of your head, the tips of your fingers tremble to the soles of your feet.

He stares at you. Unmoving, unblinking until he sighs, even such a harmless casual thing like sighing makes you want to break down and sob, plead to not be hurt but all that comes out are pathetic whimpers as your tears roll down your face. You stumble back and fall on your rear end, trembling as you feel even smaller in the face of this monster.

He closes his eyes, and turns his back to you. Not another word is spoken, you don't know what will happen now, its scary how unpredictable he is. He stands there for a while.

Then...starts to leave. He walks away, you see how his back gets smaller through your eyes, vision blurred by tears but you can see the green getting further and further until...

SLAM!

The door slams shut, leaving a sudden gust of cold air coming back into the room. Your hands fall to your sides as you sit there and stare at the door, whimpering as more cries break through your through and slowly you cough.

Those coughs turn into cries, not as loud as before but they echo through the walls. You can't hear the voices outside,all you can hear is your own sounds of despair as you sit within the cold, empty, small room.

Your weeps don't go silent as your stomach growls after at least ten minutes of crying. You crawl towards the door, your legs won't pick up like they need to, they hurt, your stomach hurts. You feel like its hitting your back.

Once close enough to the door you pat the door, before slamming your hand against it. It stings, but the pain is not as bad as your stomach right now. You weep and wail as you yell out.

"Please! Someone! Anyone! Let me out! I'm hungry...!" You wail, but no sounds come from the other side. Your hand pounds against the door over and over, once again you hear your coughs echo through the room, feel your snot pouring down your nose and your tears trinkle down your skin.

The room is so cold, the floor, the walls, there's no hope for warmth. You're so exhausted. It hurts, everything hurts.

Your wails begin to trinkle through the thick door unbeknownst to you. It isn't until you hear heels clicking against the floor, shuffling and what sounded to be a deep voice letting out a sigh of what could be frustration or pity..

"Crying won't help you eat. If you stop you'll get something, bread at the very least" A voice, from the other side.

The voice is deep and has an odd tone something you can't put your finger on just yet. Your head sits up ever so slightly, not completely but enough to hear properly..

Your weeps haven't come to a stop yet, but they have died down just a bit. You heard him mention getting something, eating and your stomach twist in a painful way. You can't help but hope he means what he says.

"Huh..?" You heard him, but anything more specific will help right now. It's something different, not too different, you recognize his voice from the car ride here. You stare at the door, hoping for something.

"Your tears won't be wiped, you won't be coddled or held, your cries will not help you here. Stop that crying, if you must cry then do it after you've gotten your full." That odd voice spoke from the other side. It gave hope that you could be fed, that would solve one big problem.

"...really...?" You speak with a whimper, your voice cracking at the end of your sentence.

Even though you heard it twice now, you still desired the confirmation that the chances of anything could be given if you could just stop your crying. It would be difficult but you could try.

After a few moments of silence, you hear that voice again. He sighs "really." Despite his tired tone, he sounded like he was in deep thought.

That doesn't concern you right now, what concerns you is trying to figure out how to stop crying. You sniffle and lean down on your hands, curling into a ball, the tears fall but you clench your jaw to stop any noises.

You stare at the door, hoping to hear it open maybe. Hoping to hear your dad or mom, even your older sisters, but ultimately you only hear the man sigh, the sounds of rustling and the sounds of heels clicking against the floors outside of the thick door until it eventually ends in silence.

It went another day without food of any sort. Your stomach felt like it was on fire. It was so hard to fall asleep but somehow you managed.

The morning you woke up, the sun gave some light to the room,, it was warmer, what a relief. You could see how close the corners of the room was. The walls a dark gray, but you could hardly see the floors.

You can't get up, your legs hurt, you feel weak. Not once have you heard of death, or experienced it, you've seen it but is it usually this painful?

Another growl comes from your stomach. It hurts now, each one sending a Shockwave of pain through your body,, specifically your back. You groan and whine, tears pooling down your face.

How much longer? You just want to go home, or at the very least have something to eat, you'll take anything. Just something to stop this feeling of hunger.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the pain circles through you...it isn't until you hear a thud oddly close to the window that you open them again, it takes a lot of strength to turn your head but you do.

What you see, is a piece of bread, and a cup of water sitting close by the wall where the window is.

Mustering up all your strength you feel a sudden surge of energy surge through your body as you begin to force yourself to your knees, scurrying over to the bread.

Its big, bigger than your hands. Your eyes light up as you sniffle and take a large bite out of it. Its stale but you don't care. You take bite after bite until the entire loaf disappeared.

You feel the pain begin to settle, and you reach over and gulp down the water, letting it soothe your sore throat and you sigh in satisfaction. Knowing you had something meant that man didn't lie.

If or when the next time comes, maybe you'd get more food, but for now your happy the painful feeling began to settle.

~~~Bonus!~~~

I sit perched upon a nearby tree branch, close enough to see the child demolish the bread gifted to them by me. Watching as they guzzle down the water, not letting even a drop slip onto the ground beneath them or drizzle down their chin.

As I watch, a smirk on my face it goes to one of slight surprise as a very old memory drifts back to my mind. A girl of that size, that age in a room similar to this, although id have to say her (s/t) skin was a lot more dirty. Wearing raggedy pajamas instead of the clothes the child has on now. Her hair a mess, although they share similarities there.

It doesn't last long, its a brief site but it catches me off guard. I lean on my hand and a smirk creeps its way back to my face as I watch the child lay down, possibly to sleep.

"Hm. I guess this is what they call 'deja vu'. Funny. You're reminding me of your mother~"

79 notes · View notes

choccyhearts · 1 year

Text

eddie munson can't cook...

this is a popular headcanon and while i do agree,,,,

as a delusional loser, i'm going to say:

eddie munson can't cook and has never been able to cook until he found his mother's recipe book

while decluttering the trailer for spring cleaning, wayne finds an old box filled with random documents, knick knacks and something left for eddie from his mother

wayne smiles sadly as he holds the old book. it's worn on the corners and the spine is creaky and frail. a few of the pages are weak from water droplets and rips

he calls eddie over and hands him the book

the air leaves eddie's body as he looks at the forgotten thing. small flashes of memories flow through his mind -- thanksgivings, sunday mornings, his 6th birthday. just a handful of the times he saw his mother drag her finger along the pages and occasionally scribble and scratch with her chewed on pen

he blinks slowly as his eyes scan each page, his mother's handwriting sharp and curly but somehow he can read it just fine

when he lies in bed that night he reads the book over and over and over;

potato casserole ...

deviled eggs ...

choclate chip brownies ...

eddie's favorite birthday cake ...

all of those times his mother asked him to close his eyes or leave the room so her secret ingredients wouldn't be revealed echo in his ears. all those " needs extra something"s printed on these pages forever

he decides to not let his mother's cooking die with her

over the course of a month, he saves all of his money up, waiting for the right day to hit the grocery store and stock up

when he gets back from the store, he drops all the bags on the counter. he flicks on the tv to some horror movie and cracks open a beer -- it's not his mother's glass of cheap red wine and soap operas but close enough

he stays in the kitchen all day, sweating from the heat of the stove and oven and from his anxiety shooting through the roof. the most he's ever done before is scrambled eggs and even then, wayne's had to step in before

but he reads his mother's words carefully, slowly. he lets her guide his hands as he stirs and whisks and chops

it's nightfall when he's done. despite snacking on the ingredients and a bag of chips, he's still hungry, excited to chow down

wayne comes in surprised at what his boy's done. eddie sheepishly asks wayne if he wants to try everything. wayne chuckles and sits down at the table

as they go through each dish, eddie's heart twists and thumps. if you could eat a memory, a vision, he was doing just that

while he's proud of himself, he can't help but feel a little disappointed and unsatisfied. everything was a little off. small bits were burnt or a little under cooked, a little too much salt here, too many onions there

wayne tells him to go easy on himself, there's still more time to keep cooking

so eddie keeps cooking.

he starts incorporating it into his daily life. he "buys" other books and cuts recipes out of magazines; if he can do this recipe than he'll have no issue doing this other one

but of course, the best part of cooking is sharing

so he makes snacks for hellfire. bakes his friends' favorite dessert on their birthdays. invites them over some nights just to try whatever new creation he's found or thought up

holidays may not be fruitful with presents but a delicious hot meal is always guaranteed now. when he eats at restaurants or other people's homes he's able to dissect what's in the food and appreciate the time and energy it takes to get made

soon, his mother's recipe book is stuffed with sticky notes of comments or thoughts eddie has; "half the butter for wayne's cholesterol", "exclude the hazelnuts for gareth", "add lemon zest", "sprinkle parmesan on top - fresh"

eddie munson can't cook and has never been able to cook, until he found his mother's recipe book. now, he's the scary, evil metalhead dungeon master who knows how to properly whip meringue and cook a holiday dinner

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things #st4

137 notes · View notes

animeloverskylarmoon · 1 month

Text

Byakuya Kuchiki (Bleach) Short Story: Chapter 4

You’ve already fully healed. It’s been about a month, so you aren’t sure why this is happening.

“I-I promise I’m fine.”

Byakuya is literally carrying you back to the fourth squad after your training with some of the squad eleven members that you’ve befriended.

“You’re still recovering. You shouldn't over exert yourself.”

His glare is fixed in the direction of the three males and they scatter like flies.

You sigh heavily.

It’s strange, he’s been acting like this since you got hurt. At first it was endearing, but now it’s like he doesn’t think you’re capable. Byakuya flash steps and you just relent. He’ll get tired eventually.

“You’ve healed a dozen people, it’s time to take a rest.”

“W-WHAT! This is literally my job!!”

Byakuya drags you away as you flap your arms around.

“You fell asleep at the desk, are you exhausted? You should rest. You’re off for the rest of the day.”

“N-No wait it was just a nap!!”

You’re heaved over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“You’ve been daydreaming a lot, is your injury acting up? You need rest.”

“I just needed to sneeze!!”

The entire week has been nothing but you being carried to your quarters anytime Byakuya thought you were remotely tired. It’s gotten to the point that you’re actually drained trying to avoid him.

That afternoon as you’re heading back to the fourth squad barracks from delivering some files, you notice someone ahead.

Those eyes are a dead give away.

Usually you would greet him, but you’re annoyed. One battle it seems Byakuya has completely lost faith in you. You lower your head, walking right past him and he stops.

“(L/N)-san you-”

“STOP!!”

Your yell is startling for both of you. You spin around, agitated.

“I-I’m not some weakling okay! I-I know I’m not as strong as you but I need to be able to do this job. I-I’ve just started to feel like I’m stronger. Like what I do actually makes a difference. So why won’t you let me..”

Your eyes shake, and Byakuya takes it all in.

“I should have been honest.”

He thought that if he kept his eyes on you, then he would never have to worry about seeing you in that state again. But his manner of carrying it out just made you doubt yourself. Right now, there’s only one thing he can do. Because if he doesn’t, all the work he did to ensure that you understood that to him, you held strength, well, it would have been for nothing.

“I have feelings for you (Y/N).”

For a moment you just stare at him. You don’t move, and the furrow of your brows begin to even out into shock. He takes a step.

“I was being selfish. I did not consider what my intervention would make you think. I know you are capable. You proved that already. You were on the brink of death and you still chose to help your comrades. There’s nothing else you have to prove that I’m not already aware of.”

You aren’t sure you’ve even taken a proper breath.

Another step and he’s right before you.

“I only want to protect you. I will not make this mistake again, so please forgive me.”

Silence is all he gets. He understands that you may need time to process, but it doesn’t look like you’ve even blinked.

“(L/N)-san.”

You pass out right there and he catches you, a bead of sweat running down the side of his head.

~Fourth Squad Barracks~

“KYA!!”

You jolt awake, holding your chest.

“I-It was a dream..”

Your cheeks are on fire as you’re now sitting on your bed.

“It was not a dream.”

“AHHHHHHHHHH!!”

Your scream rings through the room, and Byakuya just watches you before he speaks again.

“Are you going to faint again?”

You shake your head stiffly.

Byakuya stands.

“I trust that you’ll give it some thought. I will be in your care.”

Byakuya bows and you start panicking.

“W-What are you talking about!!”

“We're lovers.”

“Y-You just went ahead and decided that!!!”

“Are you saying you have no desire to be my lover?”

You expect his tone and expression to be cold, but he looks like a puppy that’s just been told it's bad.

“ARGHHH!! DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!!”

How the hell did you get yourself into this situation?

Better yet, how do you get out of it!

#bleach #byakuya x reader #humor #cute #crushes #byakuya kuchiki #love #reapers #soul society #gotei13 #trust #feelings

10 notes · View notes

mytheoristavenue · 2 years

Text

ST Eddie Munson x Reader - Indirect Kisses

Warnings: Fluff, perv!reader, not very good quality 😅

Summary: You've been best friends with Eddie since elementary school, and he's noticed for years now, you always make a point to share food with him, and drink after him.

You casually sat at the lunch table, sharing your lunch with Eddie, which consisted of a sandwich, chips, and a cookie. As he would set something down, you would pick it up, munching on it at the same spot he did. This was normal for you, and neither of you ever saw anything wrong with it. Your friends, however, found it odd and asked about it often.

"Uh, (Y/N)?" Dustin asked, cautiously. You hummed in response, picking up your juice box and wrapping your lips around the dainty straw, seconds after Eddie had done the same. "Why do you always share your food with Eddie? Aren't you worried about getting sick?" the freshman asks.

"Not really, Eddie doesn't like school food." you answered, unbothered by the topic.

"I don't mind the cafeteria food," your friend contradicted. "You just make a mean ham and swiss." He chuckled, taking the last bite of your sandwich. "You really don't have to share with me, though."

You blushed a bit, gaining more attention than you really cared for. "I know, I just like being nice is all." Eddie shrugged it off, digging his hand into your bag of chips.

----

You waved, walking to Eddie's van after that week's Hellfire meeting had ended. You both had a tradition of going to KFC after each meeting, and tonight was no different. After arriving, you both ordered and sat down to wait for your food. While filling your drinks, you glanced over to him, seeing him get Coke. You, as a result get coke, that way you both have the same drink.

You both sip your drink, and you eye Eddie closely, watching him set his cup down, and mirroring his actions. You made sure to set your cup down directly beside his, so that when you picked his cup up, your intentions would be less conspicuous.

"Uh, (Y/N), that's my cup?" he pointed out as you sipped his straw. You blushed, instantly setting it down.

"My bad, we got the same thing, I guess I just got confused!" you lied, scratching the back of your neck.

"Well, it's not like we don't share everything already, 't's not a big deal." he shrugged, my to you relief. As if on que, your food arrives, and as always, you both arranged your respective orders to be sharable, splaying it out like a feast in the red tray. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask," he began, dunking a piece of fried chicken into a bowl of mashed potatoes. "Why do you share everything with me?"

You froze, unsure of what to say and desperately trying to think of a lie. You couldn't possible reveal your secret obsession with everything his lips touch. "J-Just want to make sure your fed is all!" you chirped nervously, sweating bullets when he cocks a suspicious brow.

"You don't have to lie, (Y/N). I won't be mad, just tell me the truth." he prodded.

You began to tremble at the thought of your secret going public. You can't tell him that you're in love with him and constantly stealing indirect kisses from the ghost of where his lips have been! He'd think you were a creep and you'd lose him forever! "I-I can't." you choked out. "I can't tell you."

"You can't tell me?" he asked, a flash of hurt written on his features. "(Y/N), we tell each other everything, why can't you tell me?" he hissed, upset that you'd been hiding things through him.

"You'll see me different..." you muttered, now entirely uninterested in your food. "I don't want you to leave me."

"Why the hell would I leave you?" he pressed puzzled, now more concerned than anything else. "(Y/N), please just tell me what's wrong. I'm worried about you."

A beat of silence carries between you, harsh eye contact pulling at your heart strings. "I-I like to pretend...um." you trailed off, struggling with the wording you needed.

"You pretend what?" he probed, leaning in with a cocked brow.

You felt so small under his gaze, shrinking in your chair, eyes askance, looking anywhere else but at Eddie. "I-I like to think...it's like an indirect...k-kiss?" You confessed, eyes screwed shut, ready for rejection.

"You wanna kiss me?" Eddie's voice was oddly calm, albeit a little shaky. You hesitantly let your eyes flutter open, finding the man's big, bright, chocolate orbs wide as the watched you with glossy astonishment. You nodded, shyly, bringing your fingers to cover your face. He quickly pulled your hands away, needing to see your face after your confession. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

You seemed to become irritated after that comment. "How could I? It's weird, and I knew you'd freak out and-"

"I would've."

"W-What?" you asked, almost startled. Your hands trembled as Eddie gripped them in his, pulling you across the table and meeting you halfway, leaning into your space.

"I said I would've kissed you if you'd asked." he clarified, his eyes seductively flicking between your lips and your eyes. "So, are you gonna ask?"

You swallowed hard, bewildered and unsure that the moment was even real. You nodded timidly, almost in a trance. "C-Can you kiss me?"

In an instance, Eddie yanked your wrists toward him, smashing your lips to his, before letting his hands release yours to roam up into your hair. You felt static crawl on your skin, tingles spreading over your shoulders and up your neck. After what felt like hours, Eddie pull away, grinning at you, his pearly teeth shining with glee.

“If that’s the truth,” he smirked, wiggling his eyes at you. “Feel free to keep sharing your food with me, but just know you won’t have to worry about indirect kisses anymore.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things x y/n #stranger things eddie #eddie munson x reader

78 notes · View notes

myfandomlife-blog · 1 year

Text

Love is a sudden guest - part 1

chapter 1 - Billy Hargrove x Reader

no warnings

reader is Steve Harrington's little sister

You had heard the name of the new guy, it was spreading like a wildfire through the whole school. Every girl was completely smitten by the boy named “Billy Hargrove” but you hadn’t seen him yet.

The only thing you had heard, besides the whisper of all the girls, was the ranting of your brother when he took the seat beside you and Nancy at lunch.

“He’s such a pompous ass. I can't understand why everyone is losing their shit about him.”

Apparently, Billy had made it his mission to dethrone Steve as the “King” of Hawkins high.

“I don’t know why you complain, Steve,” you said laughing. “You hate that title. Just let him take it.”

He scrunched his nose as he shoved the mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“The thing is,” Nancy started, “that Steve can’t handle it when someone is holding a mirror up to him showing him exactly how he used to treat other people.”

“Hey! I changed okay! That’s the only thing that matters.” Steve added insulted and kept on shoving the fork into his mouth.

“It’s fine Steve. We know that. Just ignore him.” You said and looked down at the paper next to your food tray again.

You were picking up the books for your next class, deeply immersed in your thoughts. As you closed your locker, there was a small movement next to you and it startled you for a second before you saw the most piercing blue eyes watching you with a certain interest. The Person was leaning against the wall next to you looking as confident as humanly possible and you knew instantly who he was, there had been enough rumors around school to get a good picture of him.

“You must be the little Harrington, am I right?” Billy said, flashing you a bright grin.

“And you must be the infamous Billy Hargrove everyone is talking about.” You replied with a forced smile and turned around to walk away.

He caught up with you, stopping you right in your tracks.

“That’s right. But you can call me Billy if you like.” He said as he winked at you.

You took a deep breath and looked back up at him. “Listen, Hargrove. I’m well aware of how you are treating my brother and I’m not interested in a conversation. Do you understand?” You started to walk away from him but he stopped you again.

“I’m sorry, I was just teasing him. I have no interest in your brother. You on the other hand are more of my liking.” He licked his bottom lip and you could feel the tickle in your stomach as he did.

You grabbed your books tighter and turned your head away, awfully aware that your cheeks had begun to turn red. “I’m sorry but I don’t have time for this.” You said and walked away leaving him standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face.

You were completely lost. Every inch of your mind was swallowed by the shadow and nothing you tried seemed to affect it. Sinking deeper into your consciousness, you just stopped resisting the Mind Flayer. You felt the darkness around you thickening, felt ice cold water drowning you, swallowing you deeper and deeper into the freezing void…

You woke up panting, the cover of your bed in a tight grip

…A Nightmare

…Again

Sweat was covering your body and you felt dizzy from the irregular breathing, hands trembling as you reached for the light on your bedside table. Your feet touched the ground as you sat on the side of your mattress, trying to calm down.

It wasn't the first night you had this nightmare. Some nights had been peaceful, no dream or nightmare. But most nights you were denied an uneventful sleep. And sometimes it was even worse.

You dreamt of this night over and over again, every time you were losing control over the monster again and it made you sick.

You were sick from feeling helpless, sick from losing control over your mind over and over again.

Before all this had happened, Steve had always made fun of you for trying to control everything in your life and not letting go from time to time.

But when the Mind Flayer had invaded your thoughts, this desire for control was exactly what helped you get back.

…every remaining spark of your mind was aimed at the sensation in your head. You could feel it between your fingers and with every inch, it felt more robust than liquid until the point came where your hands could grab the shadow.

Your still mind flickered to life as you pulled on the thing invading your every thought until you felt the vibrating rhythm of a beastly scream.

The thought of hurting this monster, that had taken over everything inside you, gave you the strength to pull again and again.

Your muscles started to ache and the darkness around you was pressing painfully into your mind to the point you thought your head was going to explode.

But you didn’t stop.

More and more of the shadow was pulled out of it, out of your mind, and with every bit, you felt the reality appearing around you again.

Muffled voices were finally reaching your ear as the shadow in your mind split open in a delicate crack letting in the light you had searched for so long.

Ripping open the crack wasn’t hard now that the shadow had lost a good amount of strength to you and with a final pull on the dark fabric you opened your eyes breathing in the cold air around you. Your brother, Steve, and the others were kneeling beside you screaming something you couldn’t make out as you hurled over, retching the remnants of the mind flayer out of your body and onto the grass.

Breathing heavily you wiped your mouth at the back of your hand as your mind and body clicked back into reality.

You finally heard your brother call your name and you turned around to face him.

“Steve? What happened?” You croaked and winced at the burning in your throat.

Steve pushed forward and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug as he silently cried into your hair.

“Fuck! I thought you were gone, sis. You scared the shit out of me.”

You tried to pull up your arms to place them on your brother's back as you felt the overwhelming fatigue spreading in your body and before your arms touched the ground, you were out again…

It took you three days to regain consciousness again after that, but the exhaustion and the nightmares weren’t the only things that still lingered in your body afterward. Your gaze wandered over the glass of water which stood on your nightstand. You had placed it there before you went to bed but drinking the water was impossible now because the whole thing was frozen solid.

“He did what?” Steve yelled as you told him the story about Billy on the drive to school the next day. “I will kill that bastard. I hope you didn’t fall for this slimy ass, y/n.”

You looked at him annoyed, “Oh no! Was I supposed to resist? I didn’t know that. I jumped his bones right there in the hallway!” You said sarcastically and Steve’s eyes widened as Nancy let out a loud laugh.

“Very funny, y/n,” Steve said and glared at you in the rearview mirror.

You chimed in into Nancy's laughing but as you looked out the window thinking about these blue eyes and the feeling that he had triggered deep in your stomach, the laughing faded from your voice.

In order to convince the others that you weren't still possessed by the mind Flayer after you had accidentally frozen half of Dustin's aquarium, you agreed to visit El every week to practice whatever it was you could do, and to let her check for any traces of the Flayer that might still hide in your mind.

Until now you hadn’t made any progress. The only thing that happened every time was the nosebleed that started as soon as you tried to freeze the water in front of you at will.

“I don’t know,” Steve said, wiggling his finger in the water, “I think it feels colder than before.”

Hopper looked at him with raised eyebrows as Steve pulled his finger out of the water and shrugged while drying it on his shirt.

“This isn’t going to work, El,” you said as you slumped back in your chair. “I don’t think that this works anything like your power. Maybe it's not even a power. Maybe it's just some kind of…residue? Like when you have a cold and your nose stays clogged for days after you're already well again.”

She mustered you for a moment and you shrugged your shoulders.

“You need to let go.” She said and you laughed.

“Let go of what? I’m trying and trying but this will never work.”

“Need to let go.” She said again and you let out a tired sigh.

“Fine next time I try to let go of whatever.” You said with a look at the clock. “We need to go, it's already late.”

The drive back home was quiet and you could feel that Steve wanted to say something so you started. “It will be alright, Steve. Maybe it works, maybe not. I will be fine.”

He looked over at you and let out a breath. “I really hope it does. But El is right, you know? You have been tense since… since it happened.” You lowered your gaze down at your hands as he spoke.”You’re drowning in work for school and when you’re not in your room studying you are with El trying to do whatever it is you're doing. You really should let go sometimes.”

You turned your head back to the window not answering him. You hadn’t felt like you were overworking or something but since this thing took over your mind, you desperately tried to prevent anything from taking control over you ever again. You had always tried to control every aspect of your life and it was the only thing that made you feel safe now. And everything was going well except Billy fucking Hargrove. He did everything in his way to talk to you, flirt with you and he even offered to drive you home a couple of times which you refused.

His whole behavior was just so irritating. You were sure he did all this just to get back at Steve but his constant flirting and winking left a deep tingle in your stomach every time. And it started to become hurtful knowing that his attention was just on you for the sake of getting a punch at your brother especially when there wasn't a day on which you weren't thinking about his damn smile.

It was Friday and the big basketball game was on but after halftime, it was sure that your brother's team was going to take the win and so you sneaked down the stands to go behind the school for a smoke in peace. You hadn’t even lit your cigarette as the door opened and there he was.

The bane of your existence, Billy.

„Damit Hargrove can’t I enjoy a moment of peace from you?“ you said and he smiled.

„Oh come on little Harrington. Not every step I make is planned around your lovely butt.“ He stepped beside you and leaned against the wall to your left.

„Why aren’t you bathing in the starlight performance of your brother in there?“ He asked and you grimaced.

„I really don’t care about basketball. It’s so boring and loud, I just need some time in peace. And besides, I thought you had made it your life goal to sabotage every step my brother makes?“

He was still smiling and in the corner of your eyes, you could see him licking his lips again as he took his cigarette out of his mouth. „Oh sweetheart, there are much more interesting things in this school than your brother.“

You flicked away your cigarette and turned to him.

„Okay, this is getting on my nerves, Hargrove! What do you want from me? Should I stop pretending that this,“ you gestured between him and you, “isn’t just so you can get a punch at Steve? And if I would do that and would take this seriously what then? If I would give in and give you what you want, what would I gain from this?“

He took another draw from his cigarette and tossed it away without breaking eye contact. His smile faded and he leaned in, his mouth just beside your ear as he whispered. „This hasn’t been about your brother for a while now. I don’t give a damn about him. And if you would just let go for a second and give in to what you grave, maybe you would realize that there are a few things worth breaking the rules that you crafted so well to hide behind.“

You swallowed hard, this was going to kill you. His warm breath at your ear paired with his scent so close to you was intoxicating.

„I can’t,“ you whispered and he leaned back a little to look at you.

„What?“ His voice was soft.

„I can’t let go.“ you said as he watched you.

“Why?”

“Because if I let go,” you swallowed again and looked up into his eyes, “what if I’m not able to get back up again.”

This whole situation was taking a toll on you and on top of that, you could feel the lighter in your hand starting to freeze. Your control was slipping, not only over the freezing in your hand but over your whole body.

“Then you can just stay down here with me.” He whispered.

It broke you, not only the way his voice softened with the answer but the words too. It was too much, his scent, his piercing eyes, your heart fluttering in your chest, the cold in your right hand, and the crushing pain of the last year which had built up in you even if you had tried so hard to push it deep down into your mind.

You tossed the lighter away and did the one thing you were absolutely sure you would never do.

You grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him to you, pressing your lips to his. He didn’t hesitate for a second before he slid his hands to your waist pulling you closer to him. You deepened the kiss desperately trying to silence every thought in your mind. One of his hands wandered up to your neck and into your hair as a low moan escaped your mouth and he smiled into your lips.

Your back hit the wall and his lips left your mouth to continue kissing down your jaw to the spot right below your ear, leaving the delicate tinkle of goosebumps on your hot skin.

He pressed himself against you keeping you steady as one of your hands slipped into his hair while the other one let go of his shirt and started to slip lower over his toned stomach.

His hand was gliding over your back to your thigh as he lifted your leg, lips never leaving your skin.

Your hand was now just at the hem of his pants and he let out a soft moan.

“You are killing me, sweetheart,” he whispered into your neck as he came back up to claim your lips once more. Your brain finally was in a blissful radio silence for the first time in months and there was nothing that could have pulled you back into reality except the loud cheering erupting from inside the gym.

You broke the kiss pulling your hands back from Billy. “The game, it's over. I need to go back inside.”

He put his hand to your chin making you look into his eyes.

“Come home with me.” He said, piercing you with his stare, not a hint of smugness on his face.

You looked at him for a moment, thoughts racing again in your head and you wished for nothing more than to shut them out again.

“Wait here for me, please.” You whispered, stepping away from him, walking to the door as he grabbed your wrist softly, pulling you back and kissing you once more.

“Hurry.” He said against your lips and your brain short-circuited for a second.

You went inside the gym pushing through the crowd to where you spotted Nancy.

You caught up to her and she greeted you with a smile. “Where have you been? You missed the end.” She yelled over the cheering.

“I was just taking a smoke break, and don’t you dare tell Steve.” You added as she looked at you judgingly. “And besides, it was quite obvious how this match was going to end wasn’t it?”

She just smiled at you.

“Will you tell Steve that I’m heading home? I have a crushing headache and this whole party scene isn’t making it any better.”

She looked at you for a moment.

“Alright, but be careful and call me tomorrow, okay?”

You nodded as you hugged her and turned back to the exit.

Leaving the crowd behind, you were heading to probably one of the biggest mistakes you will ever make and your mind was calmer than ever before.

...

#billy hargrove reader #billy hargrove #stranger things #fluff stuff #romance #secret relationship #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fanfiction

37 notes · View notes

alpinezro · 4 months

Text

my t shot is tomorrow so like, tihs concludes my first week on T. i noticed most of the changes today on my 6th day, increased body odor + sweating. i was more hungry, but not how i expected to be. i thought the increase in hunger would be more like an increase in appetite but no, i went from barely having hunger pains to them being VERY persistent. when me and my mom went out to eat the hunger was unbearable!!!! it was a real hipster-y place so i got myself caprese avocado toast with sweet potato tater tots, overall gross and bland. i ate nearly the whole fucking slice in 10 seconds. pesto and vinegar were smeared all over my face and when people tried to talk to me i just groaned and kept mauling the toast like some rabid starved animal. when i was on the last bite my appetite completely disappeared, but i was still hungry. keep in mind this whole time im having hot flashes, either from hormones or low blood sugar. prob the latter bc after i ate i felt sooo cold. i also kept getting strong urges to lift heavy objects???? when i got home i bolted to the nearest chair and picked it up, spun around in a circle and said hooray a few times before getting stuck underneath it. last thing, even though i showered i still feel dirty. i take pretty thorough showers.

#personal post #personal #long post #testosterone #ftm #ftm hrt

6 notes · View notes

julietas-basil · 2 years

Note

Hi! I’m kinda new in Julieta fandom here in Tumblr. I do rad fics in Ao3 though. I don’t have specific idea in mind, but would you do an Alma-Julieta fic? Maybe a Mother’s Day Special? 😅 Thank you so much 😘

I thank you dear friend for requesting this!

Since our bud Jared Bush confirmed Julieta was a caretaker from her earlier years of life I'd like to take on that !

Happy Mother's Day to all the mommies,aunts,grandmother's and our favorite friends or other women who contribute to the world's well being ♡☺

notes; there will be a small angst for the start I hope you'll enjoy it overall!💖

It has been a long time since Pedro's murder. The scene,every single detail;the surroundings,the gallops of the horses nearing closer to people,whose feet digged into the muddy ground-as a way to escape from the hostile intruders-the villagers screams of fear and agony,filling her ears every night. Then the tranquility in Pedro's face,easing her sleep,until his features form into pure sorrow.

She remembers frankly the moment she dreaded even before they fled their sweet home; There was a not in her throat,a burning in her chest,tears that threatened to spill down her warm cheeks,when she saw Pedro-her lovely Pedro- giving a peck to their newly-born triplets (wrapped up in the warmest of blankets). The last kiss was a confirmation to her living nightmares. He whispered 'I love you' a short meaningful sentence that could forever be etched on her mind. That was it he left,stepping onto the cold water,in defense of his people in the expense of his life. She kneeled when the one of the military man pressed the sword in his body. She knelt,her babies on her chest,ugly tears and an unfaidable memory crossed on her brain. In the end there was pure Light...

-"¡Mamá,por favor! Are okay?"

A little Julieta was standing next to Alma's sleeping form on the bed. One hand on her mother's hair stroking lightly and her other small hand gently shaking her shoulder,enough pressure to wake her up. Alma's body tensed up,the reality of nightmare had undeniably kicked in;she was sweating and traces of tears had soaked on her cheeks. She massaged her forehead a bit,her eyes wandering to find Julieta's big,sparkly eyes looking worriedly over her mother's upset ones...

-"¡Ay,mi Amor Lo siento! I didn't want to scare you mija...come to mamá"

Alma motioned for her daughter to join her in a hug.Julieta flashed a genuine smile,a gentle frown on her face. The little girl fell into her mother's arms right away,appreciating the affection.

-"Mamà...I brought you breakfast!"

Little Julieta exclaimed happily,a giggle giving away her excitement. The eldest of triplets had finally managed to learn a new recipe (Alma had thankfully a lot of patience thank God for that!). She brought the plate to her Mamà;Two small buñuelos,mixed eggs with vegetables and potatoes and chopped avocado

-"I made you some orange juice too! Vitamin C is very essential in the morning!"

6 year old Julieta lifted a finger to define her expertise. Alma laughed admiring her little doctor and how much seriously she takes the responsibility of her gift. Then the older woman watched her daughter in adoration prepare the disk and place it qith slight difficulty over Alma's knees

-"¡Cuidado Mija!"

-"it's okay Mamà I got it !"

Despite,Alma's fear of Julieta dropping everything upside down,she trusted her daughter and the way she was becoming a young responsible,not to mention independent woman, it was one of the cutest sights she had ever seen!

-"¡Feliz Día De Las Madres,Mamá!"

Her older mija pulled out a small bucket of flowers she picked from their garden; acolombian rose,a "flor de mayo",a couple of chamomiles and lavender -all wrapped up in a yellow silk ribbon- the beautiful scent of flowers filling the mother nostrils

Alma grinned enthusiastically at her daughter and two rays of teardrops made their way down her apples. She wrapped her pequeña niña up in a tight hug kissing her curly locks

"¡Gracias,mi Linda ! Ay Dios mio,te adoro desde el fondo de mi corazón..."

#julieta madrigal #alma is a good mother #alma madrigal #encanto #the madrigals #cute #omg #encanto fic #julieta #fluff #some angst #happy mothers day #FELIZ DIA DE LAS MADRES #why does it have to be so sweet omg #julieta being a little scientist #my heart

28 notes · View notes

quietpagan · 1 month

Text

Whose Child Is This?

In which fourteen-year-old Harry Potter sees his time-travelling five-year-old self accidentally appear in the middle of the fucking Great Hall, asks ‘is anybody going to adopt this kid?’, and does not wait for an answer.

AO3

---------------------------------------------------------------

The Great Hall was, in the aftermath of the rather exciting First Task, quite louder than usual. The visiting schools had been thrilled at the display, and while Hogwarts students were somewhat accustomed to having a weirdly stimulated school year, dragons had not yet been a part of the entertainment (for most).

The Hall was also brighter than usual, even excluding the Wreasley twin’s occasional breakfast-time antics, with the flashing of the very original and creative ‘Potter Stinks’ badges that everyone loved. Potter himself wasn’t wearing one, if only because he couldn’t figure out how to get it to stay stuck on the ‘Support Cedric Diggory’ setting, but it didn’t matter. Flashing badge or no, after such a rousing scene during his tussle with his chosen dragon Harry was as much a topic of craned-neck looks and too-loud whispers as the rest of the Champions. Even if you hated the kid, most people had to admit that anything ‘Potter’ tended to be interesting, honestly.

But yet absolutely none of it compared to the three carelessly-cast spells that had just rebounded onto Harry Potter; the bright, wobbly circle of light that temporarily blinded everybody near the ends of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables; and the extremely tiny boy that had just fallen through it.

Harry Potter was a skinny, speccy teenager with a few bandaged burns and bruises and an increasing headache, and he was also the itty-bitty five-year-old groaning from where he’d landed in the mashed potato tureen, bleeding all over the tablecloth.

The Hall went silent, after a perfunctory scream or two.

The little boy lay in place for a moment and then turned over, sitting up as best he could. There was an enormous t-shirt hanging off one shoulder that was slowly becoming speckled with dark stains, and it was difficult to determine his expression under the myriad of bruises across his face. One thousand magical students watched as he swiveled his head back and forth, taking in the entire Hall with a rather myopic squint.

“Is this Heaven,” he asked the bushy-haired girl in front of him.

Hermione Granger knew exactly everything except how to answer that question.

The ginger boy next to her was running marathons with his eyes, trying to look at Hermione, the little boy, and his utterly shellshocked friend sitting across from him all at the same time.

“Er…”

“If it’s Heaven then that’s alright,” the child continued, still squinting. “Only I hope the angels are nice.”

Harry Potter the Elder was frozen in place, listening to the child speak. His back was throbbing from whatever spells had just hit him and so was his head and so was everything, honestly, dragon-fighting sucked. This was unreal. This could not, absolutely could not be happening.

Hermione seemed to gather herself then, after an unsuccessful effort to get Harry to react.

“Oh, um. Well, I’m not an angel but my, my name is Hermione. And – and – what’s yours?” She asked, visibly stiffening at a flurry of movement from the high table.

“Boy.”

Across from her, behind the child, Harry Potter’s face completely drained of blood. He didn’t move an inch, as if hoping that if he didn’t make a sound, the disaster happening on top of the table wouldn’t see him.

The child shook his hair out of his eyes, and the sweat-damp strands parted over the angry scar beneath them.

Across the Hall, Draco Malfoy looked as if he were trying quite desperately to telepathically make his father hear of this. Rita Skeeter, damn her to hell, was absolutely going to hearing of this.

“Um, it’s not Heaven, I’m terribly sorry, but – did you know that you’re bleeding? We really ought to get you to the hospital wing, Ronald, grab my bag, what on Earth happened to you?”

The boy watched as the redheaded teenager struggled to fit two schoolbags over one shoulder while simultaneously attempting to kick the black-hair kid across from him in the shins.

“Uncle Vernon was very mad at me.”

Harry Potter unfroze in a swoop of black robes, grabbing the tiny child and hauling him off of the table. The boy shrieked in pain before hastily covering his mouth and Harry belatedly took his hand off the kid’s back, instead crouching to pick him up from the front. There really wasn’t an extremely dramatic change in size in ten years and it wasn’t that difficult; the boy weighed hardly anything. Shouts emerged from the high table as he swung his legs over the bench and booked it for the door.

“Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter, come back here – “

Harry, Ron, and Hermione legged it out the Hall, shoving the door shut behind them; Hermione took an extra moment to do a complicated little spell that she’d been using to keep secret her personal diary, since her roommates had a nasty habit of believing that anything that held possibly juicy gossip was theirs by default.

She caught up to the boys with difficulty, since Harry, even when weighed down by a two-stone kid, was stupid fast.

The boy unceremoniously slung over his shoulder watched the corridor go by with pained bemusement, occasionally waving to a straggling student who was late for lunch.

The door to the hospital wing loomed wide as Harry rushed right past it, scrambling up a staircase to the exclamations of his friends.

“Harry-“

He turned a corner and booked it to the grand staircase, thundering up the next flight two at a time.

“Harry, please! You need to take him back to the hospital wing!”

“Look at him, mate, he’s bleeding all over!”

“It’ll be fine,” Harry finally said, not pausing even as his arms and legs burned like fire under the exertion. “He’ll heal okay.”

“You can’t just know that - !”

Harry could, because he remembered this day. Harry had once asked very, very foolishly, why he was called ‘Boy’ at home and ‘Harry’ at school, and if his relatives had known his name was actually ‘Harry’.

Vernon beat him so hard he’d thought he was dying. It was the first time he’d ever used the belt, and Harry had spent the afternoon and the whole night in his cupboard praying, wishing that the angels would be nicer to him if he went to Heaven.

He remembered dreaming of a great, big room full of floating lights and black-clothed people, he remembered watching a woman speak, though he couldn’t understand her. Nobody had picked him up and ran off with him then; he’d fallen asleep, or passed out, or something, and when he woke up he was sore and stiff and achy, but alive, in the furthest place from heaven that his five-year-old mind could think of.

It wasn’t happening again. He couldn’t let it. The kid just looked so small.

The seventh-floor corridor flew past until the trio halted in front of a rather hideous tapestry, and Harry began to pace.

I need some place to hide a kid.

I need somewhere to keep a kid safe.

I need somewhere to hide a kid.

He reached for the doorknob before it even materialized and fell through with his friends on his heels, slamming the door behind him.

“Harry, what – ?”

“How did you know this was here, what is this, mate?”

“I asked Dobby if he knew of a place to get away,” Harry muttered, conveniently solving a problem that the author didn’t want to dig into.

No one in, he ordered. Steel bars emerged from the wooden door and embedded themselves in the stone around it. The room was small and dark, lit by a tiny fireplace that made soft light dance across the ceiling. Harry set the kid down on a plush sofa, pushing him a little when he tried to get away.

“Mm’not – “

“You’re allowed on the furniture,” Harry whispered, bent over him so that Ron and Hermione wouldn’t hear. Hermione looked like she had anyway.

A table appeared by the couch just as he was thinking of healing supplies, sporting bandages and rags, bowls of water, and a rather dusty bottle of murtlap essence.

Now that the running away was done Harry honestly felt rather empty. He didn’t want to do this with his friends watching, he truly didn’t, but he needed to think and he just couldn’t think right now, so his friends would have to reach for him.

“Er. Would you guys mind, I mean. Turning around? Please?”

Ron swiveled instantly, while Hermione looked like she wanted to argue. But at Harry’s insistent look she sighed and turned, leaning on the back of the couch beside Ron.

The kid was looking at him with wide eyes, bright green. Harry had never noticed how vivid they really were.

He wished he could think of something nice, but all he could think of in his moment was how accurate ‘green as a fresh-pickled toad’ actually had been.

“You look like me,” the kid said. Harry took a deep breath and held it for a moment.

Nodding, he grabbed a rag and the bowl of water.

“I want to get your back fixed up. Can you get your shirt off?”

Kid looked like he wanted to say more –

- ‘Don’t ask questions, you little freak’, Petunia would shriek –

But he set about pulling his arms out of the sleeves. Harry helped him get it over his head and scooted around to sit on the couch.

Harry had honestly never really seen anybody else extremely injured, or at least, not in a truly messy way. Quirrell turning to dust had happened rather quickly; they had knocked Snape out last year, but only a thin trickle of blood was evident there. The other Champions after the First Task had a few small cuts and bruises but that was it. Harry had had multiple grotesque, bloody injuries, and although they’d hurt like shite the sight of them didn’t really do much to him.

It was different, seeing it on somebody else.

The t-shirt had smeared the blood around rather gruesomely but the welts were worse than the cuts. Most of the blood was clogged and sticky; Harry wrung out the rag and gently tried to wash it away. The more he got off the worse the bruising looked; thick, dark lines welling up adjacent to the raised welts. The water in the bowl was reddish in no time, and he used the second bowl to finish up cleaning.

It would probably have been easier, he thought, if he could work on a smooth surface, but everything about the kid’s back was craggy; spine poking out like a mountain range, ribs showing more than could ever be healthy, the crests of his hipbones showing over the top of an overlarge pair of underpants held up with an old hair tie. Harry didn’t remember looking this nastily thin but he knew it was accurate, it was just…different. Seeing it on somebody else.

The same person. Somebody else who was the same person that he just snatched out of time and oh shit, he couldn’t take care of a kid!

“Sirius!”

Ron and Hermione jumped, spinning around reflexively. Harry tried to hold the t-shirt up like a curtain but it didn’t work one-handed.

“Oh, Harry – “

“We need to write to Sirius,” Harry said firmly, doing his best to ignore how watery Ron’s eyes were looking and, oh, god, it was all falling apart, he could not fucking handle this.

“Mate, I know he’s cool and all but the man’s living in a cave eating rats.”

“He offered to take me last year. SO. He probably had a house or something in mind, right? Just. Can you just write him really quickly, please?”

“Harry, we really should be going to Professor Dumbledore with this, shouldn’t we? He’ll be able to figure all of…this out, surely.”

Harry’s hands gripped the t-shirt tighter. Something in his throat squeezed shut, and he had to fight to open it again.

“Dumbledore will send him back. He’ll say it’s for our own protection and maybe he’ll talk to the Dursleys and he’ll promise that this won’t happen again and I’m not doing that, he, I. We’ll figure this out without Dumbledore, so please, please can you just go and write Sirius?”

Hermione had already given up on not crying but she nodded and wiped her face, shoving Ron across the room to the door, which opened just barely long enough to allow them through.

Harry turned back to the task at hand, dabbing at the cuts with a little bit of paste. The kid was starting to shiver. Harry gently pushed him forward just as the fire enlarged a little.

“Sirius is our – he’s my – he’s, shit.”

There were two Harry Potters, why was this his life.

“He’s our godfather,” Harry said, answering a question he knew had to be running around the kid’s head. “He was supposed to take us when our parents died but he was framed for murder and put in jail. He broke out of jail last year. I don’t know how he can help but he’d better have something.”

------------------------------------------------------------

That something turned out to be giving both Harrys a heart attack by showing up at the door fifty minutes later, scrambling at the wood like a bear trying to break into a storehouse. Small Harry jumped onto the arm of the couch as only-slightly-taller Harry opened the door for the enormous dog, who bounded in and changed into a man in one smooth motion, grabbing the older Harry in a bone-crushing hug as the door slammed shut.

The hug must have been too tight, because Harry suddenly was having a really, really hard time keeping from crying. Hugs from Sirius felt as safe and homey and achy as Mrs. Weasley’s embraces, but there was an element of mine that was added as well that kind of crushed something in his heart.

When Sirius let go he didn’t let go all the way; his hands stayed on Harry’s shoulders as he peered over his godson’s hair to look at…his? Other?? Godson??

Who was still standing upright on the couch, utterly agog at seeing a dog turn into a man.

Sirius took in the bloodied kid, the scarred forehead, the glaring ribcage, and the cringing teen all in one wide glance, and stepped forward and knelt, bringing him just below the kid’s height.

“So you must be young Harry Potter,” he said softly, giving the child a gentle smile. The boy shook his head, looking up at his counterpart with wide eyes.

“S’m’name’s Boy,” he mumbled. Sirius’s face told Harry that they were definitely going to be having A Discussion sometime soon, but he just cracked a smile and pulled a blanket over the kid’s skinny shoulders.

“Well, my name is Sirius, and I’m actually your godfather, so I’m going to be taking care of you now, alright?”

The boy – Harry, his name is HARRY, it’s HARRY, it’s not Boy, it’s not Freak, it’s HARRY – clenched the blanket in his little fists.

“What’s – “

“You got your dad’s cloak with you?” Harry, who hadn’t until the author needed him to, nodded.

“Good. Toss it over the kid and let’s go. I’m taking you to my house.”

Harry scrambled to fish his cloak out of his pocket while Sirius shoved the Room’s medical supplies into his own pockets, grabbing another blanket and tucking it securely around Harry-the-younger and picking him up. The boy looked terrified but didn’t say a word.

“We need to get to either your Common Room or McGonagall’s office,” Sirius said, waving his wand at his face and murmuring urgently. “Is there a mirror – ah.” At Harry’s thought, a claw-footed mirror appeared on the wall. Sirius trudged over and continued to spell his face, until he looked like a passable copy of Professor McGonagall.

“Can’t do much for the robes, I’m afraid, but it’ll do if we have to run for it. Sorry, Minne,” Sirius added in afterthought.

Harry walked them over to the door and thought very hard about Professor McGonagall’s office, which portraits and tapestries hung near it, what the hallway looked from the staircase at the end. The Room shuddered, and then the door shivered a bit and opened to look directly at McGonagall’s door.

Harry and Sirius shimmied out and nearly brained themselves on the wood when the door refused to open.

“Shit! I mean, shite.”

Sirius kicked the wood and started off to the stairs that led to Gryffindor Tower.

“She’s not in, I left the door jammed but she must have seen it, dammit.”

Harry trotted to keep up, listening to the horribly-accented mutters with pounding in his ears. Surely, surely somebody would notice them, they were going to get caught and this would be the end and –

“Mr…oh! Mr. Potter, stop right there!” The both of them whirled around to find Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, and the actual Professor McGonagall turning the opposite corner. McGonagall looked a bit stunned for a moment, before indignation overtook her face and she marched right at them, proper robes and hat and all, like a tartan tiger having spotted its prey.

“Harry!”

“Mate!” “Sirius - ?”

“Book it.” “Black, don’t you dare – “

Sirius and Harry bolted up the stairs, screeching to a halt at the portrait before Harry gave the password and ducked through the entrance, startling a gaggle of second-years who were just stepping in.

“Muffliato!”

The few students hanging out in the Common Room immediately looked confused at the sudden buzzing in their ears, as Sirius dug a hand into the pocket of his robe and tossed an amount of floo powder into the fireplace.

Harry was suddenly burdened with thirty pounds of invisible child.

“You go through first, Harry,” Sirius said, as muffled yells echoed from outside the portrait hole. “It’s ‘Grimmauld Place,’ alright? Hurry.”

“Grimmauld Place, Grimmauld Place,” Harry muttered, remembering his last floo encounter. He stepped into the emerald flames just as the back of the portrait rocked. A few of the students around the Common Room began to look panicked and suspicious, realizing that ‘Professor McGonagall’ was looking somewhat different than usual.

Harry adjusted the kid, feeling him breathing quietly but quite heavily, and shouted “Grimmauld Place!” just as the portrait hole burst open.

The flames whisked him away before he saw more than Dumbledore’s wide eyes, and he and the kid tumbled out into a pitch-dark room.

There was a moment of alarm as he overbalanced and began to fall, then a strong hand grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him upright.

Sirius’s angular face was illuminated briefly by the flames, before he put a hand onto the lintel and said, “Nullus Introitus!” and the fire died immediately. The darkness fell with the ringing of iron bells, and despite the silence Harry’s labored breathing sounded strangely muffled. The hand on his shoulder was warm, though, and he held the kid tighter as his eyes began to adjust to the dark.

“Where are we?” he whispered. The darkness absorbed the sound like a sponge.

“We’re at my house,” Sirius murmured. His hand shifted on Harry’s shoulder as he moved forward, and suddenly there was light; with a gesture, Sirius had lit the wall sconces.

“Don’t move from that spot,” he said, “And don’t lose contact with me. This house isn’t very friendly, and I, uh. I haven’t been here for a while.”

The room they were in was coated in dust, but the green silk of the wallpaper was still able to be seen, and the sharp, lavish décor was no less harsh for its layers of neglect.

It wasn’t anything like Harry had seen before, and Sirius’s trepidation did nothing to assuage his nerves. But as the invisibly kid began to squirm, Harry-the-elder found himself enveloped in a pair of long, warm arms, the scratch of a beard tickling the top of his ear.

“We’re going to figure this out, Harry,” said Sirius, and finally the strings were cut. Harry sagged against his godfather’s chest and took a shaky breath, trying to control the burning in his eyes. A hand rubbed across his back, and if he had to wipe his eyes against Sirius’s velvet housecoat then nobody else was here to see it.

--------------------------------------------------

A/N: Where did this come from? Why did I write this? Who fucking knows. I haven’t read the books since I was in high school so please forget inconsistencies in timeline and tidbits here and there. We’re taking 'fuck the source' as a writing style because fuck JKR. This wouldn't leave me alone until it was written so here it is. If there’s fourth wall breaks unusual to my writing style it’s because I’m mad.

Is there another Horcrux now that baby!Harry is present? Who fucking knows! Not me! This will not, not, NOT be continued upon, by golly!

I originally wrote this as happening in 5th year, mainly because that’s where the Angst ™ is and I kind of thought it would be hilarious to have Dumbledore just chilling at Grimmauld Place after he ditches Hogwarts in book five, like…where did he go? Boarding at the Hog’s Head with Aberforth just to annoy his brother? I feel like he would be an extremely pleasant and polite and tidy houseguest that absolutely every host wants to get rid of within half a day of his residence. Dumbledore can be stomached in small doses, not weeks living in the same house. And I want Sirius to get a little petty about it.

BUT Book Four has a lot more, uh, options. Of stuff. It’s past midnight, I don’t have a brain right now.

Also the books just kind of…sleep? On Harry’s horrendously abusive home life? Like it’s literally just there. I get that that’s kind of how it can feel at the time but uhhh that shit makes marks in weird and unexpected places. I know not much was actually touched upon but it’s canon that Harry’s been both choked and hit at with frying pans, and Vernon even smacks Dudley as well in the first book.

Anyway I’ve never read a fic of younger Harry time-travelling to the future, always book- or future-Harry travelling to the past, so here you go, bite me.

#my fic #harry potter #i honestly wasn't sure if I should post this or not with the debates and all of JKR's continued assholery #I know thou shalt not support by buying the books/movies/new game etc #but what about at-home folks just reading or writing or drawing?#Folks who write or draw out of grief? Out of spite? To process something? Honest question

1 note · View note

mumms-the-word · 3 months

Text

Abducted

I'm challenging myself to do this BG3 February Fic challenge, forcing myself to write a little bit each day. Feel free to follow this sporadic journey! We'll see if I keep it up.

---

What was Tav doing when they were abducted?

---

This was Dani’s favorite part of their set as the Merry Rovers. The big finale song, with Brannon on the lyre and his daughter Liara on the lute, Paraxxel keeping up the beat on his drums and Kellen embellishing it all with his flute. While Brann and Lee carried the weight of the song with their instruments and voices, Dani sawed her way through harmonies and melodies on her fiddle as the tempo picked up with every verse, flashing a goading grin at Paraxxel when he gave them the warning rhythm that he was about to really pick up the pace.

She and that snarky dragonborn were always trying to challenge one another. But she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of thinking she was worried.

Dani caught a brief glimpse of Brann’s fleeting eyeroll, but though he simplified his strumming on the lyre, every word he sung of that last, breakneck round was sung with sharp accuracy, far better than any of the half-drunk or well-past-drunk voices in the crowd that tried to keep up with him. Once that last, speedy verse was complete, they sang through the chorus, with Dani’s bow flying across the strings, and ended with their own personal embellishments, Dani’s bow high in the air on the last note. The crowd broke into raucous (if drunken) applause, stamping their feet and beating on the tables.

Brann held up a hand for quiet, waiting patiently as it took a bit for their crowd to settle. When they did, he gestured for Dani to begin their farewell song. Still sweating from the last verse, she leveled her bow against the strings of her fiddle and coaxed it to the first gentle bars of music.

“Never have we stood before such an adoring audience,” Brann said, smiling slightly. Dani flicked her gaze to Liara, who twitched her eyebrows up, both of them amused by her father’s lie. They’d played for plenty of adoring audiences, and livelier ones too. But neither of them interrupted their fearless leader. “Much as we might wish to stay and play for you until the wee hours of the morn, this must be our farewell.”

“Not farewell, Father,” Liara said, on cue. Practiced and perfect as always. “How about…till we meet again?”

The crowd, as if also sensing their cue, gave a smattering of applause and a few hearty whistles. Brann nodded and readied his lyre.

“Till we meet again, then,” he said. “Raise your glasses, lads, to the hope of reunion. And plenty of merry songs between now and when we meet again!”

The five of them lined up on the edge of the stage, with Dani playing her fiddle and Brann plucking a few supporting chords on the lyre. As a group, they raised their voices in practiced harmony for the well-known chorus:

So fill to me the parting glass

And drink a health whate’er befalls

Then gently rise and softly call

Goodnight and joy be to you all

They took their bows amidst a final burst of applause and were soon off the stage. While Brann stayed behind to collect their payment from the barkeep (and remain conveniently in view should any patrons feel generous enough to toss a few coins his way as thanks for the entertainment), Dani and the others squeezed themselves into a booth in one corner to wolf down a well-earned dinner. As usual, Liara and Kellen took one side, practically joined at the hip, leaving the other booth seat for Dani and Paraxxel. Brann dragged over a chair to join them after a while, setting down both a plate of food for himself and a leather bag with a bit of coin inside.

“What’s the score, Brann?” Paraxxel asked, deftly blocking Dani’s hand as she tried to sneak a bit of roasted potato from off his plate. Dani huffed and reached for Liara’s plate instead.

“Not our best, but we have a bit extra tonight,” Brann said. “We could have done much worse.”

“How much extra?” Dani asked, leaning closer, golden eyes bright. Depending on how much money they got from tonight, she had a few plans in mind. A few adventures to be had, perhaps.

Brann didn’t answer immediately, chewing his food patiently, as if there weren’t four pairs of highly interested eyes on him. He even took a second bite, chewing and swallowing without a word. As he went in for his third, Liara threw up her hands.

“Dad! Don’t keep us in suspense!” She scooted closer to him. “How much extra?”

Brann lowered his fork, bite uneaten, his lips twitching at a smile he was too proud to show. “Something to the tune of a few gold pieces for each of us.”

Paraxxel nodded with smug satisfaction, Dani gasped, and Liara clapped her hands with delight, immediately reached for both of Kellen’s hands.

“Did you hear that, darling?” she said. “In the morning we should go back by that dress shop and—“

“In the morning,” Brann said sternly, “we need to make way to the Basilisk Gate. The earlier we get there, the sooner we can get through any pointless checkpoints and start getting more gigs on the books.”

Liara groaned. “Dad, Lower City isn’t going anywhere. It’ll only be a teensy detour.”

Kellen gave one of her hands a squeeze. “Whatever you want from the shop, I can run over and pick it up while you all go on ahead.”

“That’s not the point, K,” she whined. She slipped her hands from his and propped her elbows on the table, her chin and cheeks cupped in her hands like a pouty child. “I wanted to go together and shop…”

Dani giggled and nudged Liara’s foot with her own under the table. “Chin up, Lee. Whatever you would have spent there, my mama could make you for half the price, and probably twice as pretty.”

“But that’s not shopping with K,” Liara mumbled. “Just us. Alone…”

“In a shop,” Paraxxel said dryly. His restless leg was already showing, his knee bouncing under the table, making some of the utensils clatter against the table. “Hardly a romantic date.”

“Like you would know a romantic date if it bit you on the scaly ass, Axxel.”

“Hey, keep my ass out of this.”

“And stop bouncing!” She aimed a kick under the table, but caught Dani’s shin instead.

“Ow! Lee!”

“Enough,” Brann said. He shot hard looks at all of them except Kellen, who wisely minded his own business by keeping his eyes on his plate and taking another bite of his food. “It’s not up for discussion. In the morning, we head towards Basilisk Gate.”

He paused, taking a long sip from his mug. “…Maybe we’ll stop by Maeva’s on the way over.”

Dani brightened at the mention of her mother’s name. “Really? Do you promise?”

“Well…no promises but…if we’re going to be in the area…”

But she knew the old salt well enough to know he’d swing by, if not for her then for himself. She didn’t exactly know how to define the relationship between Brann and her mother, but both of them were family. Her mother by birth, and Brann by choice.

“We should bring Maemae some herbs for her legs, if we can,” Liara said, no longer pouty. That was her word for Dani’s mother, a fond mixture of “mama” and “Maeva” that Dani also sometimes used. Though she and Liara weren’t actually sisters—that much was obvious, since Liara was a human and Dani was a tiefling—they were family by circumstance. Maeva had raised Liara off and on alongside Dani, and now Brann had taken Dani under his wing to be one of the Merry Rovers.

“I’ll buy some tomorrow with my gold,” Kellen offered, but Brann shook his head.

“I’ll cover it.” He turned his mug idly on the table, his eyes both focused and distant. As usual, his thoughts were impossible to discern.

They finished their dinner with only light banter before breaking up to spend the last few hours before bed in their own way. Brann wanted to retire immediately—“Bah, leave an old man to his rest,” he said, when Paraxxel asked if he were up to a game of cards—but the rest of them, all half Brann’s age and younger, were still wide awake. Liara and Kellen disappeared to try and find a romantic walk somewhere nearby, as if there was such a thing in this part of the Outer City, which left Paraxxel and Dani on their own, as usual.

“Got any plans in mind, Dani?” he asked, as they stepped out of the tavern for some fresher, quieter air. Though it was dark, there were plenty of people still walking the streets, either looking for a drink or walking home after a long day. As they started meandering down the street, Dani stretched her arms over her head before shaking them loose, from shoulders to wrists.

“Want to find a few good tables at another in and partner up for Three Dragon Ante?” she asked. “If we’re lucky, we can turn a few extra gold pieces into a big, fat purse of gold.”

He barked a laugh. “Not the way you play.”

She bumped her shoulder against his arm, since she couldn’t quite reach his shoulder, tall as he was. “What, you don’t trust me to slip you the right cards at the right time? I’ve been practicing.” She wiggled her fingers as if this were proof.

“I don’t trust you to know which cards are the right cards,” he said. “Besides, the last time we tried that, we got thrown out. Because someone—“ he gave her a pointed look, green dragonfire eyes glowing in the darkness, “—made her moves a little too obvious.”

“Fine. Spoilsport.” She crossed her arms. “What did you have in mind?”

He rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before shrugging. “Dunno. A game of Ante wouldn’t be bad. But I’m feeling a little restless, you know? I think I’d rather blow off some steam.”

Dani tilted her head. She knew exactly what she meant by “blow off some steam,” but she was disappointed to hear him say it. She’d rather get into mischief with her friend, not jump into bed with him. Not that he’d ask her. They’d tried that once and decided it wasn’t for them. They were too much like family at this point for that to work.

But they were friends, and friends didn’t leave friends high and dry.

“Tell you what,” she said. “You play a round of Ante with me, and I’ll scope out the patrons and be your charming wingman. I get some gold, you get a good lay.”

“Neither of those is guaranteed, but…” He turned and held out his hand for her to shake. “It’s a deal.”

Dani grinned and took his hand, shaking it firmly. “Perfect. There should be a tavern just down the—“

A rumbling interrupted her, like thunder. Confused, she glanced skyward, as did many other people around them. It was certainly the season for sudden storms, but this night the stars were out and clearly visible. Hardly a cloud in the sky.

Dani glanced at Paraxxel. “Did you hear…”

The rumbling came again, this time with a sound like deep brassy alarm, strange and alien, as if made by both creature and machine. Suddenly, high in the clear night sky, a shadow blinked into existence, writhing and black, tentacles undulating at the front of its beastly shape.

Paraxxel squinted up at the shape, taking a step toward it. “What the hells—“

The brassy alarm sounded off again and the shape—the ship—dipped down toward the streets, tentacles stretching down to brush the tops of rooftops and watchtowers, dipping between buildings to the streets below. All of a sudden, screams rent the air, at first distantly, but very quickly growing closer. People far down the street began to run, desperate to escape the monstrous thing in the sky.

The ship wasn’t stopping.

Panic gripped Dani’s chest as people fled around them pursued by that giant black thing, and she tugged on Paraxxel’s hand. “Run! Axxel, run!”

She let go and booked it, Paraxxel on her heels and soon overtaking her. They had to get to shelter, somewhere the ship couldn’t reach them.

Paraxxel was bigger, stronger, his legs longer, and he soon left Dani nearly in the dust. Her lungs burned with exertion as she urged her legs to move faster, to outrun whatever that thing was, the terror of what it could do to her—even though she had no idea what it could do—giving her the energy to push through the pain. She wove deftly between those who were slower than her, in one case leaping over someone who had fallen and was struggling to get to their feet.

Paraxxel was the first to reach the door way of a tavern, wrenching it open and placing himself bodily in the doorframe to keep it open even as the patrons inside screamed at him to stop and tried to push him out. He gestured frantically to Dani. “Come on, come on! Just a bit farther!”

He stopped suddenly, green-fire eyes wide as he looked up at something high over their heads. Dani saw the tentacle snake down from above them and skid to a stop, scrambling to change course and crashing to the cobblestones instead.

“Dani!” Paraxxel launched himself from the doorway and out in the street. She watched, horrified, as the writhing appendage she’d just narrowly escaped brushed against Paraxxel. He disappeared in a flurry of black ashes, as if he’d been blinked out of existence, the black ship cruising forward overhead without so much as slowing down.

“Axxel!”

But Dani didn’t have any time to react. Another deep rumble split the sky behind her. She turned, attempting to get back on her feet, but it was far too late. A second ship, flying even lower than the first, swept up the road, picking up the panicking stragglers that the first ship had passed over. The street was filled with bursts of black ashes and screams cut short. Nothing, absolutely nothing could stop it. She watched, frozen, as one of the undulating arms of the ship curved down to touch her.

Then her vision clouded over with black, and she was gone.

#bg3 #bg3ficfeb #meridan zavrai #oc #dani #tav #my fic #unedited #because we don't do edits we just die like men

1 note · View note

modularelevatormanufacturing · 4 months

Text

Ghosts of Christmas Elevators

Ghosts of Christmas Elevators - With this Thanksgiving being one of the weirdest in holiday history, I felt moving right into Christmas was a great idea. By the way, be patient I will get to elevators. One of my favorite collections of holiday movies comes from the time tested Charles Dickens classic, A Christmas Carol. Whether it is Bill Murray in Scrooged, George C. Scott, Reginald Owen or Scrooge McDuck it is a great story. It tells of a bitter, greedy and disillusioned Ebenezer Scrooge and the four apparitions that visit him. The ghosts are charged with the last ditch effort to reclaim Ebenezer's soul from an eternal, tortuous walk in chains around the earth as penance. It is a story of hope and reclamation. “I am here to-night to warn you that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate." Marley said. But would Scrooge heed the words of the mercurial spirits that came to sway his life decisions? Can You Change? We all would like to think that we have the ability to change our minds or reform our thinking. However, part of the appeal of Scrooge is it hits closer to home that we would like to acknowledge. Ultimately, we all tend towards intransigence in our lives. Unfortunately, much like the lead character of the book. We walk the same paths, and make the same decisions over and over. In other words, we start doing something a certain way and there we are, stuck in the mud just like good ol' Ebenezer. Change? Bah-humbug! In my shortened version of the "movie" in this blog, I get to play the part of Marley. There I am wandering about with an over-sized ring of elevator keys jangling from my waist as I materialize in your presence. "You will be visited by elevator consultants of the past, present and future at the stroke of one, two and three." I moan with my mouth agape. Unlike in the classic you get to decide whether you will change your mind or perspective on the past, present and future of the elevator industry, and thank goodness not the fate of your potentially wandering soul. And so it begins. The Clock Strikes 1 As the clock strikes one, you feel a nervous sweat drenching your brow. What will the early morning hold for you and your visitors or was the first visit all a dream just brought on by a bit of "undigested beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese or a fragment of an underdone potato"? Could it all be true? But then with great fanfare enters the Ghost of Elevator Consultants Past. This jovial spirit reminds you of the elevators of years ago and how you were once filled with joy at the prospect of considering new and exciting technology in the industry. Thinking outside of the box was a delight. Now it seems the business is the same old, same old, cut and paste and you are part of it. The life of exploring a better technology and improved methods was not something to hide from just a few years ago; it was something to embrace leading to newer and better. You are then shown through the spirit, that the old-fashioned conventional elevator model as a broken down relic of times past and a new faster, safer, greener and less expensive alternative, off the building project's critical path is available if you are willing and able. You are reminded that elevators have not changed in how they are built since the 1860's...or have they? 2 AM - Ghost Number 2 At the strike of two the Ghost of Elevator Consultant Present takes you by the hand and whisks you away to elevator projects in the midst of the building process where unsafe conditions of heavy lifting, scaffolding in hoistways and open shaft entrances make for unnecessary injuries. On that conventional job-site the sounds of drama and argument fills the air as bickering constantly exists between various trades. They squabble over pit ladders, electrical runs and limited site storage. But, then in a flash, you see with your own eyes a complete elevator set in place (hoistway and all the components installed inside) in a couple hours, up and running in a couple of days. No arguing, no waste and no unsafe conditions. You can't help but shed a tear over the waste of time, materials, general costs and resources when you compare one with the other. Last But Certainly Not Least Finally, at the strike of three the third ghost appears. He quietly points a bony finger to the factory where modular elevators are manufactured. You effortlessly glide overhead to see there is less waste and more efficiency. The team on the factory floor work together in harmony on the production line with jigs, templates and quality control measures that ensures a plumb and square hoistway every time and easy installation of components. The only heavy-lifting is done by cranes and forklifts making everything safe and easy. Time then passes forward in a blur revealing the elevator being trucked to a job site and swung into place. The process is done in a flash; safer, faster, greener and less expensive. Is this future just a dream? As you and the apparition drift weightlessly over the job site and back towards the factory, you see smiling faces of the elevator technicians, the building owner, the architect the project manager, and GC. They have seen all the benefits of the high-quality commercial elevator made in a most unconventional way. Modular elevators have changed their lives for the better. It is a reality. You release the robe of the last phantom and realize it is again the present day and now you recognize where he has placed you, at the door of MEM the most experienced and best modular elevator manufacturer in the world. Now the choice is yours, do you reject the past and embrace the future of building today? It is not too late! You still have time! Merry Christmas! And if you choose modular as it says in the Christmas Carol (with my changes), "some people may laugh to see the alteration in your thinking, but let them laugh, and heed them little; for you were wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset." But in the long run they and others as well will come to know that for any low or mid-rise building a modular elevator is the absolute best choice. If you are curious, but don't want me to show up in your bedroom with three ghosts or if you are ready for a change feel free to contact us for more information. And for a Fast Track budget number click the button below. Hope you liked the story! - Happy Holidays from your MEM - Quality elevators taking you to a higher level. Request a FAST TRACK QUOTE Read the full article

#ChristmasElevator #elevatorconsultant #ElevatorGhosts #futureelevator #Scrooge

0 notes