#SORRY FOR THE ABSENCE MY FATHER IS AN ASSHOLE

[thevanishedpeople-intothenight]

HI GUYS I MBACK,,,

#ough #SORRY FOR THE ABSENCE MY FATHER IS AN ASSHOLE

[honeycomx]

Late Night Tip (3:15)

Stiles Stilinski x Black!reader

This story will contain… Cursing, Drugs, Drug Usage, and Smut. PROCEED WITH CAUTION 18+

a/n: Stiles is a bit of an asshole in this but kinda not, if you understand his reasoning. Idk, it’s up for you to decide. Plus this take place after season 3b and before season 4. And Listen to 3:15 by Russ.

⇣

Stiles had a secret no one knew about, not even Scott. And that was you. Boy, did Stiles love him some you. Contrary to what many people believed, Stiles wasn’t virgin. Before he had first slept with Malia, he had his fun with you. You had that boy wrapped around your finger, and if it weren’t for you wanting to stay friends with benefits, he probably would’ve put a ring on your finger.

But now, Stiles was at point where he wanted to be in a relationship. He wanted someone he could claim as his other half and be by his side. It would’ve been you, but you made it clear you didn’t want that right now. But Malia did. In fact, things between the two were getting quite serious. Especially since a night ago while the two were having, protected sex, she blurted out that he was her boyfriend. Stiles wasn’t sure how to react, he told her he thought they needed to give it some time before they rushed into things considering they have only started hanging with each other two months ago. Despite what he said, He did want a relationship plus him and Malia had built a great rapport with each other.

That has led him to his current dilemma, Malia had decided to be home with her dad tonight, since he complained about her staying out too much and his father was currently sleeping after a hard day of work. It was 1:00 in the morning and Stiles was awake. He was seated in his gaming chair, headset halfway on, as his fingers constantly tapped against the keyboard. In the middle of his battle, his phone starting vibrating violently against his desktop. Pausing his game, he reached for his phone. His heart immediately started racing as he saw your name coming across the screen. He hadn’t heard from you in two weeks since your last encounter, that thought alone gave him shivers. He knew it was wrong, since he was considering him and Malia being together but his rationale was that he didn’t verbally agree to it yet. The angel on his shoulder told him to ignore it, it was better to leave it where it stayed. But the devil was tempting him like Eve and you were the apple. He sighed, shaking his head at his next move, he cleared his throat before pressing the green button.

“Hello?” He asked in the phone.

“Hi Mitchie! I missed you.” You answered gleefully, making his stomach flutter. In those two weeks of your absence, he definitely missed hearing your nickname for him.

“I missed you too baby girl.” He replied, making your stomach flutter now.

“Sorry, I kinda ditched you for a while. My cousins were staying with me and taking up all of my time.” You explained remorsefully, hoping he’d accept your reasoning.

“It’s fine. I was kinda caught up in some things too.” He responded coolly, making you sigh in relief.

“Are you busy right now?” You asked.

“For you, never.” He replied smoothly, making you giggle and kick your feet like a schoolgirl.

“Come over then. I’m home alone and could use some company.” You knew he would, every time you called he would answer and be there.

“I’ll be over in 15.”

“I’ll be waiting, Mitchie.” You stated seductively, before the line clicked.

Stiles sighed, feeling his groin twitch, he knew it was shameful for someone to get this kind of reaction out of him from just a few words, but with his clouded mind, he could care less. He was thinking with his other head. Stiles quietly ran to his bathroom to brush his teeth, he was grateful he took a shower not to long ago. He grabbed his cologne, spraying a few pumps before tucking his phone and keys into his pocket. He slowly creaked open his bedroom door, not wanting to disturb his father or alert him of his departure, before tip toeing down the hall then the stairs and out the front door, making sure to lock and close it softly behind him. He made his way to his prized baby blue Jeep, parked just across the street. He unlocked his door before getting in, cranking his loud car, hoping his father didn’t hear before peeling off in the direction of your home.

The trip to your house was quick, seeing as he could speed due to the empty road and it only being a 10 minute drive from his. He pulled into your empty driveway, signifying that no one was home. There were times where your father’s car would be parked there, but Stiles deduced that he might’ve been at work. Stiles cut his car off before shooting you a text letting you know he was outside. Stiles sat back in his seat, staring out in thought while waiting for your response.

His mind wondered between you and Malia. He didn’t like the thought of leaving you alone at all. He loved being around you, even if majority of the time it was during the night. It was the way he saw your eyes lit up every time you saw him, they way y’all naturally clicked, how y’all shared similar interests. It was like y’all were a perfect match, or that was what he felt like. But with Malia it was different, he knew they had different personalities and interests, it wasn’t bad though he was all for learning and teaching new things. He liked how possessive Malia was over him, something about that turned him on. He thought her nonchalant and some clueless words and actions were just adorable. He genuinely liked Malia as well. Plus, the Pack was familiar with Malia and knew they were messing around. He nervously thought about how they’d react if he randomly brought you around, especially Malia, despite you knowing him longer.

Suddenly a rapid knock came from the passenger window, making Stiles violently jump. He sighed in relief seeing your bubbly expression through the glass. He reached over to unlock the door.

“You scared the hello outta me.” He said, looking at you incredulously as you climbed inside his car. To which, you lightly laughed at, picturing his scared reaction once again. In the midst of you laughing, you failed to witness Stiles bite lip as his eyes roamed your thick curves and it’s attire. The baby blue satin pajama shorts you sported, were being consumed by full bottom. Your button up was opened at the top, giving Stiles a beautiful view of your inviting chest being secured by a black lace bra. You were going to be the death of him.

“Sorry Mitchie,” You state apologetically, oblivious to his intense staring. Your words snapped him out of his raunchy thoughts.

“I wanna try something with you.” You announced before digging in the pockets of your pajamas, fishing out a small baggy, fill with a green substance.

“What is that?” Stiles inquired, face scrunching as it’s pungent smell hit his nose.

“Weed, my cousin gave it to me.” You answered, holding up the baggy higher for him to see. He took the baggy from your hands, inspecting the crushed up substance closely,

“What do you wanna do with this?” He asked curiously. You gave Stiles a ‘really’ look.

“Obviously smoke it. I want you to do it with me.”

“I didn’t know you smoked.” He stated, shocked by the news.

“I don’t but I caught my cuz smoking and she let me hit it. She said it supposed to make you feel horny and it does. Afterwards, all I could think about was you,” You explained casually. Stiles couldn’t lie, his stomach did backflips when you said that, though he kept his composure.

“But I couldn’t do anything about it until they left but she gave me some to try with you and some papers to roll it in. She said it should be enough for one blunt.” You continued, now showing him the neatly folded, white rolling papers.

As much as Stiles’s curiosity was peaked, he was hesitant. The most he ever did was drink, he never did drugs before. Of course, as a high schooler, he had multiple chances to but ultimately never did, it just wasn’t his thing.

“You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to, I just thought I would ask.” You reassured, sensing his hesitation. You didn’t mind if he didn’t want to, the last thing you wanted him to feel was pressured. You, however, were still were going to though.

Stiles thought about his decision, weighting his options. He settled on dismissing his uncertainty, before declaring, “Fuck it, let’s roll up.”

You gave him a mischievous smile.

“Come on we’re going to my room.”

You both were sitting out on the small couch of your furnished bedroom patio with a throw blanket tossed over you both, while smoking the blunt. Your back laid comfortably on the pillow against the rail, with your feet resting on Stiles lap underneath the covers. Stiles scrolled the twitter, while absentmindedly rubbing your feet. It was your turn to hit, you slowly inhaled, holding it in before releasing with blow. Stiles had stopped halfway way through the blunt, which didn’t surprise you due it being his first time smoking. Surprisingly he didn’t cough on his first time, which was shocking. You were new to it too but he seemed to handle it better than you, though both of you were equally stoned. You placed the roach blunt in the empty cup, you and Stiles used to dump the ashes. You were out of your body, feeling everything yet nothing at the same time. Stiles felt similarly, the weed lived up to your standards, he was high and horny.

“I’m definitely buzzed. What bout you?” He asked putting his phone away, turning to face you, only to find you already staring at him intensely, your eyes low and red.

“Me too.” You retorted, pulling your perfectly pedicured feet from him.

“I feel it but I’m feeling other things as well.” You uttered, sitting up on your knees, pushing Stiles back into the couch before you straddled his lap. His sizable hands rested on your hips. You avoided kissing him, wanting to work him up first. You traced kisses lasciviously to his collarbone. Stiles lightly moaned and shivered, feeling your luscious lips against his neck. His hands made their way into your blue satin pajama bottoms, he groaned, feeling the absence of your underwear.

“You ready to go back inside?” He asked, clearly captivated by your actions, he was becoming hard as a rock. You pulled away from his neck, pecking him on his lips before nodding. You climbed from Stiles lap, standing, holding out your hand, which he graciously accepted. You pulled Stiles with you inside, toward your bed. You sat down on the plush comforter, with an insatiable looking Stiles standing over you, awaiting your next move. You tugged Stiles closer by the pull strings of his pajama pants, as the other unbuttoned your top the rest of the way. Your amorous gaze never left Stiles the entire time. You shrugged your top from your shoulders, letting in pool behind you, showcasing your see through bra. Stiles’s heart thudded heavily in his chest as he watched you, feeling all his blood rush below. You were satisfying his carnal desires, in the most teasing way and he couldn’t take it anymore. You let Stiles push you against the bed for you to lay back. You giggled at his eagerness before you were silenced by his lips meeting yours. You opened your legs, allowing him to nestle himself between your thighs as he hovered you. You gasped feeling his hard girth rest against your pussy. Stiles took that opportunity to sneakily slip his tongue in, effectively deepening your kiss. Your hands slipped up his arms to wrap yours around his neck, carting your fingers through the back of his hair. Stiles groaned, pulling away from your kiss, giving you both a chance to breathe. You both stared at each other with this wanting look. Both of you seemed to silently communicate, it wasn’t long before your soft plump lips met his soft bowed ones. This time, Stiles lifted up, you felt his fingers ghost your sides, causing you to quiver at his light touch. His hands found the front of your shorts, he began tugging your snuggle short down. You pulled away from the kiss, lifting your bottom to helping him remove them. You mouth gaped as you watched him descend to your leaking mound, which was still covered by your lace undies. He eyes found yours, making your heart thud faster. You whined as his tongue glided gently over you clothed clit, as he tossed the pajama bottoms from around your ankles. You wanted Stiles badly, He had your heart feeling like it was imploding. But the way you felt was more than just sexually you loved Stiles, and you wanted to tell him. You weren’t sure if it was your intoxicated mind but you felt the need to tell him before y’all went any further. Just as he was to part your legs open,

“Wait.” You exclaimed, gently pushing Stiles away from you. You set up from the bed, anxiously watching as Stiles’s half naked stand over, he casted you a concerned look.

“What wrong?” He questioned, clearly confused by your shut off, he tell you were anxious, your leg started jumping. You eyed him, little did he know you fighting a battle in your mind. Your previous thoughts of Stiles being just a fling had blossomed into something more. You were infatuated with him, you were internally praying that he felt the same.

Going against everything screaming fiber and nerve in your body, you spouted out, “Stiles I like you.” Your eyes meeting his. He saw as your eyes glimmered with hope.

Those four words, made Stiles’s mental crack. As much as he wanted to hear those words before, they also made him panic now. He struggled deeply to collect these three words, but ultimately he felt like it was for your own good.

“Y/N I can’t.” He stated, his head hanging in defeat, his eyes avoiding yours. He was feeling were more conflicted than before, he hadn’t thought you actually like him back. It was like his wish came true but right now, considering his circumstances, he couldn’t accept it, not right now.

That spark you had, dwelled instantly and was replaced with sadness and embarrassment. A ache in heart begin to form, you, now, thought you read the situation wrong. You forced your tears back, masking the hurt like a pro.

“Stiles I understand if you don’t feel the same way but I just couldn’t take it anymore.” You confessed, swallowing the large lump in your throat.

“You told me you only wanted to be friends Y/N.”He reasoned, looking at you with a remorseful expression. Unknowingly to him, his reaction added fuel to fire, that is the ache in your heart.

“I know but I tried. I tried to convince myself and I tried to remind you that I wanted to stay friends but I couldn’t help it. The more we started to see each other, the less we started being ‘beneficial’ and more like friends, I started to feel things I shouldn’t have,” You expressed, ignoring the painful burn behind your eyes.

“The last time we were with each other and you spent the night with me was the last time I was supposed to see you Stiles because I fucked up. I fell for you, I went against my own words, I knew I wasn’t supposed to but I couldn’t help it. I tried to stay away from you Stiles but I like being with you. The way you are, the way you smile and laugh, they way you kiss me and hold me, it does something no one else can do.” You elaborated further, letting months of feelings off your chest. You words made the pit of Stiles stomach ache, he wanted to say so much but couldn’t. Stiles knew it was wrong to get with you in the first place, you pulled him so easily into your current, it swept him away. He would love to be with you but he couldn’t risk pulling you into something that’s hard to get out of.

“I can’t do this right now.” Stiles grumbled, going for his discarded shirt.

“Stiles wait,” You called out, standing to stopping him from gathering his belongings to leave. You knew it was stupid, but you wanted to feel Stiles one last time, even though it wasn’t the way you hoped.

“Now I know how you feel. I just want be with you one last time. Please?” You pleaded, looking to the floor, trying to suppress your shame.

Stiles’s mind was running a mile a minute. Part of him knew he shouldn’t have came here but ultimately he couldn’t have himself either. He knew he liked you way before you realized you liked him. He was in love from the start. But he liked Malia as well, plus Malia knew about the supernatural world, and could protect herself. Seeing what he caused with Allison messed him up, no matter what anyone told him, he felt guilty because sacrificing himself to the Nemeton was his choice and many innocent people had gotten killed for it even one of his friends. He wouldn’t be able to handle life well if he’d known he brought you into something that had gotten you hurt.

So he stood in these few moments staring at you with confused expression, debating whether he wanted to leave of not. This was his second chance before he made another mistake.

You stood there watching Stiles watch you with this unreadable expression, you could tell he was thinking. Part of you knew you were fucked up for asking him to be with you one last time, after spilling your heart out, but you couldn’t hold out any longer. Given the reaction for Stiles, you were certain he didn’t feel the same way. He loved you for your body, not you. Tears started to fall from your eyes as your head dropped further in shame, that seem to snap Stiles out of his train of thought.

“Y/N” He tried, walking towards you but you moved back. You watery eyes met his, and through your quivering lips, you stated,

“Just leave then Stiles. It’s better if we leave it off like this anyways.”

Before your mind could register anything, Stiles’s shirt was at your feet and his lips met yours. Your defensiveness instantly faded away, you melted like butter against Stiles, immediately accepting his passionate kiss. Your lips moved to together sensually, as Stiles backed you up against the door of your closet. Your hands latched to the lining of his jaw, as his hands clasped firmly onto your hips, pulling your bodies closer. You both wanted the same thing in this moment, and it was to feel each other, even if it was for the last time. You just wanted to pretend everything didn’t happen before this, you wanted to live in the moment, you wanted savor what you could from this situation.

You felt his tongue ease its way into your mouth, causing you moan. You willingly accept his actions, following his lead. Your hands trailed to his brunette strands, gently combing through them, as you both made out. Then Stiles pulled away, a single line saliva connecting your lips. You greedily followed his lips with a whine. You didn’t want it to end. Then you felt his palms on the sides on your face.

“Do you want this?” Stiles asked gruffly, his large hands cradled your cheeks as he wiped the stray tears from your face.

Not trusting your words, you nodded.

“I need words baby girl.” Stiles affirmed. Your teary eyes finally meeting his watery ones.

“Yes Mitchie.” You whimpered out, staring longingly at his bowed lips.

You and Stiles clothes were scattered across the bedroom floor. You laid on your back on the bed, with kneeling between your legs. You cried out in pleasure, as Stiles’s reddened lips, slurped hungrily against your clit. You couldn’t believe Stiles had you folded like this, your feet were at your ears, his hands was tucked firmly on the creases behind your thighs. You bottom poked out in the air, as Stiles devoured you like it was his last meal.

“Stiles.” You moaned, scratching at the messed up bedding beneath you.

Stiles groaned, sending shockwave through your body, he soaked up everything that leaked from you. Your juices covered in and around his mouth, he wasn’t sure if it was the weed making him this thirsty or you were but his flittering tongue never left your pulsating clit and his mouth didn’t stop drinking from your delicious fountain. The euphoric burn that settle in your lower stomach spread and intensified. You reach out, pushing against Stiles shoulders,

“Fuck Stiles, I c-can’t.” You whined, tears coming from your eyes. “‘S too much!” You slurred drunkenly.

Your cries fell on deaf ears as Stiles had released one of your thighs, letting your leg drop. You sharply gasped, eyes rolling, back arching high as Stiles ease his two digits into your sopping entrance. As he alternated between dragging his thick fingers against your walls to french kissing your clit.

“I-I’m cu-” You tried to warn him but it was too late. You started shaking, your vision whiting out, your moans and whimpers were caught in your throat. The intense feeling took over your body, causing you to lock up, your thighs squishing his head as your quenching essence flowed into his awaiting mouth. You were seeing stars as Stiles released you, watching as your bottom half flopped back to the bed. You were completely spent, your box braids had fell from it’s perfect bun, now flowing aimlessly from your scalp, your bronze skin had a glazed look from the layer of sweat that coated it. In your mind, Stiles had you looking an absolute mess but to him you looked stunning. It made him impossibly harder looking at how out of it you were.

Stiles hissed as he slowly jerked his painfully hard dick. Thick droplets of precum oozed from his angry red tip. He knew he couldn’t wait any longer, your fucked out expression, the way you moaned his name, the way you tasted had him stuck, like he had you.

He watched your dazed eyes meet his dark and lustful ones. Stiles placed a single kiss to your overly sensitive clit, making you twitch and whimper, before placing a gentle one to your full lips.

“You okay?” He asked, trailing sensual kisses along your rounded cheeks to your neck, all while layering his slender form overtop of your thick one, his arms cradling your head.

“Yes Mitchie.” You mewled breathlessly, arms wrapping around his neck. You were wondering how every little touch this man gives you nearly sent you over the edge.

“Good.” He placed one last kiss to your neck before sitting up. He placed your legs on his shoulder before pulling you to edge of the bed. You groaned, feeling his harden dick onto of your throbbing mound. You braced yourself, Stiles had this dark glint in his eyes, you had strong feeling he was going fuck up your feeling more than they already were. You held on tightly to the edge of the bed, knuckles turning white from the grip.

You shuddered, feeling Stiles drag his thickness between your slippery folds. It was seconds later that you felt his thick mushroom tip push into your hole, making you practically boneless as a shaky gasp left your lips. A strangled groan left Stiles lips as he tossed his head back in pure bliss, savoring the feeling of your gummy walls sucking him in.

“Fuck you feel so good.” He moaned. He pushed yours legs back further, hooking his arms underneath, pinning you down with his weight, sinking his thick harden inches fully into your saturated cunt.

“Stiles!” You wailed, clinging to his biceps, slightly clawing at them. The slow yet sudden intrusion, left you with a full feeling you couldn’t shake. He groaned loudly as your body graciously welcomed him.

His lips found yours in a fiery passion as his he set his pace, his restraint vanished. You felt his teeth gently tug at your lower lip, he way of telling you to open up to him, which you obliged. The sounds coming from the searing tongue filled kissed, as well as the small grunts and moans that escaped you both, were masked by the creaminess of your purring kitty. Stiles was feeding off of every sound you produced, the way you clung to him as he were going to disappear, all while he stuffed you full of every inch he had to offer.

Stiles broke the kiss, his redden half lidded eyes watched as you tried hang on as his hips speed up. You squeaked, eye squeezing shut from the overwhelming stimulation.

“Oh shit.” You weakly cried, parting your kiss swollen lips. You couldn’t breathe, the way Stiles’s heavy phallus consistently pummeled into you quivering soaked snatch left you unable to breathe. You whined, feeling Stiles at your neck, softly suckling and nibbling on your sensitive skin. You hands moved to grasp the back of his head, pushing him further into your neck. Stiles took the initiative to move his kisses down further to your bouncing breast, Stiles looked memorized by movement. Stiles arms moved from behind your legs, he guided them around his waist, his nimble pace never stalled. His hands gripped your bobbing tits harshly causing you to yelp. Your darkened areolas resembled the richest of chocolates to Stiles in that moment. He couldn’t resist greedily sucking them both in his mouth. Your back arched high from the bed, moaning, as you continued to cradle his head while he practically ‘fed’ himself from your ample breasts. His skillful tongue alternated between sensually fondling each of your hardened peaks, adding on to the immense pleasure he was already providing by deliciously pounding into you. He released the one in his mouth with a soft pop.

“You look so beautiful,” he rasped, trailing his kisses back to your exposed neck. You moaned weakly at his praise, it made the fervent feeling in your stomach spread.

“Taking me so well like a good girl.” He growled, grinding his narrowing into you. You mewled loudly, eyes shutting, at the feeling of his pelvis stimulating your clit, while he dug deeper into your velvety canal. The feeling that emerged strongly in your stomach had grew more fierce, the more he plunged himself deeply inside you.

“You’re a good girl. Right?” He voiced huskily, watching the aesthetic beginning of your debauched undoing. You were too out of it to give a full response, you could only muster a frail nod despite the grip of your arms and legs around his waist and shoulders tightening.

Stiles tsked, placing teasing kiss to your lips, wanting your attention back on him. You whined slightly, falling for his trap, your teary low eyes found his deep brown ones. “You know I don’t like that. I need words babygirl.” His pace slowed slightly, you knew it was his way telling you to speak or he’d stop.

“Y-yes.” You stuttered out quickly, not wanting him to let up. Stiles groaned feeling you squeeze him tightly.

“You’re my good girl. Aren’t you?” Stiles pressed further, watching you start to squirm. Stiles felt you clutch around him once again like a vice. You head shook from side to side, at the almost unbearable feeling of Stiles’s fucking into like his life depended on it. His words didn’t help either, you ignored the ‘my’ for own sake, not wanting to ruin this earth shattering moment. Instead you focused on reaching your impending high.

“Stiles please! I-I” You croaked before words had gotten caught in your throat. Tightening in your stomach finally snapped. You let a broken moan, tucking your head in the side of Stiles neck, as you drug your acrylic nails down the side of his bicep, clinging tightly as you trembled violent over the edge, body locking up.

“Shit!” You heard Stiles cursed through your muddled hearing. You felt an ungodly amount of slick gush from you, coating Stiles completely. He groaned continuing to fuck you through your release. You whined weakly, pushing against Stiles moving hips, causing him to stop. He watched you lay motionless beneath him, eyes shut and breathing heavily, completely spent from cumming.

You felt Stiles lips on forehead before he eased his hard on from you. You hissed at the feeling of him dragging himself against your overly sensitive walls. As weak and out of it as you were, you complied when Stiles asked you to turn over, he helped you do so.

“Ass up, baby girl.” Stiles commanded, tapping your behind. You feebly moaned, despite your exhaustion from your second mind blowing orgasm, you listened to his command. You grasped the sheets underneath, wearily resting your head on your arms, arching the middle of your back, poking your butt out.

Stiles groaned upon seeing how exposed and drenched you were. Not wanting to waste anymore time, he positioned himself at your heated entrance, and without a warning he pushed himself in.

You shuddered and groaned feeling Stiles ease himself into once again, stretching you to the brim. Stiles sighed seeing you greedily swallow him whole. Gripping your hips in place, Stiles started moving his slowly, giving you time to adjust.

You whined feeling Stiles, once gentle and slowed pace, start to gradually increase, his hips started battering against your pillowed bottom. Stiles grunted, his grip on your hips tightening, surely going to some bruising, as he fucked harder into you. The sounds of thunderous wet clapping, a mixture of pleasured sound coming from both you and Stiles, and the concerning rattling of your bed frame, echoed through your room.

Stiles peels one hand from your hip, to wipe his sweaty strands from his forehead. He moaned feeling you constrict tightly around his length. The tightness in his stomach grew with thrust of his hips, and from the way you start clenching around him and the heightened frequency of your melodic moans and loud pants, told him you were feeling the same.

He pressed his free hand in the middle of your back, deepening your arch. Stiles’s thrust became deep and erratic. He put his weight behind his thrusts as he leaned over you, groaning and breathing heavily in your ear. You squealed loudly, trying to push yourself from the intense feeling.

Stiles huskily chuckled in your ear, he leaned back up while gripping your hips, “Where you going?” Stiles asked, holding you tightly in place. You babbled aimlessly in response. He chuckled at your state. Your mind was clouded, you heard what he said but couldn’t respond.

Stiles hips didn’t falter as he gathered your braids into one hand, holding it in a ponytail. “Stiles!” You pleaded as he tugged you to your hands and knees by you long braids, pulling you back towards his thrusts.

“Come on sweetheart, you know what to do.” He stated, halting his movements. Immediately you started thrusting yourself back onto his length. “Fuckkk.” Stiles dragged out in ecstasy, as you fucked yourself onto him. The way your ass rippled like waves against his pelvic as you moved, building up a creamy froth around the base of his dick, as you cried out, head tilted back, in complete euphoria. To him, it was picture worth painting.

“Mitchie, I’m ‘bout to cum!” You keened, feeling the familiar burn twist in your lower stomach. Little did you know, he was too.

“Me too.” He rasped, gripping your cheeks tightly. He started meet your thrusts again, only this time his thumb started massaging your other hole. You gasped feeling his thumb caress your asshole, it sent a exhilarating tingle up your spine.

You both worked with each other, chasing your awaiting release. Stiles rutted faster into you, feeling his high coming on strong. He moaned loudly, as the knot in his stomach started to peak. You chased your orgasm like a bitch in heat, the volume of your moans grew, like the pending explosion in your stomach.

Stiles was close, too close. He wanted you cum first. His fingers found their way to your pulsing clit, gently stroking the sensitive nub, pushing you closer to the edge. You hummed in delight, feeling him stroke you closer to your peak in every way. Then, unexpectedly, the thumb he used to massage your virgin hole, eased inside of you, effectively opening your flood gate.

You wailed, feeling the burn in your stomach burst, your climax hit you like a freight train as your vision blurred out. Stiles cursed feeling you grip him tightly. Your gushing slick coated Stiles’s shaft, as you trembled from the magnitude of your orgasm. Your top half collapsed, not being able to hold yourself up any longer. Stiles panted loudly, erratically pounded into you, pursuing his brewing end, fucking you through your intense orgasm. You whine in overstimulation, the feeling of him dragging against your walls was starting to become too much, you needed him to cum, or you would surely pass out. You mustered up enough strength to move.

“Cum for me, baby,” You muttered softly, moving you hips against his to help him finish.

Stiles whimpered loudly, the flame in the pit of his stomach intensified. He was teetering over the edge.

“I want you to fill me up.” You whined, feeling him throb heavily inside your aching walls. That statement was enough to send him over the edge.

“Fuck Y/N I-I” Stiles stuttered, unable to finish his sentence, before groaning loudly, his cum shooting in your canal in thick loads. You moaned tiredly, stop the movement of your hip, the feeling of Stiles seed permeating your walls made you quiver. Stiles shuddered before collapsing on your back, completely spent. Your body fell flat to the bed underneath his weight.

You both stayed like that for a while, trying to level your breathing. Stiles had softened inside you by the time, y’all breathing regulated. He lifted his sticky body from yours, his body feeling extremely weak and heavy, from either the weed or the mind-blowing sex you just had. Stiles could you body rise and fall in a steady rhythm.

“Y/N?” He called out, look at your face to see if you were awake. You weren’t, your eyes were glued shut as your mouth hung open slightly. Stiles smiled softly at your peaceful expression. He smile soon faded as he realized he fucked up with you, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Everything that conspired this past year, has left Stiles’s damaged. He had trouble eating and sleeping, his mental health was deteriorating. Had he known going out in the woods that night would’ve lead him to these deadly consequences, he wouldn’t have went. All this started because of him, and he couldn’t regret it more. But you, you were his escape from it all, you were his peace. Whenever he needed to be away from all things supernatural, you were there to put him at ease. And as he stared at you, he felt guilty, tears started brewing in his eyes as he now realized, once again, that his actions have consequences. He felt like a fuck up. And those revelations made him realize he had to go. He couldn’t bare watching you be heartbroken over him.

You whimpered in sleep, feeling him ease his flaccid appendage from you. You didn’t feel the mixture of his spend and your slick, leak out of you. Stiles pushed away his egregious thoughts, he went to your attached bathroom, grabbing a fresh linen cloth and towel from the closet, making sure to wet cloth with warm water. He knew from the light snores that sounded from you, that you were out for the night. The least he could do was get you cleaned up. You didn’t even budge as he opened you legs and wiped you clean and patted you dry. Stiles was depleted on all levels, he just wanted to go to bed and try to forget all the bad. He fished his clothes from the ground, tossing on his Star Wars graphic tee, boxers, and pajama pants.

As he went to gather the rest of his belongings, the sound of his phone vibrating from pants made him reach for it. He finally looked at the time, it had been a little after 2 since he last looked at the time, It was 3:15 in the morning. She then looked at the message, it was Malia asking if he was up. He looked back at your sleeping form, guilt was starting to eat at him bad.

He sighed stuffing his phone back into his pocket, choosing to ignore her text. He started straightening up, making sure to lock your patio door, and clean up any evidence of y’all smoking. He slid your silk bonnet over your freshly braided scalp, he knew you’d be upset if you woke up to you hair being messed up. He also turn on the fan, knowing you get hot at night. He glanced at your sleeping form, longingly before placing one last kiss to your forehead while covering your nude body with your blanket.

He gathered his keys and slipped on his shoes before making his way out of your home, securing it, then getting in his car, driving away like a thief in the night…

⇣

Please be nice, this is my first time writing smut so I hope I did well and excuse any mistakes I didn’t see👍🏾. Anyways, this post will a receive an update, which I already started writing. So part 2 coming soon…

#stiles stilinksi smut #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski x black!reader #x black!fem!reader #x black!reader angst #x black!reader smut #teen wolf smut #x black plus size reader #x black reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #teen wolf imagine

[thevestigeofvanillaan]

a little present for my absence🤷‍♀️.

soundgasm links!!

Jealousy. (Part 5).

The Sleepover.

Library. (Part 3).

Thanksgiving. (Part 10).

Sneaking into your High-school Friend's Room

Your Boyfriends Father Helps You out during NNN.

A Christmas Dinner.

Are you feeling like a Good Girl again?

Fuck me? How about Fuck You. (Part 1).

Fuck me? How about I Fuck You Again. (Part 2).

some of these are from a series that i didnt add all the links to. but, these are my favorite ones from the series (it's called "The Boy Next Door" I think lol). oh and sorry if i messed up which part they are, i did it from memory. all the links are m4f and have different kinks and shit like that.

Here's (them in order as listed above): what I thought about them.

I enjoyed this one, I feel as though this entire series sounds a lot like Tate Langdon (ahs). This guy is known for sounding like Evan which he very much so does.

Again this guy sounds like Evan, which is.. hot. I can't really remember much from this one but I remember really liking it which is why I copied the link lol.

This one probably makes more sense if you listen to part 1 which is when you and (Tate) met at the church and he masturbated you in the back. Also I forgot what part 2 even was so sorry.

I like this one. But, if you like this one and part 5 I wouldn't recommend listening to the one called anger which I believe is after part 10.

This one was okay. If you're into that kinda like masturbating in front of someone else kinda thing this is what you'd wanna listen to. Oh, and this was def Steve Harrington (st).

This one, too, was okay. I didn't hate it. If you like dilfs, or cheating, or both, then this one's for you.

I really like the story part. The very beginning where he's telling a story is so sexy.. but the kinks and subby stuff wasn't my style. This gave Billy Hargrove (st) btw.

Again, I don't remember much of this one but if I copied the kink then I probably enjoyed it. I think this one possibly sounded like Steve? But I'd have to listen again.

Don't think this one gave me an idea of a person, but his voice is attractive. He kinda has an accent that's hidden in certain words but you can hear it.

I love this one. Part 2 > Part 1, if im being honest. I like how he redeemed himself for being such an asshole and how he realized that you're actually worth his time. Loved this one.

#vanillaan #soundgasm #tate langdon #steve harrington #billy hargrove #evan peters #american horror story #stranger things

[grapejuicestyless]

i have had this idea for so long, but i really think you could do this justice. sort of like the film the holiday!!! but not really set in Christmas and more so through the seasons. harry moves out of the city (doesn’t need to be a singer and could just be a CEO) into a small village in a lovely cottage where all of the furniture is mismatched and there’s sash windows which are always open. He’s there for a few months before he starts to feel lonely so decides to bring in a lodger! He hand makes posters and puts them on the village hall board and … he finally gets a taker! It’s a quirky girl who is totally all over the place and she moves in .. the seasons change and so does their relationship.. friends to lovers OR ACTUALLY maybe it could be so interesting for it to be enemies to lovers! That could be fun to write. But idk I’ve been thinking about it for so long !!! They could organise a dinner party for friends one night or maybe Harry goes away to the city for a meeting and that’s where y/n realises how much she misses him / likes him. Definitely has to be fluffy but also needs to have some drama. I haven’t figured that out yet 😭😭😭 I’m so sorry for this really long rambly post but I wanted to give u as much of my brain as possible lol. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to see what you would do with this / if it’s something you’re even interested in. Have a gorgeous evening / day / morning xxx love you!!💖💖💖💖💖

Bad People

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry and Y/n met by pure luck. Sharing secrets and laughing like little kids, ribs and cheeks hurting. Y/n is sure Harry is destined to be in her life forever. She’s just not sure when that became a bad thing.

FLANGST/FRIENDS TO ENEMIES TO LOVERS

The pale blue sky looked gray from certain windows. The glass was cracked and the stove stained with boiled over soup broth and old sprinklings of spices.

The birds sang solemnly, humming the tune to what I believed sounded like something you’d hear at a funeral. Here, the pavement was cracked and the stars were consistently covered with clouds. Snow, more often than not, fell heavily. From October to April. The nearby ocean nearly always too cold to swim in. The backyard pool cold and clean, still with nobody to inhabit it.

All the beauty ripped from the earth, and replaced with another kind of it. I wouldn’t mind it half as much, if I had someone to enjoy the snow with. To enjoy the polar plunges, the visible breath and numb fingers.

Like old times sake, snowmen and snowball fights. Sledding or fort making. Rosy cheeks and icy hair a memory of the past. Cheeks hurting from smiles, not the winter chill.

The laughter of my mother was long gone, and my brother outgrew his desire for a sibling as soon as he turned sixteen. Few friends, not any at least, that would enjoy the activities the white powder offered.

So now, I look out the window, nursing a glass of wine propped up on the windowsill. I don’t see the snow day ahead or pray for a white Christmas. I pray that one day, I’ll find someone to enjoy it with me. To soothe the pain little eight year old me suffered with the absence of her father, her distant mother and her selfish brother.

“Looking at it won’t make it fall any faster, Y/n.” The puff of air coming from my nose fogs up to cool glass, and my fingers leave prints along the center.

He’s not looking at me, he rarely does when we aren’t fighting. It’s like I disgust him. I feel like a fool every god damn time.

“Have you always naturally been an asshole or did you grow into it?” I don’t look at him, but I feel his gaze settle on my reflection in the glass. His voice alone urges me to take a large drink from the wine glass. The ruby red staining my top lip. I spread it around and taste the bitterness of it on my tongue.

He begins to leave, almost succeeding without a passing glance, but biting his tongue is something Harry nor I have ever been able to do. So it’s natural how he goes for the last word.

“Theres only so much wine, Y/n.” He teases. I down the rest while he walks away. The sigh that leaves my mouth after I feel the ghost of him leaving me isn’t only for air, but because suddenly the room feels lighter.

It’s funny, how someone so special can leave such a disgusting taste in your mouth. Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing. To remember that it wasn’t always like this. I didn’t always hate my old friend, bounded to me through the home we share. I once enjoyed the company of Harry styles.

It was nearly a year since I’d moved in. A year since the slow turned to thick ice and roads became bare with people too afraid to try and navigate through the harsh winter.

Nearly a year since I first saw the house at the end of the road, with a neat front lawn and a tree with hanging branches ready to snap.

A red scarf and red mittens is what I wore. With a faded brown coat and worn blue jeans. A hat on top of my head and a journal tucked underneath my arm. He had the greenest eyes I had ever seen. The stars in the night sky didn’t quite shine as bright as his eyes, I swore it to myself.

He had an english accent, one that I wasn’t familiar with. Peach fuzz and dark chocolate curls a mess on his head. When I told him my job, he laughed, but something about his shocked expression after told me he didn’t mean it cruelly. Rather, that he was shocked, or just piecing the puzzle together.

“I’m my mother’s daughter.” I told him, “She always had a thing for poetry. The sappy ones with the tragic endings. I got it from her and I’m damn good at it.” I smiled at him then, and he smiled back bigger.

“It’s just funny. Moving somewhere so quiet for a job all about fantasy and adventure.” He explained, already guiding the two of us through the wide doorway. I set my boots in the old entryway which it seemed he had turned into a mud room. I admired the shade of green on the wall and nodded along. My cheeks hurt from smiling.

That night, while settling into my new space, I shared with him my life. My goals and dreams. With his toothy smile and boyish eyes, he made it so easy to trust him. I sat on my newly made bed and he sat in my spinning chair by my desk. Moving it back and forth, swaying slowly. A cigarette started dangling from his pocket, I still remember the way he took it between his thumb and his index finger. Rolling it around, debating whether or not to light it. It was like he didn’t know he had it.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker.” I laughed at him, he laughed back. Shy almost, only looking at me for a moment.

“M’not. A few here and there. Helps to wind down.” When he ran his hand through his hair, I remember seeing all his rings. A rose and two with his initials. One looked like a lion. That one was my favorite.

Other than his charming smile and infectious laughter, I knew nothing of him, I had come to realize. Here he was, knowing about my family and friends. My job and my hobbies. All I had asked him was his name.

When I asked him, he was just as talkative as I was. A sparkle in his eyes when he talked about his job. I remember specifically, how they lit up extra bright when he mentioned his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma. I learned about his job too. Harry had everything he could ever truly want. The money, the power, the glory. His office at the top floor overlooking the bustling city that never sleeps. Families dancing around the square and traffic backed up into the city line.

The sad thing was, that even with all this pride he got to carry with his reputation, the city was no home to him. The summer held no comfort. Not the same now that he was long out of school. The heat was simply uncomfortable. His lavish suit sticking to his skin. Even the air conditioner couldn’t soothe the pounding of his head against the strong New York heat.

His nose stung in the summer. The warmer it got, the worse it smelled. Garbage littering the streets no longer covered by thick snow. Tourists and their children filling up all his favorite places of relaxation. Each carrying their own scent from home. The calming pine from the North or the tangy citrus of the west coast.

Harry felt no true love for his home anymore. No real attachment. There was no smell of home, and there certainly wasn’t any old faces with their gravelly voices and thick accents. If it weren’t for the business there, he would’ve fled somewhere else long ago. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere that felt like home. If he could, he would have tucked himself back into the small home his mother raised him and his sister in. He would’ve curled up happily in his twin bed and looked out the same crooked window each night and feel happy with only that.

He tells me that when he got in the car waiting for him at the airport, he was tempted to tell the driver to take him home, to see if it would make him smile. He’d seen the gag used in all the old rom-coms he and his mother used to watch. The short blonde running from the love of her life only to be led back into his arms. But Harry know’s better. He tells me so. So when the driver asks him where to, he tells him the address.

He told me about his work life. How there was a branch out in the UK. The one that started it all. And as his success grew, so did his aspirations and his needs. London no longer provided him with the luxury and opportunity that New York could. So he swapped out his office for a penthouse and acted like the smell of burning garbage and mysterious wet spots on the sidewalks didn’t bother him.

It’s a vicious cycle. To outgrow, to long for, to move, to hate all over again. Thats how he decided that London has just what he needed. His business within reach and smaller towns surrounding its borders.

“And what about now? Are you happy?” Harry crinkled his eyes then, smiling a nodding along. He didn’t even mind it then, when I would interrupt. In fact, he welcomed it. Claimed he loved hearing me talk.

I agreed with him when he said that the grass is greener down here. The stars are just that much brighter and theres not a single car honking their horn past nine. All things that left him feeling a whole lot calmer than the chaos of the city.

Here, Harry told me he didn’t mind not living in a lavish penthouse just a few blocks away from his work. Here, he was hours away from the city. He stays in a medium sized cape cod styled house, pre-decorated from the past owners who didn’t care to take their things when they left for something bigger. It sticks out from the rest of the homes nearby. He wonders how something so different ended up within the same area. And he smiled and sat on the floor when I laughed and told him he’d already lived quite the life for a nearly-thirty year old man.

When silence took over after over an hour long conversation, I bit at my nails and looked at the floor. Suddenly, it came to me.

“Harry?” I had asked. He hummed, looking at me. Even if I hadn’t looked back, I could still feel his eyes on mine. “What made you want a roommate?” When my eyes flickered up to his, I saw no hate, or disgust, or shame. Nothing that I am familiar with now in Harry’s eyes. I saw curiosity, warmth and happiness.

“I like the quiet. I like being able to sleep without someone yelling down the hallway. I like how green it is over here.” I nodded, waiting for him to continue. “But the quiet get’s lonely. And while I like the quiet, I hate being alone.” And it made me smile back then. Maybe it still does thinking about it know. He had been helping me in finding a home, some place warm to stay. Meanwhile, I had been able to give back. Give him what he wanted. At the time, my heart warmed.

For a long time after that, Harry made my heart beat fiercely. He brought me flowers and made us pancakes. Freshly picked blueberries from the local market. He cracked jokes and I repeated them back between our broken laughter, imitating his english accent.

He was a charming man, with an energy that invited and kept you drawn to him. Everyone wanted to be around Harry. The men and the women. Always wanting a piece of the pie. I felt rich in life, that while others had to work for a lifelong friendship with him, naturally, we fit together. We worked.

He entered my life by some kind of coincidence. I needed a place to stay and he was offering a room up.

When he brushed his thumb over my knuckles and kissed the skin, I believed we would be like this forever. Just the two of us.

When he whispered to me that he loved me that same night, I thought it was something he would never take back. Something that would never change. His warm breath and glistening eyes. He was red and shiny. A bottle of the cheap champagne sat on the table and an empty glass beside him. I let his lips trail around my hand and laugh at his antics.

“Harry.” I mumbled into the darkness, he doesn’t move. I silently giggle again after he puffs air out of his own nose onto my hand playfully. His shoulders shake with his own fits of laughter, “Harry.” I call out again, and my eyes are met with his dazzling emerald ones. I almost got lost, forgot how to talk looking at him.

My palms were sweaty with nervousness then. My heart beating out of my chest. I wanted more than anything to tell him everything. As a poet, it should have been easy to put my thoughts out in the open air. But they hadn’t sat within me for long enough to curate a straight forward answer.

How would I even manage to start on how beautiful I thought his brown hair was? Perfectly colored like milk chocolate treats that curled over his forehead. Or his toothy grin which pulled butterflies from the pit of my stomach and made me feel lighter? I couldn’t find just one thing to focus on. And the words that came out of my mouth tumbled out quickly.

“You’re my best friend.” I hoped that he would’ve been able to see how much love I held for him in my face. How even in the dim lighting of only the fireplace and the fading lamp in the corner, he could see how they sparkled just for him.

He pulled his hand away after that, clearing his throat and nodding. But he smiled so softly after that I didn’t see how his eyes welled up with tears. I only saw his perfectly pink lips and his rosy cheeks. For once, I wasn’t focused on his eyes, and I paid the price.

He never made pancakes for us after that night. Nor did he ever pick flowers from the fields or crack jokes until our stomachs hurt. My hand was never slotted between his and my head didn’t rest on top of his shoulders. His was colder, more distant. Quiet.

But the quiet grew old for us both. And the slipping away hurt more than anything I’d ever experienced. I was everyone else in his life. Fighting for a spot in the light so he would see me, smile at me, acknowledge me.

Part of me wondered why he never asked me to leave. To pack my bags and find another innocent man to love because he wouldn’t tolerate it anymore. But he never did. Harry hated being alone and I knew better than anyone else. I knew it because I was his best friend at some point. We shared the same breaths and drank from the same glasses. I wore his shirts and he used my hair clips. He kept me around not because he still wanted me, but because he still needed me. And the realization of it all hurts worse than the silence because it’s then I know that I’ve really lost him. It leaves me with the question, ‘What have I done to deserve this?’

I think back on that night when our world shifted on its axis and I go over every word that was said. I check for any signs of discomfort or anger and I find nothing. It plagues me with a new insecurity.

Maybe it wasn’t something I’d said, maybe it wasn’t something I’d done. Maybe the warmth from the champagne grew cold in his blood and the false euphoria from it all cleared from his peripheral vision and he realized that I was no longer enough. I was not what he wanted. The idea of his roommate becoming his only friend too pathetic for a man with such power.

Soon after, I stop putting up a fight. I stop fighting for a spot in his life and I stop trying to win back a man that was never mine. I figured at least if he could never be mine and I would never be his, at least I still got to see his pretty face everyday. And I could imagine that we never drifted.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost. The tears running down my cheeks are hot, burning my skin until my throat dully aches and my chest is red with flakes of nail polish and the dragging of my nails clawing at my chest.

I am sobbing, broken and tired. I dream of a life that is not as miserable. I dream of a life where I no longer doubt the things I love. Where I don’t have to question my friend’s loyalty.

He knocks on my door, leaning against it in only his flannel pants. He has tattoos that compliment his skin so well. He looks like a painting. I’m relieved to see him again. Even if it’s under these circumstances.

I wait for him to speak, even if it’s merely a mumble. Even if I cannot understand.

“Can you stop crying? I can’t sleep.” He requests. My lips part and I swear my lungs collapse within my chest. I can’t breathe and somehow I remain composed.

“Okay.” I say quietly, nodding along and trying to find his eyes. They look at the floor, and his face is contorted like it pained him to say that to me. Like it was against his will. But he doesn’t even look at me.

When he leaves, I collapse, shoulder shaking with rage, sadness, confusion instead of the contagious laughter that once rang out through the halls.

I decide then, July moon shining through the sash windows of my room that I couldn’t continue holding onto Harry. My heart still beats for him and my eyes still sparkled when his own lingered for just a moment longer on me, but I couldn’t like him.

Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing.

After that night, his selfish wishes turn to bitter comments which turn to vicious attacks at my confidence. And my resilience and devotion to silence, to ignore the cruelty of it all is worn thin. My bitten tongue is freed and I am betrayed by my own words. My own comments targeted at his deepest hurts. It’s a mutual hate between us, a mutual dislike.

We live within the same four walls, the same windows and creaky roof over our heads. We cook in the same kitchen and we sit on the same couch, but we cannot stand each other anymore. The house is no longer filled with love, and the warm heat turns to bitter cold. And yet, neither of us have the guts to leave.

We sit here, in a life thats so mean to us just because we are afraid of the loneliness that is surely to come with the other’s absence.

We are here, but we aren’t present. It makes me laugh, it makes me wonder.

Who could ever leave me? But who could stay?

The candles burned down to the floor, wax melting over the wood as the lights set a warm, homely mood for the night. The late December rush throughout the town turned to the few and far between searching for last minute supplies to ring in the new year. It’s peacefully still outside, and the dining room looks so nice I forget why the candles burn and our nicest plates are set out.

Harry insisted on having a small gathering with some of our friends to celebrate the new year before he went away for sometime for work. Being roommates, despite our lack of interest in establishing our own friendship, his friends become my friends and mine become his. It’s a fairly large group that was once two. But have now become so closely intertwined that it seems hard to differentiate who was friends with who first.

There was wine, pastas and breads. Hams and potatoes. Drinks and endless desserts. It felt nice, to have all those people we cared so deeply about chip in and help to create such a lovely meal for the few of us.

Hearing that first doorbell ring to see all of our friends stood proudly on our crooked doorstep made my heart flutter. Sarah, Mitch, Pauli, Elin, Charlotte, Nyoh. All holding various foods to add to the never ending supply on the multiple tables set in a row.

“Harry! Y/n!” The enthusiasm from our friends seemed to lighten the mood, letting the heavy feeling of heated arguments and constant anger slip down my back and into the farthest part of my brain.

It was times like these where I’d forget how to hate. How to spread anger and disgust to someone who clearly showed none of it in return in these times. Here, Harry was talkative. Always plastering on a fake smile and wave.

He was good at pretending. And while the walls of the house had seen a different story, those around us were innocent, forever unknowing of how Harry constantly belittled me, bothered me. Of how I was no better. How my tongue was sharp and my words shot to kill.

Nobody minded the difference in height of the dinning room table against the kitchen table. How one was round and the other a rectangle. Both covered by one long table cloth. Nobody minded the soft music in the background or how the light wasn’t the brightest. The soft flickers never mentioned.

We let the candles burn until they had nothing left to give, and we ate until it was bare and our stomachs hurt. Here, I never felt like I was trapped. Here, I remembered by I came to live with Harry in the first place. And I was thankful. It was times like these I couldn’t help smiling like an idiot. Cheeks sore and eyes crinkling. I would laugh at just about anything, trust anyone and agree with everything.

“When are you going to tell him?” An elbow to the ribs pulled my gaze from the end of the table, my smile dropping for only a moment at the sudden shock.

“Sorry?” I mumbled softly into Sarah’s ear. Her eyes glimmered with something mischievous, like she knew something that I didn’t. She licked her pink lips and looked briefly back to the end of the table. All the way over by the dining table, sat a few feet away and a couple inches higher, was Harry. Laughing and talking with Pauli and Elin about anything and everything. I couldn’t quite make it out over the soft chatter of Mitch and Charlotte and the clinking of forks on plates.

“Harry!” She called softly. When my eyebrows furrowed she rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.

“I don’t get it.” Forking another bite of vegetables into my mouth, I watched her fight for the right words to say. Her lips finally settling on the soft smile I knew very well.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/n. I know that look. Better than anyone. Thats how I look at Mitch.” She playfully nudged my shoulder. Did she believe that I held any romantic feelings for Harry? I couldn’t, it was impossible. Right?

His rude remarks and his mean demeanor. Sure, at one point my heart beat for the brunette with an infectious smile and shiny green eyes, but now it was a memory of the past. Another pretty face who had thrown away all of his charm and care and exchanged with unwavering cruelty.

“Oh, no. Sarah, I don’t think about him that way.” I tried to wave her off, trying to sound the least amount disgusted by her assumption. I couldn’t help but wonder why she thought that.

“I don’t believe you.” She sounded smug, crossing her hands on my thigh and giggling. “You don’t have to. I believe myself.” Brushing her off, I take another bite of any remaining scraps on my plate. Trying to avoid conversation.

“Come on, you seriously don’t see it?” She sounded exasperated now, even more so when I nodded carelessly. She was getting tired of my avoidance to the conversation, my disinterest in her false discovery. Still, the longer she pushed, the more I felt the heat rush to my face. The more my cheeks burned and my skin tingled.

“I’m serious, Sarah. I don’t look at him in anyway. He’s just my roommate. Nothing more, nothing less.” I lean back, volume brought down to a mere whisper with the dying laugher at the other end of the table.

“Well, he’s your friend at least, right?” The lump in my throat was unswallowable. With the growing tightness in my throat and the clamminess of my palms. I wanted nothing more than to slip away and pretend this never happened. So, I bite my tongue and nod, eyes flickering to Sarah while I do so. I pray that she doesn’t see the tears welling in the corners and how glossy they’ve gotten in such a short period of time.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend.” The lie stings, burning as it comes out. Partially because I hate lying to my dear Sarah, but mainly because at some point it was the truth.

Harry was my everything at one point in my life. He might as well have hung the damn moon and stars. I thought the world of him, wanted nothing more than to feel his arms wrapped around mine all the damn time. And it killed me that we’d gotten so far away from that idea that I had to lie about even being acquainted with him.

“Word of advice.” She started, eyeing Harry carefully. My eyes remained glued to the table, fork wobbling between my pointer finger and my thumb. “Best friends don’t look at each other that way.” And when she finished what she wanted to say, I swear my heart just about stopped. All color draining from my face and my eyes rapidly blinking away the tears by now.

Setting my fork down, I ignore her playful smile and the nudge of her shoulder into mine. I look for another face to converse with, to make me begin to forget everything I was trying so desperately to escape. When I search the table, it seems like each person has found themselves in deep conversation with the other. All but one.

And his green eyes capture mine in a way I haven’t known in so long. I’d forgotten what it was like to be the center of his gaze. How thrilling it was. With my eyes, glossed over and heart beating through my chest, it seemed impossible for me to ever consider looking away. His chocolate brown curls and sweet pink lips in a gentle smile. It was consuming and alluring. Irresistible even.

A face that once disgusted me, shattered my heart, angered me and knocked me down with no air left to breathe seemed not all that frightening anymore. And the warmth that spread in my chest scared me more than anything.

I begin to realize, maybe Sarah was right. Maybe that was why I hated him so much. I didn’t hate Harry Styles. And thats why it hurt just that much more. I didn’t hate him at all, in fact. No, rather my poor heart couldn’t handle the heartbreak and deflected in the most malicious way possible. I missed my best friend.

“Y/n.” Sarahs voice pulls me from my haze, and my eyes are flickering over to hers quickly. Lips still parted and eyes still wide.

“You’re crying.” I hadn’t felt the salty heat dripping down my cheeks until she announced it. My skin too numb from embarrassment to even understand what was happening.

My tongue is tied, and my throat is killing me. I feel like I might vomit if I stay here any longer. I can’t be here any longer, I can’t do it. Not when I’ve just realized what I did. I feel what I felt all those months ago when Harry told me to stop crying. When he shut me out for good and became bitter. I feel all air leave my lungs and my knees wobbling. I am going to collapse.

“I just need air.” I say all too loudly, pushing out the chair clumsily and stepping back. The loud scratch of the wooden legs of the wooden floors turns heads and my heavy breathing tells me to get the hell out.

I pardon myself after that, waving off any concern from Sarah, and making sure nobody else saw my escape. Everyone’s still deep into conversation when I turn the corner. All but Sarah and Harry. But neither of them make a move to reach me. I let myself collapse on my bed, mascara running down my white sheets and back aching from how stiff I became at that table. I silently pray that I’ll sleep through the rest of winter.

When the dinner got cold and we’d all run out of things to say, we all look around and silently agree to part ways. It was nice to have some company, I enjoyed being around these people so much. My heart should have been full, yet it felt heavy and empty all at the same time. Littered with a guilt I wasn’t even sure was mine.

I’d seen the way she looked at me. Really looked at me. Glossed over eyes and a quivering lip. She was red with the rush of adrenaline in her blood. Anyone could see how quickly she began to breathe. It was like she was stuck, consumed by something so strong that it left her powerless, weak, crumbling quickly under an undetermined pressure. She started to cry, biting back a sob by biting harshly into her bottom lip, eyes shaking while she searched my face. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Who had said what, and how I could help her.

I wanted to yell at whoever hurt her this bad. And the feeling of that in itself was unsettling. How my heart still longed to comfort, protect the heart of the girl who once shattered my own with her own words. More than that, I wanted to scream when nobody followed her when she ran. How nobody cared nearly enough about why she was so upset.

I couldn’t understand why I was so invested in her. Someone I was sworn to hate. Someone I had teased and fought for months and let hurt me constantly in retaliation.

But then again, we were no better than one another. We never were. Always saying too little and not opening up quite enough. Creating issues instead of solving problems. We were explosive, nobody could hurt me quite like she could and yet, I felt horrible that she was so upset.

Like the day I’d found her pacing restlessly across the floor. Skin blotchy and eyes puffy with tears. Throat sore with the violent sobs ripping through them. I’d wanted to hold her then too, but I was too bitter to do anything but tell her to quiet down. I felt the same guilt in my bones. And I make the same mistakes I made the first time. I watch her break down and sit with the uneasiness of it all.

Mitch lays a hand over my shoulder, his other arm wrapped around Sarah as he leads her through the door. His eyes look sad and tired. But his smile is genuine and filled with concern.

“Check on Y/n for us okay? Sarah thought it would be best to leave her be for now.” His hand left my shoulder and the door shut quickly after. Leaving me with the unbearable silence and loneliness I felt so frequently nowadays. It breaks down my walls and scares the shit out of me.

Maybe thats why I make my way to the kitchen, shuffling slowly along the floors and leaning slowly over the makeshift tables. A bottle of rouge in one hand, a pack of cigarettes in the other. I stuff them in my pocket and hold the bottle close to my side.

I’m slow, delaying the inevitable question. When I knock on the door, it’s quiet. Almost like I’m hoping that if it’s soft enough, she won’t hear and I can pretend she was ignoring me. But, she does hear me, and she calls out a raspy, muffled welcome, signaling for whoever was hidden behind the door to come through and take in her puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

My throat tightens when I smell her perfume. Something that I would have drowned in not so long ago. She has clothes thrown on a chair in the corner, the same one I sat in so many months ago. I’m tempted to push them off and just sit in the silence with her like we once enjoyed doing.

Her head is in her pillow and her arms are underneath her. She is unaware of who she has let in, but her silence and unmoving body tells me she’s lost all ability to care. I want to leave. I want to turn around and convince myself it was all a mistake. I’d checked on her and she was still alive and well. I’d done my part and I could go on guilt free and forget about how crushed she’d looked just hours before.

When I begin to turn on my heels and pray for this day to be over, I see something unforgettable. A small Polaroid from last year. Just weeks after she’d moved in and charmed me with her beauty and whit. She’s sat with her legs over my lap and my arms around her body. We couldn’t be any happier, and the memory makes my chest sting.

She still cared enough to keep up the old memories of us, even after all the fights and mean glares. Why did she have to keep the damn photo up?

Guilt consumes me once again, and I am faced with the sad woman in front of me, still in the same place as before and just as sad as before. My feet betray my mind, and soon I am stood beside her bedside table with a bottle of wine dangling between my pointer finger and my middle finger.

The glass knocks against her shoulder in a silent invitation. My eyes wordlessly asking her to follow. Her eyes are red, and her lips still shake. She looks completely torn apart, desperate and distraught. Disheveled even. But for some reason in my blurry head, all I can think about is how absolutely beautiful she is in the pale moonlight.

“Come on.” I ask her softly, offering her my hand. When she takes it, she’s nodding already. Trusting a man who deserves no second chances, no trust whatsoever for his cruelty and his inability to communicate. But she follows regardless.

I can’t help but realize how having her so close feels good.

He lights the cigarette for me and watches as I let it burn. My lips twitch as they wrap around the end, tasting the bitterness of its contents and the dry paper.

“How did we end up here?” I ask him, looking over the horizon. The waves are calming over here. They almost silence the ringing in my ears, despite the distance between where we sit, feet dangling over the empty pool edge and the large grass behind it.

He shrugs, snagging the cigarette from my hand delicately and taking a long drag from its end. We swap, my hands wrap around the neck of the wine bottle. It’s tinted green and nearly full.

“Unlucky people, I guess.” He looks at his feet. They dangle in the pool beside mine. You can see just how close we are in the turquoise tint. How the lights make us look less vibrant.

“I wouldn’t consider us unlucky.” I look at the sky, and I can feel his eyes on my face. It makes me swallow, how intense his gaze is. It almost makes it feel that much more real.

“Why’s that?” He asks, twisting the bud out on the cement. It stains the freshly cleaned grey stone an ashy black, but I bite my tongue.

“We had each other. Maybe we aren’t the best people, maybe we’re cruel, but I’d rather argue than live in solitude, right? Company can’t be bought. Even the most painful of it. That’s something real. Something without a price. And we’ve got it.” And it’s true. We fight and we throw shit. We stain the walls and rip the curtains. We start fires and try to blame the other. We make a mess and make amends. But a house isn’t a home without someone to share it with. And at least if we had to suffer to get there, we got it.

“Thats some of your poet shit.” He laughs sadly into the silence, looking at his feet. I laugh along, though I can tell he was only half joking. Then, I let the silence wash back over us. Forgetting how we almost had a full conversation.

“I’m not a bad person. I don’t know why I’m so mean.” He says sincerely. It’s sudden too. I can tell from the rawness in his voice. How his eyes tear up and his lips quiver. His voice cracks. Our feet hang off the edge of the backyard. It’s a quiet life. Even now. With our fights and all the fraud. But it’s never a lonely life, and we only have each other to thank for it.

I want to tell him I know, and I’m so sure of it. I’ve seen the real him, we might just not mesh together. But we once had, and that fact alone holds me back. He takes the lack of response and an opportunity to excuse himself. Pulling his body up by the arms and grunting through the sliding back door. I sit alone in the backyard for hours, body curling up into itself and layers of clothing becoming less than enough after some more time.

“I know.” I whisper into the silence. I know he’s not a bad person, I know it so well and I am so certain of it. I knew Harry once. He’s loyal and kind and the smartest man I’d ever met. And I miss knowing him like that so much.

I thought for a second tonight, I’d gotten part of him back. And maybe I had, but he left so soon I couldn’t really tell all that well. He’s left me back in the silence, wondering what happened to us, and what will happen to us. Why he came to get me, and why he even bothered to open up to me. But he never gives me the time to properly ask, even if I planned to.

I ring in the New Year alone.

The next morning he’s gone. Back to New York for his business in the big city and I am left to sit and think about what was said. A half empty bottle of wine stained with my red lipstick and glitter on the floor from old party poppers Charlotte and Elin had made sure to use before making their exit. I repeat his words.

He’s not a bad person, so why is he so mean? It’s best left unknown. Because if theres one thing I fear more than anything, it’s the realization of rejection.

Even from a man I hate so entirely, it consumes me. That I could not stand to be faced with the fact that Harry and I do not get along simply because we do not work and not because of some other underlying reason.

After all, we had it all. Gave each other everything the other had wanted. Food, shelter, company. There was really so explanation for the bitterness between us.

After all, all this time, despite his anger and hatred, he never left me to the wolves. And despite my heartbreak and sadness, I never left him with an empty home.

A wise man once said to never bite the hand that feeds it. Yet, here we are. Ripping skin from bone until we are left with nothing. We are the ungrateful, the selfish, the cruel. And we both believe that we are in the right.

I am so scared of rejection from this man who I claim to hate because he is the hand that feeds me and I am the hand to him.

We aren’t bad people, so why are we so mean? We recognize all we have to be grateful for, so why do we bite the hand that feeds us?

I guess the vulnerability of it all must have scared us. And while facing the storm, we did what all people do. We let fear consume us and we bite.

Somehow, through all of this. The realizations and the tears and wine and dusty ashes, I love him. Even with my teeth sinking into his skin and his own in mine, drawing blood, I love him. I love Harry Styles. He is my best friend and I am his. That is why I am scared and that is why it hurts so bad. Not because I simply missed him, but rather because my heart was devoted to a man who did not want it.

My fingers fumble over the pad on the phone. I type up his phone number by heart and let it ring. He answers quickly, still waiting for his plane at the airport.

“Y/n?” I can hear the bustling crowds around him and the loud engines taking off from other terminals. I imagine he is plugging one of his ears and mentally cursing the noise for making it so hard to hear.

“Come home.” My breathing is unstable, and my hands run through my hair so much I create new tangles by my neck.

“What? No, Y/n, I have to go. People are expecting me.” He starts to explain how important this is for his business. How it would be so much simpler to be there rather than over a computer screen.

“Fuck them, who cares! Harry, I need you, and I want you, please just listen to me for once. Don’t scoff, or…or roll your eyes or leave! Listen to me this once and if it’s not worth it to you, I promise you’ll never have to listen to me again. Please, it’s important.” I ramble, endless pleas met with silence. I can feel the rejection coming, I can hear the way he chokes on a breath, debating what I said.

“Okay.” The phone goes dead with his promise to come home. With the continuous beeps, I slowly come to terms with what I’d just done. But I do not feel panicked, or scared. I feel lighter with the fact that I am about to tell the moody boy something I wished I told him a long time ago.

The door opens with a creak, keys jingling in his large palms. I’d spent the morning pacing the kitchen. Leaving a trail of confetti behind in my wake. I hadn’t cared enough to clean with my endless thoughts and extreme amounts of adrenaline.

“Y/n?” His voice was unsure when it rang out. As if he didn’t know what to expect. The door shut behind him not long before I came rushing around the corner, fingernails bitten to the skin and hangnails bleeding profusely.

“God, Y/n what the hell…” Taking my hands into his, he examined the redness of my irritated skin stained further with dry blood.

“I know.” I looked at him, and he looked back at me like I was crazy.

“What?” His thumbs bent over the backs of my palms, holding me in front of him.

“I know.” I breathed out again, looking at him with such sincerity, praying for him to understand. “You’re not a bad person, and I know it because I know you. Because we fight and we tease and we scream and cry. But I know you because once we didn’t do all of that. And I needed you to know that because it wasn’t fair of me to make you believe that to be true after everything you’ve done for me.” My voice shook with how vulnerable I felt myself becoming. Harry’s hands only tightened the further I explained.

“But what about all I’ve done to you. Y/n, I’ve been awful to you and I never even told you why.” He tried to argue. I shook my head, biting my lips.

“I haven’t been much better.” I smiled sadly. He shook his head back.

“No.”

“Yes.” I blinked hard, pushing back the tears that formed watching his own gather by his waterline.

“No, Y/n, I’ve been horrible. I’ve been mean.” He tried to push away everything I was trying to ignore.

“And so have I.” I tried harder to make him understand.

“But you only did it because I had. And for what?” He finally spoke, voice raised with so much desperation behind it, I froze under his touch.

“Because I loved you so much it drove me fucking insane? Because I still love you and I’m afraid if I can’t get you to hate me I’ll never be able to stop.” He was crying now, pleading with me to make me see his side of things. All I could do was shake my head.

“Harry I could never hate you.”

“But you could never love me.” He argued.

“Thats not true, Harry tell me you know that it couldn’t be true.” I rip my hands from his grip to rest them on his cheeks. I try to wipe away his tears, but his hands cover my wrists and pull them back down.

“How could I? You said it yourself. All those months ago, I told you. I held you close and I told you I loved you. You told me I was your best friend. You couldn’t even pretend!” Neither of us could tell if he was angry or just sad. Maybe both, but no amount of denial would calm him down.

“I didn’t have to, I still don’t have to pretend! Harry, I only said that because I was so fucking scared. Scared of us, of me, of you. Of losing you if it didn’t work. And I lost you anyways, I would’ve just said it if I knew I’d lose you like this.” Our chests bumped and his fingers slipped between mine.

“Y/n.” He whispered into the silence, over our heavy breathing and salty tears.

“I love you, and I miss you.” He didn’t say anything. I could feel him slipping away as soon as his response never came. Not a single word left to say between us. Not a single amount of energy left to fight.

And then he was kissing me. Hard and sweet. Like I was everything he’d ever wanted and more. Like he was hungry, needing more and more of something he had always wanted but could never have. And at the same time, it was soft and tender. Like he never wanted it to end. My back arched within the grip of his wandering hands and my fingers tangling in his curls. I swore I would never let him go.

But it was a swear I couldn’t keep, because air dwindled quickly and spit strung between our lips. Something I would usually gag at, but didn’t mind at the moment. His forehead against mine and arms gripping the fabric by my hips so tight if I moved he could have ripped it.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized in between his heaving breaths.

“Me too.” Looking at him, I could see the red staining his lips from the makeup I’d slept in. It made me laugh, which in result made him smile.

“What? What!” He laughed along cluelessly, letting me back away for a moment.

“You have something-“ I pointed again his mouth and smiled.

“Oh do I? Do I?” He kissed my cheek, smearing the remnants of our kiss across my cheek. “Still there?” He asked with a sly grin. Like he knew he was winning.

So I kissed him hard again, smearing red around his skin and his pink lips with so much love, there was no denying my feelings anymore. There was no hate left to give.

“Yeah, you do.” It was yet another fight, but not one I minded.

After all, thats what we did for so long, it was what we were good at. The teasing and the fighting. Only now it wasn’t bitter, it was playful. And we didn’t coexist with the sole purpose of it.

Because now I was his and he was mine. And this knowledge answered all my questions, all my doubts I’d had before about our relationship and our shared insecurities that led us down this scaring path.

Harry was my best friend, and I was his. And there was no love greater than that.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry x reader #fine line harry styles #harry styles #yn x harrystyles #yn x harry

[ironstrange1991]

Love Is All You Need

Pairing: Supreme!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Stephen isn't feeling well and you decide to take good care of him

Word Count: 2,7k

Warnings: +18 Smut: masturbation and oral sex (male receiving)

A/N: I am really sorry it took me so long to post this but I really hope you like it.

You've been distracted all day with work at the Baxter Institute and you don't even have time to notice Stephen's absence. You were used to him always walking into your office with that pompous know-it-all face and teasing you, eliciting sighs that were both passionate and irritated. That day however Stephen had not come to see you and that had gone unnoticed because of the absurd amount of work that kept you busy all day.

It was late afternoon when Sue knocked on your office door. "Hey, what a nice surprise, come in"

She walked in smiling and closed the door behind her. "What are you doing here?" You asked

She shrugged "Needed to talk to Reed and decided to come in to say hi"

You nodded smiling, finishing your work and putting away the materials that were scattered on the counter.

"Everything is fine?" You asked noticing that there was something different on your friend's face. She sat down. "Well, I was going to wait to tell you, but for you I think I can tell." She sighed "I'm pregnant"

You looked at her in surprise. Sue and Reed were the parents of a beautiful boy named Franklin and Sue always said she didn't want any more children. She seemed to read your mind "I know what you're thinking, I said I didn't want to and it wasn't really planned, it just...happened"

You pulled up a chair to sit next to her "Does Reed know yet?" She nodded "And are you guys okay with that?"

Sue thought for a moment "I first thought I wasn’t, but the truth is we are." She grins "I'm happy and so is Reed"

You smile in relief, holding her hand "Well, in that case, congratulations to both of you. I'm very happy that the family is growing"

She nodded confidently and squeezed your hand in hers "Me too. I haven't told anyone yet so..."

You nodded reassuringly "Are you sure Reed didn't say anything to Stephen yet?"

She nodded "Well, I just showed him the exam results and since Strange didn't come to work today..."

You looked at her in surprise "Stephen didn't come to work today?" She caught the surprised note in your voice, "I thought you knew. Reed told me he wasn't feeling well so he canceled all his appointments today."

You sighed "That arrogant asshole! He didn't tell me anything"

Sue stared at you, lips in a thin line. You sighed "I was busy all day and didn't even realize it. I thought he was busy too."

You picked up your cell phone and there were twelve text messages from him and a few more in voicemail "Fuck"

"He will understand that you were busy and that's why you didn't see the phone y/n, don't worry"

You sighed putting the phone in your pocket "Are we talking about the same person?" She nodded in surrender, but you shook your head as if to dismiss that thought. Stephen would have to wait.

"Tell me how this happened? Is it recent? How many months are you?"

Sue smiles "Remember the trip to Switzerland?"

"At the science fair? Really?" She nodded "According to my doctor I'm eight weeks along."

You smile "I hope it's a girl this time" Sue nodded "Yes, Reed is confident it will be."

You nodded "He'll be a great girl dad"

The conversation with Sue progressed easily as it always did when the two of you were together, but when your cell phone rang a second time she got to her feet "Well, I'll leave you free to deal with your boyfriend." You nodded "It was good to see you, Sue."

She smiled "See you on Friday." You frowned and she chuckled "The party your father is throwing in honor of the Institute's eight years"

"Oh sure, there are so many parties and events that sometimes it's hard to keep up."

She agreed "Your father can be extravagant, but we can't complain, the best investors came after one of the events offered at Stark Tower."  You nodded “Right” After Sue left you grabbed your things and headed straight for the parking lot leaving only a message for your dad saying you were leaving.

When you arrived at the Sanctum, you were greeted by a hurried Mordo who asked you to make yourself comfortable, opened a portal to the Kamar Taj and left. You sighed walking up the stairs.

When you entered Stephen's room the curtains were drawn leaving the room in a shadow and he was lying in bed hugging the pillow. He barely noticed your presence.

You left your bag on the bedside table and took off your shoes and then sat down next to him "Stephen, honey, are you okay?" He hummed crawling closer to you and wrapping his arm around your waist as he laid his head in your lap "I called you, left several messages"

You took your hand to his hair, lightly stroking and removing the strands that fell on his forehead "Today was a busy day at the Institute, I didn't stop not even for a second " You touched his forehead feeling it warm against your hand " You have a fever. You need to see a doctor"

He denied "I'm a doctor, remember? It's just a stomach flu. I've been throwing up all day, but I feel better already"

You sighed knowing full well that there was no point in arguing with him "You need to take something for the fever, I'll get an antipyretic"

He let you get up and you knew very well that Stephen could be sneaky when he wanted to and part of that was just his way of getting your attention. Not that you minded. That side of Stephen, the part of him that was extremely touch starved, needy and spoiled was one of the things you loved most about him and if you had to stay there all night looking after him you couldn't complain.

He took the pill you handed him "Please, honey, come here, lie down here with me"

You did as he asked snuggling into a small pile of pillows and he wrapped his arms around you again laying his head in your lap "Is that what you called me all day? Because you need to cuddle?" He hummed "I needed you, it was an emergency" He inhaled deeply "You smell so good" He murmured and you chuckled stroking his hair.

You still get amazed at how clingy Stephen could be.

"Sue was at the Institute today, she reminded me we have a party to go to on Friday, you better be fine by then"

Stephen groaned irritably "I hate your dad's parties" You agreed "I know but we can't afford not to go unless we want to pick a fight with him which we definitely don't."

He sighed "Remember what happened at one of those parties? I almost killed one of his investors." "And then you didn't talk to me for a week out of pure jealousy"

He did not answer.

"The sex was good" You remembered

He hummed "In the library?" "Uh hm do you remember?" "How could I forget? Besides after that you told everyone about us"

"Because you made me do it" You accused

"I needed to make sure everyone knew you are mine"

You were silent for a minute contemplating the fact that it had been almost a year since you and Stephen had been together. What was really strange was that it felt like an eternity and not just twelve months. You didn't even remember what your life was like before him, as if everything that came before meant absolutely nothing.

"Is she really pregnant?" You were snapped out of your reverie by Stephen's husky voice. "What?" "Sue. Reed told me he thought she was pregnant. You should have seen the happiness on his face, he looked like a child"

You thought for a moment whether or not to tell Stephen, but you knew that Reed would tell him the next day and it would make no difference "Yes, she is. She also seemed very happy with the news"

Stephen hummed approving "That's good"

You smiled, caressing his hair, surrendering to those minutes that seemed to stretch for hours and at no time did you wish you were anywhere but there next to the man you loved.

When you realized that Stephen had fallen asleep, his breathing more regular, the grip of his arms around your waist loosening, you slipped out of bed, replacing your lap with a pillow. He didn't even notice.

You took the opportunity to take a shower and put on comfortable clothes and then went down to the kitchen where you found some ingredients to prepare a stew. You weren't exactly a good cook, but anything you made would be better than the frozen foods Stephen was used to eating. Besides, he needed to eat real food that would provide energy for him to get better.

When the stew was ready you went up to the bedroom to wake him up. He hummed annoyed when you called his name with a slight wave of his forearm.

"Stephen, honey, I made you something to eat, you'll feel better after eating, you know that."

He sighed, opening his eyes. You palmed his forehead getting calmer when you noticed that the temperature had dropped. You tucked a few stray silver strands of his hair behind his ear.

"Did you cook for me?" His voice was husky, but still as beautiful as ever. You shook your head smiling "Wasn't that what you wanted, that I took care of you?" He smirked and rolled over in bed stretching, a lazy yawn escaping his lips "Come here, kiss me honey" You bent down to kiss his lips, there was a bitter taste of medicine on his tongue but you didn't care. You missed that kiss all day and even though it was inappropriate under the circumstances the simple touch of his lips on yours turned you on. A soft moan escaped your lips and you pulled away "Come on, your food will get cold."

He held your hand refusing to get up "Can't I eat in bed?" You chuckled and he reached over taking his sling ring and opened a portal to the kitchen. You sighed "You are very spoiled, Supreme Strange!"

He chuckled, the sound making your skin crawl and your heart skip a beat. It was ridiculous that you still had those reactions to his presence. Stephen made you feel like a lovestruck teenager at times. You went through the portal and prepared his plate, putting it on a tray and taking it to bed for him. He sat up and you adjusted the pillows for him to lean on and then placed the tray on his lap "Oh if only the world could see the great Sorcerer Supreme today" He rolled his eyes "The Sorcerer Supreme has a right to be sick" "Uh hm, I confess I'm enjoying this more than I'd like to admit." He tasted a mouthful of stew "Are you enjoying seeing me sick?" You shook your head sitting on the bed next to him "You're being kind"

He couldn't hide that your comment surprised him, but he didn't say anything. He ate slowly and when he finished you took the tray back to the kitchen and went back to his room. It was already past eight at night and the tiredness of the day was beginning to overwhelm you. Stephen closed the portal and left his sling ring on the bedside table you crawled into bed snuggling in his arms.

"You look better" You said laying your head on his shoulder.

"I feel better" He said and you smiled and he pulled you to his lips surprising you with the intensity of the kiss. His hand went down to the little of your back sliding under the shirt.

"How better?"

He took your hand that was on his chest and went down with it until you felt the bulge growing in his hip "This better"

“Then is okay for me doing this….” You reached inside his pants grabbing his cock stroking him slowly.

He pulled you back to his lips, a low moan escaping his mouth "Fuck yes honey I love how you do it"

You hummed and knelt down on the bed and helped him get rid of his pants "Then let me do it for you Stephen" You held his cock giving a couple of jerks "I'm sure you'll feel a lot better after this" You bent down putting it in your mouth and he groaned leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

The feel of your mouth on his cock sucking him like only you could was all he needed. "Oh fuck, just like that y/n, you do it so good..." He groaned loudly as you swallowed it whole, the tip hitting the back of your throat, the wonderful sensation making him forget what he was saying, all he could think about was how good you were making him feel.

He brought both hands to your head, his fingers threading through your hair, but he didn't push. After a day like he had, having you on your knees going down on him like that was like heaven. And that's exactly how he saw you, like an angel taking care of him and putting up with him even when he was rude to you. Fuck, Stephen knew he didn't deserve you, but he loved you anyway.

You took it out of your mouth and spat at it, tears running down your face, spit running down your chin, your eyes red from the effort of swallowing it whole. You looked so perfect like that. You stroke him and then took him in your mouth again now helping with your hand, stroking the base while sucking the tip, flicking your tongue there while caressing his balls with your other hand making him see stars. The sound of his cock going in and out of your mouth was so obscene carrying him to the edge "Fuck honey, you're gonna make me cum"

You just hummed in approval, the vibration running down his cock like an electric current making his balls tighten as did the grip of his hands in your hair.

He started to thrust upwards and you knew he was close and he didn't stop until he got what he wanted. Stephen groaned loudly, his thighs tightened and with one last thrust he came. Ropes and ropes of hot cum filling your mouth. You swallowed all of it.

Your hand squeezing the tip of him drawing one last drop of cum from his slit. You licked it, not allowing a single drop to go to waste.

"Oh my god honey, this was amazing. Come here, kiss me"

You crawled towards him letting him wrap you in his arms. He kissed you ardently, his tongue dominating yours, reaching every inch of your mouth. He bit down on your bottom lip before breaking the kiss to breathe. Breathing still irregular, but slowly returning to normal.

"I love you, y/n. You mean everything to me. You know that right?"

You didn't answer and he lifted your chin making you look at him "You know it, right?"

You nodded shyly "I do"

He stroked your cheek with the back of his hand, "Good"

He kissed your lips lightly, then kissed your cheek and then the tip of your nose managing to pull a giggle from you "That’s my girl. You know I am the sorcerer, but you worked your magic in me today, you know that? I am feeling a lot better" He grins, that smile that always takes your breath away.

"I'm happy to hear that" You replied stroking the silver hair at his temple "I love you so much Stephen, you are everything to me. All I want is to see you well."

He smiles "I know, honey" You settled on the pillows opening your arms for Stephen to snuggle in them. Although he was visibly better, there were dark circles under his eyes and you knew he needed some more time to rest and get better completely.

You were silent stroking his hair for a minute, outside the traffic slowly decreased and sleep finally took over you.

"Since I won't be able to work tomorrow, could you stay here with me? " Stephen's voice sounded hoarse and full of sleep.

You chuckled "I'll think about it"

He tightened his arm around your body, sighing heavily and slowly both of you drift off to sleep.

Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing ;)

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[jo-harrington]

As Above, So Below - Chapter 5: Via Domus

Previous Chapter: Chapter 4 - Malum Malus

Summary: You wake to find yourself in the Upside Down and discover a world-altering revelation.

Word Count: 13.8k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Van Helsing Inspired, Kas!Eddie, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Death and Injury, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Major Character Deaths, Grief, Mourning, Yearning, Discussion of the Upside Down, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Unprotected PinV Sex (he's undead it doesn't matter), Oral Sex (F Receiving), Bloodletting, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References

Note: Sorry this is a little late but this snow storm had my internet down right as I went to post. There isn't much to say but...this moment has been one 10 months in the making and I might not have edited it...but I don't care, I'm literally the proudest I can be. I'm sure there's people to tag and thank for their support. I'm so ready to sit back and reread this. I didn't write it; it just came through me like a prophecy. And that isn't condescending, it's the truth.

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“The devil doesn't come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you've ever wished for.” - Tucker Max, Assholes Finish First

November 6, 1983 October 15, 1987

Everything was wrong.

From a dreamless sleep, consciousness hit you like a freight train and drug you to the land of the living under its wheels, one painful mile at a time.

You were aware of every nerve, every bump and bruise, every cut.

Every bite.

Because surely there were more than just the ones on your throat now.

And when you finally opened your eyes, you burned.

Not just your body; the very essence of you sizzled and popped like hot oil in a pan.

It was overwhelming, overstimulating.

There was both an absence of feeling--of being--and an abundance of it.

Images flashed through your mind. Memories. And not just yours.

Leaving Hawkins the first time.

Kas, the brides, and their seduction and subsequent attack of you.

Billy--a different one than the one you knew now--screaming and clawing his way up a rickety wooden staircase while a creature lurked just out of sight below.

A man in tattered and bloodied white clothes, his skin burned and mottled. Blind in one eye. And a creature that met him and allowed him to--

The smell was next as you finally remembered to breathe. You swallowed great gulps of air then choked as they burned your lungs and tasted like a mix of wet, cloying mold and dry, putrid battery acid.

Finally, a high pitched ringing as your spirit finally settled back into yourself. You clenched and unclenched your hands--stretched your fingers and toes--to regain some kind of recognizable feeling back into them.

As you tried to recognize who you were now, in this body.

In this world.

Everything was wrong.

No...when you woke up, everything was different.

The first coherent thought through your head was that you were dead and this was surely hell. Proven not only by the pain and the affliction of your body and mind, but because the skies overhead flashed and burned bright red with infernal lightning.

The brides had drained you dry and this was your eternal punishment. It was the only explanation.

If you steeled yourself and turned your head, would you see your father's face--frozen in an eternal scream--staring at you?

You wrenched your eyes closed for a moment, steeled yourself to test the theory, and you winced as the bites on your neck pulled and stretched.

When you opened them again, you screamed. It was a weak, strangled sound, and echoed as you shuffled away as much as your sore body would allow.

It was not your father's face that you found beside you, but it was a face nonetheless.

Petrified.

Screaming.

Flesh half-rotting off a skull, petrified golden hair layered with soot and muck. There was a neck and torso too--arms--and the further you dragged your eyes down the body, the more decayed and damaged the bones became. The skin and flesh sloughed off.

Until they all tapered off--melted off--into bone, then into nothingness, where the ribs ended abruptly in a half-jagged, half-charred state.

It was where the ground ended too, the body teetering on the precipice.

"Mother...fuck..." you hissed and swallowed thickly.

You weakly melted into the ground again; your eyes slid shut so you could take stock of yourself once more.

Sluggishly, you returned to your senses. Head, torso, limbs all accounted for, even if they were a little worse for wear. You'd survive. You'd heal eventually...hopefully.

Before long, your abilities jumpstarted from cold at the proximity of a dead body. Great. Though you supposed you'd almost considered yourself grateful that they were returning, if not for the phantom fingers that scratched at the back of your mind; the lingering spirit that belonged to this body wanted to communicate but didn't quite know how.

You didn't have the patience to ferry the remnant of someone's soul closer towards consciousness right now.

But it was a reminder.

There were no bodies in Hell. No death in Hell.

For all intents and purposes, the damned would be considered alive.

So no, this wasn't Hell.

This was--

You forced your eyes back open and stared at the gaping, mangled maw of jagged walls that stretched and reached into the roiling, starless sky.

--an attic.

There were visible slats and support beams, boxes and furniture covered in sheets, and burnt, decayed vines clinging to the walls and along the floor. Most notable was the fact that the structure--this house--was simply broken. Shattered. Not only was the roof broken, as though a giant had torn into it--peeled the slats and shingles open and left them rent and tattered beneath their hands--to curiously peer inside, but the whole structure was as well.

The side of the floor you and the body were on tilted at an awkward angle; not unnavigable but still odd as you found the strength to hoist yourself to your feet and stumbled at the unevenness. Once you were upright, you could see the other side; across a strange valley that revealed broken beams and wide structural mouths that promised rooms below, there was a set of stairs that led downwards.

Uneasy with the minimal strength you currently possessed, you used your power to send some sort of signal down through the jagged, rotten foundation to ask the earth for help. And not just help, you asked for a sign of where you were and what happened to you. However, you were immediately turned away. A hiss at the back of your mind, that settled adjacent to that incessant scratching, warning you from trying again.

This earth was not like the earth you connected with regularly. It was incompatible with you, but only just so.

There was a blink of a thought in your head that you could make it bend to your will if you really wanted. If you were tempted enough.

But temptation was what got you here, wasn't it? Your jeans were still unbuttoned and you felt some kind of internal, medieval shame as you fixed them and fastened them back up. Shame, not only because the brides had fucked you if you could call it that, but because they'd gotten the better of you. They'd used your weaknesses against you--used Eddie against you--and now they'd stolen you away to the Upside Down.

That's what this place was right?

And it wasn't a stretch to guess the why's here either.

Kas had used them to bring you here so he could finally be rid of you.

Well, you weren't going to sit here and wait for your death like a lamb to the slaughter. If Kas wanted to kill you, you were gonna put up a fight.

The fires of wrath were stoked inside you and you let them restore your strength and fuel your journey onwards. You readied yourself to make the jump across the broken floor.

Suddenly, the scratching at the back of your mind got horribly loud. A voice, a young man's voice, strained and croaked inside of you.

"Help me. God, please help me."

The broken remnants of the being you'd woken beside finally found its voice.

You scowled as resentment decided to mingle with your wrath.

"No one's going to help you," you grunted and shuffled your foot into the side of its rib cage. You kicked the body into the gulch below and as you took your leap, you delighted in the sounds of the bones shattering as it impacted the ground below. "God is dead."

The descent was precarious.

Despite the strength you had gathered, your body ached and your movements were clumsy. It was like you left a part of yourself behind and struggled to continue without it. Additionally, as you progressed along the path, you found that the house itself was broken in ways that defied logic.

Hallways switched back upon themselves or dropped down into a deep burning abyss, floors tilted upwards and then stopped abruptly, doors opened to brick walls, and then, your favorite, a ticking grandfather clock seemingly floated in the air on its own.

Did physics exist in the Upside Down? Gravity? Or was it like Superman, where differences developed without the interference of a certain color sun?

Eventually you made it to what you believed to be the ground floor, and although there was a looming sense of dread that only got worse the further along you walked, your footsteps felt sure and stable. It felt better, safer.

There was a crack in one of the walls you passed where you spotted the shadow of tree limbs, and just up ahead you could see the sky over a half-demolished wall.

Once you rounded this corner and that to reach your supposed freedom, you found yourself faced with what could only be described as an altar. Some site of a wicked ceremony. The walls of the house split open and revealed the expansive red and grey waste of the outdoors, but instead of finding dead grass and trees like you thought, there were structures made of stone and vines and twisted tentacles, just like you remembered from the tunnels.

Towers.

Stalagmites.

Pillars.

Something rustled behind you and you turned on your heel to find the source of the noise, only to find the dank hall you'd just exited empty. It rustled behind you again and you spun back to face the pillars, but you were still alone.

You were being taunted now, teased. Surely that was it, wasn't it? This was a game; you survived the pitfalls and traps of this nightmarish house and now the hunt was truly on?

"I know you like to play with your food motherfucker," you hissed aloud. "Let's play."

You progressed confidently, unwilling to let yourself falter as the ground underfoot transitioned from wooden floorboards to decorative checker tile to uneven earth and the air became heavy with ominous anticipation.

Despite that, you took a moment to inspect the pillars as you passed them, only to be met with an even stranger sight.

Chrissy. Fred. Patrick.

They were eerily still, petrified even; faces serene, as though they were sleeping. The pillars seemed to encapsulate them; a wing melted into the stone here, claws elongated into branches there.

There were four pillars...but three Brides.

You vaguely recalled a flash of Max's memories, of her running through a red landscape almost exactly like this; you took the chance and reached out to touch the empty pillar, only for your suspicions to be confirmed. It was meant for her. The pillars were the final resting places for all four of the victim's of Vecna's curse.

A place for their bodies to be displayed like trophies, signifying his triumph.

It was a sickening thought, but brought about further revelation that this place didn't belong to Kas, but the Lich himself.

The Creel House.

"I was right," you huffed a small laugh of victory. Your hunt for Kas had led here; if only fate hadn't tempted you off the path to the cemetery, you would have been that much closer to defeating Kas now.

Fresh off a small win and with your body primed for psychometry, you moved and touched each pillar curiously. You witnessed each Bride's transition from the husk of a body to the monstrous beings they were now. They hadn't meant to be the puppets of an atrocious master when they were resurrected; it had all been done in an act of defiance. Their forms had been carefully crafted by his clawed hands, and life breathed back into them by a hopeful heart.

That heart was broken here too; those same clawed hands were formed on the very floor behind you...

"No," you tried to shake the thought off you. You didn't want that; didn't need that. Didn't need to empathize with Kas...right?

Still...the intrusion continued.

You wanted to connect to this earth didn't you? So you must gain all manner of information, whether you want it or not.

More images flashed against your will; you didn't need to touch the silt and soil beneath your feet for it to reach out and touch you. The blood that soaked this ground leeched up from the depths to provide you hair-raising clarity of the brutality committed a mere few feet from where you stood. No care had been taken when a body on the brink of death was implanted with bones and teeth and claws. You watched the flashes in unblinking horror until screams suddenly echoed in your ears, terrible and ear-splitting; you were witnessing a transformation--a metamorphosis--from something to nothing then back to something again.

"No!" you shouted and your voice echoed, into the eerie night. Wings flapped and a creature roared in the distance. The images fled along with them, and you heaved several labored breaths as you settled back into yourself.

There was a rustle behind you again, and you froze; you were so lost by the intrusion of the birth of a monster in your mind that you didn't notice said monster approach you.

This was it.

You'd faced monsters before, countless times. Of course, you'd always been armed with weapons, your powers. Now you'd been stripped bare; the brides had rid you of your weapons, and this dastardly dimension had denied you access to many of your abilities as you recovered from your weakened state.

Unless they were useful to the Upside Down itself, so it seemed.

Still, your eyes honed in on a glint of silver beside you. Brilliant amongst the squalor of the Upside Down and folded neatly in Chrissy's claws that rested across her chest:

Your crucifix.

Your hand shot towards the cross of its own volition, but as your fingers caressed the carved hyacinths, you suddenly doubted yourself.

Was Chrissy's grasp on it truly that strong or was it just a trick of the mind? If you couldn't even resist her and Patrick...how could you possibly fight Kas?

Except, you'd already fought Kas hadn't you? Already got the one-up on him. That's why he'd relied on so many cheap shots to get to you. You would make it through this, with your teeth gnashing, your bare hands, and your raw faith. Or you would die trying.

"Lord, I am not worthy to receive you," you whispered as you pried the relic out of the harpy's hands. "But only say the word and my soul shall be healed."

Footsteps slunk closer to you, audibly clearer now, and you readied yourself, focused on all the holy light within the sludge of your corruptible human body. When they finally stopped just inches behind you, you could feel cold breath cascade over you, and you knew it was time.

You pivoted on your heel, sneakers crunching the ground beneath them into dust, and you raised your hand to brandish your cross at your assailant. His hand clashed against its other side and stopped it dead between both of your faces; your eyes went wide as he gripped it tight and it burst into flames in front of your eyes.

You wrenched your hand away and backed into Chrissy's body as Kas let out a mighty, wretched wail.

You were so singularly focused--horrified--as you watched the symbol of your family's legacy burn and melt in his hands, so expectant of his form being consumed by holy flames as he crumpled and bent at the waist and screamed in agony, that you didn't really look at him until it was too late.

The fire extinguished suddenly and Kas flung the remnants of your crucifix to the side, and as he stood, you could feel all the blood rush to your head. There was a buzzing in your ears and you swore the dark circles that crowded your vision were only to spare you from the sight.

Whatever vision you had in your head of Kas was gone...and in its place was suddenly something both old and new at the same time.

There was a smirk carved into his face, so smug and triumphant, and made only more pronounced by the deep scars that went from the corners of his mouth and back along his jaw towards his ears. Still, his enticing lips twitched, failing to bely a smile. His deep eyes were locked with yours, abyss-like, but warm and welcoming in this otherwise unforgiving world as he stared at you with a fondness that you couldn't fathom.

He was tall--taller than you remembered--and even taller still as your legs failed you and you collapsed to your knees before him; he took two rapid steps forward, hands stretched out as though he would try to catch you before you hit the ground. All you could focus on were the sharpened, blood-stained points of his fingers though, and when you flinched as they got too close for comfort, he stopped in his tracks.

Your breathing got heavy and your shoulders and chest heaved the longer you witnessed him. Because it truly was the witnessing of something beautiful and terrible, wasn't it? Something you'd wished for over and over again until you simply couldn't take it anymore.

"No, no, no," you couldn't stop your mouth from its fumbling repetition. "Nononono. No. N-no, no, no!" Over again the word erupted from you until you were shouting. Until you were sobbing.

You covered your eyes with one hand to stop yourself from seeing, and your mouth with the other to keep what remained of your soul from spilling out.

You shook with grief--three years worth of grief that only became more surmountable with each day that passed--then anger.

How dare he, how dare Kas use this final thing against you, how dare you let him?

But that was just an excuse wasn't it? Some kind of excuse so you wouldn't have to face the reality that was just on the other side of your hands. One that you would cling onto to help your poor heart survive.

You would deny it, until you couldn't any longer.

"Sweetheart." You shook your head at the decadent rasp of his voice; your ears strained to catch more but you couldn't handle it. Tears began to leak from your eyes and collect in the creases of your fingers as you pressed them harder into your face. "Angel, please."

The urge to roll your eyes at the ironic nickname battled against the need to bask in it.

You could feel him get closer, feel his massive form invade your space. Your aura buzzed excitedly as it brushed against his with the proximity and your heart beat in your ears; your body knew what your mind refused to accept. It made you feel lightheaded.

Don't fucking pass out.

The claws worked their way beneath your fingers and you resisted as much as you could until you simply couldn't hold on any longer.

And once they were away, there was nothing that you could have done to stop yourself from responding to him.

The you that you had been just seconds earlier no longer existed. That being, forged by resentment and pain and grief and the will to succeed beyond all hope, was torn apart by those claws--gently peeled apart bit by bit--and as your eyes opened, you were suddenly the you that you were before. Or maybe, more accurately, the you that you were beside everything.

Despite everything.

The being that only existed with him.

You.

You were here with him.

Eddie.

And he was here with you.

Alone together and together alone.

No one else existed but the two of you as you opened your eyes and your gaze washed over him once again.

Lightning flashed overhead as you absorbed the sight before you.

Hands. Eddie's hands. Calloused from hours of guitar playing and scarred from that one time he got too eager pulling a stouffer's lasagna out of the oven and forgot the gloves. Only now they were scarred further, with lines along his phalanges and razor-sharp talons at the tips of them.

Hair. Eddie's hair. Soft and curled just so and sometimes shiny, but oftentimes just a frizzy mess from head banging so hard. It would get in his mouth, leaving him spitting and sputtering as he got some idea mid-headbang. Only now it was held up and out of his face by a fluffy green scrunchie, and only his bangs and a few loose pieces framed his features.

Face. Eddie's face. One that looked at you with so much relief and gentle love. Your memories couldn't hold a candle to having him here. Your eyes went blurry with tears again at the fact that he was actually here just inches from you. His eyes and lashes and his round nose and his kissable lips. Lips you needed to kiss like you needed air. Only those lips started to move to form words again and as they did, you spotted the sharp tips of fangs.

He looked the same, exactly the same...but simultaneously different in every way that counted.

Time stopped.

You thought about being in the trailer with Chrissy and Patrick, all the words that you had excused in the moment, as you allowed yourself to be tempted by Kas.

In actuality...had it really been Eddie? Words that had been borderline insidious suddenly took on a much more intimate connotation.

"You're not real." You breathed shakily, one last attempt at pulling back the veil at some trick of the mind. "I can't...I can't..."

On the other hand, you remembered the graveyard, the way Eddie had been there in a way...beyond your sight, refusing to be seen by you. Refusing to be known by you. And again countless other times. Including the day he'd...

"I can't look at you," you said weakly. "I'm not supposed to look at you."

What had he said to you then? That he'd never really left? That he would wait...as long as it took...and here he was now. That hadn't been Eddie; how could this suddenly be him? He was...

"And why not?" he chuckled gently. "I think we both deserved to see one another; I've crossed the oceans of time just to see you again."

"That's..." you stared at him in disbelief. Tremors wracked your body and his gaze went from fond to worried again.

Your mind went a mile a minute trying to come up with something, some way to deny all of this. Rapid fire, you thought. About Vecna and the Upside Down and the earthquakes. You thought about Wayne and Dustin and Max. Over and over, ideas flashed as all the pieces finally clicked together. Vampires that weren't vampires, and the Brides; the trailer and the visions and the grave and...and...and...

He was alive.

"That's..." You began to laugh, the small shakes of a giggle turning into big, bright guffaws that shook you. You grabbed his face with your hands and squished his cheeks together, gleefully watching as it smooshed and shifted in the way only his play-doh-like features could. "That's not the quote, you big dumb idiot."

Home had been an abstract concept for you for some time.

For most of your life, when you thought of home, you thought of your Nonna's house. Her flat, just downstairs from yours; you spent most nights there anyway, your father's childhood bedroom repurposed for you. You had a home in the dinners you'd cooked together and late nights where you'd watch Johnny Carson until it was time to hold hands and pray together before bed. Home meant turning the key in the lock of her door and her giving you big cheek kisses.

Tesoro di Nonna.

Her treasure. She was your treasure too, your best friend, but she, herself, was not your home. At least not anymore.

You found that when you came to Hawkins. When you met Eddie. From the moment you met him, he had been that warm place of comfort and love. When you left, and even when you believed him to be dead, going home meant returning to Hawkins.

Returning to him.

So when you both overcame the euphoria which accompanied the realization that you had found each other once again, and he said "let's go home," you knew that there wasn't far to go.

You were already there.

There was something about returning home after a long time away, though. Things changed and it didn't take very long for you to notice the changes in Eddie.

He held your hand as you walked through the barren waste of the Upside Down, and it was actually quite a long walk. Practically across the entirety of Hawkins, and you were truly in awe that it actually was Hawkins. You walked down familiar streets, through the town center that was fully intact unlike its decimated state in the real world, and Eddie even pointed out the windows of your old apartment over the deli, as if you forgot.

Very few words were shared between you at first, aside from short and fond little tidbits to reminisce old times spend together--something that you'd constantly been doing since your return; your heart ached to think that your ghost had followed him around, both in Hawkins and here, reminding him that you'd left him to this fate.

There was not much more conversation than that though, and while you basked in the sweet memories, especially being reunited, you couldn't help but wonder why he was so...uncharacteristically quiet. The Eddie you knew was never at a loss for words; why was he holding back asking you questions? Telling you how much he missed you?

You held back your own thoughts, questions, and admissions too if you were being honest. Something about being so open in this dimension, something about the strange din of silence due to the lack of life made you feel...strange.

You wondered if he felt the same way?

If you could feel the creatures that shuffled just out of your line of sight, given what you knew about the hive mind that existed between them, you knew Eddie could as well.

But if that was the case, he didn't show it. You supposed Kas he was the master of this realm; he didn't need to be afraid of it.

In fact, the more you observed him, the more you noticed how at ease he was here. He'd always been confident walking around Hawkins, shoulders straight and head held high despite the suspicious stares and whispers that seemed to follow him just because his last name was Munson. But now Hawkins--the Upside Down--seemed to bend to him the further you walked, proving his mastery over it.

Down one street, the tentacle vines slithered and shifted as Eddie led you ahead, and when you dared to look back they returned to their original places. Shadows at the corners of your eyes shifted as he pointed something out to you with a fond smile and a laugh. Finally, when you reached the woods, gnarled and dark as they were, his presence seemed to cause a group of bats that had been resting there to stir.

Instinctually, you flinched, divine sense tingling in response to their unnatural energy as they began to fly overhead; Eddie even squeezed your hand to calm you down, but your defenses were up now. You readied yourself for an attack as they circled and swooped down a little too close for comfort.

You watched, dumbstruck, as Eddie tsked and then reached up with his free hand; one of the bats got lower and its many flailing tails brushed against his fingertips before it screeched and then soared away. You felt that there was something more to it, though; there was something else there as his fingers twitched against them.

A yearning, maybe; a desire to...what? Join them?

"It's alright," he reassured you softly, an undertone of happiness in his voice. "See, they're harmless."

"Harmless?" you scoffed in disbelief, having witnessed their devastation first hand. He looked back towards you and lowered his arm, brow furrowed in confusion at your tone; you felt a strange rumble, an undercurrent, just beneath the surface of his skin as he flexed his hand around yours again. "I..."

"Sweetheart. Just trust me. What are you--"

Like that, the illusion was broken.

It hadn't taken that long. A couple of hours, mostly spent in silence and the overwhelming awe of being in one another's presence again, but suddenly you realized he was different.

Of course, you were different too.

You never really fathomed a moment like this; you'd always thought--hoped--you'd be reunited in Heaven. That everything would work itself out there. All wounds healed, all sins forgiven.

But this was not Heaven, and you'd never imagined your reunion like this.

You looked at him again, really looked at him this time. Tried to look past your Eddie, to see what had become of him here in the Upside Down. You started with his hands, the long scars you noticed just a short while ago, and you traced a finger along them. It was almost cathartic as you felt a phantom ache in your own hand, as you began to truly digest and understand what had happened to him.

Dustin had refused to tell you...and with good reason.

The ache burned through you the further you went. His arm was covered with the sleeve of his leather jacket, but still your fingers traveled, touch penetrating the worn leather; he looked and felt...bulkier somehow. Even his skin looked too tight on him. Gone was your noodley, human boyfriend and in his place...something else. Broader shoulders, a thicker torso, and a slightly elongated neck that proudly bore scars as well.

Just like your own bites, you thought, as Eddie's aches were momentarily replaced by your own. You both displayed the healed remnants of shredded, devoured flesh.

The memory of the pain they once brought him practically sang through his skin the further you went and you couldn't help but listen and absorb it. Unlike your scars, even the most recent ones from the Brides, that had been the product of your will to survive, Eddie's were the evidence of something dastardly that sought to destroy and consume. In fact, they had succeeded; you felt the burn of a thousand mouths filled with sharp little teeth ripping through flesh. Ripping through his flesh.

The longer you held on, the more you felt and understood. Mouths led to claws, consumption turned to torture, and eventually he was ripped further--pulled apart--until he was left broken, raw, and screaming.

Just like you'd seen back at the Creel House.

Vecna cut him open and emptied everything that made him him, and filled him with darkness and malice and--

You wrenched your hands away from his and rubbed them together as they tingled, suddenly numb. All of the echoes of his pain vanished and instead you just felt...conflict.

"What's wrong?" Eddie stepped closer, worry etched deeper creases into his face now. "What did you do?"

"I--" you flinched away from him and he paused.

This wasn't just Eddie anymore, your Eddie who survived a few scrapes and bruises and came out of any conflict--large or small--with a few choice words for his assailant and a story to tell.

This was Kas, forged through the burning flames of Hell to fight. To destroy.

And if not by name, then by acts.

Acts done with Vecna's influence, at first, and now atrocities in their own right.

Eddie always knew when your mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts; he'd say that you were thinking too loud. Time hadn't changed that, it seemed. He still knew exactly how to read you.

"Listen," he started carefully, treating you like a spooked animal because that's exactly what you were. "I know you have questions. We just need to get home first."

Unfortunately, you were also a stubborn piece of shit.

"Where is home?" you questioned. "What...Eddie...how?"

"I'll tell you everything," he promised. "But you're hurt...and I'm sure you're hungry. Thirsty? I could only bring you so far before--"

"Before?" you urged.

"The hungrier I get," he began. "The harder it is to control everything. Control myself. I couldn't be around you like that. But now you're awake...and I have to get you home. We need...to get home..."

You wanted him to explain it all to you; you'd seen the fangs, witnessed the Brides and other vampires feeding, it wasn't a secret that he must hunger for blood too. You just needed more. But he needed something too. There was a singular, desperate focus that edged his words--the need to get you home, get you safe--and you knew you weren't going to get answers unless you obliged his request.

If he could be patient...so could you.

You gestured ahead and the two of you continued your journey.

However, you made sure to keep your hands to yourself this time, unwilling to inadvertantly see more of his becoming, and Eddie clearly noticed.

"My hand is pretty cold," he said after a short stretch of silence. His eyes slid over to you and he wiggled his fingers. "Sure is a shame that there's nothing to warm it up."

You scoffed and your heart ached; this was how he got you to hold his hand in your coat pocket during the winter as you'd venture out and about. It was his thing, refusing to wear his gloves so he wouldn't fumble with them when he wanted to smoke, while also taking the opportunity to feel your hand against his.

It was one of your favorite bits of attention that he gave you; he was still your Eddie. You knew that, and deep down inside you only wanted to know that.

But things were different.

"Ed--"

"What? You don't love me anymore or something?" he teased; however, when he glanced over at you, there was a real worry in his eyes. "Don't want to hold my hand? Hmm? That it?"

"Come on," you scoffed. "Don't. You just said we'd talk once we got home, wherever home is. We've been walking forever."

"Well we're not there yet," he bristled and laughed; it was a bitter, condescending chuckle. One you'd never heard come out of him before; not to you, at least.

"Can't you just tell me where we're going? To...Rick's or..."

"It isn't in Hawkins."

"You can't expect us to walk to Muncie," you attempted a joke.

There was a tense pause and he turned his head downward and quickened his pace.

"Don't worry," he said, tone stiff. "We're almost there."

The confidence you'd noticed earlier was suddenly gone, and as he walked, he seemed to make himself smaller.

You really fucked this up.

You tried to reach out for him, abandoning your resolve of keeping him at arms length, but he failed to notice.

He just kept walking.

Before long, the town seemed to melt away.

Everything did.

Gone were the buildings, the trees, even the roads. Until there was a vast grey nothingness, accentuated by floating particles and a swirling, cursed sky. If you thought the Upside Down was a wasteland before, this only solidified that thought.

After some time, even looking back didn't seem to help things; there were no milestones that you could ascertain. Just flat terrain, the sky, and the horizon.

And Eddie.

You tried to stave away the hateful thoughts that this was a trap, that there really was a Kas out there and he was manipulating you again. Or, even worse, that Eddie was the one manipulating you.

What good did those thoughts do? Except negate the elation that still bubbled hopefully within you, elation you were also trying to hold back.

You were here now; he could kill you any time if he wanted. You weren't dead. Yet.

Lost in thought, you failed to notice that he stopped, and you walked right into his back. You shook yourself off and stepped around him, only to find a decrepit-looking ranch-style house. The attached carport's roof was partially collapsed, the siding a little cockeyed, and the mailbox was broken; it looked unremarkable, and still...

"We're here," he pressed his lips together and gestured towards the house. "Home sweet home."

"I don't recognize this place," you remarked as he led you forward.

"You wouldn't," he shook his head. "I never brought you here; it doesn't exist anymore, actually. They tore it down to build some fancy condos in...what...80? 81? Only place you're gonna find it now is up here."

He tapped against the side of his head and then waved his hand around.

"This is what it looked like the last time I saw it. Broken, a little sad. Right before it came down.”

"Why is it here then?" you asked.

He sighed and looked around.

"Let's just get inside."

The interior of the house was worlds different.

Well...comparatively.

It was bigger on the inside, the walls somehow taller than they had been just moments before you stepped through the threshold. You entered into an open concept living room that was attached to the kitchen, not unlike the trailer. Both rooms were wood paneled and there was a carpet that was split-pea green, making the already drab atmosphere darker.

Eddie brushed past you to get to the kitchen and you moved ahead to the sofa, weariness of the day finally catching up to you. You collapsed onto the brown faux-suede loveseat and laid your head against the granny-square blanket that was draped over the back; beneath the musty, mildewy smell of the Upside Down, you could faintly detect something lighter and sweeter.

Your mom wore orange blossom perfume just like this. Aqua Manda. Your father brought a bottle home for her on her birthday one year.

You cleared your throat and chalked it up to a trick of the mind; you were tired and hurt, of course little things like that would escape your psyche.

Eddie shuffled around in the kitchen for a few minutes and when returned, his hands were filled with packaged snack cakes, a six-pack of grape crush, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and a roll of cloth bandages. He fell onto the loveseat beside you and dropped his plunder between you.

"Wayne," he stated simply and gestured to everything, as though that explained it. Maybe it did, to him; on your walk you figured that everyone knew that Eddie was here and alive, Wayne included. It didn't make you as angry as you expected yourself to be. Not as angry as you'd been when you read about Kas in the Dungeon Master's Guide.

What use was it to get angry, when you just wanted answers?

You stared at Eddie expectantly, hoping that he would start talking, but instead, he moved to pick a package of Raspberry Zingers from between you. You watched, in slight awe, as he flicked his thumb against the plastic and the sharpness of his claw sliced through it quicker than any knife. He did the same with one of the pop cans, puncturing the aluminum instead of using the tab.

You, knowing these were some of his favorites and having seen him inhale more of the sweet treats than you dared count, expected him to tuck in. Instead he placed the open package and can in your hands with a longing look, careful not to touch your skin, before he went on to unwrap the bandages.

You said his name gently and he ignored you.

"Eddie," you dropped the zingers and grabbed his hand to stop him. He was the one to flinch now, but regardless, he looked you in the eye. "I need you...to tell me where we are, and tell me what's going on. Everything. We're here now...you promised."

His eyes darted between yours rapidly; if he felt that your thoughts were loud before, his were blaring right now. Broadcasting panic and worry; confusion as to what to say and where to begin.

He opened his mouth and inhaled, but his sharp fangs glinted in the low light of the room and your gaze, naturally, was drawn to them. He planted a hand over his mouth and after a second, rubbed over the scars that stretched over his cheeks.

Finally his hand dropped to his lap and he shifted in his seat; he leant back against the cushions and got comfortable.

"Before I lived with Wayne," he started, "before mom died, we lived here. It wasn't big; big enough for the two of us, a little less when my dad was still out. Everything looks a little bigger, but I guess everything does when you're younger. This...this is just how I remember it.

"That's what this place runs on. Memories. Feelings. It...generates them but also cannibalizes them. Nancy Wheeler said something...before...about it actually being 1983 here. Really, it can be any place and time you want. Henry...Vecna...showed me that. So when I started needing space...away from him, I came as far as I could past the outer limits of Hawkins and I made this place. Where he would have a harder time finding me. Where I could be alone.

"With you."

"Me?" you questioned.

"I can't explain it," he shook his head. "I can't explain any of it. It's...fuzzy. Who I am now...and who I was before...I'm not the same person.

"I was hurt so badly when you left...I thought I hated you for a while. But then...you were there, in everything I did. I had hope because you gave me hope Sweetheart. Every day I thought about getting in that van and...finding a way to find you. Some way. But I had patience and I could wait for you to come back. On the toughest days, though, you were there. You were there when the blankets on the bed felt especially warm. Or the frozen lasagna I put in the oven tasted especially cheesy. Or when I'd have a bad dream and go to get cookies out of the cupboard. You were there, and it was ok. I could hold on until you made it back to me.

"You were even out there at Skull Rock with me," he smiled. "The night...after Patrick died. I was wet and cold and so god damn traumatized and when I closed my eyes, I swore I could feel you there. I heard you tell me it would all be alright. You're the reason I didn't give up."

You knew that feeling well; more than you could really put to words.

He went on and gave you his account, his perspective and feelings, about what happened last year. Told you about witnessing Chrissy and Patrick's deaths, about running and hiding, about being hunted. He stopped to make a joke about how brave “the kids” were, braver than he was. And then his tone turned fearful and distant when he explained how he decided to be brave for them in return, brave for Dustin.

You of course knew some, but hearing all of it, especially the role he played in it all, was devastating. The what-if's returned; what if you hadn't left, what if you could have been here to save him--save all of them--what if he hadn't died. Of course the last one was void now. Still, as he closed his eyes in pain and you felt it choke you up as his emotions projected outwards again—voluntarily this time, instead of you plucking pieces off of him—you thought:

What if you could have spared him this suffering?

"He took everything," Eddie whispered. "I thought the bats were bad enough. The pain. They were just hungry but the pain. The others were supposed to kill him, to chop his head off or something, and the bats fell and the pain stopped. It was supposed to be over.

"But then he found me."

"Vecna."

"I thought I was a goner," he bared his teeth painfully, somewhere between a grimace and a smile really. "Death took forever, sweetheart. I do not recommend it. Not a bit. I don't even think I died. One minute Henderson was crying over me and the next, Vecna was tearing through my head. I always thought...well, you know when Obi-Wan tells the storm trooper these are not the droids you're looking for? I thought that I could resist that. Turns out, I was just as weak-minded as the rest of them."

He recounted his torture, the mental and the physical, and you felt it again. More acutely this time. His memories projected onto you felt fuzzy and strange, though, as if he hadn't even been there for it all himself. You recognized, through the echoes of agony, that was only so much the human mind could take, and Eddie toed the line of survival through sheer luck. He had gone through Hell, and came out alive in the end; how had he done it?

"It's because I had you," he explained. He leant in closer, voice hushed like he had a secret; he made the edges of your being feel tingly with his proximity. "Just like I told you. You were there; I know it. I held on because of you."

"Please, Eddie," you whispered. Please...what? You didn't know.

Please don't try to lessen the guilt.

Please don't try to make you feel better that you left him to this fate.

"It's true," he continued. "Vecna could take everything away. Made me hate everything, everyone. Made me kill for him. He made me his monster, his beast, his weapon..."

You swallowed painfully. How karmically poetic; a weapon of good and a weapon of evil...in love.

Fate was cruel.

"...But he could never take you away from me."

You saw it then, a flash. Some recollection of his, some coping mechanism that he'd used to survive. You saw through Eddie's eyes, felt his body; there was something quite...off about him. Shoulders broader, arms longer, fingers wet with blood.

Wings? You could feel them jutting from his shoulder blades. But he didn't have wings...

And in front of him, instead of some poor innocent soul...there you were. Strange, once again, seeing a version of you that you didn't recognize. She looked...younger...more lively than the one you saw in Billy's mind. She was smiling, eyes bright.

Speaking of eyes, you could see his reflection in your own eyes; you strained to decipher it, because it simply did not look like Eddie.

Not the Eddie of your memory. Not the Eddie who sat before you now.

You gasped and it was gone, and you were back in the living room with Eddie again. You stared at him, really took stock of him, trying to reconcile the different images of him that floated in your mind to truly accept who he was in front of you.

Broken but seemingly still whole. Alive.

Human...but not.

And that's what made you hesitate.

"Eddie," you licked your lips nervously. "Dustin said...that you couldn't leave." His brow twitched.

"I can't," he answered through gritted teeth, entire demeanor changing in the blink of an eye. He clenched and unclenched his hands, grasping at something that was beyond the fabric of reality. "I'm stuck here."

"Do you know why?"

"No. It's driving me crazy; I just want...to leave. Vecna couldn't leave either. He needed Max."

He noticed the way you stiffened at his words and his eyes went wide with fear. All of the tension that had built up within him was released again and he held his hands out to prove he was harmless.

"I don't...I'm not...I don't think that's what it is for me. The Upside Down doesn't want me to leave; I'm just not strong enough somehow. Not ready. I feel like...if I can figure out what I need, it'll let me go. I just don't know what that is.

"I did enough to save lil Red, though, twice," he ran a finger over his heart in a cross, in promise. "Not gonna just throw that all away and kill her."

"She's afraid that you are."

"Well, you'll just tell her I'm not."

"You've killed other people though," you rebuffed, almost too quickly.

It was at the forefront of your mind. Your dumb boyfriend who fed stray cats and raccoons around the trailer park...ordering an army of dark creatures to kill; it didn't make sense.

"You've killed too," he scoffed, a challenge in his eyes. "Don't act like I haven't watched you out there, angel. I've seen everything; this whole time."

"I thought you were a vicious monster," you argued.

"Who says I'm not?" That threw you for a loop. "I've told you my story, it's your turn now."

"No, we're not done with you," you reached across and jabbed a finger into his chest. "You send the bats...the Brides--nice name by the way--" You sneered sarcastically.

"Thanks," he grinned widely. "Got it all from Sven."

"--into Hawkins every day to feed. To kill."

That made him falter.

"No," he denied. "Not every day."

"Every day."

"Every three days, every week. Not every day."

"Tell me how that's possible," you narrowed your eyes. "When your friends back in Hawkins have gone out every day since I've been back for their clean up brigade, and they've been attacked every time. I've heard about it and I've seen it."

Eddie got quiet; he blinked once and his eyes became unfocused. He stared through you for what felt like ages and at some point you contemplated waving a hand in front of his face to get him to come back to you. You were about to raise your hand to do just that when a thin, opaque membrane slid sideways across his eyes, and then retracted back into the corners of them.

You thought it was a trick of the low light for a moment, then it happened again. A blink, just like a bird did with their third eyelid.

"What the fu--"

"They haven't," he interrupted you, consciousness casually sliding back into his body like he hadn't just vacated it. "They've only been leaving through the gates when I tell them to. It's been three days."

He shifted and shook the sleeve of his jacket further up his arm to reveal his wrist, then carefully unfastened the watch that sat there.

"They need to feed," he explained as he fiddled with the buttons. "I need...I need to feed again too. Otherwise I don't have control. And I need to be able to control them. They take their fill, and whatever they can spare, they bring to me. Since I can't leave. What uh...what day is it?"

"The fifteenth," you answered stiffly.

"Of?"

"...October."

"Hmmm..."

"What?"

"Guess I hadn't...nevermind." He cleared his throat. His hand shot out and grasped your wrist, then he carefully fastened the watch on your arm. "There. They're supposed to go out tonight and then you can see for yourself. Three days. Wayne will be by then too; I'll ask him to bring you your things. I know you left them behind."

"Because you...because your Brides cornered me...they...Fred...Chrissy...ugh..." You wrenched your hand from his grasp and scrubbed them over your face. "I...Eddie...I need to know why...why you---"

"I think I've told you enough," he interjected with an air of finality. "I've been trying to get to you, trying to find you, ever since I saw you back in Hawkins through their eyes. And now you're here with me where you belong, and it's time I got some answers too, sweetheart. It's been long enough. I deserve to know the truth."

So you told him.

Eddie was right, he deserved to know the truth, and you'd been itching to tell him since the moment he kissed you after your very first date.

Now was the chance to get it all off your chest.

You told him everything, and not just the condensed version that you told Mary Victoria. You bared your cursed soul to, probably, the only person on earth that had ever seen you. Really and truly seen you.

Despite all that time apart, he still saw you as though no time had passed at all.

He had no qualms interjecting when you told him about your family history and about the curse. He questioned everything and you had no doubt that if it wasn't for the conditions you were in now--if life had not been as cruel to the two of you as it had been--he would have had his Hellfire notebook open and been furiously writing ideas for his next campaign.

Better yet, he would be the one figuring out the way to break it. He would have every fantasy book from the Hawkins Library checked out and spread across the floor, just to save you.

When you got to the more contemporary parts of your story, when you filled in all the gaps in your life that you left when he first got to know you, he was pensive and empathetically quiet. He still made his little jokes here and there, tried to make you laugh at the parts where all you wanted to do was cry, and he didn't hesitate to bridge the gap and hold your hand when you needed to find the strength to keep going.

And keep going was all you did.

For hours.

You told him about every monster you faced, every demise you escaped, every person who used you as a tool and held your salvation over your head to get you to act on their behalf.

Your story couldn't hold a candle to his when it came to personal agony, but he made you feel like everything you'd endured was just as soul-splitting.

Maybe it was.

But this...getting everything out in the open...it was so freeing.

Gone were the shadowy secrets that lurked in the corners of your mind, gone was all the doubt you felt in yourself.

You cracked your chest open, pried out every rusting nail you had driven into you to keep it shut, and let Eddie see all of you--see your heart--and still he stared at you with awe and resplendent devotion in his eyes.

Just like he always had.

"Not gonna lie sweetheart," he started once you'd reached a lull in the story. "That was all, uh...pretty fucking metal."

"Fuck you," you slapped the back of your hand against his chest.

"All this time you let me go on about demons and the devil and Hellfire," his tone was teasing and a smile threatened the corners of his mouth; he couldn't fight it for long and neither could you. "And really you were out here studying the Lesser Key of Solomon and the Necronomicon for fun?"

"Not for fun. For survival" He grabbed your hand and held it against his chest, used his leverage to tug you closer. He stared at you in awe.

"My girlfriend! A real life paladin!"

"God damn it Eddie!" You giggled.

"Protecting the masses, no wonder you wanted to play as a rogue, you would have been bored as a paladin. Can you smite people?"

"I swear to--yes, I guess so."

"So many secrets! And then you told me all of your little stories and lessons--"

"Eddie I swear.”

"--let me believe you fucked the Mothman?"

"Excuse me," you erupted into a cackle. "You came to that conclusion all on your own."

He stared at you with hooded eyes and a fond gaze, humming his doubt.

You shifted the hand that he held, moved your palm across his chest from over his jacket to the thin, threadbare t-shirt he wore underneath. At first, you felt for his heartbeat, to reassure you one last time that it was really him...that he was really alive.

It was a flutter, but it was there. A soft thum pum, thum pum that transferred from his chilled skin, through the shirt, and into yours. His hand enclosed your wrist and squeezed tightly, and you wondered if he was doing the same. Feeling your pulse, making sure you were really there too.

He huffed a breath as you shifted closer; your fingers brushed against something hard that was just under the collar of the shirt as you had made your little search, and upon closer inspection, you discovered a cross on a silver chain.

Your necklace.

"You kept it?" you asked.

"Mmhmm." You shook his hand off your wrist and you ran your thumb over the tiny metal flowers; your crucifix might have been gone but this was still here. "The day you left...I was so upset I threw it. Threw it in some random corner of the trailer. When I realized that it was one of the last things I had left of you I went to try and find it, only to realize it was gone. I kicked myself, cried to Wayne...I was so fucking stupid.

"Then after everything, after Vecna was gone and I healed Max back up...I found it. Here in the Upside Down of all places. Must have fallen through when the gate opened up...but it made its way back to me. Just like you."

"You're a sap," you whispered.

"Guess what? So are you."

"I am," you laughed. You felt yourself choke up then, happiness turning to sorrow in an instant. Well, maybe it was still happiness…just the sad kind. "Hmmm."

"What is it?"

"Nothing, nothing," you cleared your throat to try and let it go, but it got the better of you and tears began to prickle at the corners of your eyes.

You couldn’t help yourself, you touched him again. You’d denied yourself for too long; you needed to be as close to him as you could for as long as you could. You touched his face. Beneath his bangs, over the crest of his eyes, ran a finger over his lips, even shoved your fingers over his fangs to inspect them, to see how dangerous they were, much to his displeasure.

“Don’t,” he hissed. “I have to feed, I could hurt you.”

”I don’t care.” The words burst from you. “I don’t.”

“Sweetheart,” he said in a warning tone but you ignored him.

“I spent all this time thinking you were dead and now here you are, right in front of me. Something I never thought I would have ever again. So excuse me if I don’t care that you might bite me. Hurt me. Nothing could compare with the hurt I felt when I lost you.”

“I get it.”

“I burnt down a building.”

“That’s—”

“Pretty metal, I know.”

“I was gonna say it sounds a little crazy,” you snorted. “Cmon? You burned down a building for little old me? With a lighter and gasoline?”

“With that smiting power you were so interested in earlier,” you explained.

“Ok well…shit. That’s pretty hot.”

“Fuck. Off.” You laughed wetly.

“You keep telling me to fuck off, I’ll leave you here.”

You could tell he was trying to make another joke but you didn’t have the patience for it.

“I’m trying to kiss you right now, Ed,” you told him matter-of-factly.

He was shocked, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, like the thought of actually kissing you, actually being with you, hadn't crossed his mind either. As though he hadn’t just used the brides to bring you to completion through the mental bond they shared. To be close to you, to share in pleasure and proximity, together again.

You were about to back down, about to say it was ok, especially if his hunger--fuck, you were gonna have to keep that in mind now, weren’t you--made him nervous. Instead, he surged forward, lips mashing into yours.

It was clumsy and a little painful at first. Both of you were out of practice, it was obvious, and there were, of course, extra teeth to be mindful of. Still, once you crossed the divide and settled yourself in his lap for easy access, you found your rhythm again.

It was as though you hadn’t been apart for a single minute, let alone three years.

Kissing him was nice, it always had been; tender sweetness, even in the throes of pleasure. You always used to joke that if Eddie could find a way to meld the two of you together with his mouth alone, he would; now was no different, as the plush pillows of his lips caressed and pecked at yours.

It didn't take long for the spark that was ignited between you to grow into an inferno and you couldn't really tell who was the needier of the two of you as breathing got heavier and tongue and teeth began to explore. All you knew was him. A sensory experience, being surrounded by each other again, and it was one that you had to learn all over again because it was different. Gone was the smell and taste of cigarette smoke and cheap laundry detergent and soda or bazooka bubblegum he enjoyed, and in its place something more visceral.

The bite of arctic air and nature and musk and dirt and blood.

Aside from the few times you'd bitten your tongue or split your lip, you'd never experienced the taste of blood before, and certainly not blood other than your own. Tangy, but not unpleasant. You could get used to it blooming along your tastebuds if it meant you never had to leave Eddie again.

He departed your lips then, as though he could sense the thought and didn't want you to endure it any longer than you had to. He left one, two, three pecks to the corner of your mouth before he descended down your cheek and along your jaw. He tsked as he reached your neck.

"What did they do to you huh?" he muttered and pecked and laved over the tender, ravaged flesh. He vacated one side of your throat for the other, inspecting the damage there; it was the side that Barb had bitten too, and you knew that it was surely worse. His tongue slithered out and he growled as it slowly ran along the ridges of each wound; the sound transferred from his body to yours, a rattling chittering vibration that sent chills up your spine.

"I didn't tell them to do this. When I realized..." he began an apology, but you stopped him.

"It's ok," you huffed a weak smile. "I'll heal. I always do."

"Hmmm."

He nudged his nose against yours, a soft rub of its bulbous tip, before diving back into your mouth.

From soft touches against faces and shoulders, hands suddenly moved to grip hips and thread into hair. The scrunchie was quick to go and his curls cascaded over his shoulders; you immediately buried your fingers in their depths, steering you where you wanted him to go, on the off chance he didn't already know.

His hands moved then to settle on your thighs, and gravity shifted as he hoisted you into his arms and stood. You broke away and stared at him in question. Where had this unexpected strength come from; was it more the result of this transformation in the Upside Down? You'd found unbelievable strength as your abilities developed over the years too.

Moreover, where had he found the idea or desire to carry you anyway?

You could spend as much time here on the loveseat as you wanted; it's not like you hadn't fucked on a sofa before.

"Where are we going?" you asked as he took his first steps.

"Bedroom."

"My legs work."

"They won't before long," he grinned and you rolled your eyes. Vampire or undead or whatever amalgam of an upside down creature as he was, Eddie was still your boyfriend who would quote bad porn just to annoy you.

He brought you down the short hallway to a bedroom; it was unremarkable and had a look and feel about it that was similar to his room in the trailer in some ways...but still not at all.

There was a poster on the wall, and Sweetheart sitting on an amp in the corner--had he been the one to play Sympathy for the Devil that you'd heard on the radio; you hadn't been going crazy--a stack of t-shirts and clothes sat on a broken dresser, and a dented old thermos rested on the windowsill.

He laid you down on a mattress that had been placed on the floor and was laden with pillows and blankets. He started to rid you of your shoes and your jeans, taking as extra care as he had been not to rip into them with his claws; as needy as you were, you were also curious, and you took that moment to inspect this bed of his further.

One of the pillows was stained with blood, some of the blankets shredded to ribbons, and, buried amongst a soft comforter...two long bones that were sharpened to points.

Eddie faltered in his movements as you lifted them closer to your face to inspect and he immediately pulled his hands away from you; his arms crossed over his torso and he shrugged.

"Guess I'm a little messy," he explained sheepishly. "There, uh...might be some more in here...somewhere. Be careful."

There were a million thoughts racing through your mind; where did these bones come from, what did they belong to, had he...eaten some creature? Once again, you needed to internalize all of it quickly. This was just going to come with the territory of having Eddie back, wasn't it?

"It's...ok," you swallowed thickly and turned your eyes back to him. "I can just use it to stab you in the heart if worse comes to worse."

He snorted and licked his lips to stop himself from smiling; in the end, you both failed. You were giggling and you let out a honk of laughter that you hated but Eddie adored; he'd told you so many times. You covered your face with your hands to hide from him, but he was quick to kneel down in the cradle of your thighs to pull them away.

"I want to see you," he whispered. "I need to see you."

He kissed your hands, one, then the other, and then pulled you to sit upright; you helped him remove your jacket--he recalled it had been Mickey's...and then noted that Mickey had died by his hand as he thumbed the rips in the shoulders from Chrissy's attempted-abduction of you in the square--then your t-shirt. He was extra cocky as he used those talons to slice through your bra.

"You're an asshole," you muttered as he ducked to capture your lips again.

"Remember," he pressed a kiss and then backed off to grin, "when I kept fumbling with the hooks."

There wasn't much talking after that, as you began your true reunion, your worship of one another.

He knew where to lick, where to kiss, to get the sweetest and most desperate noises out of you. Of course, he also had his favorite little places to put his hands and his mouth.

He was careful of your throat, but that didn't mean he couldn't suck a hickey to your jaw, or your collarbone, or the side of one of your breasts. He sniffed your skin and sighed dreamily every now and again, pressed his face into the softness of your chest and your belly and just rested there for a moment, before continuing his descent.

He didn't leave an inch of you untouched when it came to these new discoveries and devotions.

He paid special attention to each prominent scar he found. Whispered words of apology, of understanding, as he bore witness to all the ways you sacrificed yourself for a God who'd essentially abandoned you. Abandoned both of you.

Every nerve in your body was alight; not because he kept pulling pleasure to the surface, but simply because of the proximity. You luxuriated in having him there, in carding your fingers through his hair, in hearing the timber of his voice and feeling it as it hummed along your skin. Even when he got too carried away and his claws scratched you or punctured your skin, as blood began to pool to the surface, you found some sense of joy. The little zings of pain only added to the pleasure.

For Eddie, though, they simply seemed to test the strength of his willpower to tame the beast within.

He finally reached the crux of you, and instead of touching or kissing as you expected him to, bringing you pleasure that way--something he'd always enjoyed before--he got to his knees and began working the belt off his jeans.

"What are you doing?" you demanded breathlessly, desperately. "You were..."

"I just...I'll..." he fumbled over his words, head still ducked as his hands worked. His voice sounded muffled and he refused to look at you. "We...we'll just finish up here and then I need to go."

"Go!?"

"I want to make you feel good, baby, I just...I can't stay. I'm already hanging on by a thread as it is."

You thought that he just meant that he needed to find his own release, which was understandable, but to need to leave? He flung his belt off to the side, and as he did, you saw. Really saw.

His eyes seemed more sunken in, surrounded by shadowy-bruises, scleras bright red. His fangs, which had just been two lone points in his mouth, seemed to have multiplied; four sharp teeth, now elongated, on his upper jaw, and two on the lower.

You called his name once, then again more forcibly, to get him to stop as he shed his jacket. He froze, and then stared at you, practically ashamed.

"They'll be back soon and I'm hungry," he explained. He let the jacket drop to the ground and then stared hungrily at his hands, at the fresh blood at the points of his nails. "I'm so...hungry."

He had mentioned that, that he'd been hungry, before. Which was why he couldn't be there when you were brought to the Upside Down.

But he said that he'd fed days ago; how long had you been here?

Was it just the drawing of your blood that had him hungry again? Needing to be sustained.

You spoke instinctually.

"Feed on me."

His eyes widened in shock.

"Sweetheart--" he tried to warn you, but you stopped him.

"Chrissy and Patrick already did," you rationalized. "Barb did. You're not going to do anything that they didn’t; just...try to be gentle and don't kill me."

"I'm trying not to kill you."

"I know," you encouraged. "I trust you. Drink my blood. Feed on me."

You held your hand out and nodded to your wrist; your neck was already bitten and healing. You both would probably have a better...uh...experience if he fed from there instead.

Eddie released a long breath and rolled his head backwards, hands coming up to his eyes as though it was the most difficult decision in the world. The only decision that mattered.

But, faster than your eyes could see, he was on you, lips and tongue caressing your wrist, lavishing over your pulse. You closed your eyes for a second...until it felt like his tongue elongated and wrapped around your wrist entirely...and they shot open again.

He was too quick though. Another blur of movement, and your underwear had simply vanished and Eddie was nuzzling the softness of your thigh with his nose, smelling the path your arteries, smelling the musk of your sex. You strained your neck to watch him--settled on his stomach, half off the mattress, with one of your legs thrown over his shoulder--but you couldn't hold it for long as he caressed your slit. As he stroked his fingers through your wetness and found your clit, slowly and torturously, as his nose followed the path upwards.

A delicate caress was all it took for the pleasure to invade your senses, ready as you were from all of the foreplay. Your body was primed for more after being starved for so long and only given a taste of salvation from him and his puppets previously. He rolled his fingers over and over, bringing you higher; he was mindful of his claws with each touch and caress, still you felt the cold huff of his breath chuckling when you bore down on nothingness as he rasped the sharp edges over the softness of you just so.

It had always been a game with you, pushing each other further to see who could hold out longer and who would break first--a delicious give and take--but it seemed he was focused on one thing now: a delicious prize for the both of you.

And needed to get there as quickly as possible.

You whined as your body tingled; your pleasure climbed and he hummed, his ministrations getting quicker. Sensing you were close to the edge, he pushed a finger into your heat, then a second, and your hips bucked. If the rasp of his claws outside had created a mix of pleasure and pain, inside it made you question everything. And as he pistoned his fingers once...twice...and pressed on your clit, you found euphoria.

You found Heaven.

And so did he.

You barely registered him biting into you at first, such pleasure raced through your body, but the sting of the first mouthful of blood being pulled from you brought you back to reality.

You rapidly came down from your high, so pleasantly numb, to the sounds of his lewd slurping and gulping of one mouthful then the next. If you had the capability of higher thought, you might wonder if you'd built some sort of tolerance to being feasted on like this, but your focus was on the remnants of your pleasure...and on him.

Eddie let out a delicious groan with a particularly painful pull, and you winced. He mouth released from your thigh with a satisfying pop, and, like a predator, he turned his gaze to meet yours.

Half hidden by the slopes of your body, you could still see the way his nose and lips were stained red. He bared his teeth at you--in a smile or a warning, you couldn't tell for sure--then set his sights back on your center.

Blood made an interesting addition to your own slickness, as he lowered his mouth onto your pussy; you twitched as he licked your essence away, one hunger sated and replaced by another. Gone were his fingers, as he moved your leg off his shoulder and spread you open to feast once more. You bucked against him as he stoked the fires within you again, tried to fight him so you could grind against his mouth, but he didn't let up.

"E-Eddie," you whined and he moaned, tongue thrumming against your clit and then sliding to your entrance to collect the ambrosia that you blessed him with.

You didn't want to beg, especially when you would gladly take every ounce of attention he bestowed upon you, but you wanted him. Wanted all of him. Wanted to see him.

Wanted to be with him, as one.

And the fucker hadn't even taken his clothes off yet.

"E-eddie, please," you cried, unable to convey exactly what you wanted. "I need you."

He clearly took that to mean more and more is exactly what he gave you, enough that should have made you surrender, made you melt for him.

He rolled his tongue against your sensitive nub, let his fangs rasp over you, before he began to suckle your clit and you had to grab his head and tug to try and get him to stop.

This was everything you wanted. But maybe not everything you wanted right now. The denial would be delicious.

Your nails scraped his scalp and pulled at the long strands of his hair until he finally finally released his focus from your quivering cunt.

Both of you heaved and gasped heavily.

He cuffed a hand against his chin to try and wipe off the mix of your blood and slick and you groaned; he didn't have to look so enticing doing something like that.

"So bossy," he grinned naughtily.

He didn't have to look so enticing saying something like that either.

"I am," you told him. "Because I need you--"

"And I was about to let you come right there, sweetheart."

"I need you...I need to feel you," you told him.

"Hmmm, tempting," he inched his way up your body, pressing bloody kisses to your mound, then your stomach. He stopped and rested his chin there.

There was some spike of unidentified emotion inside of you. Wrath, maybe. Annoyance, definitely.

"Don't tell me," you hissed at him. "That you're not looking for your own release."

"I am," he nodded and kissed up. Further and further. Your ribs, your breasts, laying his head there now. You couldn't help but caress his forehead, push his bangs out of his eyes as he stared up at you like you hung the stars.

You could feel him shift, feel the hardness of him straining against his jeans as he squirmed against you.

"Don't tell me that you don't want to fuck me," you whispered. "Don't tell me that you aren't just itching to come inside of me Eddie."

He kissed once against your clavicle, once on the hickey he left on your jaw and then hovered over your lips...

"Please," he whispered. "Let me fuck you."

You grabbed him and pulled him to you, lips crashing and hungry as you took what you craved from him.

Frantic movement on shaky limbs as you both knelt on the mattress and stripped him of his clothes between the clashing of your mouths in desperation.

It wasn't until you needed to part so you could pull his shirt over his head that you paused.

Tension.

It was sudden and suffocating as you finally saw all of him. Your hungry eyes found his cock first, lengthy and hard and fisted in his hand as he rolled his head back on his shoulders with relief for the first time all night. Which was funny because he was not shy about humping a bed once upon a time; had he learned some kind of virtuous patience in the years you'd been away? It was almost impossible to fathom.

But then, your eyes were drawn to the rest of his body.

Your hand went to your mouth in horror as you finally witnessed all of him. Witnessed what came out of the other side after he'd been chewed up and spit out by Vecna and his minions. By the Upside Down.

It was the bite scars that caught your eyes first. Maybe because you had felt the ephemeral echo of the assault for yourself, maybe because they were wide swaths of mangled flesh. Layers and layers and wrinkles and valleys. A piece of his torso practically gouged out on one side, his pectoral muscle shredded on the other, nipple missing.

When he had been attacked, he had been Eddie; when the attack was over he was just...meat. And this was the evidence of that. Some parts had healed to silver or pink, both others were left angry and red. If you didn't know better, you might think he was still hurt; that they were still bleeding.

He had kissed your scars and apologized; he was truly the one who deserved the apology.

The seams were next. Down his limbs, at each of his joints; like he'd been ripped apart and put back together again. Strange lines that carved into him like a dissection. Vivisection, if the screams that you'd heard through his memories were true. There were two prominent ones along his ribs that looked...particularly vulnerable. Then again, it could have been because he bulged strangely there.

He didn't look like your Eddie anymore. Maybe it was because he wasn't.

Well, he was...all of him was. All of him...belonged to your heart. Or, more accurately, your heart belonged to all of him. Been through Hell, and survived.

You'd always thought--and you'd told him once and he'd laughed in your face--that he looked like one of the statues that you loved at your favorite cemetery back home. Carefully carved through time and patience, flaws intentional, but made to be witnessed and celebrated and have people kneel before them.

Yes he made a cocksucking joke.

Now though...he was like stained glass in the chapel. Overall whole, one beautiful piece of art that was made to let the resplendent light shine through. But so obviously complex, evidenced by the thousands of little pieces that made it up. Each one so important to the greater whole.

Different, but still beautiful.

Eddie finally noticed the state of you and he paused; you could feel the waves of doubt come off him as he looked down at himself in shame.

"I'm sorry, I should have wa--"

"No," you closed the distance between you. "Stop. It's...I just...I..."

"It's horrible," he told you. "And there's so much more that you...that you don't know."

"It isn't horrible," you replied. "We have plenty of time; all the time in the world. I'll find out the rest eventually, Eddie. But no matter what...I love you."

His eyes shifted between yours, that unsettling red tinge still there but made less intense by his feast; you knew he was looking to see if you were lying to him.

You hoped he knew that you could never lie to him. Especially about something like that.

If there was something that didn't change about Eddie, it was his smile. Sure his teeth might have been comprised of fangs, and his cheeks stretched in a slightly tense way...but the way his eyes crinkled, the way--even in the darkness--he seemed to light up from the inside. That would always stay the same.

You pulled him to you and kissed him again, soft and full of intense devotion. His hands found you and he guided you back down to the mattress, sweeping away the extra blankets and pillows and remnants of previous carnage, and he settled onto you.

Into you.

He guided himself to your center and with one last glance to make sure you wanted this--you always would, always--he slid into you, and found himself where he truly belonged.

Home. With you.

One hand held him above you and the other roamed, caressing over the slopes and curves of your body, running over your cheek and over your heart for a moment, until it settled at the crux where your bodies met. Your hands searched him as well, determined to commit all of his scars to memory--if not tonight, then one day--when they finally landed on a set of scars along his shoulder blades. Thick and deep, he closed his eyes and you could feel his body twitch with pleasure as you lavished them with attention, your delicate touch dancing over the raised skin.

His pace quickened and he grit his teeth; his fingers danced over your clit to carry you to the peaks of pleasure, caressing your cunt worshipfully as you caressed him within.

As you accepted him--all of him--over and over.

It was a marathon that tested your stamina and willpower but neither of you would let up or stop; you needed this. You both needed this, together; finally with each other.

You could feel it rising within you, your limbs tingled and you began to see stars. You refused to close your eyes, even as Eddie got desperate and ducked his head into your shoulder, hips stuttering as they chased his release, fingers relentless as they chased yours.

You couldn't blame him when he bit your throat, when his fangs slid through the already-abused flesh as you inevitably came. You couldn't be too sure that you didn't pull him into you yourself. The bite, the sting, and the pull of your blood took your rapture to an intensity you'd never experienced before.

You saw the strings of fate, floating around him in that moment, connecting him to you; sparkling lines that shifted and tangled over his skin and onto yours. It was blinding and brilliant, and it made you finally close your eyes to bask in it all.

There was some old story, that humans used to have 4 arms, 4 legs and two heads. And some God thought them too powerful, so They demanded them split for the rest of eternity; those humans spent the rest of their days searching...searching for their other half until they could be one again.

And as Eddie's hips stuttered into yours, as he lost his stamina and finally spilled his release inside of you, as he finally made you his--fully and completely for the first time in what felt like an eternity--that search was finally complete.

“I love you. Even if the Fates unraveled our destiny, I would find a way back to you.”  - Scarlett St. Clair, A Touch of Ruin

Next Chapter: Revelation

#aasb #as above so below #eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson x oc #Eddie munson smut #kas!eddie munson #Eddie munson fic #Eddie munson stranger things #tw: blood #tw: smut #tw: violence #tw: mentions of death

[machihunnicutt]

I would like the sons and bowlers thoughts please

Under the cut bc it’s soooo long lmao

Things in sons and bowlers that make me crazy (in no particular order)

1)The idea that daniel pierce shields hawkeye from things that he thinks will hurt him psychologically and actively tries to distract him with kindness/good things i.e. making him elaborate breakfasts while his mom was dying in the hospital and downplaying the extent of her illness. I think this is so interesting bc we’ve often seen hawkeye deflect with jokes/go out of his way to help people inside and outside of OR and make sacrifices to do so/ downplay the extent of his own pain/trauma in order to avoid inconveniencing people and the idea that this is a behavior he learned as a child, way before the war is a major clue to the events in GFA

He doesn’t deal with his trauma, he minimizes it to the point of repression and convinces himself things are alright! He’s become his father! That blows my mind idk

2) hawkeye just has his dad and his dad just has him! We saw in where there’s a will that he leaves everything to his father but this really drives home how much hawkeye loves his dad. Like i think part of why this makes me crazy is that i have daddy/mommy issues but i feel like for hawkeye this is a big character beat that people overlook. He’s not like the others at the unit in that they all have families/career aspirations/grounded support systems to return to and for hawkeye all he’s got is his dad and he really finds his support system in the MASH…and yeah he’s a workaholic and a brilliant surgeon but he’s also the kind of person who thrives on human connection and cannot live without his connections to those around him. Like hawkeye is all heart AGH what happens when someone like that is removed from a place where they formed deep connections?

Also the fact that he’s like iv’e said ily but what if he doesnt know i mean it like man u really don’t expect people to listen to what u say

3) back on daniel, sorry but i love food/mealtime/cooking themes with hawkeye too and the fact that shared, homemade breakfasts were his father’s symbol of love and protection just makes the absence of good food at the MASH even more devastating. I also see hawkeye as someone who can disassociate from his body easily (the drinking, the sleeping around, the constant sniffing of food/not eating if it isn’t appetizing/ going long periods without sleep and insomnia, the manic episodes/psych problems) so the reconnection of family to food is important here too! Like i’m going to get to charles but the fact that he tells the story about feeling tested at dinner and his related food associations, i think it’s really telling that in contrast we get hawkeye and daniel talking about the good times they had eating dinner together

4) brief margaret tangent i like that this is a reversal of the early seasons trope of her sleeping with someone for some plot/ulterior motive and now when potter asks her if she’ll do that she’s like fuck off and then uses the guy for bowling tips and not sex lol i just think it’s a succient way to show her development over time and i also love when she gets to do sporty/more traditionally masculine things and not be dunked on for it

5) bj and charles scheming idk i love this in any episode i like that they bring out the evil asshole in each other i find it funny and charming they’re my faves for a reason i think dos and mike are both soooo talented

6) the contrast between charles’ home life and hawkeye’s and how thats shaped them. i ‘m really interested in the similarities between charles and hawk i think they have similar backgrounds and similar drive/talent/pressure to be surgeons and be the best at what they do/similarly desperate desire for connection with people/to art and music and theater etc. and they can be similarly overconfident/stubborn it just manifests so differently in their behaviors. I feel like this is one of the few times we see them acknowledge each other as people and put aside their differences in order to support each other idk u know i love a charles plotline im human

7) speaking of supporting people! Also crazy about bj’s progressive loss of the ability to provide hawkeye with emotional support and here he doesn’t even know hawkeye was struggling bc hawkeye’s like don’t tell anyone ! he doesn’t want to tell his best friend his problems bc bj doesn’t help him with things like that. And in fact telling bj might be something that sets bj off further like every day this man’s mental health is crumbling he’s hanging on by a thread and hawkeye knows this, more finale set up that’s so subtly done i love it

7.5) also the fact that if daniel’s surgery had gone badly this would be another hawkeye doesn’t get a real goodbye situation (.i.e his mom, trapper, henry, carlye, tommy, kyung hee, bj etc.) whyyyy do they do this

8) there’s bowling like come on are u serious i love bowling and they’re so cute bowling

#mash #sons and bowlers #ask awi #anon #ty for asking 🙏🏼

[thegoober010]

HELLO HELLO! Tis I!

A non-undertale related one today, which is,, insane for me.

Can you write father figure Shane stardew valley and his child who started drinking? And Shane is like “I know how that feels but you dont have to do this” and and and JADJFJFFJFJ

my daddy issues show whenever i request father figure writing because its always angsty

It can be a one shot or headcanons :3

-🐾

OMG GRAAAAA HEY PAW PRINT ANON I MISSED YOU SNOOKIE 😻😻!!!!

ALSO WOWZERS NON-UNDERTALE RELATED!!! SHOCKING!!(IM FOOLING AROUND TEEHEE) AND OMG OFC I CAN!!!

I WOULD NEVER EXPECT SHANE TO BE FATHER FIGURE MATERIAL BUT REAL !!!

IMA DO A ONE-SHOT AS A SORRY FOR MY ABSENCE GRAAAAAAAA!!

GENDER NEUTRAL READER AS USUAL <3!!

characters -> Father figure Shane (that's all-!!)

TW/CW -> substance abuse, mentions of depression, using alcohol as self-harm, and swearing- obviously-!

word count -> 2k/2192

On a serious note, if you or anyone you know is suffering from depression and is using unhealthy coping mechanisms such as drinking to try and drown their sorrows, please know that there is resources, there is help, and you/they are not alone. Please talk to someone or listen to them, because it's obvious you/they need it. Speak up before it is too late and leads to more risky behaviors. You're not alone and neither should they be. Things will get better, without happiness there won't be struggle, but without any struggle there will be no happiness. Things may be bad now, but it will turn out okay. You never know when your day of happiness shall come, so please don't give up and please do not use such unhealthy coping mechanisms, all they do is cause even more harm dear. Please talk to someone 💗.

now that, that's outta the way uhhhh onto the one-shot -!

"I know how that feels but.. you don't have to do this."

Just one more bottle. Just one more! What's the harm in one more drink? After all it's not like you're addicted or anything! No, no of course not! It's just for some temporary relief, it's not like you drink almost every damn hour of your life and waste your days lying in bed. Fuck. You allowed a soft sigh to escape your lips as you laid in bed on your side, hugging your knees and covering yourself with the blanket. You were in your room, per usual, you just finished your last bottle of alcohol yesterday and were hungover. You had a huge headache, you felt like throwing up and your stomach hurt, bad. You kept on over drinking even though you knew how it would affect you later, you kept drinking because it was your only escape from this shitty place. This town fucking sucked if we're gonna be honest, you felt like no one liked you, no matter what you did nothing was ever good enough, you wanted to leave, go explore but you couldn't you were stuck here due to the fact you don't have enough money to actually live yourself. Not only that but the people sucked. The mayor? He's absolute shit, making the farmer do all the work at this point. The people? Well some were nice but other times they're assholes if they don't know you well enough which sucked, a few were nice but... the town just sucked in general. All you could really do was just wallow in pity and drink your problems away, all your insecurities, it all felt like they were gone once you grabbed that bottle. You know it's wrong though, it hurt and tasted awful at first but you're slowly getting used to the feelings, sometimes you wonder if you should upgrade from alcohol to something more strong... maybe it'll help more? Right..?... fuck.

You groaned as you rubbed the side of your head. It hurt like hell. You had dark circles under your eyes, your hair was all messed up and frizzy, your lips were chapped and dry. It was quite obvious you weren't properly taking care of yourself, it could be spotted from a mile away. All of a sudden as you twist and turned in your bed you spotted your father, Shane, entering the room. You groaned and got up, quickly rubbing your eyes and fixing up your hair. "Hey, kiddo, you alright?" Shane asked. You nodded, giving him a quick hum as you put your shoes on, you didn't want your dad seeing you like this, you'd rather make a quick get away than let him see you not taking care of yourself because you know damn well he'd give you some long ass talk that you just don't have the patience to deal with today. "Mhm, I'll see you later dad." You mutter as you lazily tied your shoelaces, you quickly left your dad there with a concerned look on his face.

You made your way over to the Stardrop Saloon, as you made your way there you checked your pockets, quickly looking at the money you had to make sure you had enough to buy a beer or something of that sort. "Oh fuck yeah." You mutter as you saw you had just enough for one! You hummed as you made your way to the Saloon. You quickly threw the door open, making Gus raise a brow as he looked at you, he let out a small groan as he saw your face, even he was a bit concerned since you had been coming there more often. "The usual?" He asked earning a quick nod out of you. You sat down on one of the seats, quickly handing him the gold. He counted it before he raised a brow once he finished. "Uh, it's not enough, you're missing 2 gold." Gus said before he handed back the money, going back to cleaning a cup. You give him a confused stare. "The hell you mean I'm missing 2 gold? It's the same amount of money I gave you a week ago for a beer!" You exclaimed, you quickly lowered your voice as you saw the strange stares some of the people gave you. You cleared your throat slightly before shutting up. "Mhm, well the prices were raised recently." explained Gus, causing you to roll your eyes. "It's just 2 gold, come on! I'll pay the 2 gold tomorrow!" You negotiated, all Gus did was shake his head. "Sorry, I can't trust you to pay it tomorrow." Gus replied. You scoffed as you got off the chair. "Ugh.. fine, I'll see ya tomorrow I guess. Bye Gus." You grumbled as you made your way out the door. You let out a yawn, making your way back home.

You uttered curses under your breath as you made your way home. You leaned your head back, looking up at the stars as you followed the path back home. The sky was beautiful, sometimes you wondered what it would be like to be up there. Perhaps you would make a beautiful sky? Fuck, why are you thinking like this? Damnit. 'Just.. just focus on making it home' You thought to yourself. You turned your head to the side, taking notice of how the grass was blown ever so slightly by the gentle wind. Crickets chirped and the moon's light shun onto the grass and onto a lonely, empty bench. You stared silently at it for a while. 'A break from walking isn't so bad.' You though before making you way and plopping down onto it. You kept your hands in your hoodie pockets, your head leaning to the side as you looked up at the night sky. Your headache slowly started to come back as you finally tried to relax. Your eye-lids started feeling heavy, a soft sigh escaped as you your head leaned left, you felt so damn tired, you could just sleep right then and there. As you started to shut your eyes you felt a tap on your shoulder, causing you to almost immediately jump. "AH WHAT THE FUCK-" You yelled when you felt a hand on your shoulder, causing Shane to stare a bit shocked from your reaction. "Wow, calm down there kiddo." Shane said, taking his hand off. You let out a relieved sigh realizing it was just your dad. You clutched your chest as you calmed your breathing. "Ah- shit.. sorry dad you scared me there." You uttered.

Shane nodded in acknowledgment. "Is this spot taken?" he asked, obviously knowing the answer but wanting to check if his child was comfortable enough to let him sit near them. You shook your head. "No- uh no, sit if you want." You reply while rubbing the side of your neck awkwardly from the earlier exchange. You did not mean to scream that loud, damn. Shane nodded, quickly taking a seat next to his kid. You kept your obvious distance from him though, and it was quite obvious form the space between you two. "Uh, hey kid. Look, we gotta talk." Shane spoke softly, yet there was a hint of concern in his tone, he looked over at you. You raised a brow, you looked up at him for a bit before quickly looking away, leaning your head the opposite of where he was sitting. "Hm? 'Bout what?" You asked, crossing your arms and biting the side of your nails. "About your... problem with alcohol." Shane said bluntly, damn, just straight to the point. You almost choke on your spit, you continued to bite the side of your nails, your eyes grew wide before you shook your head, calming yourself down ever so slightly. "The hell are you talking about dad?" You ask, playing dumb. He furrowed his brows before placing a rough hand on your shoulder. "Don't act dumb, I know what you've been doing." Shane said, he was trying to be as calm as possible, his tone showed how worried he was though, you were going down the same path as he did before he had you, and he can't bear to see that. You tense up as his hand was roughly placed on your shoulder. You immediately pull his hand away. "THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM? I told you I'm not doing anything!?" You yell. You furrow your brows, your eyes squinting slightly as you did so. He seemed a bit surprised by your sudden snap. "Hey, calm down." Shane said calmly, he put his hands onto his lap, understanding you didn't want to be touched right now.

"Look, I know you want to act like nothing's happening, but I can tell when somethings wrong. You're my child, I don't want you hiding things from me, especially if it's making you make the same mistakes I did before." Shane explained, he stared at you while you looked away from him. "What are you talking about?" You ask, "I found the bottle under your bed kid. I know what you've been doing." Shane replied calmly. You immediately turned your head to look over at him, eyes wide. Fuck, you forgot to throw that bottle away. "Fffuck." You muttered, you rubbed the bridge of your nose in frustration, slouching as you rested your elbows on your knees. Your breath got shaky as you started to feel tears swell up in the inner corners of your eyes. Shane almost immediately noticed, he quickly placed a hand on your back, rubbing your back in circles. "Hey, hey, it's okay I'm not mad nor am I disappointed, okay? Hey it's okay." Shane reassured, yet you couldn't help but feel like such a disappointment. How could you be so damn stupid and let him find out? How could you let your dad down like this? You couldn't help but cry.

Shane took immediate notice, although he wasn't the best when it comes to comforting, especially comforting people, he tried. He pulled you into a quick embrace. Rubbing circles on your back as you cried. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not mad, I'll never be angry at you for something like this kid, so don't worry about whether I am or not, because I genuinely inly am not. I'm just worried on why you would look for comfort in drinking instead of telling me how you feel. Do you not trust me maybe?" Shane asked as he continued to keep you in a warm embrace. You shook your head. "No no no no it's not that... it's not that at all, I hic- just I.. I can't bring myself to.. to tell you any of the things I feel I-I feel bad doing that I don't want to burden you pa." You explain between sobs, trying your best not to make Shane feel like a bad father, because he wasn't he tried his best to stray you from the same path he had gone through yet here you were, going down the same road. You couldn't help but feel like you disappointed him because of that. Shane nodded in acknowledgment, he grabbed your cheeks and wiped away your tears gently with one hand while the other kept rubbing circles on your back in a calming motion. "Alright alright, I understand. But please, please for the love of god tell me whatever is happening, I don't want you to end up like how I did. You don't deserve that kiddo, you deserve to be happy. I learned from my mistakes which is why I never wanted you to go down the same path of addiction I went through. Please, whatever's happening tell me and I'll support you through it, not just because I don't want you to end up like how I did, but because I'm your dad. That's what I'm ment to do, help through difficult times. I know you can't help it but don't feel bad for reaching out to your own dad." He reminded you. "I love you kiddo, I'm your dad and I'm going to help you get through this alright, we'll get proper help because I don't want to lose you. I've gone through the same thing and this.. I know how it feels but... you don't have to do this kid."

You nodded in acknowledgment, it felt good to have him reassure you like this. It helped you realize how much you really mean to him. "Thanks dad..." You mumbled, your voice cracked ever so slightly, your voice also showed how tired you really were. You clung onto him. He sighed before picking you up like a child, although you were an adult he could kinda carry you easily. You let out a muffled sigh as you clung onto him, your eye-lids feeling heavier. You closed them and felt close to drifting off to sleep, but your headache would not allow you to. "My head hurts." You mutter. Shane nods in acknowledgment as he carries you back home. "Don't worry kiddo I'll give you medicine when we get home." Shane replied. You nodded slightly before giving him a hum of acknowledgment.

"I love you kid, and I'm going to help you no matter what"

#stardew valley #stardew valley shane #shane stardew valley #sdv #sdv shane #sdv fanfic

[mannatea]

Break Open the Sky, a Tales of Symphonia ‘fic (Chapter 9)

Current Word Count: 65,066 Summary: What kind of “Hero” of Regeneration would she be to leave an infant to fend for itself? Someone had to have left it here for a reason. The question was, of course, why? But as she lifted the little thing carefully into her arms, the motion reminding her of nights so far in the past, now, the why seemed almost tragically clear: this baby was of mixed blood. Chapter Summary: Raine, Regal, and the children head to the Crestfield Orphanage. Pairing/Characters: Raine, Original Characters, will also feature Genis, Regal, and Sheena. Endgame is Regal/Raine. Extra Info: This is technically an Accidental Baby Acquisition story, but I liken it more to “Doorstep Baby” literature because it sure ain’t cute. Rating: Mature, for themes. Genre: Eventual romance, gen, family, character study.

The title is the link to Ao3 for Chapter 9! Please enjoy! 🤍

Notes are under the cut!

Reminder that Crestfield is somewhere around here on the map:

If you're wondering why I'm using the separate Tethe'alla and Sylvarant maps btw, it's because DotNW doesn't exist in my brain and I refuse to acknowledge the map used there or in Phantasia in relation to this story.

I have eventual intentions of making a nice pretty map in Photoshop someday for the way I imagine things but like, who has the time for that.

--

I decided to marry the words tech-birds and rheiards because I thought it might be cool that the name they started out as ends up obsolete as a desire rises up to manufacture them with a catchier name. Yuan would be sooo so big brain if he did that. I went feral imagining Regal sending a yearly note to Yuan like "sell me one plz" and Yuan just always says no (and not always politely).

--

This chapter gives us a bit better of a peek at Regal as an empath. At least, that was my intention.

Sorry to put you on another boat, Raine, but at least Regal is trying to reassure you a bit.

--

I don't know what to say about Crestfield. I wanted to paint it as a place that feels quite opposite to Hima but not necessarily for the reasons you might have expected.

--

I couldn't model George after his drama CD personality because he's SUCH AN ASSHOLE THERE. I like the idea of George being a bit of an asshole, like it's fine if he's classist and racist the way he was in the drama CD, but it still has to make sense that Regal would value George's opinion and trust him to run the company in his absence after everything that happened.

I know a lot of people let Regal blame George for Alicia's death, and plenty of folks wonder why Regal doesn't take his anger/etc out on George, but the point of Regal's character is not the guilt he feels but rather his capacity for caring and for feeling things. Literally everything about this man screaaaams "empath" to me and I think he was too busy bearing the brunt of the responsibility of Alicia's death himself to ever fully blame George (who did apologize most sincerely in the game).

Also, Regal isn't stupid. George might have helped the tragedy along in the game, but that's all he did. To compare, in the drama CD he's outright a scumbag about it, saying things like Alicia poisoned Regal's mind and he had to fire her for it (+ outright hating poor people and helping Regal's father pay off/put pressure on voters). We also can't really forget that, completely separate of George, Presea's experiment was a success. You know they were going to get their hands on Alicia one way or another. George wasn't that big of a player in the event happening and I think Regal would know that, especially after the game events.

(Someday I might give my thoughts on the drama CD alone, but for now just trust me on it if you haven't listened to it.)

Anyway, George mostly means well in this one. He doesn't understand everything but he does want Regal to be happy.

--

I really felt compelled to make it clear that Regal knows Raine can't really take advantage of him (because he's the privileged one in their relationship and she's got a good heart), but understands fully that he could take advantage of her easily and feels yucky about it.

It kind of goes back to George, who so easily assumes Raine would be the one taking advantage in this scenario (because he is a racist and classist little shit, but in this house people are allowed to Grow) even though Regal is the one with the power.

--

Two and a half weeks it is. Will Raine reach a decision by then? Stay tuned next week to fiiiind outtttt.

#tales of symphonia #regal bryant #raine sage #regal x raine #mannafics

[echoing-oursong]

hi kat!! i hope you're having a good day!! <3

also, i read this post you reblogged and got to thinking about steve's parents and the fanon interaction with them and... i think maybe i'll just get into my point because wow. it's... a mess honestly.

(also no pressure if this is too jeavy a topic or anything! feel free to ignore/delete.)

so i'm heavily aware that we've barely seen anything from steve's parents. we only have scraps of info about them to work with. but i also rhink that, in this show where every other child/teen character has parents who appear or are spoken about, steve's have rarely been mentioned and have never made an appearance. the mentions are usually nothing good - implications about his father being a jerk and also the literal way he fell down a flight of stairs as a BABY???? like yeah that's a "joke" (hate the duffers so much right now) but that's... not putting them in a great light and while i don't trust the duffers with steve's character at all, i do think that there few instances and the absence of his parents says enough - they aren't there.

with this being said, i hate the fanon interpretation of this. because rarely ever does anyone actually make this realistic. if his parents are addressed, then it's mostly some absurd account of abuse that doesn't match up with canon and leaves me feeling sick because 1. it's unnecessary and feels like trauma porn and 2. it sends the message that abuse only is abuse, or abuse only hurts, when it's something extreme. rarely do i ever see fic authors or just people discussing steve in general who address the actual canon of his situation, which is neglect. and people can say "oh he's 19 by s4, he doesn't need his parents" but as a 19 year old right now, i can say you still need your parents, if not now more than ever.

another side of the horrid ways people cannot seem to read canon is that i saw a few posts floating around that said it would be "so funny if steve's parents were just normal people and he called them assholes because he's dramatic." and i truly cannot stand this. this may be the worst take i've ever seen. like not only is that fucking weird to say, but like. the neglect is LITERALLY there??? you do not have to do mind hula hoops to see it. it basically sends the message that "abuse victims who have faced neglect are dramatic and aren't as valid as worae abuse victims" and i literally seethe with rage at this thought. like... i can't even explain this. i'm pretty sure i had to block the person who sais that because not only were they saying that but they also had THOUSANDS of notes and it just. i can't do it 😭

anyway this is all inspired from how i read the whole "fell down a flight of stairs as a baby" thing and came to the realization that that DEFINITELY says something about his parents, espscially tied back to rhe little bits of evidence we have :/

Omg thank you so much and I also hope you’re having a great day :) also sorry this is late I’ve been working on an essay and studying a lot lol.

Also this does not feel like a heavy topic and it’s actually something I want to talk about so glad I get to talk about it with you. Okay so about Steve’s parents: yeah like we’ve barely heard from them and they only come up in little one lines said by Steve. And I do think it is interesting that out of all the parents that have made appearances it is a little bit off putting that we’ve never actually seen his parents (to me I feel like that means that Steve’s parents just aren’t in his life that much). Yeah like with the falling off the flight of stairs - it’s just not putting them in a good light at all. (I also hate the duffers for that ‘joke’) and like you as I’ve already said lol - to me it just means that Steve’s parents aren’t there.

I also hate the fanon interpretation of it all. Yes omg people barely make this realistic at all! Like you said sometimes they just make it too abusive. And you’re right about the points like people either make it to be almost too much where it seems like trauama porn and about the message that abuse is only abuse if it’s extreme. I really never figured out why this was something I didn’t like and you worded it perfectly. I also agree heavily as a 19 year old that you still need you parents on you life.

Omg I had seen those exact same posts about how Steve was being dramatic and it’s just soo weird. And how ‘funny’ that would be and it’s like no it’s genuinely not funny at all. And you’re right like the neglect is still there and yes it definitely sends that message of what you said! You said it perfectly because it just reeks of that. The whole thing about Steve being ‘dramatic’ really puts a bad taste in my mouth just based on that principle and the fact that Steve is a family person. He loves family and he’s dreamed about having kids and etc and yet he’s still saying shit about his own parents. Like I genuinely think that’s glaring that he’s willing to do that. And talk about his parents to other people! He’s not just talking to his parents but he’s willingly telling people that he cares about that his dad is a dick. And they also don’t even say anything back about it! They’re not acting like steve is over reacting (except for maybe Nancy in season 1 but also Barb went missing and she was pre-occupied with all of that soo) but like Robin doesn’t even say anything about it - she just kind of accepts it and she tries to cheer him up. And this was even before Robin saw them as friends. Glad you blocked that person though and damn I can’t believe they had thousands of notes on it.

I love how this all became inspired by that and yeah like that one like that they added in honestly says so much about Steve’s parents and the neglect. Which is why I fucking can’t believe that the duffers then made Steve say that he ‘needed a thump on the head’ and that Nancy was the one who gave him that and then he thanked her. Everyone’s talking about how Steve talking about wanting kids to Nancy was bad however this whole talk of him being like ‘I’m glad you thumped me on the head Nancy’ made me honest to god want to fucking scream. I was actually fucking screaming the first time I watched it and I felt like dying. Also lol that became ranty but yeppp I agree with you heavily about the topic of Steve’s parents and how fandom doesn’t deal with it in the best way.

#answered asks #thanks so much :) #sexybabystevie

[beann-e]

god imagine if when bakugou has a kid their just like him. like imagine a 6 year old with a sarcastic nasty mouth who just doesn’t give a fuck. Which eventually leads to bakugou getting his ass handed to him. Look here’s a teaser

“ holy sh—fuc—why aren’t you sleeping “

“ why aren’t you sleeping “

“ because I cant sle—- “ a soft cough left the older males mouth as he sat up straighter “ I don’t have to explain anything to you — you little rodent “

“ ro— ro— rodent ? “ the small child’s voice came out in a loud scream as the male in front them shifted in his seat uncomfortably

“ here come on let’s go to mama “

God you had to have been his only way out of this situation

“ mamas sleep “

of course you were.

Of course you were tucked away into the confinement of your own bed recovering from a hard day of work. The soft covers draped over your body while the fan worked wonders around the room.

God your such an asshole , a pathetically beautiful and lucky asshole

“ heh , then why aren’t you? “ the older male deadpanned as he stared down on the child. He let out a small sigh when he didn’t receive an answer “ ok then why don’t we both go to our own rooms and sleep too huh ? how ‘bout that “

“ katsumis sleeping in there “

“ fuck —you just seem to have everybody in your corner huh you little brat“

The room went quiet as he watched the small girl crawl up on the coach using his pants leg as an anchor to help her get up there. Her small legs pushing her up only for her to fall back down because her arms couldn’t pull up the weight of her small body. His mouth opening to let out a sigh before he reached out and pushed the girl up on the couch his hand pushing her butt and sending the girl flying onto the couch like a football.

Only to make her giggle and crawl back over to sit next to him.Body settling in the same position as him with her small chubby legs spread out and her hands placed behind the couch as far as they could go leaving her chest out in the open. A small smile on her face when she noticed she looked just like the male to the right of her. And honestly she did she always did without even trying .

It wasn’t that bakugou hated kids no.

It was just that he would rather be left alone and not be bothered with them. He thought maybe when he grew up and had his own kids that would change but after the birth of your first child together, then the second , and lastly the third he only noticed the small change that occurred.

He could put up with them of course but he always found them annoying mostly because anytime he seen them he had just gotten back home from work. meaning he had to hear them screaming their heads off and fighting with you in a plea to skip bath time while he walked through the door and straight to your shared bedroom

Most of the time he was the disciplinary parent so you can only guess how quickly each of them would fall in line when they all looked up to see the loud footsteps echoing through the house belonged to their father.

His hero uniform still on with his eyes locked on each of theirs in a tired gaze frowning up at him as his right hand carried the belt he’d picked up from his bedroom on the way over to the bathroom.

His face speaking volumes before his mouth did . His right hand only gripping tighter when he thought about how long you had gone with them acting like this and him not being around to stop them from mistaking your exhaustion as submission

You weren’t soft per say but after having 3 kids and taking care of them by yourself you’d grown weak and tired.

Your mean manner and discipline you thought you had set up in your house only withered away more and more with every kid you had and now you were really just tired of taking care of three kids all by yourself with no help.

“ take the shitty bat— “

your hardened gaze moved from your kids to him as his hand holding the belt wavered — remembering your rule of no cursing in the house because your middle child had just started second grade and the teacher had already called once.

“ haha daddy’s scared of mommy “

“ of course he is have you seen her “

“ hey mommy’s not scary she’s just — “ your youngest daughter katsu spoke as she quickly turned to katsuki “ hey daddy what’s that word “

“ what word ? “ his face went stoic before he sighed annoyed with the small child “ how the hel— heck am I suppose to know what word you wanna say — i’m not a mind reader katsu— that’s not my quirk “

“ well maybe if you spent a little more time with her you’d know asshole “ your oldest spoke under his breath “ strict katsu that’s the word your looking for — she’s just strict I mean someone has to be when our fathers too busy sa— “

“ hey come on kai just— just get in the bathtub your up next anyways “ your voice was soft a small sigh leaving it before you wrapped katsumi and katsu in towels tucking them away from their older brother. “ ‘sumi— ‘tsu follow your dad he was just leaving —he can help me put you two to bed tonight — “ you rolled your eyes at the male hovering over you “ lord knows i need it—in you go kai “

“leaving — wh— the hell if I am ——- your just gonna let ‘ em get away with that “ bakugous mouth moved faster as he gripped the belt like it was a separate life form when he saw your innocent eyes look up at him “ get away with what babe ? “

“ they just verbally assaulted me y/n “

“ oh did they hmm” you turned back to your kids “ maybe you should file another villains report “

“ wow “ his voice went quiet at your remark you two had been on the outs recently because he kept saying how much he wanted more kids in the moment only to turn around and bask in the light he was given during their birth and then turn back around and spend no time with them at all.

you shook your head “ i’m sorry I don’t understand what they’ve done wrong “

You were tired of it.

“ i’m going to bed after this ‘suki I don’t know if your gonna be there or if your sleeping at the office again but please this time write a note so I don’t tell katsu her dad will take her to school in the morning “ you scoffed “ again “

That was how he ended up here he had gone to the office but he came back when he realized he’d screwed up his whole family. He assumed that if he had the fame , the money , the whole setup that he could provide for his family’s every need.

What he’d forgotten is that maintaining relationships within your family is actually apart of said needs. He didn’t understand until all three of his kids had something to say about his absence how much it was messing with them. So he came back home and sat on the couch.

Just his luck that he was greeted with not only the youngest but the smartest of his three children. He would’ve much rather have walked in to hear you screaming at him for leaving in the first place not the toothless child next to him bothering him with useless questions about his absence

“ dada “ his eyes went over to look at katsu who’d found a place on his side This would be her twelfth question in a matter of five minutes “ can I sit in your lap “

his eyes furrowed this was a different question than he’d expected “ katsu baby you don’t have to ask things like that “

“ but you— your never here so I just assumed that you may be trying to get away from us so I didn’t want you to have someone you don’t like in your lap “

“ what kat— “ his back hit the couch before he propped himself up and dragged the small girl onto his lap “ I adore you guys I love you and I never meant to make you guys feel unloved it’s just that“

“mm “ her voice coming out accusingly just like yours causing him to tense while imagining you as the small girl in front of him.

“ work baby “ he sighed as he rubbed the girls shoulders up and down heating up her cold body “ work is really hard when your an adult and you never get any time off with my job it’s constant “

“ daddy is all work hard “

“ yes “ he smiled

“ if all work is hard— meaning it’s all the same then why can’t you just get a different hard job that doesn’t take up all your time “

his heart pounded inside his chest as he stared down on the smaller girl his eyes wide “ w— what um aren’t you like what 5 —6 how— “

“ you missed when my quirk came daddy it’s super knowledge”

his smile tightened along with the grip he held on the couch cushion beside him “ of course it is yeah of course it is — just my fucking luck “

#katsuki bakugo imagine #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha #mha #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #pro hero bakugou #bakugou angst #bakugou fluff #mha angst #pro hero katsuki #mha fluff #baku #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bnha x gender neutral reader #mha x y/n #mha x reader #mha x you

[teenandbeyond]

Ryoma Terasaka x Fem. Reader

He's underrated, so I'm doing it. Kinda short since I didn't really know where to go with it xD

🐮Where I Belong🐮(Assassination Classroom or Ansatsu Kyōshitsu)

Warnings: Light cursing, slight violence

You're going through enough, but then kids in your class decide your day isn't bad enough, at least a boy from Class 3-E was nice enough to save you.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

You were at risk of being dropped from Class 3-A. It finally happened.

You tugged your hood up more.

Flashback:

"[Last Name]. Your grades are so low, what's going on with you?"

You looked down at your feet, "I'm sorry, sir. There's so much pressure--"

"--To make each student successful. If you can't handle it, maybe your place isn't with the elites."

If the elites are all assholes, yes, I don't think this is my place.

But...mother will be disappointed...

"I expect you to have perfect marks on the next assignment, or you're going to have to be transferred out of this class."

Your head snapped up, "What? Surely my grades aren't that bad."

"You got a C+ on two quizzes, a B- minus on another."

"It's a C+, on average that's 70%-"

"You haven't really been in class the past few days. Within the month, you've missed four days of school."

You ran a hand through your hair, "The school was already informed on my home issues."

"Well, we expect you to do better, home shouldn't distract you."

You raised your brows in disbelief, "I have a sick father at home, my mother works all day, my older sister visits when she can, but I take care of my father! I'm tired of all of you adults treating us like robots! I'm a human, there can be too much for me sometimes. Sometimes I want to just relax."

He shrugged, sorting school books, "Relaxing won't keep you in 3-A, or any good class for that matter. Want to relax? Go to 3-E, they don't do anything there, and with the way your grades are dropping and your absences are rising, you'll be heading there anyway. Dismissed."

Flashback over

Why do they treat 3-E like they're trash? Many of them in that class were once part of the 'elite'. Besides, we're not much better, the environment is so...tense around us, it's hard to actually be kids.

When it comes to elite schools like ours, adults seem to forget we're kids...hah, how sad is that?

"Hey, [Last Name]. Do you have the luxury of walking around? Shouldn't you be studying?"

You groaned, turning around to two boys you despised.

"Ga. Po. What do you want?"

They laughed, "Your reputation is really dying, huh?"

You jammed your hands into your pockets, "I'm sure it is, you snobs love spreading gossip as a pastime, other than studying for 16 hours, of course," you smirked, "Speaking of, since you both are so busy being elite and all, why are you wasting your time following me? Do you not have lives outside of homework or something?"

Their faces turned red, "Y-You bitch!"

"That's me. Queen of Bitchery, how may I help you?"

Ga marched forward, "You think you're something special?! I heard you were dropping to 3-E tomorrow! Nobody'll care if I do this-!"

"Hey!"

The three of you turned to see a tall boy with brown hair dyed blonde on the bottom. He looked pissed.

"Are you really about to hit a girl, Ga?"

Ga scoffed, "It's none of your business, idiot."

"Oh, really?" he smirked.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

"I...um...thanks for that," you observed the unconscious bullies on the ground.

"Why were they messin' with you?"

You sighed, "I'm being transferred to 3-E tomorrow, so they decided I was suddenly trash when just months ago they were ass-kissers to me."

"Ga and Po are like that," he rolled his eyes, "But you don't seem mad about being demoted."

You gave a soft laugh, shrugging it off, "I'd rather be there than working as a machine all day. At least in Class 3-E, you can do work and not overwork yourself."

"3-E definitely won't be what you expect," he snorted, leaning against a brick wall.

You smirked leaning against the wall across from him, "How do you know what I expect? You have no idea who I am."

"You're from 3-A, right? I'm just letting you know that 3-E isn't a place the class does nothing, boring, it's far from that."

You gently tugged him down a little by his collar, "Well, Terasaka. Don't make assumptions about me because of where I'm from, it won't do you any good."

He raised a brow, "How'd ya know my name?"

"Good memory, I suppose," you grinned, letting go and walking off, "See ya!"

"Wait! What's your name?"

You laughed, never stopping, "I'll be in your class, silly! You'll find out tomorrow!"

He found himself almost impatient for tomorrow.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

"Settle, class. We've got a new student today! Come in, Miss [Last Name]," Kuro-Sensei called you in.

You walked in, still cautious of the yellow-tentacle- monster-thing that was supposed to be your teacher. You'd...met earlier.

You bowed politely to the class, "Hello, I'm [Name] [Last Name]. It's nice to meet you all."

You glanced up, first meeting the eyes of Karma, you waved.

He smirked, ready to tease his old friend, "Well, well, if it isn't Asano's Princess."

You rolled your eyes with an amused smile, "That was last year. I broke up with him for a reason, so don't call me that, Kar."

"You know each other already?" Kuro-Sensei was intrigued.

You took a subtle step back, "Yes. We were close friends before Karma got into 3-E. There's...a whole story with that."

"Asano is the story," Karma picked at his nails.

You sighed, "Anyways, I look forward to learning here."

"You can sit back there!"

You walked past other curious students to your seat.

"So, [Last Name] [Name], huh?"

You glanced at Terasaka who was already looking at you.

Now that you had no hood, he could see your features better, damn, you were pretty.

"Mm. That's me."

He smirked, "I look forward to seeing you more often then, [Last Name]."

You smiled, "Me too."

"Can you guys save your flirting for later? It's too early for that."

Both of you, flustered, looked away. You sat in your seat.

Well, this will be an interesting year, you thought.

#terasaka ryoma #terasaka x reader #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #assassination class room x reader #ansatsu kyoushitsu x reader #assassination class room one shot #class 3 e

[sohin-ace]

Bucciarati - My little Seastar

Sister reader. Enjoy~

"Hey, Bucciarati! Can you help me for a sec?"

You turned towards the direction of the voice calling you and stopped in your tracks on the wooden docks.

"What do you want, Valentino?" You spat, a bit more harshly than intended.

The smug boy who was crouched on his zodiac chuckled at you. "Aw, come on, Bucciarati! Don't be like that. I just need some help to tie the rope. Your dad is a fisherman, right? You should know knots like no one else!"

Even though he had said this as a way to woo you and flatter you somehow, you couldn't help but hear it as a condescending remark. You crossed your arms over your chest and he pouted at the glare you sent him.

"Pretty please~? No funny business, I swear! Look, the guys aren't even here, I'm all alone. You can trust me!"

That's right. Valentino and his little gang took great pleasure in teasing you and bothering you at every corner and it pissed you off. No matter how much you insulted them, ignored them or avoided them, they never seemed to stop their stupid and useless bullying.

But sadly, oh so sadly, the Bucciarati that you were was kind. Too kind. You despised that you were so gentle-hearted, but in the end, this is how your father and brother had raised you.

You huffed and slumped your arms loose along your body, defeated. "Fine!" You dragged your sandals over the dock and approached him. "It better be quick."

The boy beamed as you embarked on the zodiac next to him, "Sure thing! Thanks a lot, girl. I'll make it up to you!"

He gave you the ropes as you crouched down at his place and got to work. But without you noticing, the boy had swiftly slid his leg over the vehicle and easily jumped back into the dock, leaving you behind.

Before you could even turn around and ask where he was going, the brat, now accompanied by all three of his little buddies that appeared out of their hiding spot, all kicked the zodiac off of the dock before you could even tie it.

"Waah-!"

You lost balance at the violent jerk of the boat and yelped, letting go of the ropes that could have saved you from your demise.

You couldn't even get back to your knees and try desperately to grab onto the dock's wooden planks. You heard the boys snickering and laughing at you as you drifted farther and farther away from the land into the water.

"I fucking knew it you disgusting piece of TRASH!" You yelled at them, angry with them obviously, but also angry with yourself for granting that bastard the benefit of the doubt. "You know damn well I can't swim!"

They all seemed to laugh even louder, obnoxiously. "Too bad for you Bucciarati! Maybe you shouldn't be so stupid next time! BWAHAHAHA!"

"YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE VALENTINO! SCREW YOU!"

Your curses and wails seem to fall into deaf ears as you drifted even farther away from the coast, with no way of even paddling back.

Looking around towards the much bigger boats parked along the docks, you could only hope 'he' would hear you.

"PAPA!! PAPAAA!!!" You called desperately. Surely he would hear you, he wasn't far after all, you did come all the way here to bring him his lunch. He must still be somewhere around the fishing boats.

After a few more vain attempts to call for your father, you settled to accept that he wouldn't hear you, nor would the other fishermen that were already far gone from their boats to bring their catches to land.

You sat on the damp zodiac and brought your knees to your chest, not even caring if your sundress slid down your thighs indecently and got stained by the salty water. Stupid Valentino couldn't even keep his tiny boat clean.

"Stupid, stupid..." Your voice cracked, threatening to break into a sob. "If he was a sailor he'd be dead before even sailing. That's how stupid this stupid boy is. Stupid."

With only your expletives to reassure you in your demise, you buried half of your face in your arms now craddling your cold knees.

Everything was so silent, the sea did a great job at muting every sound around the coast and you felt the loneliest and most scared you had ever been since you were a child.

You thought nobody would find you, and you'd be dead drowning because you could never learn to swim and since nobody even noticed your absence in minutes that felt like hours, nobody would cry for you if you died here either.

And so the stinging tears prickled at your eyes.

"Y/N?" You heard a familiar voice calling your name, but brushed it off as the wind. "Y/N is that you?"

You looked up towards the insistant voice in a sliver of hope and, like an angel fallen from heaven, you were met with the caring blue gaze of your big brother from the railings of one of the high boats right next to where you had drifted to.

"Bruno!" You gasped and got up immediately, almost falling over from the sudden sway of the boat under your weight. "A-ah! Bruno help me, I'm stuck!"

"Hold on!" The worried face of the male hesitated to leave you for even a split second. "I'm coming down. Don't move."

You nodded at his strict tone and waited for him as he disapeared. Your breath caught in your throat with stress, even though you were reassured to finally have a savior. And what a savior it was, your one and only big brother.

Barely a minute passed before you saw him come back and unravel an emergency ladder down to you. He made sure the ladder was all tight and secure and almost immediately after, Bruno jumped over the railing, to your grand fright, and started climbing down, your heart pounding with worry for him.

He finally arrived down and stepped into the zodiac, joining you, like a glorious hero, saving the day. You barely let him any time to react as you threw yourself into his chest and gripped viciously at the back of his shirt, scrunching it without care, scared to be alone at sea again.

Bruno wanted to scold you and yell at you for recklessly playing around all alone in the docks and ending yourself in such a dire situation. But when he felt you trembling and squeezing him like your life depended on it, which ironically it did, the elder couldn't help but sigh and wrap his long arms around your shoulders, a gesture of comfort.

"... What happened to you?"

"It's-" You choked a sob and Bruno tutted and shushed you softly, patting your head to calm you down, just like your mother used to do when you were a child.

"Shhh, it's okay bambina, I'm here now."

He felt you relax and you sniffled a few times before mumbling into his shirt. "It's Valentino! He tricked me! I hate him! He's such a coglione!"

"Hey! Language." He scolded and pinched your arm, earning a little 'ow' from you, "What would dad think if he heard you say such words? Bite your tongue, young lady."

"S-sorry..." You croaked a little ashamed of your outburst and lifted your head up at your brother. "They always do this to me... Valentino and the others... Why...? They know I can't swim and they throw me into the water all the time..."

Bruno let go of you to cup your face and wipe your tears off. He did not let it show to you but he was infuriated. There was only so much patience an Italian man could have when his family was being targeted. Especially his little sister and the only lasting woman of his life.

"Shh, stop crying now, mia stellina marina. I'll deal with them later, okay? Let's get you home for now."

"They'll see." You sniffled as your breath steadied, calmed by Bruno's soft tone, "When I'll marry a big, tall, goth policeman, he'll beat them up for me and then, they won't act so cocky anymore."

He huffed with amusement at your words before he let you go and laid a gentle hand on your back to usher you towards the ladder.  Bruno, still with a bit of confusion, mumbled to himself without you hearing it.

"... Why goth, though?"

Only now had you noticed the zodiac had stopped drifting since Bruno found you, held onto the much bigger boat by a phantom blue and white arm and a golden zipper that you'd recognize from a mile away.

"Can we... Can we let the zodiac in here?" You asked hesitantly towards your brother who paid no mind to it.

"Who cares? It's not ours."

With thoughts of Valentino's expensive motorboat getting lost in the sea, you slowly took ahold of the ladder's ropes and started climbing, Bruno keeping it steady for you until he was sure you embarked in safely.

He then joined you up and lent you a spare jacket that he thankfully thought of taking with him in the morning, covering you from the cold of your drenched dress against the littoral wind.

"Thank you Bruno..." You softly uttered and hugged his warm jacket closer around you, "I always cause you trouble..."

"Nonsense, piccolina. I could never live knowing my sister is crying, cold and afraid somewhere." He squeezed your shoulder against him as you approached the stall your father and his colleagues were filling with freshly caught fishes. "I'll make sure you're the one that never gets troubled again..."

Fortunately for you, the day ended much more peacefully than it had started and your father was happy and relieved to find you safe and uninjured. He had specifically instructed Bruno to not get involved or make a scene, but of course, his son was a stubborn mediterranean who could not let anything just slide.

It was not the first, not the second, nor even the third time this boy, 'Valentino' and his friends, had taken offense towards you.

So, Bruno would make sure the zodiac Valentino had worked oh-so-hard to afford, part-timing as a waiter, cleaning after people's messes, scrubing disgusting shit-stained lavatories and cutting his hands off of plastic and metal scraps scattered along the beaches for a few cents per day, got thoroughly anihilated to pieces.

"NOOOO!!!! MY ZODIAC !!!! MY 50 000€ BAAABYYYYYY!!! WHYYYYY???!!"

The very next day, as you walked along the docks to bring some fishing materials to your brother, you heard the painful wails of a very familiar boy kneeling down and crying on the woodplanks, his screams echoing against the shore.

"SHUT UP BRAT! You'll think about your money after you pay for the fines I'm about to give you. You think you can get away with polluting the water with your gross ass wreckage?" A tall and burly policeman wearing purple lipstick growled at the kneeling boy, no signs of mercy in his baritone voice. "You'll have a reason to cry when you pay for the oil you spilled in here. You're lucky I'm not throwing your ass in jail right now."

"Officer please-" Valentino pleaded miserably, but the policeman did not hold back on pushing all fives of the different citations he had owned by having pieces of his zodiac scattered all around the precious ressourceful ocean.

"You have two weeks to pay up and clean all that shit." The officer fixed his shades over his nose before turning around to leave. "And expect to receive a salty lawsuit soon. Fucking whiny bitchbaby..."

The policeman left with a determined and impatient step as you witnessed the entire scene with wide eyes, not noticing your brother approaching.

"Oh no... That's horrible..." You gasped with sympathy and worry, "I hope the fishes and corals won't get impacted by the oil spill..."

"Oh don't worry," Bruno chuckled, taking the heavy loads off your hands, "I made sure to zip that out of the water."

You blinked, confused.

"...What?"

"What...?"

That fic was inspired by the very first scene of H2O, I love that show so much, and I can't wait to post my mermaid fics in store!

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #jojo #jojo no kimyou na bouken #writing #x reader #reader insert #sister reader #bucciarati reader #bruno x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #platonic #non romantic #family love #bruno bucciarati #bruno bucellati x reader #buccellati #bruno buccellati #AU #fisherman AU #part 5 #jojo part 5 #golden wind #vento aureo

[fruitcoops]

I think it would be really interesting for leo and sirius to talk ab how they both didn’t go to college and how they both joined the nhl at 18 but had v different upbringings

Ooo, I like this one! I’m always down for some Cap and Knutty bonding. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for mentioned bad parenting

“Kinda weird, isn’t it?” Leo said, breaking the nighttime silence after many long minutes of just their breathing. Sirius hummed in question. “Starting all this so young.”

Sirius made a noncommittal noise and Leo shifted, never taking his eyes off the sky. There was too much light pollution to see the stars properly in Gryffindor, but the roof of the rink didn’t have a bad view; the planes flying overhead brought pinpricks of brightness to the indigo blur.

“Was it hard for you?”

He heard Sirius’ coat move. “Was what hard?”

“Starting the NHL at eighteen.”

There was a long beat of silence. “Sometimes.”

“I didn’t know if I would make it,” Leo confessed, still barely above a murmur. Nobody else was around, but it didn’t feel right to talk in normal voices. The whole world was muted, save for the noise of the city below them. “There was just so much to do.”

Sirius laughed softly. “I hate to break it to you, rookie, but that doesn’t change.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Before, or now?”

Leo thought for a moment. “Both.”

“Before, I would go home and shoot pucks until I was too tired to stand up. Sometimes I would read.” It wasn’t a secret, but it still made Leo’s heart hurt to remember. Nobody as kind and hardworking as Sirius deserved that. “Now, I make myself some food, take a shower, and steal Re’s softest hoodie.”

Leo could hear his smile in the dark—it echoed his own. “Nothing better, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Finn’s fit me best,” he mused. “But Lo’s smell better.”

“Ah, he finally discovered deodorant?”

“Shut up,” Leo teased, elbowing his ribs. Sirius laughed a little louder; in the light of the streetlamps and the absence of his granite-hard focus, it was easy to remember that he was only 26. Leo had worshipped him as a kid, but now he just saw Sirius for what he was. His captain, who guided him through the playoffs even when his personal life was crumbling apart. His older brother, though Sirius certainly wouldn’t think of him that way. His friend.

“Really, though, it’s important to have those connections,” Sirius said when they both calmed down. “Being alone is good, but only if you know you have people to talk to when you need them.”

“Was it easier when you weren’t living with someone?”

“No.” The answer was immediate.

“Sometimes I want the apartment to myself.” Leo lowered his voice unconsciously, then sighed. “It’s not because I don’t want them there. I just need to be alone. Wash the dishes. Clean my room. Call my mom.”

“You should tell them.”

He turned his head slightly; Sirius was still scanning the sky. “Is that what you did?”

“It took a couple hiccups, but yeah. If one of us needs some alone time, the other will go to the grocery store or take a walk, maybe hang out with friends. You just have to make sure your boys know that it’s not personal.”

“You’re freakishly good at sage advice.”

Sirius snorted. “Merci, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie anymore.”

“Yeah, you are.” He raised his hands, as if outlining a marquee. “The Eternal Rookie, starring Leo Knut.”

Leo stuck his tongue out, feeling rather petulant about the whole thing. “Watch it, Cap, I’m gonna sic Dumo on you.”

“My own father?” Sirius gasped dramatically. “How could you?”

“Did you ever get homesick?”

The question was out of the blue—he didn’t blame Sirius for faltering. Honestly, Leo was kicking himself for asking in the first place, though he had been keeping it in for ages. Unspoken rule of the Lions #1: Don’t ask Cap about his childhood.

“I…” Sirius fell silent once more.

“I’m sorry,” Leo apologized, and he meant it. “That came out of nowhere.”

“I missed Regulus,” Sirius continued carefully without acknowledging him. “But no, I didn’t get homesick. I didn’t have time, or a real reason.”

Alone in a new city, finally out of a horrible living situation, but desperately missing the little brother he left behind… Leo couldn’t even begin to imagine going through it when the NHL by itself was already overwhelming to his teenage brain. He scooted an inch closer until their shoulders touched. “I get homesick every couple of months.”

“You have a kind family.”

“Have you even met them?”

“At the party.” Sirius’ smile was practically audible. “Your mother was very excited to see me.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned. “What happened?”

“She—“ He broke off with a laugh. “She was very nice, I promise, but I think I surprised her because she squeaked when I said ‘hello’.”

Leo shook his head. “Did you sneak up on her?”

“I’m six two, I can’t sneak up on anyone!”

“You walk like a fucking ghost, dude! It’s creepy!”

“Okay, rude.”

“I swear, you and Loops need to be belled like cats,” Leo huffed.

They lapsed back into comfortable quiet for a few more minutes as a train rattled past on one side and the metro busses rolled down Main Street on the other. It had taken Leo a long time to figure out Gryff’s layout, and even longer to get used to the sounds of the city.

“What does it feel like?”

Leo blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. “What?”

“Being homesick.” Sirius shifted again and folded his hands over his stomach. “I didn’t notice much of a difference in practices when I started the NHL, and going back to my parents’ house wasn’t my exactly a highlight of my year.”

Curiosity overrode his tact and reasoning skills. “You never asked Logan?”

“Non. It was different, with him. He had already left to go to college before I knew him, and spent four years away from his family.”

“Right.” Leo forgot about that on occasion. That Finn and Logan might be five years older than him, but they had only been rookies a year or two prior. Not everyone went straight from their city select team to an official draft. “It’s hard to describe.”

Sirius made an understanding noise, but he couldn’t entirely mask his disappointment. Leo licked his lips and tried again.

“It’s like a piece of you isn’t where it’s supposed to be. And it keeps tugging on your chest, but you never know when it’s going to start and stop so you just… deal with it. You ignore it some days and you think about it other days.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “The hard days are when you remember you can’t go back to the way things were before. I don’t even call my mom sometimes, ‘cause I know it’ll make me sadder.”

“The way things were before?”

“Yeah, like—like all my classmates are in college, and I’m laying on a roof with one of the most famous hockey players in the history of forever.” That drew a light laugh from them both. “I’m gonna go back to my reunion in a couple years and have literally nothing in common with the people I used to be friends with.”

“Sometimes I wish I went to college,” Sirius said. “But I would have missed so much if I did. I don’t think I would have been happy there.”

“Finn and Logan get weird about college.” Maybe he shouldn’t be talking about it, but Leo had the feeling none of their conversation would leave the rooftop. “It was hard for them, with all their shit.”

“Re does, too.” He recognized the sad edge in Sirius’ voice; it was the same as his own. “For a different reason. It started good, and ended bad.”

“I’m glad I missed out on that,” Leo said, biting down the urge to scream at the universe for putting their significant others through so much hardship at an already-difficult time. None of them deserved the pain they went through. “Besides, it’s not like we need degrees to play hockey, and we’ll have plenty of money afterward.”

“I never thought about my life after hockey until my ankle.”

“My parents always pushed me to make sure I wanted to do the NHL instead of more school.”

“You’re lucky to have them.”

“I wish you did.”

The words hung suspended between them before Leo could swallow them back down, somehow dangerous and calming at the same time. It wasn’t like he had never thought about it before; he just hadn’t said it out loud. The first time he had seen Sirius’ parents across the rink had given him a case of the heebie-jeebies so strong he had to shower twice. All the times after that just made him angry.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sirius’ voice was quiet, but not upset. “You’re not the first person to say it. I’m glad you feel like you can be honest with me.”

Leo frowned. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

“I try really hard to not be an asshole captain, so it actually does mean a lot.”

“I don’t think you could be an asshole if you tried.”

The barking laugh that split the night startled Leo so bad he nearly jumped out of his skin; Sirius clapped a hand over his mouth, though he was still snickering. “Sorry, sorry, I just—holy shit, I forgot you didn’t know me before. Mon dieu.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Leo protested. “Pots said you used to be grumpier, but that’s it.”

Sirius shook his head, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I was such a dick. There’s not a single picture of the whole team where I’m smiling for about two years and I was such a stickler for the rules.”

Leo gaped at him. “You followed rules?”

“To the fucking letter. It was awful.”

“What happened?”

Sirius shrugged. “I got friends. Idiot friends who did things like showing me the easiest way onto the roof. Pots used to drag me up here every Friday.”

“Really?”

“Ouais.” Mischief flitted over his face. “He skipped date night with Lily once on accident, and she tracked us up here like a bloodhound. It was terrifying.”

“What did you do?” Lily was one of the nicest people Leo knew, but he knew better than to get on her bad side.

“Lied to her face while James hid behind that strobe light.”

“Did it work?”

“Are you kidding?” he snorted. “She called me a liar and suggested getting a better best friend. That was after she told James he’s better have something nice planned for their next date if he ever wanted to get in her pants again.”

“And yet you didn’t listen to her.” Leo tsked. “Of all the people on the team, you chose the hot mess.”

“Trust me, rookie, James had his whole life figured out compared to me.”

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and but his lip. He had pushed his luck a lot already; who knew if one more question would be the tipping point? “Did you ever think about coming out? Even just to Pots.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. “After every single game.”

“For seven years?”

“Up until the day those pictures were leaked. Even more after Re and I were together.”

“How old were you when you knew?”

“13. You?”

Leo exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure. I think I had an idea of it as a kid, but didn’t really get it until I was in high school. My parents were even more worried about the NHL after I told them.”

“They worry a lot about you.”

“Only child, and I was going for a wildly unstable career path with no guarantee that I would ever see the ice.”

“They’re proud of you. More than you know.” Sirius’ watch beeped. “It’s ten o’clock. Are you supposed to be home?”

“I should probably make sure my boys haven’t burned down the apartment.” Neither of them made an attempt to move. “Can we do this again sometime?”

“Of course.”

You’re like a brother to me, he wanted to say. I don’t know who else I can talk to like this. “Thank you.”

“Any time. We don’t have to do extra practice beforehand, either.”

Leo nudged him gently. “You’re the best captain ever.”

“You’re the best rookie, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Yeah, I am, he thought as they laid side-by-side in silence once more with the past behind them and the future ahead. And if I end up like you, it means I did something right.

#leo knut #sirius black #coops #oknutzy #finn ohara #logan tremblay #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #friendship #cap and rookie

[asmo-ds]

may i request to the demon brothers reacting to a teenage mc accidentally calling them “dad” since they never had a father figure in their life? i’d love to see that in action

React to Teen MC Calling them Dad

Warnings: Absence of father figure, abandonment issues

Summary: While talking to a younger MC the brothers get called “dad” by the human and this is how they act

- MC was lost at RAD and Lucifer had found them wandering around aimlessly

- After pointing them in the right direction they began to merrily skip away off to class

- “Thanks Dad!” They smiled wide and both parties stopped in their tracks

- “Excuse me?” Lucifer asked with a slight chuckle

- MC refused to face him but he could still see the tips of their ears turning red

- “I-um-I meant Sir, sorry- easy mistake! Gotta go bye!” they ran off 

- Lucifer couldn’t help but want to give MC a hug and treat them as if they were his own kid

- May or may not discuss the adoption of a human by a demon with Diavolo immediately after that exchange

- Listen, this man has dad reflexes and you can’t tell me otherwise

- So when he saw MC suddenly trip, he is very quick to put his arm out and wrap it around them to stop the fall

- Once he scans over them for any injuries and they are once again steady on their feet they give him a smile and say, “Thanks, Dad!” 

- He watches them freeze, mortified they had just called him that 

- He gets very flustered and stutters out a few things along the lines of “no problem kiddo! Uh and I gotta go to class now uhm uh BYE”

- They feel like he’d upset with them but in reality he had to go find a closet to cry in to avoid making a fool of himself in front of the teen

- He starts to baby them a bit more from that day on, from teaching them life skills you’d need to scolding them like a dad would when they misbehave

- He basically turns out to be like Tamaki from Ouran High School Host Club, y’know like reffering to himself as “daddy” and crying and fussing over MC 

-  He was teaching MC about aquatic demons and  their powers to help study for a test

- Before leaving they said “Thanks Dad- LEVI OMG I MEANT LEVIATHAN” and Both were blushing messes

- MC couldn’t stop apologizing and Levi just sat there in shock, watching the flustered human try and come up with an excuse 

- “D-d-don’t worry about it! If you want to think of me like that its cool! I-uhm- I just feel glad you’re comfortable around me and look up to me,”

- He cried the second they left

- he sees them as more of his child afterwards and makes the decision to fill that role for them if they so desired 

- Is an anime type of dad, y’know like how they act in anime? I cant really explain it but there's just a characteristic that they have i can’t put my finger on

- He and MC were in the library when it happened

- They were struggling to reach a book from a high shelf so he got it for them

- “Thanks, Dad!” MC had said cheerily, not even noticing what they had called him until they heard him drop the book he was holding

- Both of them just stood there for a moment

- They both silently agree to never mention the incident 

- But it is obvious to MC that Satan was becoming more nurturing to them after that

- He was in his room, but was feeling a bit hungry, his nails were wet though so he didn’t want to get up

- He asked MC to grab him something to eat and they stood up saying “okay, Dad!”

- Time stopped for half a second before he tackled them with a big squeal

- “AWWW THAT WAS SO CUTE SWEETIE,”

- He teases them until the end of time because he likes seeing them so flustered

- But he also insists on babying them constantly

- He had thanked MC after they made him breakfast

- “No problem, Dad”

- He started crying happy tears and hugged them so hard that they could barely breathe

- He was blubbering about how he’d guide MC and raise them to be a good person and MC was just like OKAYYYYY

- Gets adoption papers and constantly helps them with everything ever that they could possibly need

- They were trying to wake him up and nearly gave him a heart attack when his half asleep ass just hears someone shaking him and saying “wake up dad”

- He shoots up and bumps heads with MC, and they both just stare at each other like o.O

- As soon as he processes what’s happened he gets a shit eating grin on his face

- He will tease them relentlessly and when they are like “i diDNT MEAN TO YOU JERK”

- he is just like, “Sure ya didn’t :)”

- Is overall just a cocky asshole over the whole ordeal

#obey me #obey me shall we date #om swd #om! swd #om! lucifer #obey me lucifer #om! mammon #obey me mammon #om! leviathan #obey me leviathan #om! satan #obey me satan #om! asmodeus #obey me asmodeus #om! beelzebub #obey me beelzebub #om! belphegor #obey me belphegor #om! belphie #obey me belphie

[ganymedesclock]

These are questions I've had for some while and it's hard to find someone who'll answer with grace. This mostly relates to disabilities (mental or physical) in fiction.

1) What makes a portrayal of a disability that's harming the character in question ableist?

2) Is there a way to write a disabled villain in a way that isn't ableist?

In the circles I've been in, the common conceptions are you can't use a character's disability as a plot point or showcase it being a hindrance in some manner. heaven forbid you make your villain disabled in some capacity, that's a freaking death sentence to a creative's image. I understand historically villains were the only characters given disabilities, but (and this is my personal experience) I've not seen as many disabled villains nowadays, heck, I see more disabled heroes in media nowadays.

Sorry if this comes off as abrasive, I'd really like to be informed for future media consumption and my own creative endeavors.

Okay so the first thing I'm going to say is that while it IS a good idea to talk to disabled people and get their feedback, disabled people are not a monolith and they aren't going to all have the same take on how this goes.

My personal take is biased in favor that I'm a neurodivergent person (ADHD and autism) who has no real experience with physical disabilities, so I won't speak for physically disabled people- heck, I won't even speak for every neurotype. Like I say, people aren't a monolith.

For myself and my own writing of disabled characters, here's a couple of concepts I stick by:

Research is your friend

Think about broad conventions of ableism

Be mindful of cast composition

1. Research is your friend

Yeah this is the thing everybody says, so here's the main bases I try to cover:

What's the story on this character's disability?

Less in terms of 'tragic angst' and more, what kind of condition this is- because a congenital amputee (that is to say, someone who was born without a limb) will have a different relationship to said limb absence than someone who lost their limb years ago to someone who lost their limb yesterday. How did people in their life respond to it, and how did they respond to it? These responses are not "natural" and will not be the same to every person with every worldview. This can also be a great environment to do worldbuilding in! Think about the movie (and the tv series) How To Train Your Dragon. The vikings in that setting don't have access to modern medicine, and they're, well, literally fighting dragons and other vikings. The instance of disability is high, and the medical terminology to talk about said disabilities is fairly lackluster- but in a context where you need every man you possibly can to avoid the winter, the mindset is going to be not necessarily very correct, but egalitarian. You live in a village of twenty people and know a guy who took a nasty blow to the head and hasn't quite been the same ever since? "Traumatic Brain Injury" is probably not going to be on your lips, but you're also probably going to just make whatever peace you need to and figure out how to accommodate Old Byron for his occasional inability to find the right word, stammers and trembles. In this example, there are several relevant pieces of information- what the character's disability is (aphasia), how they got it (brain injury), and the culture and climate around it (every man has to work, and we can't make more men or throw them away very easily, so, how can we make sure this person can work even if we don't know what's wrong with them)

And that dovetails into:

What's the real history, and modern understandings, of this?

This is where "knowing the story" helps a lot. To keep positing our hypothetical viking with a brain injury, I can look into brain injuries, what affects their extent and prognosis, and maybe even beliefs about this from the time period and setting I'm thinking of (because people have had brains, and brain injuries, the entire time!) Sure, if the setting is fantastical, I have wiggle room, but looking at inspirations might give me a guide post.

Having a name for your disorder also lets you look for posts made by specific people who live with the condition talking about their lives. This is super, super important for conditions stereotyped as really scary, like schizophrenia or narcissistic personality disorder. Even if you already know "schizophrenic people are real and normal" it's still a good thing to wake yourself up and connect with others.

2. Think about broad conventions of ableism

It CAN seem very daunting or intimidating to stay ahead of every single possible condition that could affect someone's body and mind and the specific stereotypes to avoid- there's a lot under the vast umbrella of human experience and we're learning more all the time! A good hallmark is, ableism has a few broad tendencies, and when you see those tendencies rear their head, in your own thinking or in accounts you read by others, it's good to put your skeptical glasses on and look closer. Here's a few that I tend to watch out for:

Failing the “heartwarming dog” test

This was a piece of sage wisdom that passed my eyeballs, became accepted as sage wisdom, and my brain magnificently failed to recall where I saw it. Basically, if you could replace your disabled character with a lovable pet who might need a procedure to save them, and it wouldn’t change the plot, that’s something to look into.

Disability activists speak often about infantilization, and this is a big thing of what they mean- a lot of casual ableism considers disabled people as basically belonging to, or being a burden onto, the able-bodied and neurotypical. This doesn’t necessarily even need to have an able neurotypical in the picture- a personal experience I had that was extremely hurtful was at a point in high school, I decided to do some research on autism for a school project. As an autistic teenager looking up resources online, I was very upset to realize that every single resource I accessed at the time presumed it was talking to a neurotypical parent about their helpless autistic child. I was looking for resources to myself, yet made to feel like I was the subject in a conversation.

Likewise, many wheelchair users have relayed the experience of, when they, in their chair, are in an environment accompanied by someone else who isn’t using a chair, strangers would speak to the standing person exclusively, avoiding addressing the chair user. 

It’s important to always remind yourself that at no point do disabled people stop being people. Yes, even people who have facial deformities; yes, even people who need help using the bathroom; yes, even people who drool; yes, even people whose conditions impact their ability to communicate, yes, even people with cognitive disabilities. They are people, they deserve dignity, and they are not “a child trapped in a 27-year-old body”- a disabled adult is still an adult. All of the “trying to learn the right rules” in the world won’t save you if you keep an underlying fear of non-normative bodies and minds.

This also has a modest overlap between disability and sexuality in particular. I am an autistic grayromantic ace. Absolutely none of my choices or inclinations about sex are because I’m too naive or innocent or childlike to comprehend the notion- disabled people have as diverse a relationship with sexuality as any other. That underlying fear- as mentioned before- can prevent many people from imagining that, say, a wheelchair user might enjoy sex and have experience with it. Make sure all of your disabled characters have full internal worlds.

Poor sickly little Tiffany and the Red Right Hand

A big part of fictional ableism is that it separates the disabled into two categories. Anybody who’s used TVTropes would recognize the latter term I used here. But to keep it brief:

Poor, sickly little Tiffany is cute. Vulnerable. How her disability affects her life is that it constantly creates a pall of suffering that she lives beneath. After all, having a non-normative mind or body must be an endless cavalcade of suffering and tragedy, right? People who are disabled clearly spend their every waking moment affected by, and upset, that they aren’t normal!

The answer is... No, actually. Cut the sad violin; even people who have chronic pain who are literally experiencing pain a lot more than the rest of us are still fully capable of living complex lives and being happy. If nothing else, it would be literally boring to feel nothing but awful, and people with major depression or other problems still, also, have complicated experiences. And yes, some of it’s not great. You don’t have to present every disability as disingenuously a joy to have. But make a point that they own these things. It is a very different feeling to have a concerned father looking through the window at his angel-faced daughter rocking sadly in her wheelchair while she stares longingly out the window, compared to a character waking up at midnight because they have to go do something and frustratedly hauling their body out of their bed into their chair to get going.

Poor Sickly Little Tiffany (PSLT, if you will) virtually always are young, and they virtually always are bound to the problems listed under ‘failing the heartwarming dog’ test. Yes, disabled kids exist, but the point I’m making here is that in the duality of the most widely accepted disabled characters, PSLT embodies the nadir of the Victim, who is so pure, so saintly, so gracious, that it can only be a cruel quirk of fate that she’s suffering. After all, it’s not as if disabled people have the same dignity that any neurotypical and able-bodied person has, where they can be an asshole and still expect other people to not seriously attack their quality of life- it’s a “service” for the neurotypical and able-bodied to “humor” them.

(this is a bad way to think. Either human lives matter or they don’t. There is no “wretched half-experience” here- if you wouldn’t bodily grab and yank around a person standing on their own feet, you have no business grabbing another person’s wheelchair)

On the opposite end- and relevant to your question- is the Red Right Hand. The Red Right Hand does not have PSLT’s innocence or “purity”- is the opposite extreme. The Red Right Hand is virtually always visually deformed, and framed as threatening for their visual deformity. To pick on a movie I like a fair amount, think about how in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the title character is described- “Strong. Fast. Had a metal arm.” That’s a subtle example, but, think about how that metal arm is menacing. Sure, it’s a high tech weapon in a superhero genre- but who has the metal arm? The Winter Soldier, who is, while a tormented figure that ultimately becomes more heroic- scary. Aggressive. Out for blood.

The man who walks at midnight with a Red Right Hand is a signal to us that his character is foul because of the twisting of his body. A good person, we are led to believe, would not be so- or a good person would be ashamed of their deformity and work to hide it. The Red Right Hand is not merely “an evil disabled person”- they are a disabled person whose disability is depicted as symptomatic of their evil, twisted nature, and when you pair this trope with PSLT, it sends a message: “stay in your place, disabled people. Be sad, be consumable, and let us push you around and decide what to do with you. If you get uppity, if you have ideas, if you stand up to us, then the thing that made you a helpless little victim will suddenly make you a horrible monster, and justify us handling you with inhumanity.”

As someone who is a BIG fan of eldritch horror and many forms of unsettling “wrongness” it is extremely important to watch out for the Red Right Hand. Be careful how you talk about Villainous Disability- there is no connection between disability and morality. People will be good, bad, or simply just people entirely separate from their status of ability or disability. It’s just as ableist to depict every disabled person as an innocent good soul as it is to exclusively deal in grim and ghastly monsters.

Don’t justify disabilities and don’t destroy them.

Superpowers are cool. Characters can and IMO should have superpowers, as long as you’re writing a genre when they’re there.

BUT.

It’s important to remember that there is no justification for disabilities, because they don’t need one. Disability is simply a feature characters have. You do not need to go “they’re blind, BUT they can see the future”

This is admittedly shaky, and people can argue either way; the Blind Seer is a very pronounced mythological figure and an interesting philosophical point about what truly matters in the world. There’s a reason it exists as a conceit. But if every blind character is blind in a way that completely negates that disability or makes it meaningless- this sucks. People have been blind since the dawn of time. And people will always accommodate their disabilities in different ways. Even if the technology exists to fix some forms of blindness, there are people who will have “fixable” blindness and refuse to treat it. There will be individuals born blind who have no meaningful desire to modify this. And there are some people whose condition will be inoperable even if it “shouldn’t” be.

You don’t need to make your disabled characters excessively cool, or give them a means by which the audience can totally forget they’re disabled. Again, this is a place where strong worldbuilding is your buddy- a handwave of “x technology fixed all disabilities”, in my opinion, will never come off good. If, instead, however, you throw out a careless detail that the cool girl the main character is chatting up in a cyberpunk bar has an obvious spinal modification, and feature other characters with prosthetics and without- I will like your work a lot, actually. Even if you’re handing out a fictional “cure”- show the seams. Make it have drawbacks and pros and cons. A great example of this is in the series Full Metal Alchemist- the main character has two prosthetic limbs, and not only do these limbs come with problems, some mundane (he has phantom limb pains, and has to deal with outgrowing his prostheses or damaging them in combat) some more fantastical (these artificial limbs are connected to his nerves to function fluidly- which means that they get surgically installed with no anesthesia and hurt like fuck plugging in- and they require master engineering to stay in shape). We explicitly see a scene of the experts responsible for said limbs talking to a man who uses an ordinary prosthetic leg, despite the advantages of an automail limb, because these drawbacks are daunting to him and he is happier with a simple prosthetic leg.

Even in mundane accommodations you didn’t make up- no two wheelchair users use their chair the exact same way, and there’s a huge diversity of chairs. Someone might be legally blind but still navigate confidently on their own; they might use a guide dog, or they might use a cane. They might even change their needs from situation to situation!

Disability accommodations are part of life

This ties in heavily to the previous point, but seriously! Don’t just look up one model of cane and superimpose it with no modifications onto your character- think about what their lifestyle is, and what kind of person they are!

Also medication is not the devil. Yes, medical abuse is real and tragic and the medication is not magic fairy dust that solves all problems either. But also, it’s straight ableism to act like anybody needing pills for any reason is a scary edgy plot twist. 

(and addiction is a disease. Please be careful, and moreover be compassionate, if you’re writing a character who’s an addict)

3. Be mindful of cast composition

This, to me, is a big tip about disability writing and it’s also super easy to implement!

Just make sure your cast has a lot of meaningful disabled characters in it!

Have you done all the work you can to try and dodge the Red Right Hand but you’re still worried your disabled villain is a bad look? They sure won’t look like a commentary on disability if three other people in the cast are disabled and don’t have the same outlook or role! Worried that you’re PSLT-ing your main character’s disabled child? Maybe the disability is hereditary and they got it from the main character!

The more disabled characters you have, the more it will challenge you to think about what their individual relationship is with the world and the less you’ll rely on hackneyed tropes. At least, ideally.

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Ultimately, there’s no perfect silver bullet of diversity writing that will prevent a work from EVER being ableist, but I hope this helped, at least!

#disability #writing ruminations #readmore