#its literally frozen but with two people instead of one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chvoswxtch · 2 years

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you gonna let me be good to you?

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: your little slip up forces you and frank to come to terms with your feelings for one another.

warnings: cursing, fluffy frank, mentions of blood (its frank babes), explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 9.7k

a/n: this one goes out to all my frankie lovers <3 I promised this a long time ago and i've literally been working on it for weeks but it didn't feel ~right~ until now. i'm a slut for soft frank, and frank in general, so here's 22 pages of just that. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

Frank Castle was not a man who was easily taken by surprise. He was used to having the upper hand, normally several steps ahead of everyone else, but even in a tight unexpected situation he was able to come out on top. There were very few things left in this world that shocked him anymore. After his time in the marines, and the reputation that preceded him as The Punisher, he had seen and done things most people couldn’t fathom in their wildest imaginations.

Yet, here he was, staring down at his phone absolutely and completely dumbfounded. As much as he knew he should, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the picture displayed on the screen. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The longer he stared at it, the more he felt his jeans becoming increasingly too tight. His eyes anxiously flickered between the photo, and the door he knew you were just on the other side of. For the first time in a long time, Frank didn’t know what to do. He was completely in shock..because you had just accidentally sent him a photo of yourself in lingerie.

Frank had stopped by your office and asked if you could send him some photos of a few documents that you had found at the library that contained confidential information related to a “case” he was working on. You opted to take photos instead of printing the documents, not wanting it to be tracked back to you or him. Frank had met you through Karen, you were her best friend, and you graciously helped him out from time to time.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. He shouldn’t be staring. He should delete the photo and lie through his teeth saying he never got anything. He didn’t want you to be embarrassed. You two were friends, in a way he supposed. As much as anyone could really be Frank Castle’s friend. As soon as the door to your office swung open, Frank whipped his head up in the direction of your voice.

“Hey, did you get the photos? Sorry, I have terrible signal in here. I wanted to make sure you got them before you took off.”

Frank felt frozen. There was no doubt a light shade of pink coated the tops of his cheeks, which he knew he could easily blame on the heat in the building. But if he didn’t get the hell out of there fast, there would be little to no ignoring the effect the photo had on him. He could already feel all the blood in his body rushing straight downwards. Frank cleared his throat awkwardly, looking anywhere but at you, turning his phone over in his hands timidly.

“I uh..think you sent me the wrong thing.”

The furrow of confusion in your brows and the adorable pout that formed on your lips made his cock twitch in his jeans. He let his mind wander for a moment as he thought about how pretty those full lips of yours would look wrapped around the head of his cock. He couldn’t stop his eyes from traveling down your body, now that he knew what was hiding underneath. He paid extra attention to how the fabric of your pencil skirt clung to your curvy hips, and the little taste of cleavage he caught from your blouse that dived into a v-shape just above the swell of your breasts. Fuck. Stop it.

“I didn’t send you the photos of documents?”

“No..you uh..sent me somethin’ else. Somethin’ that uh..wasn’t..meant for me.”

Frank should’ve stopped you from checking your phone to see just what he was talking about. He should’ve brushed it off, told you not to worry and to just send the photos when you had a minute, and gotten the hell out of there. But another part of him was curious about your reaction to your mishap. As you unlocked your phone to check your previous messages with Frank, a sharp gasp suddenly left your lips and your hand flew up to cover your mouth. Your doe eyes were blown wide open as you stared down at Frank in panic.

“Oh my god, Frank..I-I’m so sorry. Oh my god, I can’t believe I sent you that. I..I’m so..I’m so sorry.”

“S’alright. Honest mistake. I just uh..knew it wasn't for me. Thought you should..be aware, I guess.”

He had to look away. He couldn’t handle the sight of you biting your lip, even if it was innocent. All it did was fuel the sinful thoughts berating around in his head. Sure, he’d always thought you were pretty, even from the moment you two first met. But he never thought more of it. He never thought about you like that until now. Now that he had seen what your body looked like covered in thin black lace. You weren’t exactly naked in the photo, but it damn sure left nothing to the imagination. It awoke something within Frank he was having difficulty taming.

“It..it wasn’t for anyone really.”

You weren’t sure why you said that. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You knew why. You wanted him to know those photos weren’t for anyone in particular. That no other man had seen that. Frank’s head cocked to the side at your confession, eager for you to continue but staying quiet.

“I..um..that was for Karen.”

If Frank’s cock wasn’t throbbing before, it definitely was now. His eyes widened in surprise, and you must have been able to read his thoughts at that very moment, because you rolled your eyes playfully and giggled as your full lips split into a playful grin.

“Not..not like that, Castle. We just..got drunk one night and somehow got on the topic of lingerie and..I told her I’d never owned any before and..um..wanted to know what it felt like..to wear it. So, she talked me into buying some. We actually bought the same set, hers is pink. But we didn’t remember any of that. So when it came in, Karen sent me a picture of hers and asked how mine looked so I um..sent her one back.”

Frank was thanking any God that was listening that he had brought a backpack today, and that it was currently conveniently placed over his prominent bulge. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was about what you had just said that was driving him absolutely mad. He couldn’t pinpoint if it was the fact that you had taken a photo like that to send to Karen, or the fact that he was the only person besides Karen that had ever seen that photo. That he was the only man that had seen you all dressed up like that. A sudden wave of possessiveness washed over him, and he knew he had to snap out of it. The room felt like it was shrinking and he could feel sweat starting to form along his hairline. He had to get the fuck out of that office. Away from you.

“Oh..well..uh..again, no worries. It..looks nice. Just uh, send me the photos when ya get a minute? Gotta..go meet a guy. Thanks again.”

Frank was on his feet in a flash and bolting out the door without another word, leaving you there stunned by his reply. His boots thudded heavily against the steps with every furious step he took, swearing at himself along the way.

“Fuckin’ idiot. ‘Looks nice’? Seriously? That’s the best you could fuckin’ come up with? You dumb motherfucker.”

Frank paused at the bottom of the steps, waging an internal moral war within himself. Part of him wanted to turn around, march right back up to your office, tell you what he really thought about the picture, then bend you over your desk and fuck you six ways from Sunday. But he knew better. He couldn’t get involved with you. He couldn’t get involved with anyone.

»»———　　———««

It had been two weeks since you had heard from Frank. That wasn’t totally unusual. Frank was known to disappear for weeks, even months at a time, then would show back up when he needed something. You had met him several months ago through Karen. You had drunkenly confessed your crush on the big, bad Punisher to her. You knew she had a weird, complicated friendship with Frank. Karen was your best friend, and you two shared a lot of familiar trauma and a complicated moral compass. You both felt like you could understand Frank’s motives, subtly justifying his actions to no one but each other. That was why she knew she could trust you with him.

Seven months ago, Frank had showed up at your door at one-thirty in the morning, completely covered in blood. To say you were surprised was an understatement. Your shock must have been clearly written all over your features when you answered the door to find none other than Frank Castle leaning against the doorway, face covered in fresh bruises and gashes that were dripping with molasses of deep crimson. After what felt like an eternity of silence, he grunted and nodded his head towards you.

“Karen said you were a friend. Knew your way ‘round a first aid kit.”

All the pieces started to slowly come together in your head. Karen was out of town for a conference with the Bulletin. Frank must have come looking for her, and she had most likely redirected him to you in her absence, knowing that you would help him. Frank looked somewhat..nervous? His dark eyes trailed over you with uncertainty, clearly still unsure how trustworthy you were. He must have either been desperate or in a lot of pain to bite the bullet and follow Karen’s instructions to find you. Blinking away your stunned expression, you willed your foggy brain to clear up as you swung your door open wider and held your trembling hand out towards him.

“Oh..yeah, sorry. I..I wasn’t expecting anyone. Um..come in. What uh..what do you need?”

That was the first time you had patched up Frank. Your hands shook slightly with trepidation, due to the fact that Frank was hurt badly and you didn’t want to make it worse, but also due to the fact that you were face to face with the Frank Castle for the first time. Pictures didn’t do him justice. He didn’t make small talk, not that you really expected him to. He sat there silently, grunting every now and then as you stitched him back together and cleaned his various wounds, all the while watching you with complete scrutiny. When he finally passed out from either blood loss or exhaustion, you stayed up all night curled up in the chair across from the small couch his body had completely overtaken. If you hadn’t been so stressed, you might have laughed at the sight of his large body dangling off your tiny couch.

You checked his breathing every twenty minutes, only stopping after two hours when his large hand darted out to grab onto your wrist carefully. His touch was rough and warm, a juxtaposition you welcomed eagerly. Your eyes widened slightly at just how large his hand was compared to your own, completely covering your fingertips up to the beginning of your forearm. Your breath hitched in your throat as he opened his eyes to look up at you, the moonlight filtering through your curtains illuminating a sliver of his hardened features. An achingly beautiful mosaic of purples and blues were scattered over his face where bruises had begun to bloom like the first day of spring. There was a tiny glint of reverence in his obsidian eyes that nearly knocked the breath out of you.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re hurt, and I really don’t want you to die in my living room.”

“You doubtin’ your own work, doc?”

“I..I’m not a doctor, Frank. Nor any version of a licensed medical professional. I’m an editor for fucks sake. I read manuscripts for a living. I just happen to know my way around a first aid kit because I have three fearless and extremely reckless younger brothers.”

That was the first time, and one of the only times, you ever saw Frank Castle smile. The corners of his mouth curved upwards into the ghost of a miniscule grin. You wanted it to last forever. But as most things with Frank, it was fleeting, and as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished. His large hand gently squeezed at your wrist before letting go. You hated how quickly you already missed the brief contact.

“I ain’t gonna die. Trust me, I’ve had worse. Get some sleep.”

“Frank-”

“Karen trusts you. So do I.”

»»———　　———««

And that was typically how it went over the next few months. If Karen was out of town or busy with a deadline, Frank came to you. Sometimes, he came straight to you anyway, grumbling some excuse about Karen being wrapped up in something. It made your heart swell with pride that you had won Frank’s trust, and that sometimes he came to you just because he wanted to. That he considered you two something along the lines of friends. There were moments that made you question if there was room for more than that. Frank always guided you to the opposite side of the sidewalk when you were out, taking the spot closest to the street himself. Sometimes he placed his large hand carefully on your lower back to usher you in the correct direction if you weren’t paying enough attention to where you were walking, the gentle act sending your brain into a frenzy. He even memorized your coffee order, although he would always insult it and scoff before giving it to you. “You ever try gettin’ any actual coffee with all that sweet shit?” You had tried several times to work up the courage to flirt with him in a way that was light enough it could be played off as banter, but you were never brave enough.

You supposed you could chalk all those little moments up to him just being a gentleman, and anything else you had derived had been a figment of your own imagination. Frank was a stoic, broody, incredibly intimidating man. He was never mean to you, of course. He had never been anything but gentle with you. Still, you were afraid. You could never gauge what he was feeling unless it was anger. He was extremely difficult to read, and he didn’t talk more than he had to. Frank was also a very complicated man, still very clearly in mourning of what he had lost. It felt wrong to invade on that.

You thought you would eventually get used to the sight of him shirtless, or only in boxers. But unfortunately for you, that day never came. As a matter of fact, every time you saw him begin to shred his torn and bloodied clothes, it only made the ache between your thighs that much more unbearable. He was absolutely captivating. Every inch of muscle was defined perfectly, from his broad shoulders down to the delicious v lines that disappeared beneath the waistband of his briefs. Frank’s arms were bigger than your head, and his hands..God you loved his hands. You wanted to know what they felt like wrapped around your throat, digging into your hips, palming at your chest. You didn’t turn your eyes away from the scars that were scattered across his skin, but they did send fresh cracks throughout your heart every time they were on display. You wanted to trace your fingertips over them, and gently kiss every single one of them away. You knew the scars that covered his skin were nothing compared to the ones you couldn’t see.

There was one night you thought you had finally been caught. Your hands were shaking, not because you were nervous or because the gash on Frank’s hip was really bad, but because he was so close to you, closer than he had ever been. You were on your knees right beside him while he laid back on the couch, arm propped up behind his head showcasing his bulging bicep. Your palm was flat against his lower abdomen, right above the waistband of his briefs, as your other carefully stitched his torn flesh back together.

His dick was essentially staring you in the face beneath the thin fabric and it made it hard to focus. Everytime you moved in closer to Frank, your heart pounded so hard against your ribcage you were certain he could hear it in the silence. Feeling the warmth radiating from the proximity to his skin, skimming the taut muscle under your fingertips, smelling the scent of his musky cologne that filled your small apartment for days even after he left, it drove you wild. Frank chuckled deeply as he placed his large hand completely over yours, tearing your unfiltered attention back to his face.

“You keep shakin’ like that, you’re gonna stab me. I’ve had my fill of bein’ stabbed for one evenin’.”

“I..Sorry.”

“S’alright. I just need ya to relax for me, can ya do that?”

Your mouth went dry at his words. You knew he hadn’t meant for them to sound so suggestive, but it stirred something deep within you. You would do fucking anything that man asked. Letting out a deep breath, you pushed your selfish thoughts to the back of your mind and licked your lips, nodding your head slowly.

“Yeah..yeah, I-I’m sorry. This one’s just..it’s pretty bad, Frank.”

“I’ll live. Take your time, darlin’.”

Oh. That was new. The tone of Frank’s voice was so soft and gentle in comparison to the usual gruffness of it that it made you almost wanna cry. You had never heard him talk to anyone that way, not even Karen. Frank was never aggressive or demanding with you, but he usually wasn’t so soft spoken either. He had certainly never called you anything other than your name before. Frank’s voice was another thing you loved. It was so rough and coarse, the deep bass of it traveled straight to your core every time he spoke.

“Ya’know, we were trained to do this shit. Never know when you gotta piece someone back together while shit’s explodin’ around ya. We were trained for months, ya’know?. I tell ya, first time I ever had to stitch one of my guys up, I was scared shitless. It’s easy to prepare to do somethin’, but ya never actually know what it’s gonna be like ‘til you do.”

That was one of the few times Frank had ever opened up about his past to you, clueing you in to the Frank that might still be there under all the jagged layers of pain and trauma. It made you smile, that he felt comfortable enough to share that with you, like you had won over another small piece of him. A tiny victory.

“It’s really hard for me to imagine you being scared.”

“I’m still human. Sure, I get scared sometimes. Not as much these days, ya’know. Not as much to lose.”

»»———　　———««

Unbeknownst to you, Frank had spent every single night of the past two weeks with one hand wrapped viciously around his cock and the other death gripped onto his phone with your risque picture on display. He knew it was wrong. He knew he should feel bad about it. Frank really did try to get that picture out of his head. He took cold shower after cold shower, cleaned every single gun in his collection twice, and even tried to take his frustrations out on the unlucky fucks that dared to get in his way. But it was no use. The swell of his cock refused to go down until he paid it some attention. It was relentless and Frank was desperate.

It was supposed to just happen once. Frank was supposed to get it out of his system, delete the picture, and move on. But every night he found a reason not to get rid of it. Every night, he had an excuse. He felt like a raging, horny teenager all over again, fucking his hand into the mattress of the motel bed every night to the sight of you in the barely there black lace, imagining what you would feel like wrapped around him. Frank hadn’t touched himself in weeks, had been too busy and focused to cater to his own needs. But wild imaginations of you had him feeling like he was going to fucking explode if he couldn’t give himself some relief. Throughout the day he was ansty, even more irritable than usual, hardly able to fucking sit still as he thought about what was waiting for him once he got back to his room.

It wasn’t just the picture that preoccupied his mind. Frank felt like he was fucking consumed with you. He found himself thinking about you constantly, wondering how your day at work was, if you were safe, what book you had your nose in this week, what latest bakery treat you were trying your hand at. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, you had grown on him immensely. He made excuses for himself when he would opt to visit you instead of Karen. He tricked himself into believing that Karen was busy instead of facing the truth that he just wanted to see you. Just wanted to hear your laugh when he said something you thought was funny. Just wanted to borrow another book from your collection to get a glimpse into your mind. Just wanted to pretend to be a burden when you offered to let him stay for dinner because it was the only fucking sense of normalcy he had these days. Just wanted to feel your soft touch on his skin as you carefully mended all of the parts of him that were torn and broken, even the parts you couldn’t see.

That picture shed a light on something that Frank had been desperately trying to ignore since the moment he met you and experienced your undeserved kindness. A feeling Frank swore he would never, and could never, encounter again. Part of him felt guilty. How could he be infatuated with another woman when he was still waist deep in revenge for the one he lost? The other part of him could no longer deny how badly he wanted you. That curtain had been pulled back, a glaring spotlight on everything Frank had tried to hide from these past few months. There was no more pretending.

Frank had a choice to make. It was either give in, or let you go. For good. His struggles with his feelings for you were beginning to get in the way of his work and if he wasn’t careful, he was gonna make a mistake in a big way. He had to make a choice, and fast, consequences be damned.

»»———　　———««

You had just finished getting out of a steamy shower, humming softly to yourself as you rubbed your favorite velvet amber and patchouli scented lotion all over your damp skin. After letting your hair down from the messy knot on top of your head, you put on a pair of silky sleep shorts and a tank top, slipping a pair of fuzzy socks onto your feet. You continued to hum as you padded through the open living room to the kitchen that was connected, not even noticing the dark figure sitting in the corner that was silently observing you. As you reached for a wine glass from the cabinet, a deep voice cut through the quiet and burst your blissful ignorance.

“You really need a security system.”

You jumped with a squeal at the sound of the voice, instantly whipping around to face the dark figure with widened eyes. You had a few candles burning on the coffee table that cast an ambient golden glow over your apartment. You had planned a relaxing evening for yourself and decided not to run up your electricity bill when you had so many candles that you had been excited to burn. Your heart beat frantically in your chest as you squinted your eyes, trying to make out the silhouette in the corner.

“S’just me, darlin’. Don’t freak out.”

“Frank?”

“Didn’t even reach for a knife or nothin’. Thought I taught you better than that.”

A deep, breathy sigh of relief sounded from you as Frank slowly stood and took a few steps forward into the dim light, his large frame finally coming into view. You rubbed your palms over your face slowly, feeling your nerves start to settle now that there was not in fact an intruder in your apartment.

“Jesus, Frank. You nearly sent me into cardiac arrest. Why didn’t you make any noise when you came in?”

Frank stared at you silently, an unreadable expression plastered over his face. For a moment, he heavily regrets not alerting you that he was here while you were in the shower. Maybe you wouldn’t be wearing those tiny little shorts and a tank top with no bra. He grinds his teeth as he takes in your appearance. He can still see little droplets of water gliding down your collarbones, soaking into the fabric of your tank top. Your hair cascaded over your shoulders in loose waves, and your cheeks were still twinged pink from the heat of the shower. He can smell the scent of your lotion over all the burning candles, and it made his fingers twitch at his sides.

“Sorry. Tried to holler, but don’t think ya heard me over the shower.”

That was a lie. He had knocked though, and then began to panic when you didn’t answer. It was late on a Saturday, so he knew you weren’t at work. The thought briefly crossed his mind that you could be on a date, but he furiously pushed that to the back of his mind as he fished for his spare key to your place and shoved the door open. His right hand flew to the gun tucked into the belt of his jeans, ready to shoot at whoever as his eyes darted rapidly around your apartment. He only stilled when he heard the sound of running water and the melodic tune of your voice as you sang some fucking pop song he didn’t recognize.

Frank had quietly shut the door, securing both locks into place before taking a seat in the chair in the corner of the room. He closed his eyes and relaxed back against the chair as he listened to you sing in the shower. It was a complete invasion of privacy, but definitely not the worst one he had committed when it came to you. Frank thought you sounded like an angel. He wanted to hear you sing more. Maybe he’d play guitar for you, if you’d sing along. Your voice caused a wave of calm to wash over him that he hadn’t felt in weeks. Although, it was short lived when he heard the water cut off and quickly had to come up with an excuse as to why he was sitting in the dark waiting for you.

You hadn’t noticed the way Frank was looking at you since your eyes were too busy scanning over his entire body for injuries. You tilted your head to the side, brows knit together quizzically as you made your way over to stand in front of him. Normally when Frank showed up like this, he was bloody, and there were wounds to be cleaned or stitched. But you didn’t see anything. No cuts. No scrapes. No bruises. No gashes or bullet holes from what you could tell. Not a single piece of his hair was even out of place. You dipped your head back to stare up at Frank in bemusement.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? I..I don’t see any holes.”

You smiled at your own little stupid joke, but it quickly faltered when you took in the look on his face. Frank had begun to give in a little to your lame attempts to make him laugh, granting you mercy and offering the faintest of smiles or chuckles in response. But he wasn’t smiling, or laughing. His strong jaw was set in a hard line, and his expression was stony. There was something in his eyes though..something unfamiliar you had never seen before.

“I’m fine.”

Both of you stared at one another silently for what felt like hours. You began to feel uneasiness seep into your bones, feeling suddenly even smaller under his harsh gaze. Frank was huge, physically and height-wise. He always towered a good foot over you, which never made you feel unsettled until right now. He looked almost..mad? In that moment, you felt for everyone that had ever been on the receiving end of this menacing look. They didn’t have the luxury of knowing Frank Castle wouldn’t hurt them. Not like you did. Swallowing thickly, you took a shaky breath and spoke softly.

“So..if you don’t need patching up..what do you need, Frank?”

“To confess.”

Frank’s voice had dipped an impossible octave deeper and it caused you to shiver along with sending a flood of wetness between your thighs. You tried not to focus so much on his voice and instead on his words, feeling even more perplexed as they settled in your ears. You tilted your head slightly to the side as you stared up at him curiously.

“I..I’m not sure I’m the best person for the job. I’m not religious, Frank. You know that.”

“Yeah, but you’re the closest thing to an angel I’ve ever seen. Besides, it ain’t that kinda confession.”

Your heart thudded loudly in your ears and you felt warmth creeping onto your face, settling into a deep rosy tint that covered the expanse of your cheekbones. Your lips parted in surprise at his words. Frank had never said anything to you like that before. You had no idea where this was coming from, but you desperately wanted to find out.

“Oh..well..I’m not a cop either.”

“I know that, smartass.”

There was an edge to Frank’s voice that submissed you into silence. He wasn’t in the mood for games or playful banter. This was uncharted territory for you. Frank hadn’t been so impassive since the first night you met him, but he had also never spoken in such a harsh tone to you. It caused you to take a step back, and some kind of recognition flashed in Frank’s eyes about his slip. He wasn’t angry with you. He was angry with himself. He dipped his head for a moment, letting out a deep sigh through his nose before meeting your gaze again with a slightly softer expression.

“I need to confess somethin’ to you, personally.”

You didn’t know whether to speak or not, so you kept quiet, staring up into his dark ebony eyes and trying to find something, anything you could use to decipher his cryptic words. But he gave nothing away. Frank had an excellent poker face. There was nothing there but the emotion that was burning brightly in his stare that you still couldn’t identify. Frank squared his shoulders, bracing himself for whatever reaction you were about to have. It was now or never.

“I didn’t delete it.”

You blinked a few times as you tried to process his words, racking your brain for anything that would make them make sense. Confusion settled onto your features as you waited for Frank to continue, but he didn’t. He just stared at you in anticipation.

“What?”

“The picture. I didn’t delete it.”

It felt like your brain was swiveling back and forth as you tried to keep up. You had been so busy with work the past few weeks, and worrying about Frank, that you had almost forgotten about the photo you had accidentally sent him. Once that lightbulb went off in your head, your eyes widened slightly, lips parting to form an “o” shape, but you still didn’t speak. You had no idea what to say. You were still trying to process what he just said. Why did he say that? What did he mean?

“Oh.”

Frank’s hard stare shifted from your eyes to your full lips, trying to get a reading on what was going through your head. You typically wore all of your emotions, and normally that always helped clue him in to what you were feeling, but right now he couldn’t fucking tell. He could see the scarlet coating your cheeks, but he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment, anger or..something else. But that one simple word you uttered had completely taken him by surprise. His dark brows furrowed as they knit in the middle of his forehead, staring down at you in bewilderment.

“That’s it?”

“I..don’t really know what to say.”

“You ain’t mad?”

“Why?”

Frank cocked his head to the side as he stared down at you. He had prepared himself for a million different reactions from you. He had rehearsed an apology speech, was gonna let you use him as your own personal punching bag, nearly wore a goddamn bulletproof vest just in case. But this..was not in the realm of his expectations.

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“Why did you keep it?”

Frank paused for a moment. Maybe there was a chance to salvage this. He could lie. He could say he just forgot about it, realized his mistake, and wanted to apologize. But you didn’t look mad that he kept it. You looked..intrigued. You weren’t yelling at him, calling him a pervert and tossing him out of your apartment, so he decided to press his luck and take it a step further. Fuck it.

“Because I thought you looked fucking beautiful in it.”

Frank’s words nearly knocked the breath right out of your lungs. You were having a hard time processing them, even as they echoed loudly in your ears over and over again. That fire that was burning in his predatory gaze was now roaring loudly, setting you ablaze along with it once realization set in. It wasn’t anger swirling around in Frank’s eyes, it was lust.

You had to be dreaming. This had to be a dream. There was no way Frank Castle himself was here, standing in front of you, telling you he thought you were beautiful. Your brain wouldn’t accept it. This had to be some sick, twisted trick your mind was playing on you. Warmth spread between your thighs like wildfire at his admission, the wetness already there doing nothing to put it out. Frank’s stare was unwavering. He wouldn’t tear his eyes away from you. As if he could sense your apprehension, he took a bold step forward and hooked his index finger under your chin, tilting your head back so that you had to look up at him.

“C’mon, darlin. Talk to me. Tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours. ”

“I..I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“You think I’m pretty.”

Frank chuckled lightly, brushing the calloused pad of his thumb experimentally over your cheekbone in a soothing manner.

“No, I said I think you’re beautiful.”

“Why?”

“The hell you mean ‘why’?”

You couldn’t think of an answer. You couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of Frank lightly dragging his thumb slowly along the edge of your bottom lip, his gaze dropping just for a moment to linger on your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed at the contact, reveling in the sensation of his touch on you for once.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes instantly flew open at his gruff words, and a tiny smirk curled onto the corner of his mouth at your obedience. Cupping your cheek gently, he took a slight step forward to close the gap between you, placing his other hand gingerly on your lower back. He pulled you in languidly until you were flush against him, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort, but he didn’t find any. You melted into his touch, leaning your face into his rough palm like you had dreamed of so many nights before. You weren’t pulling away. You weren’t telling him to leave. You weren’t angry. You wanted this too.

“Atta girl. You been so damn good to me these past few months, sweetheart. You gonna let me be good to you?”

You sighed softly at his words, nodding your head eagerly as your hands flew up to grip tightly onto the collar of his black denim jacket. As you stood up on your tiptoes to capture his lips, both of his large hands grasped onto your waist to keep you in place as he stared down into your eyes with a shake of his head.

“I need words, sweet girl. C’mon, needa hear it. Tell me you want this too.”

“I want it, Frank. Please..please.”

That was all the affirmation Frank needed to crash his lips onto yours like violent waves in a perilous storm. The kiss was hungry and desperate, and you found yourself getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. He was everywhere but you felt like you couldn’t be close enough. You fervently shoved the worn denim down his shoulders, letting it fall carelessly onto the floor beneath as your fingers attempted to work on the buttons on his shirt. Frank chuckled against your mouth as he broke the kiss, grabbing both of your wrists in one of his large hands.

“Easy baby, we got all night.”

“But-”

“Shh. Let me take care of you for once, yeah?”

Before you could register what was happening, Frank had wrapped his strong arms around your waist and lifted you as if you weighed nothing, crossing the small space of your apartment in short strides towards your bedroom. You half expected him to toss you down onto the mattress, and were pleasantly surprised when he carefully sat you down on the edge of your bed. You dipped your head back to stare up at him in wonder.

Anticipation buzzed throughout your veins and you felt your breath hitch in your throat when Frank slowly kneeled down in front of you to be eye level with you. His large hands came down to rest on your bare thighs, squeezing gently to get your attention.

“The second I do somethin’ you don’t like, you let me know. At any point you change your mind, or wanna stop, tell me. I won’t be mad. Understand?”

Nodding your head fervently, you surged forward and grasped Frank’s face in your hands, hungrily chasing the taste of his lips. He chuckled against your mouth, tearing himself away which caused you to whine softly as he gently grabbed your wrists.

“C’mon, honey. What’d I tell ya? Need your words. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand Frank just..please..kiss me.”

You didn’t care how needy and desperate you sounded. Months and months of built up frustration were making you more impatient than usual. You had been dreaming about this for so long, and it was finally happening. You found yourself momentarily suspended in belief that Frank actually thought there was anything he could do that you wouldn’t absolutely love.

“Yes ma’am.”

Frank settled on his knees in between your thighs, grabbing onto the back of your head as his other hand found its home on your waist. Your lips were incredibly soft and tasted of that pink grapefruit chapstick that you were always wearing. As he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, you meekly whined, and the sound went straight to his cock. Frank was caught in tandem between wanting to take his time and worship every inch of you and wanting to be selfish and finally bury himself to the hilt inside of you.

This time when your timid fingers went to work on the buttons of his shirt, he didn’t stop you. He decided to let you set the pace, and would only go as far as you wanted. He tore his hands away from you only for a brief moment as you pushed the shirt over his broad shoulders, instantly returning his touch to every spare expanse of your skin he could find to ground himself to reality. You were here, and you wanted him.

Your fingertips brushed against every curve of muscle, every raised and indented scar like you had done so many times before, but this time with renewed vigor. Frank’s skin was always so warm and you savored every ember of his heat. His fingertips cautiously slipped under the hem of your tank top, dancing over the exposed skin of your hips as he brought his lips near your ear.

“Can I take this off, honey?”

“Yes.”

You were surprised at how quickly you were able to answer. Lifting your arms above your head, you let Frank tug the soft fabric upwards, letting out a soft hiss when the chill in the room nipped at your exposed chest. Frank’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of you nearly naked before him, a low groan emitting in the back of his throat. He didn’t hesitate to lean in and latch his mouth around one of your peaked nipples causing a soft moan to tumble from your lips. The warmth of his mouth contrasted so sharply with your cold bedroom that it had your head spinning. You arched your back to grant your chest fully to Frank, becoming a whimpering mess as his large hand fondled your breast and played with your other nipple. You gripped onto the back of his neck, growing wetter by the second from his delectable assault on your chest.

“Frank..please..”

“What is it baby? What do ya need, hm? Tell me what ya need, I’ll give you anything. Anything you fuckin’ want.”

“Please touch me.”

You should be embarrassed at how breathy you sounded, already so worked up from so little. But that was just the effect Frank had on you, and he fucking loved it. He loved how responsive you were to his touch, and his words. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your little shorts and panties, giving the elastic on both a faint tug.

“Gotta take these off. Gonna let me do that, hm?”

“Please.”

Frank thought he was gonna cum in his pants just from the way you were already begging for him. He had barely even touched you yet, and his excitement only grew for how you would react when he finally did. In a flash, you were completely bare before him, and Frank thought you were the most beautiful fucking thing he had ever seen. Leaning in closer, his broad shoulders spread your thighs further apart to give him a better view of your glistening cunt, and he was fucking done for.

“Fuck sweetheart. You been like this the whole fuckin’ time?”

You shuddered at the ravenous look in Frank’s eyes as he zeroed in on your soaked pussy. The wetness that had accumulated since his confession had grown unbearable, and you just needed him to do something. Anything.

“Everytime you’re around.”

Frank’s eyes darkened considerably as they flickered up towards your face, a wicked glint dancing around in his irises.

“That right?”

Capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, you nodded your head quickly, feeling heat spreading even further throughout your thighs.

“My poor girl. That’s just fuckin’ mean of me, ain’t it? You take such good care of me, and I leave you like this. Fuckin’ cruel of me. You gonna let me take care of you now?”

Frank's large hands slowly inched up your thighs, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the tops of them. He stared you down intently as he braced his palms on your inner thighs, spreading you open completely for him. Raising his hand up slowly, he hovered his thumb over your clit as he waited for your answer.

“Please, Frank.”

“Atta girl.”

The contact of his rough thumb pressing against your clit had you jolting upwards, a surprised gasp leaving your mouth without warning. Frank gripped onto your hip to keep you steady, using his index finger to collect some of your slick before starting to rub slow, purposeful circles around your clit. You moaned at the relief you felt when he touched you, grabbing onto one of his shoulders to tug him in closer. Frank fucking loved the way you sounded, and he wanted more of it. He slowly increased his speed, applying more pressure here and there before slowly slipping his index finger inside of you. He took a moment to gather himself at how tight you felt around just his finger, his cock twitching in his jeans at the thought of how easily he could ruin you for any other man.

“There we go, that’s my good girl. Go on, move those hips. Just like that baby. C’mon sweetheart, take what you need.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your hips against Frank’s hand, watching the way his arm flexed everytime he pushed his finger back inside your greedy pussy. He followed your movements like the tide chasing the moon, pushing back wherever you pulled. A louder moan rang throughout your otherwise silent apartment when he added a second finger, curling them both upon exit in a beckoning manner that had your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head. He hadn’t even fucked you, and you were ruined. You would never be able to touch yourself again. You would never be as good as Frank. No one would.

“Doin’ so fuckin’ well for me, baby. Knew you would. Look so beautiful like this. Gonna let me taste you, hm? Bet you taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

Frank didn’t bother to wait for you to answer this time. The alluring noises you made were enough for him to pull you further to the edge of the bed by your hips, diving in to devour you completely. A silent cry hung in your throat when he wrapped his lips around your swollen clit and began to suckle, all the while still driving his thick fingers inside you at unexplored depths. You were hanging on the edge by a thread, trying your hardest to will away your orgasm so he would keep his head between your thighs forever. Your fingers weaved through his dark tresses, loving how good he looked with his hair slightly grown out, but loving even more that you had something to pull on.

Frank hummed at your taste. He fucking growled against your pussy and the vibrations had your thighs shaking around his head. You tried to give him a warning, but there was no time. You couldn’t find your voice. The second he started flicking his tongue over your sensitive nub at an inhuman pace while curling his fingers against that spongy spot inside you, you were coming apart and Frank was there to collect every drop. Your inner thighs burned from the abrasiveness of his stubble, but you welcomed it eagerly. If anything, it was at least one reminder that tonight had been real.

Frank didn’t stop his assault on your clit as you rode out your high on his fingers, continuing to lap up everything that you had to offer. You whimpered due to the sensitivity from your commanding orgasm, trying to push at Frank’s broad shoulders to get him to budge, but the stubborn fucker wouldn’t move. You could feel him grinning against your core, hear him chuckling softly at your whines and pleas. He was enjoying this.

“God Frank, please. Please..I need a minute.”

Reluctantly, Frank leaned back and licked the rest of your release from his lips. You stared down at him breathlessly, wanting to commit every single detail of the sight before you to memory. His mouth and chin were still gleaming with your release, dark eyes wild and blown out, hair disheveled from your incessant tugging, and broad chest rising and falling quickly as he attempted to catch his breath. But the thing that stole the breath right out of your lungs was that Frank was smiling. Not a crooked one that took up the corner of his mouth, not his usual cocky smirk. A full on, mouth split wide open, all teeth on display, eyes crinkling at the corners, smile. If you hadn’t been so dazed out in bliss, you might have cried at the sight of it.

“You alright?”

“You’re smiling.”

“Hell yeah I’m smilin’. Just made my pretty girl come, and she tastes like fuckin’ heaven. What’s not to smile about?”

A blush crept on your cheeks at his words, causing you to mirror the grin that had taken over his mouth.

“I’ve never seen you smile like that before.”

Frank raised up off his knees, leaning over the bed and placing both of his large hands on either side of your head as he looked down at you so tenderly, it made your stomach flip and nervousness settle in your ribcage. The look in his eyes felt so..intimate.

“Ain’t had a reason to. Until you.”

Grabbing onto the back of Frank’s neck, you pulled him down to mold your lips together in a passionate kiss. You wanted him to feel everything. You wanted more. This kiss was different from the ones before. It was more patient and evocative, a silent understanding between you and Frank. Your fingertips trailed down the expanse of his chest until you reached the buckle of his belt, pulling the leather from the confinements and popping open the button of his jeans. His lips migrated along your jaw and down your neck, sucking softly at the juncture just above your collarbone.

His large hand wrapped around your throat, not tightly, but just to keep you close. His teeth skimmed along your neck as you tugged down his zipper, pushing his jeans and briefs down his hips to set him free. Frank let out a grateful groan when his cock slapped against his stomach, pulling back just for a moment to shred the layers of fabric completely. You clenched around nothing at the sight of him naked above you. God, he was beautiful. You greedily accepted his kiss once again when he settled his hips between yours, reaching between your bodies to carefully wrap your hand around his base, eliciting a delicious moan from his throat.

Frank was hard, and looked painfully so. You smoothed your thumb over the leaking tip of his cock, causing his hips to jerk forward slightly. He was incredibly thick and long, feeling unbelievably heavy in your small hand.

“Shit. Feels even better than I imagined.”

Your eyes darted up to meet Frank’s at his quiet confession, searching the midnight pools intently as a tiny smirk tugged at your lips.

“Frank Castle. You’ve thought about me touching you like this?”

There wasn’t even a shred of shame in Frank’s eyes as he stared down at you with a wolfish grin, leaning in to brush his nose along yours as you continued to stroke him slowly.

“Might’ve left out the part where I’ve been gettin’ off to that picture you sent me every night the past couple weeks.”

Your mouth dropped open and your eyes went wide, a hearty laugh rumbling deep within Frank’s chest.

“And you’re just telling me this now?”

“I thought you’d be mad.”

“Do I look mad?”

“No, and I’m so fuckin’ glad you’re not. Thought I was gonna have to say goodbye to you tonight.”

Frank carefully pried your hand off of him and replaced it with his own, rubbing the head of his cock between your slick folds and teasing your clit every time he did so. Your brows furrowed at his words, but the second you felt the weight of him rubbing against your still sensitive clit, you gasped sharply. Gripping onto his bicep, you struggled through the pleasure to keep your eyes open. You weren’t letting those words go so easily.

“Why would you say that Frank?”

Frank hated that he could hear the hurt that laced your question, leaning in to press his forehead against yours as he sighed deeply. His hips moved at a tedious pace to keep you both placated, but not enough to satisfy what either of you really wanted.

“Thought you’d be mad, never wanna see me again. Thought..fuck, that I couldn’t have you. Shouldn’t have you. You’re too good to me, sweetheart. Too good for me. Didn’t think I deserved somethin’ so..fuck, so good.”

Frank’s face was twisted up in a concoction of hedonism and self deprecation. You knew what he thought of himself. You knew you would never be able to get him to see what you saw in him. But that didn’t mean that you were going to stop trying. You lifted your hands to cradle his face, parted lips stretching into the best smile you could offer when he was dragging his cock lazily through your folds.

“You didn’t think to ask me what I wanted?”

At that, you lifted your hips slightly, signaling that you were ready for more. That you wanted more. Frank took the hint and slipped the head of his cock into your entrance, watching the way your eyes lulled shut at the feeling. It took every ounce of will power he had not to dive inside your body. He took his time, moving inch by inch, allowing you to adjust to his size. It felt like you were fucking suffocating him, and for a minute he was genuinely worried he wouldn’t be able to last. Once he had finally bottomed out, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck and let a strangled moan escape. You dug your fingertips into his shoulders as he stretched your walls to their limits, sucking in a breath at the burning trail he created.

Frank pulled your legs up to wrap around his hips, snaking one of his arms beneath you and around your waist to keep your chest flush to his. He was fucking terrified that at any moment you would disappear. Frank remained as patient as possible, awaiting with bated breath for you to tell him he could move. He couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted something so fucking badly.

Turning your head slightly, you pressed the gentlest kiss to the skin beneath his ear. Frank lifted his head slightly so he could get a good look at you, feeling his heart race at the sight of you beneath him.

“I want you, Frank. All of you. If you want me too, then have me. Please.”

Frank stared down at you in disbelief, trying to figure out what the fuck he had done so right that had led him to this moment right here, with you. But who was he to say no to you? Without another word, he retracted his hips slightly just to bring them flush with yours again. He marveled at the sight of you under him, kiss-bitten lips red and swollen and parted, his name falling in breathy pants and moans from them over and over every time he reached that peak inside you. He could fucking die like this.

“Feel too fuckin’ good sweetheart, not gonna make it much longer. Need ya to let go with me. Can you do that for me, sweet girl? Hm?”

You weren’t sure if you nodded or even spoke. You weren’t sure if you gave any indication at all to Frank that you were coherent and understood what he asked.

“Look at me, baby. Wanna see those pretty eyes when you fall apart.”

The second his fingers found your clit, you were seeing stars. This orgasm was so much fucking stronger than the last one, it suckerpunched every bit of oxygen out of you and you found yourself struggling to breathe. Violent tremors shook throughout your body and you fought so hard to keep your eyes open just long enough to watch Frank fall apart just as hard above you. Your legs tightened around his waist and you gripped onto the back of his neck, holding on as much as he could as his hips stuttered against yours roughly when he finally spilled into you. The loud moan that ripped through his chest was like music to your ears and it nearly sent you over the edge again.

The room felt like a sauna, sweltering and sticky with Frank’s body heat and the combination of your releases hanging heavily in the air. Frank’s panting breaths and your desperate whimpers were the only things your ears could register. Your brain had seemingly shut off and your vision became incredibly fuzzy while you were coming down. You weren’t sure how long that lasted, but the feeling of a calloused finger stroking your cheek seemed to tether you back to reality.

Frank beamed down at you when you slowly opened your eyes, taking in the completely blissful, fucked out look on your face. You nuzzled into his palm, finding your lips maneuvering into a smile of their own accord.

“There’s my girl. Thought I lost you for a second there. Was worried I broke you.”

A symphonious giggle fell from your lips and Frank couldn’t help but grin even wider at the sound. You hummed softly as you looked up at him, shaking your head slowly.

“I don’t break so easily, Castle. Guess you’ll just have to keep trying.”

“That right?”

Lightly gripping onto the chain around his neck, you pulled him down to meet you in a head-spinning kiss. His large hand grabbed your face gently, and you giggled when you felt him nip at your bottom lip.

“That’s right.”

“Well, practice does make perfect.”

#frank castle #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle smut #frank castle fic #the punisher #the punisher smut #the punisher fic #karen page

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couldtransitionsaveher · 2 months

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Archetype Exploration: Perfect Soldiers

(Hey, please look at this blog's pinned post before reading this post; it gives a lot of context for the lens I'm looking at these characters through, k thx. also, shoutout to @finalgirl-nihilbliss for guessing the archetype)

CW: Abuse, Projection, Surface-Level Media Analysis

If your comfort character exhibits any of the following symptoms:

constant brooding

face frozen in a perpetual scowl

possession of a "dark past" they don't like to talk about

frequent blank stares into the middle distance

constantly trains for something uncertain

You may have just found yourself in the presence of a Perfect Soldier.

Perfect soldiers are characters who were groomed, often from birth, for the sole purpose of inflicting harm on their fellow man. These characters are efficient, tactically-minded, and above all else, violent. Perfect soldiers will often excel at combat and strategy, but struggle with emotional sensitivity.

Note that just because these characters are violent and closed off now doesn't mean that this is their natural temperament. Often, perfect soldiers have some kind of natural compassion that was stomped out through years of abuse training. This can come in the form of a sole loved one who tragically died, but more often than not, it simply manifests as a soft side sanded away.

If the Perfect Soldier doesn't start that way, who is to blame for their transformation? In sci-fi and fantasy, this transformation is usually caused by a morally corrupt institution built to churn out perfect soldiers (the Jedi Academy, the Galalunan Military Academy, the Space Marine Legions, etc.). Other times, perfect soldiers are groomed raised by a cruel and abusive father figure (Endeavor, Bro Strider, Belos, etc.). Some settings even blend the two by having an institution with a twisted general (think Shadow Weaver from She-Ra).

Typically, if a perfect soldier has a character arc, it's usually one of healing and letting go of their anger. This almost always contains at least two of these three steps in the order of your choosing:

The perfect soldier leaves the institution of their torment, either by circumstance or by excommunication. Once on the outside, they'll typically find that their raw might is irrelevant to their survival, and they'll instead need to rely on their lacking social skills. This exit from the comfort zone will prompt the soldier to learn a lot of people skills, typically leading to a "softening up" of sorts. Note that this doesn't have to be a literal escape from a physical place. Rather, it could just be a character being outside their guardian's zone of influence.

The perfect soldier discovers some imperfection with their guardian/institution. Perhaps there's some kind of inconsistency in its moral values. Other times, the soldier finds a secret the guardian/institution has been covering up. Whatever it is, this will prompt the soldier to question their leaders' infallibility.

The perfect soldier meets a person who shows concern for them in spite of the soldier's outward hostility. This outside party will likely witness or hear about the perfect soldier's tumultuous upbringing and take pity on them. This will likely prompt an attempt to reach out to the soldier, something which may or may not be rejected. Whatever the case, this act compassion will likely stick with the soldier, and prompt them to think about their own worth.

An arc like this usually resolves with a direct confrontation with the abusive mentor(s) who turned them into a weapon of war. If the soldier is a member of the supporting cast, this may come in the form of some heroic self-sacrifice, usually to protect the aforementioned outside party. Alternatively, if the soldier is a protagonist, their confrontation will likely be much more active, and may even be a proper fight. The soldier tends to win this fight either with the power of friendship or compassion but this isn't a strict requirement. If the writers really want to get spicy with it, they might even spare their tormentor, really leaning into the idea of abandoning violence (note that this runs the risk of coming off as a "forgive your abusers" narrative).

Alternatively, the lack of a grand confrontation can be a form of narrative resolution in and of itself. Living well is the best revenge, after all, and showing that our former perfect soldier has moved on to a happier, more peaceful life can be a far stronger statement of growth than a glitzy fight to the death.

(This is the part where I tie this whole thing back into the gimmick of the account. If you just wanted a Trope Talk style summary of the archetype, you've seen all there is to see. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to do your daily clicks.)

Why do you keep submitting this?

So, out of all the characters that I've seen submitted, this is easily the most prolific character archetype. At the time of writing, somewhere between 40-50 characters that have been posted roughly fit this archetype, and that's not including any of the characters I haven't posted yet.

Why do submitters connect this particular trope with trans women so damn much?

Firstly, it's important to consider that in most western fiction, the soldier is an inherently masculine archetype. From the classical epics of the Odyssey and the Iliad, to the superheroes and action stars of modern-day blockbusters, there's a very real conflation between a character's manhood and a character's capacity to do violence. A lot of mainstream military propaganda does the same, suggesting that men who enlist are more "authentically masculine" than those who do. This archetype serves as a critique of that idea; it shows us that this masculine ideal can be, and often is, a soul-crushing experience. In a sense, the idea of transitioning serves as an escape from this image.

Furthermore, it's important to consider what this character arc is actually about: a miserable character discovering that a better life is possible, and making steps to achieve personal peace. Often, these characters are fiercely loyal to the institutions that take advantage of them. These characters are often fine with it because they can't conceive of a better world. Once that's presented to them, that's when they start to leave. Frankly, given that a lot of people still don't end up knowing about trans folks until they're adults, I'm surprised more trans people don't connect to characters like this.

Finally, this arc gets back to the core question at the center of this blog: could transition have saved her? The archetype, in its construction necessitates a level of misery, ergo it implies that the character needs saving. It's no wonder these characters tend to garner a lot of Hurt/Comfort fanfic (Anakin Skywalker alone has more Hurt/Comfort fic than some of my favorite fandoms period). There's an inherent desire for these characters have better lives, and maybe some estrogen could do it.

This is my best guess, anyway. If you have thoughts, feel free to share them.

#archetype exploration #trope analysis #cw abuse #cw projection #cw surface level media analysis #transgender #sorry for taking so long to finish this post #i've been trying to phrase it as delicately as possible

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blurredcolour · 6 months

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You Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under | Part Two

Your Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under Masterlist

Dick Winters x Female SOE Agent!Reader

Dick's mandated dose of civilization puts him, quite literally, on a collision course with someone he had not expected to see again.

Warnings: Discussion of Injuries and Death, Hints of PTSD, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Language, Mature/Explicit Themes [handjob, fingering, vaginal sex, condoms] - 18+ ONLY.

Note: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal of Dick Winters by Damian Lewis. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within. Non-English is denoted in italics.

Word Count: 6723

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Paris – December 10, 1944

Seeing your roommate off on her train to Arnhem was not exactly how you’d pictured spending your first day off in months. But Lucy had become a close friend to you over the past several weeks you’d shared the relatively luxurious accommodations, and she was all nerves as she headed even closer to the German border. Dressed in your Canadian Women’s Army Corp uniform with Lucy, or Luus in her native Dutch, in her Women’s Royal Navy Service uniform, you had helped her cart her belongings to Gare du Nord to catch her train.

Neither of you had technically trained in the respective uniforms you wore, instead coming to the service by way of the Strategic Operations Executive, due to your language abilities and other skills. Lucy’s family had only very recently moved to England from the Netherlands and her mastery of the Dutch language would be an asset to the Allied headquarters being established in Arnhem. Similarly, you were expecting to spend the rest of the war working in Paris. Exchanging knives and explosives for typewriter ribbon and file folders. Your feelings on the matter oscillated between relief and impotence on a daily basis, but you had little say in the matter.

Waiting until her train was pulling its way out of the station, you began making your way through the flood of passengers disembarking from another train that had pulled in across the platform. Several people bumped into you but only one apologized.

“Sorry –” Spoke a voice you’d probably recognize just about anywhere before he repeated. “Excusez-moi.”

You spun around quickly, eyes going wide as the Lieutenant from Normandy stood before you, sending your thoughts hurtling back to early June. You had been gasping for breath – the proximity of the detonation had driven the air from your lungs, compounded by the now dead weight of the German solider on top of you. An obnoxious ringing had taken up residence in your ears, obscuring any and all other sound as you had futilely pushed at the burden above you, shock weakening your muscles. The ground had begun to tremble then, an immediately recognizable sign that tanks were approaching, increasing the beat of your heart to a frantic rate as you lay essentially incapacitated in the road.

Suddenly the pressure above you had eased and you had frozen, holding your breath and closing your eyes, unable to determine just who exactly was intervening in your situation. When a pair of fingers found the pulse in your neck and two sets of hands lifted you from the road, you had risked cracking your eyelids only to be greeted by the sight of the Lieutenant carrying you by your knees. His face had been wreathed in sunlight, sea-glass green eyes striking in the shadow cast beneath his helmet, looking practically ethereal as he had moved you to safety.

Brought back to the present by the realization that you were gaping at him like a startled rabbit, lost in your memories, your eyes flicked to the cap on his head and confidently noted his promotion. “A captain now.”

“A Canadian now.” He replied as his own eyes settled on the patch embroidered on your shoulder. “Or were you always, Charlotte?” The hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his green eyes met yours.

Your throat clenched at the name, and you swallowed hard to clear it before smiling even wider than before. “I’m sorry you’ve got me confused with my good friend Charlotte Roussel. She’s told me all about you.” You offered your hand to shake as you introduced yourself properly, no pseudonym this time, only your real name.

Taking your gloved hand in his, he shook it firmly with a bemused expression playing on his face. “Dick Winters. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, Captain. If you are in need of a place to stay, I happen to have a recently vacated room in my apartment I would be happy to loan to you, free of charge. The hotels in Paris would love nothing more than to liberate you of your American dollars.” You hazarded a guess that he was on a short leave based on the small bag he carried at his side.

“I wouldn’t want to impose…” His denial was half-hearted, leaving you with an opening to convince him.

“Not at all. Besides, Charlotte would not forgive me if I did not repay you for saving her life.” You insisted with a nod, not missing the way his eyes slid to your forehead. You flexed your fingers at your sides, willing them to remain there rather than nervously checking that your hair was covering the still-healing scar.

“If I remember it correctly, she saved mine first.”

“Please it’s just a short subway ride.” You gestured down the significantly emptier platform and he nodded his assent, turning to follow you.

You helped him purchase his fare, his unfamiliarity with the local currency somehow charming, before guiding him underground. Securing a pair of seats by the door, he had barely slid into place before someone was calling your name from further down the carriage.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back.” You apologized before hurrying over to greet one of your colleagues, a staff assistant to one of the officers at headquarters.

He asked you all about your plans for your days off while not-so-subtly trying to find out more about the American soldier you had boarded the subway with. It was an easy topic to skirt around by encouraging him to talk about his recent promotion and his new French girlfriend, but you found your eyes glancing at Captain Winters as his posture seemed to grow more and more rigid.

“Sorry to cut you off, First Sergeant Danvers, but I’ll see you in the office on Tuesday.” You excused yourself as politely but as firmly as possible before returning to stand beside the Captain, very carefully setting your hand on his shoulder.

“Captain?” You asked softly, swallowing as he looked to you sharply before slowly exhaling. “Next stop is ours.”

He nodded and gathered his things, following you off the train at the station and up the stairs back into the light of day. Your apartment lay in a building that had been requestioned by the British army, not two blocks from the station, on the second floor. The previous owners had fled in the face of German occupation and left some furnishings which you were using, though more beds were slated for delivery in January with the arrival of further CWACs. Unlocking the door, you led Captain Winters into the foyer, carefully removing your uniform cap to hang by the door.

“Kitchen is on the left, living room overlooks the street, bedrooms and the bathroom are this way.” You led him down a corridor to the room that Lucy had just vacated, retrieving her apartment key from the nightstand. “So you can come-and-go as you please.”

He took it carefully after tucking his garrison cap into his belt, setting his bag on the freshly made bed. “This is extremely kind of you, thank you again.”

Now that you were no longer in public, you licked your lips, feeling as though you owed him a proper explanation. “I considered our accounts balance, Captain, once you helped me retrieve my men. Therefore, I owe you for saving my life.”

Captain Winters eyed you intensely as he registered your use of ‘I’ and ‘my.’

“I’ve seen you wear many different costumes…how close to your real persona is this one?” He asked, looking over your CWAC uniform curiously.

“The closest, honestly, though I don’t feel like I’ve really earned the Sergeant’s stripes, they are necessary to explain my presence so far forward. The war is over for Charlotte, France all-but liberated, yet I still have skills to contribute. And my British accent is sh – shameful.” You corrected yourself with a smirk, recalling his distaste for coarse language, enjoying the twitch of his lips in response. “I’m assisting with translation in the Allied offices here. The delay in relaying them to England is no longer necessary.”

“So, really a Canadian.” He confirmed.

“Yes, and you know my real name, too.” You nodded reassuringly. “But I’m assuming you’d like to see more of Paris than just this apartment?” You laughed and he nodded quickly. “Would you like a guide or –”

The ‘yes’ was out of his mouth before you even had the chance to give him an out and you bowed your head lest he see the smile that pulled from you.

“That is, if you’re free and willing…” He amended, tone sheepish.

“It’s the least I can do for the man who saved me from being crushed by a tank.” You smirked and he chuckled before his eyes widened.

“I still have your knife, back at the base.” He frowned.

You grinned a little, shaking your head. “Good. That’s good.” Echoing his words to you when he realized your hearing had returned. “Keep it. It saw me through a lot of things. I hope it does the same for you.”

He eyed you a moment. “Thank you…for your honesty, and the knife.” He clarified.

“I apologize that I cannot always be honest with you, but I will endeavour to do so as circumstances permit. Now, I’m assuming you haven’t had lunch?”

“Not yet, no.”

“There’s an excellent café not far from here, shall we?” You led him back out through the foyer, snagging your cap on the way by, the pair of you taking a moment on the threshold to secure your uniform cover before you locked the door and headed back outside.

The streets were filled with soldiers on leave, but with his height and bright red hair, it was difficult to lose him in the crowd. Securing a table outside, you walked him through the menu before ordering on his behalf in French.

“Where did you learn to speak it so well?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Oxford.” You swallowed hesitantly as not many men appreciated the fact that you had studied at university, let alone a prestigious school in England. To your great relief he titled his head back and simply laughed.

“Nix would be so jealous to hear you say that…” He shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee as it was delivered.

“Lieutenant Nixon?” You clarified, taking the time to add the packet of Saccharin that you had requested to sweeten the bitter liquid.

“He’s a captain now, but yes. A Yale man, but not an Oxford man.”

You laughed in relief, sipping your own beverage once it was slightly more palatable.

“What took you there?”

“Scholarship, and my uncle, my mother’s brother, lived there. The opportunity to go to Europe was difficult to pass up. I began my undergraduate degree in 1938.”

He shook his head, presumably at the timing. “Did you manage to finish?”

You nodded quickly. “Graduated with a major in French, minor in German in the spring of 1942.”

He hummed thoughtfully, the strategic value of those two languages going unspoken in such a crowded space.

“How about yourself?” You prompted as your food arrived, laying your napkin across your lap.

“I went to Franklin & Marshall College in Pennsylvania – definitely not Oxford or Yale. Graduated with an Economics degree in ’41. Tried to get my military service out of the way early but then Pearl Harbor happened and well, here I am…” He shrugged, tucking into his food.

The pair of you spent a good hour, trading questions back and forth between bites of your food, learning about your families, where you had grown up, why you had joined the war effort.

“My uncle was killed during an air raid in London in May of 1941. He’d gone to visit a friend and stayed the night – apparently, they had tried to drink the pub dry.” You shook your head fondly in memory. “The Luftwaffe decided to bomb the neighborhood that night, neither of them even made it into the shelter. I almost quit my studies the next day to join FANY or become a Land Girl or just…do something useful.” You sighed leaning back in your chair as the waitstaff came to collect your empty plates, avoiding Captain Winters’ gaze, though you could feel his eyes on your cheek. “Friend of mine convinced me I could do more good if I finished what I started – that my language skills would be put to good use once I honed them.”

“Sounds like a wise friend.” He replied softly and you turned to him.

“They are. Helped me get where I am today.” You nodded meaningfully, a movement which he mirrored in unspoken understanding. “Anyway, I’m meant to be showing you around.” You forced a smile and summoned the bill, though Captain Winters beat you to punch by laying a large number of francs on the table, not allowing you to pay for your own meal. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He replied, pulling out your chair once he’d received his change.

Leading him along the historic streets you showed him some of the more famous sites, waiting patiently as he picked up a pack of postcards to send home as the sun began to set.

“There’s a popular restaurant just up the street, did you want to try and get a table for dinner?” You offered once he rejoined you, tucking his purchase into his pocket.

“That would be nice, yes.” He nodded, his hand hovering just above your lower back as you navigated your way along the crowded sidewalk to the restaurant.

Placing your name on the waitlist, the pair of you were idling patiently in the foyer when your direct report Major Wilkes stepped out of the dining room, making you stand up straighter. “Good evening, sir.”

He looked over to you and the American Captain standing tall at your side, greeting you in kind. “Enjoying your well-earned rest, Sergeant?” He asked warmly.

“Yes sir, thank you again.”

“You’ve earned it.” He reminded you with a laugh.

“Major Wilkes, may I present Captain Winters of the 101st Airborne.” You introduced the men to one another properly as you recalled your manners.

The two shook hands and exchanged pleasantries before Major Wilkes turned back to the maître d,’ murmuring something neither of you could hear. “See you on Tuesday, Sergeant. Enjoy your time in Paris, Captain.”

“Good night, sir.” You smiled, glancing at the Captain before the maître d’ was calling your name to seat you, ahead of several other groups who had been waiting longer.

“Your CO seems to like you.” Captain Winters murmured once you were settled at a table a few rows back from the dancefloor, not too close to the bandstand.

“Major Wilkes is a good man, easy to work for.” You nodded, setting your cap on the empty chair beside you.

“I’m glad. And grateful.” He lifted the menu, and you leaned in once more to walk him through the options, swallowing as he smelled of Brylcreem and aftershave.

Conversation didn’t flow as easily once the band started playing, couples crowding the dancefloor as you enjoyed some delicious yet overpriced food. The Captain seemed to be watching you closely, glancing between you and the dancefloor, until a slow song began to play, and he leaned in. “Would you like to dance?”

Dabbing at the corner of your mouth with your napkin you nodded quickly, heart leaping into your throat as he pulled out your chair to help you stand. You set your hand in his, following him onto the crowded dancefloor as he set one hand on your waist, the other held out to the side in his as he swayed with you to the music. Neither of you were particularly talented dancers, but you could not deny how lovely it felt to be held this close by him. You glanced at him with a shy smile, certain the tips of his ears were pink, though it may have been the dim lighting, before you looked to the side as you nibbled your lip, trying to even out your breathing.

Belatedly you realized that Captain Winters was speaking to you, into your right ear, which had never fully recovered from your roadside escapade in Normandy. It had a habit of being particularly uncooperative in crowded, noisy places such as this. Registering the vibrations of his voice you turned your head quickly to look up at him. “I’m so sorry could you repeat that please?” You asked before offering him your left ear.

After a moment or two of nothing but music you turned back to see him frowning deeply.

“Oh, Captain, please, it’s the only thing, and then only sometimes, not always.” You tried to reassure him, reaching out to smooth the furrow of his brow with your fingertips.

“Please call me Dick.” He replied, leaning towards your left ear as he spoke.

“Alright, Dick.” You exhaled, your heart fluttering erratically as you turned your head to press your lips against his softy.

His feet stopped moving altogether, hand clasping yours tighter as you felt the fingers of his other hand curling into the back of your uniform jacket. His lips pressed closer to yours, drawing a barely audible sigh through your nose, until another couple carelessly bumped into you, jolting you apart. Dick carefully steadied you and you squeezed his hand, leading him back to the table to grab you cap. He flagged down a waiter and, infuriatingly, paid yet again before leading you out in the dim streets out black-out Paris.

“I was trying to save you money, not make you spend it all.” You gently chastised him, almost stepping off the curb in front of a cyclist you did not hear approaching from the right.

His arm quickly slid around your shoulders, pulling you close into his chest just before they zoomed by spewing curses in their wake. “Careful. I already told you it’s my pleasure.” He assured you before offering his arm.

“Thanks, Dick.” You took it slowly, trying not to let your frustration show. You had previously excelled at navigating dark places and now you were forced to rely on the guidance of others. Taking a fortifying breath, you began leading him along the sidewalk. “I thought we’d walk home, the subway didn’t seem to agree with you?” You asked carefully.

“I’d appreciate that.” He replied, keeping an eye out for further obstacles hidden by the shadows of the black out as the pair of you made your way back to the apartment in companionable silence.

“I just need to close the curtains before we turn on the lights, one moment.” You left Dick in the foyer, setting your cap on the hook by the door before tugging the black out curtains closed in each room, turning the lights on as you made your way back to him. “Sorry about that I wasn’t thinking when we left.”

He shook his head softly, watching you quietly from right where you’d asked him to wait. “Do you think it would be all right if I were to take a hot bath tonight?"

You smiled warmly and nodded. “Absolutely alright, I’ll get you set up.”

Leading him to the bathroom you set out some towels and the bar of soap, turning to him. “There should be plenty of hot water at this time of night, the boiler will have had time to refill. Anything else you need before I leave you to it?”

His lips quirked into a tentative smile. “Yes, might I kiss you goodnight?”

Your pulse quickened as you tried not to smile like a buffoon. “Please.” Your voice waivered slightly, much to your annoyance, but mercifully it did not seem to deter Dick.

He stepped forward, hands cupping the sides of your face tenderly as he angled your lips to meet his. Gripping his forearms to steady yourself, you came to realize that Dick was a different man when he set his mind to something. You had simply taken him by surprise on the dancefloor. This kiss was altogether more assertive and left you breathless as he pulled back.

“Goodnight.” He smiled gently, nose brushing the hair from your forehead to press his lips to the scar there softly.

“Night.” You exhaled, eyes fluttering shut briefly at the surge of emotions that unleashed within you, taking a steady breath before you were able to smile dreamily and slip out.

Retiring to your room, you unpinned your hair carefully before sliding into your cotton nightgown, pulling your quilted housecoat overtop and settling onto the double bed left by the apartments previous owners to do some reading while you waited your turn to use the washroom. Fully absorbed in the novel that Lucy had left for you, you were surprised when you noted that over an hour had passed since you had opened your book. Frowning, you slid your bookmark into place before cracking the door open slightly and peering down the hall, startled to see the bathroom door still closed while the door to the other bedroom remained open.

Gnawing on your lower lip you walked to the end of hall, knocking gently on the door. “Dick?” You waited, frown deepening as there was no response. Your main concern that he had fallen asleep in the deep claw-footed tub, at great risk of drowning. Knocking more firmly, you called his name again. “I’m coming in if you don’t answer.” You warned, giving it a slow count to ten before stepping into the humid washroom, careful to keep your eyes well above the waterline.

True to your concern, the man was sound asleep, thankfully with his head bent back over the edge of the tub, a washcloth cushioning his neck. Impressed by the level of comfort he must be feeling to sleep through all the noise you were making, you took a step closer, calling his name yet again. Kneeling beside the tub with your back to his lower body, you focused on his peacefully sleeping face, shaking your head in awe before reaching out to touch his shoulder.

He jolted awake, sending now-tepid water sloshing over the side of the tub and down your housecoat onto the backs of your calves. You let out an involuntary gasp at the temperature shock.

“Aw heck, I’m so sorry I…” His hands quickly dove under the water to cover himself.

“It’s alright, I’m glad you’re ok.” You smiled, waving off his concern and leaned in to kiss his cheek before moving to stand.

“Before you leave uh, could you uh pass the soap?” He’d gone red to the tips of his ears.

You bit the inside of your cheek to smother your grin and fetched it from atop the towel behind you. As you turned back to him, your eyes accidentally fell on the length of his body beneath the water, hands still firmly cupping between his legs. Unable to look away, to think, to move, Dick’s voice brought you back to reality.

“You alright, honey?” He asked softly and your eyes snapped to his face as the term of endearment dripped from his lips.

“More than alright.” You breathed in reply, seized by the need to lay your hands on his pearly white skin smattered in a constellation of freckles. Shrugging out of your housecoat you were left in your ankle-length nightgown with frills of lace at the shoulders. “May I help?” You tilted your head, kneeling at the edge of the tub once more.

He watched you with wide eyes, seeming unable to avert his gaze this time before his adam’s apple bobbed violently at your question. You waited patiently until he gave you one sharp nod, dipping the bar of soap into the water before you began to drag it along his neck and chest, sliding it beneath his dog tags. Their metallic jangle was the loudest sound in the washroom. You took a moment to rinse his skin clean with your other hand before repeating the pattern with his upper arms and abdomen, shifting to the bottom of the tub to do the same with his calves and feet. You did not miss the way his breaths grew heavier, lips parting slightly, his eyes never once leaving your face.

“Can I wash your hands?” You ask, biting your lip as he only offered one as the other tried and failed to hide his erection.

Swallowing thickly, you focused on washing it thoroughly – between each finger and up to his elbow, rinsing the suds from his skin before holding your hand out for the other. He set it in yours boldly, meeting your eyes, no longer feeling the need to hide from you as his clean hand gripped the edge of the tub. Once his second hand was clean you leaned in to press your lips to his, trailing the soap down his abdomen once more before dipping it to his left hip then sweeping it back up to before repeating the motion to his right. His breath shuddered against your lips, and you pulled back to look over his face.

“Ok?” You breathed, throat constricting at his blown pupils, and he nodded violently before sliding a hand to the back of your neck to pull you closer, kissing you hungrily. You traced your fingers along the length of him, reveling in the shiver that wracked his body. Abandoning the bar of soap, you wrapped your hand around him fully, running your tongue along his bottom lip as his mouth fell open with a soft gasp.

It was a noise you soon echoed as his tongue slid forward to meet yours, licking into your mouth teasingly at first before he was confidently dominating the kiss. Bracing your free hand against his shoulder, you began to move your first along his length in earnest, lips curling against his as his knees bent before falling open, sloshing still more water from the tub. You could feel the cotton of your nightgown wicking the water higher along the material, surely become more and more translucent with each bit of moisture, yet you remained undeterred.

Forced to part from his lips to suck in a greedy breath to soothe the ache in your lungs, you experimentally swiped your thumb across the tip of his cock, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as his head fell back with a moan, hips nudging towards your hand needily. Encouraged, you made a point of repeating that motion, paying special attention to the head as you reached the apex of each pull. You watched the way his eyebrows knit together, listened to the pants and breathy grunts, felt further onslaughts of water as his hips bucked to your touch. Your thighs pressed together as you felt your panties grow damp in response, desperate for some friction of your own, but nonetheless thoroughly enjoying the act of pleasuring him.

“Honey, I’m…” He lifted his head to look at you quickly, voice tense, jaw muscles ticking.

You nodded eagerly and his fingers, which had been clinging to the back of your neck this entire time, hauled you in to plant his lips against yours fiercely. You happily swallowed his hoarse shout as his hips surged up into your grip, cock twitching as you felt him release into the now-cold bathwater. Stroking him through his release, you placed gentle kisses across his cheeks before shifting your hand to stroke his side.

“That was…” He sighed, speechless before brushing his lips against yours gratefully, cheeks still flushed.

“I’m glad.” You smiled shyly, brushing your nose against his. “Now come on that water is cold.” You murmured, standing and holding open a towel for him.

He gave you a crooked grin before pulling the plug from the drain and leveraging himself to his feet, stepping onto the rather wet bathmat and taking the towel to wrap around his waist. It was only then he properly noticed how much of your skin he could see through the damp patches of your nightgown. “I splashed you quite a bit, didn’t I. Sorry about that.” He murmured.

“I have another nightgown I can change into, don’t worry about it.” You assured him, reaching for your housecoat, but his arms slid around your waist, pulling you against his still-wet torso, drawing a gasp from your chest.

“Don’t bother.” He muttered before kissing you deeply.

Fingers digging into his biceps you squeaked against his lips as he began to shuffle you backwards, shocked that he was confidently leading you through your own apartment nearly blind. Reaching your bedroom, he looked to you softly, gathering the fabric of your nightgown in his hands. “May I?”

You nodded, licking your kiss-swollen lips, before the flurry of sodden cotton obscured your view. He lay it over your desk chair, turning back to you and exhaling reverently.

“You are so beautiful, honey.”

“Dick…” You whispered shyly in protest, but he shook his head, long fingers cradling your face tenderly to force your eyes to meet his.

“So beautiful.” He repeated, guiding you to lay on the bed.

Sliding on the mattress next to you, his lips began to map the skin on your jaw, body braced on his left arm while his right slid along your collarbone. Delving your fingers into his short ginger locks, you sighed warmly, tilting your head to offer more skin to his exploring mouth. Touch featherlight, his fingertips traced down the swell of your breast, making you arch towards his hand in invitation as he trailed open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. You rewarded him with a soft moan as he cupped your tender flesh fully, gently kneading the weight of it in his warm palm, your nails brushing against his scalp.

As he reached the hollow of your throat, he darted his tongue out to lap at the skin there, making you writhe sightly beneath him. The contrast of his warm skin and the rough metal of his dog tags pressing against you was making your head swim. The addition of his tongue as he lapped at the supple flesh of your breast had you mewling breathlessly, once again pressing your thighs together to try and assuage the sheer need you felt. His hand slid along your side, progress slowing as his fingertips encountered the long, jagged scar there. It was well-healed by now, but still raised to the touch. He swiped his thumb along it tenderly before his hand moved to your hip, giving a gentle squeeze before skirting down your thigh. Exhaling shakily, you parted your legs for him, the pair of you gasping as his fingers cupped between your thighs.

“Dick.” You whimpered.

“Ok?” He looked to your face quickly and you nodded rapidly, lifting your hips to help him slid your panties down and off your legs.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his fingers returned to trace your folds before carefully parting them. His thumb came to circle your clit, the callous on the edge of his digit working wonders as his index finger dipped into the entrance to your warmth, teasing you.

“Oh my god..sh…” You belatedly caught your curse, not missing the way he chuckled against your shoulder before pressing his lips to your skin fondly. You forced your eyes open to look at him, if a bit blearily, but the smug bastard only replied by sinking his finger fully into you. “Christ!” You moaned richly, completely losing control of your manners, and your volume, as he stroked it along your silken walls before adding another.

Graciously, he pressed his lips to yours to smother any further curses his actions might have drawn from you, and you moaned richly against his tongue as you clung to his shoulders. You barely even noticed the way his dog tags were knocking into your chin, but he insisted on pulling back for a moment to swing them behind his neck before sliding a second finger into you. Your thighs began to tremble as you bucked wildly towards his hand, panting against his lips.

“P..please…” You pleaded, so very close, not wanting him to lose interest in your pleasure as your only other partner had seemed want to do.

“I’ve got you, honey, I’ve got you.” He reassured you, the pace of his fingers increasing until your thighs clamped down around his hand. Hastily, he covered your mouth with his as he felt your walls begin to flutter, smothering your wail as your nails dug into his skin slightly.

Chest heaving, you pulled back from his lips to try and catch your breath, body still trembling with small aftershocks of pleasure. Dick gently slid his fingers from your body, your breath hitching in your throat before you smiled at him fondly.

“Good?” He asked softly, smoothing the hair from your face tenderly.

“Very good.” You reassured him, pecking his lips warmly.

They curled against yours in a soft grin before he whispered your name as you tugged the very loose towel from his lips to find his cock fully erect once more.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking to you.

“Do you have a condom?” You asked and he paused a moment before nodding.

“I’ll be right back.” He quickly secured the towel around his waist again, making you chew your lip fondly as he dashed out of the room. He was not gone a full minute before he returned with several individually wrapped paper packets, making you raise an eyebrow.

“Optimistic man.”

He laughed under his breath. “It’s cold tonight, I didn’t want to have to leave this room again.” He explained, shutting the door behind him before shedding the towel and climbing into bed with you.

Working together, you secured the latex sheath over his length before Dick settled between your thighs. He rested his weight on his right forearm beside your head, fingertips stroking your hair as he took his cock in hand. “Ok, honey?”

He checked one last time and your hearth clenched warmly as you reached out to cup his cheek. “Yes.” You reassured him, running your thumb along his lower lip.

He pressed a kiss to the pad of your thumb before rolling his hips forward, carefully sinking into your warmth, his fingers, now free of their burden, lacing with yours and pining your hand to the pillow. His jaw hung open as your body welcomed him inch by inch, stretching to envelope him completely until his pelvis nestled snuggly against yours.

“Mhmm!” You keened, rocking up against him eager for him to move as he brought a feeling of completion that you’d never felt before.

His fingers flexed in your grip before he began the push and pull to build another orgasm within you, his grunts and breathy moans blended with words of adoration, all directed into your left ear. The mixture of it all – the pleasure, the care, the emotions – brought tears to your eyes and praise tumbled from your own lips in return.

“So good, Dick.”

“Like an angel, honey.”

“Just like that, yes!”

“Only you can make me feel this good.”

“Oh, Dick I’m…I’m gonna…”

“Yes honey, let go.”

You pressed your face tightly to his neck, your knees hugging his hips tightly as your back bowed with the force your release, an anguished cry of pleasure wrenched from your throat as you clamped down tightly around him. His rich groan followed shortly after as he rocked tightly against you in the throes of his own climax. Pulling from you slowly, he carefully rolled to lay beside you, the pair of you grinning up at the ceiling stupidly for a moment before you rolled onto your side to kiss his cheek.

Collecting the used condom, despite his protests, you padded to the washroom to run through your night routine at last, gratefully sliding into the housecoat to turn out the lights before returning to find him waiting for you beneath the quilt. Dick immediately pulled you into his chest as you slid into the bed and kissed your forehead.

As his fingers pulled at the tie of your housecoat, however, you could not help but laugh. “Really?”

He chuckled in return, pressing a kiss to your jaw before his fingers darted beneath the warm fabric to find the scar on your side. “What happened?” He asked softly and your throat clenched at the concern in his voice.

“Bayonet.” You replied quietly, frowning as his eyes jerked up to meet yours in the low light of the bedside lamp you’d left on. “I was lucky, really.” You smiled fondly at his incredulous look. “He tried firing on me first, but his weapon jammed, and then he got so flustered he barely stuck me.” You ran your fingers through his hair soothingly as you spoke.

“This looks like a little more than barely.” He countered flatly and you kissed him softly.

“I was furious. First mission and I made it all of four days before I got hurt.” You shook your head. “A sympathetic doctor stitched me up and then it was a long way back to England to heal.”

“So, I met you on your…” He prompted, thumb sweeping along your scarred flesh as though he might erase the mark with his touch.

“Second.” You nodded. “And last in a way. I’ll never be able to do those things again with my right ear the way it is…” You grimaced and it was his turn to kiss you reassuringly.

“You’ve done more than enough, honey, more than should have ever been asked of you. And yet you’re still here, in a uniform, helping all the same.”

Pressing your forehead to his you sighed fondly. “Thank you.”

“We should get some sleep.” He murmured, pulling you close into his chest so he could reach with a long arm to turn off the lamp behind you.

It proved difficult to leave his arms for the rest of his time in Paris, though you managed to see to it that you remained fed despite Dick’s efforts to tire you out completely. Not a single condom went to waste. As he lay sleeping in the late afternoon, you took the opportunity to write a letter for him to carry with him – not knowing where he would find himself next, nor when you’d have the chance to see him again. Seized by the radical idea to package it up with some small token, you pried the badge from your cap, hoping the three silver maple leaves would make him think of you. Folding the badge within the letter, you tucked it into the front pocket of his luggage, fully prepared to feign complete astonishment when its absence was noted by Major Wilkes, or whomever noticed first.

Early Tuesday morning, you delivered Dick to Gare du Nord to catch the first train back to Mourmelon-le-Grand, unable to ignore the way he crossed his arms against the chilly north wind that seemed to herald to arrival of winter. Glancing at the drab olive wool scarf dangling around your neck you bit your lip as you reached the platform before sliding it off. Grasping each end, as Dick turned to say goodbye, you carefully slung it over his shoulders.

“Keep warm, Dick.”

His eyes widened. “I can’t take this from you, you’ll freeze.”

“I can get a new one easily.” With your hands still on the ends of the scarf you pulled him in to kiss him softly. “Good luck out there.” You repeated your parting words from Normandy.

His hands rose to cup your cheeks one last time as his eyes traced over the features of your face as if to commit it to memory. “I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

You nodded quickly, all possible responses congealing into a lump in your throat that made it impossible to speak. The rumble of the approaching train shattered the intensity of the moment and he quickly pressed one final kiss to your forehead before reluctantly stepping back, turning only at the last moment to step into the carriage. You stood rooted to the spot, only able to inhale tiny sips of air lest you shatter into tears, until it disappeared out of sight.

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Read Part Three

Your Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under Masterlist

Tag list: @allthingsimagines, @bcon24

#dick winters x reader #dick winters #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers

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bunnidid-reviews · 1 year

Text

Review for a DID… plushie?

Today I’m doing a very basic and important review on Plushie Dreadful’s Dissociative Identity Disorder Bunny

Which I bought because isnt it cute! Also I just had to, a bunny with DID? Sounds familiar.. 🤔

Price: $45 USD

Company: Mysterious

You can find the plush for sale >>here<<

~initial thoughts~

I think you and I must be thinking the same: what an absurd thing to buy! A plush based off a trauma disorder? This could be offensive even if its coming from a weird place of stigmatizing disorders

I looked a little into the company though and found that they make a lot of different disorder-based plushies, as well as based on chronic illnesses and queer identities.

There’s also this note on the DID bunny page itself:

IMPORTANT NOTE Regarding the design of our mental health-related Plushie Dreadfuls. We take the topics of mental health and mental health awareness seriously. That's why our design team only creates plushies related to mental health issues with which they have direct experience. In cases where our team does not have direct experience, we assemble an external team of experts to help guide our creative process. In addition, we use Crowd Design to engage a wide range of voices via platforms like Instagram and Facebook. We gather and respond to feedback from our audience - many of whom have direct experience with the mental health issues we're exploring. And while we strive to represent as many aspects of a particular mental health issue as possible while avoiding stereotypical symptoms, we hope you understand that plush toys as an artistic medium do limit the full expression of a particular issue to those things that can be crafted in fabric and stitching.

Obviously they go through a lot of widespread effort to have people with personal experience weigh in on their plush designs. Is it going to be suited to every person w a CDD’s tastes? Absolutely not, but I personally think they put a lot of care into it.

Heres some pics of the one I bought:

Its a fluffy white rabbit plush with wide, white eyes, and a grey bunny appliqué on the forehead. There’s the interlocking circles multiplicity pride symbol on the tummy. The arms are all white with grey paws, and the stubby legs are all white with pink paw pads. In the ears there’s soft fabric with the printed image of three bunnies stacked on top of eachother that are dark grey, reddish pink and white respectively. There’s a tote bag underneath the bunny plush with a design that matches the ears.

(Sorry idk how to do the image description thing help)

I think the plush design conveys the feelings of DID very well, actually. White eyes that could perhaps symbolize dissociating or looking frozen in terror. Black and red together are commonly associated with pain and trauma in art. White might be for the parts untouched by trauma, or healed.

They grey bunny stitched onto the forehead is..

Their Trauma Bunny

Its a grey rabbit plush thats small and has uneven limbs and ears. There are two red x’s on the tummy, a black x for the mouth, and downturned eyes depicting a pained expression.

Since this trauma bunny is literally stitched to the forehead if the DID bunny, it’s almost as if to say that trauma is a central feature of the DID itself; which I thought was a nice careful touch that could’ve easily been ignored and focused instead on the multiplicity aspect.

There’s obviously a lot of care and attention to detail put into this bunbun and I very much appreciate it

~How the Bun feels~

Texture: the main fur Soft with medium length, dense fur. It feels closer to the stuffed animals I had as a kid, compared to the super-soft and eventually pilly fur you get on buildabears and jellycat bashful bunnies. Only time will tell of course.

The fur on the ears is very soft with short, printed-on designs. I think its close to something like minky fabric, but shorter and thinner

Weight: idk, it doesn’t have any beanies in it so it’s lighter than I thought it would be. The ears don’t have stuffing/very little stuffing in them so they’re pretty weightless and floppy. Something I really like in bunny ears actually.

Ratings for…:

Playing with(moving the joints): 9/10 (the sewing is such that the arms and megs move easily yay!)

Holding the hand/paw of: 6/10 (the paws are a little small for me, the arms a little stubby for holding hands)

Sitting: 10/10 (the ears help it sit up on its own, the legs fold nicely and look very cute)

Standing: 3/10 (doesnt stand up very well)

Holding the ear of: 11/10 (super softie)

Holding like a hamburger: 9/10 (a smidge small but otherwise pleasent)

Snuggles against the chest: 8/10

Squishability: 5/10 (not a squishable but a very even amount of squishy and dense)

Appliqué: 10/10 (very neat stitching, unobtrusive)

Fur shedding: 10/10 (seems like its very stable and theres no shedding)

Here is my DID bunny compared to my medium Jellycat bashful bunny and the tiny version:

The previously described white DID bunny. There’s a grey small bashful bunny with multicolored flower print in the ears on the left. On the right, there’s a navy blue medium sized bashful bunny. The DID bunny is slightly smaller than the medium bashful bunny

(The blue bunnys name is April Showers, and the grey bunnys name is May Flowers btw)

~ Extra thoughts idk what to do with~

- I don’t know the history of the interlocking circles symbol or if its problematic in any way. I’m assuming its something the community decided on when contributing feedback on the initial design. Thoughts? It seems to have to do with the old DID forums from a time before I knew I had DID, so I’m intrigued by the history

- I don’t personally mind that theres a DID-themed plush out there. Might not be everyone’s cuppa tea but it makes me happy to have a little soft companion for watching movies and reading books with. Its a really neat aspect to my growing DID collection :D

- I’m so fond of the scenecore kinda design for these bunnies. As a kid I desprately wanted a bunny with that gothic lolita, stitched up aesthetic and this is just so cool and special to me now :>

- I’m super sorry if the image descriptions arent great! This is a personal just-for-fun blog so I dont think I can manage something like that for all my reviews, but since this ones very visual I thought I’d try. Just sorry if its not good :( if theres anyone who’s like to rewrite them to actually work I’d be willing to replace my descriptions

- she needs a name! If you have name ideas i would love to hear them. Something DID related perhaps! i might run a poll on this for fun :D

- ps. All this was written mostly by a small part so pls be nice thank u 💛🥰

#dissociative identity disorder #did in media #dissociative identity disorder media #plushie dreadfuls #plushie dreadfuls did #plush review #actuallydid #otherwise specified dissociative disorder #cdd #complex dissociative disorder #bunnidid reviews

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imagine-darksiders · 1 year

Text

Fish out of Water - Chapter 4

Imprint.

“Figures,” you huff, grunting as the curve of a chin scrubs gently behind your knees, “Most people are followed home by a lost dog, or a stray cat, but oh no – Not me! I get whatever you two are!”

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

Helplessness is, in a word, paralysing.

There have only been two moments in your life where you've faced the unrelenting, near-crushing pressure of true helplessness - the kind that freezes a deer in the headlights of an oncoming truck, the kind that a diver must feel when he's run out of oxygen and he's still three hundred feet from the ocean's surface.

The first instance occurred not so long ago, when the doctors lifted your hospital bedsheets and showed you the empty space where your right leg should have been.

The second moment, interestingly enough, is right now, sitting stiffly astride the chest of a Lovecratian sea monster as it carries you over the sea, each immense tentacle working in tandem to push its bulk lazily up the coastline, parallel to the chalk cliffs.

The clammy skin beneath your backside offers little relief from the bone-deep chill that's settled over you like a wet blanket. You're soaked through. Even your newly-acquired, wax coat has been exposed to the sea, and now, every inch of your body is drenched to the touch.

Both of your arms are circled around your one remaining knee and you stare blankly at the space where your prosthetic used to be, eyes wide as saucers and unblinking despite the raindrops that frequently settle on your lashes.

You're frozen, literally and figuratively. The tops of your fingers and toes have gone numb, and you're too petrified to lift your head up to acknowledge the blood-red stare that's affixed to the top of your sodden hair.

The mer with a face so pale and large that it could replace the moon in the night's sky hasn't once allowed its gaze to stray from you, not even, apparently, to check where it's going. You suppose that somehow, it must be able to sense the environment around it through other means, not that you're anything like an expert in marine biology.

For the last five minutes, ever since it hauled itself from the beach with you in tow, you've been sat shivering like a bedraggled idiot on its sternum whilst it floats upside-down on its eastward journey up the coast, moving back alongside the path you'd taken earlier this morning.

Once, it had brought its colossal hands up to its chest and angled them as if it meant to cup each palm around you, but when you nearly scrambled sideways into the icy water to escape, its appendages has quickly retreated, and since then, you've been subjected to its unwavering stare instead, trapped beneath the soft glow of red that lights up the pale skin all around you.

Any ounce of control you thought you'd retained had swiftly evaporated back on that beach.

Perhaps it's the act of sitting directly over an immense, powerful heart that reminds you of how much smaller you are in comparison to the creature swimming below you.

Smaller, slower, weaker.

Prey perched upon a predator's belly.

While neither creature has actually caused you any harm - save for almost giving you numerous heart-attacks - right now, you're painfully aware that they could do whatever the hell they want to you, and you have no way of stopping them. This beast could carry you anywhere it cares to, leaving you stranded out in open water, miles from sight of land, or worse... it could drag you to the bottom of the cold, dark ocean and watch you try to struggle your way back to the surface.

Helpless.... You hate this feeling.

A loud chirp twitches your eyes to the right, out towards the water, where you immediately lock gazes with the other mer, whose fins so closely resemble the rays of a clipart sun that it'd be funny if they were sported by any smaller creature.

As soon as it notices you looking its way, the beast's mouth surfaces and it grins over at you, showing off the wide expanse of baleen that pushes its cheeks up until they're round and pronounced.

After a moment, you blink, give a wet sniffle and eventually drop your chin down to your knee once again, breathing hard as you try to resign yourself to whatever far these things might have in store for you. If you're going to die, you may as well pretend to be dignified about it.

In the corner of your vision, you see the mer's fins flop backwards against its skull and its grin falters until it collapses entirely and the beast sinks back into the waves, disappearing from view with a thick, oily 'gloop.'

Golden scales flash briefly for a second before the creature dives deeper.

You wonder if it's offended by your refusal to interact with it.

Choking on a scoff, you swipe bitterly at the rain in your eyes and try to duck down further behind the collar of your coat.

It's only seconds later that a noisy splash plucks at your attention, to the left this time.

Tossing a glance in that direction, you find yourself once again peering over at the sunny mer, who throws its mouth up into another grin when it sees you looking.

Then, in a strange display, it begins to flap the orange fins surrounding its head back and forth, flinging them upright, then laying them flat against its skull before repeating the motion in quick succession.

It's an absurd behaviour, seemingly benign, and so entirely unexpected that you don't know how else to react other than to offer the beast a half-hearted quirk of your lips, the distant relative of a smile. You can't find the energy to put any real genuineness behind the action.

Apparently however, this is more than sufficient for the mer's agenda, as its entire expression lights up like a sunflower splaying its petals, big, pale eyes pinch shut.

The creature unleashes a series of chirrups and whistles, overcome by what you can only assume is delight.

As it continues to warble over at you, you grow increasingly perturbed. Dropping your mouth into a downturned line once again, you shuffle away from its gaze, turning on your rump to stare down at your kidnapper's clavicle instead.

Over the sound of rushing waves, you catch a despondent whine.

Underneath you, a sudden rumble passes through the moon beast's chest like a seismic wave, travelling up the column of its throat until it peels its lips apart and unleashes a deep, resonant murmur that vibrates your ribcage and rattles the teeth in your skull.

Risking a glance at it, you find that it has lifted its head out of the water to peer over at its ilk.

Something must have passed between them. A word. A conversation, perhaps... because all of a sudden, the sunny behemoth barks out a response and ploughs to an abrupt halt in the surf.

Startled by the sudden displacement of several thousand gallons of ocean, you twist your head over a shoulder to gape after the mer as it spins its vast bulk around, using its arms to move great swathes of water past itself.

And just like that, with a flick of its substantial fluke, it jets off, vanishing below the waves once more, leaving behind nothing but ever-expanding ripples that mingle with those created by the falling rain.

It's headed back in the direction of the beach you've just been swiped from...

You're not even going to pretend to understand the indecipherable conversation that had just happened between those two leviathans.

Sniffing quietly, you clutch your knee to your chest, peering bleakly out in the direction the yellow mer had just disappeared, shuddering like a leaf in a hurricane.

It's only the dark shadow falling over you that snaps you from your trance.

Instinctively, you gasp and duck, throwing your hands up to cover your head as the presence of something huge and heavy looms just a few feet above your fragile skull. Heaving in a lungful of cold air, you tilt your head up gradually, your face pinched in anticipation.

You nearly pass out at the sight of the colossal, webbed palm hovering over you.

Flinching again, you screw your eyes shut and feel your body solidify like a wooden board, expecting a blow that'll crush you flat...

… Seconds pass...

The rain continues splashing against the vast expanse of flesh surrounding you, yet even through the incessant pounding of water on skin, you still register that not a single drop falls upon your head.

And neither does the sea monster's hand.

As the waves slosh and surge around your captor, it gradually starts occurring to you that you haven't yet become a red stain on its sternum.

With all the reluctance of swimming out over a black, oceanic trench, you emerge from behind your raised arms, lowering them slowly until you're once more gaping up at the underside of that enormous hand.

Each claw-tipped finger has to be longer than you are tall.

Stretched wide, the translucent webbing stitched to the side of each digit forms a better umbrella than the one you'd left behind on the beach, keeping you dry from the worst of the storm's deluge. A sudden rumble of thunder booms somewhere off in the distance, out over the open water, reminding you of the tempest's approach.

Despite the remnants of rain that trickle off your chin to get lost beneath the collar of your coat, your lips feel tremendously dry as you level your gaze down, away from the palm hovering above you until your eyes eventually land on the face of your cephalopod captor.

It, in turn, is staring back at you, eyes still wide and glowing ominously in the grey light.

The hand above you doesn't move, but the tentacles continue to propel you both along the coastline, methodically undulating beneath the deep, dark water.

You can feel their motion with every flex and twitch of the giant's abdomen.

A question bubbles at the back of your throat, yet the effort it takes to peel your lips apart is tremendous.

“What-” You immediately cut yourself off when the mer's blue sail perks up a little, hyper-attentive to the sound of your voice. Lips stuffed together, you wait, once again expecting it to make another move.

But after a long minute has passed, you realise it isn't going to. Instead, it only looks down at you, head cocked to one side, almost as if it's waiting for you to continue speaking.

Wetting your lips, you pry them apart again, tasting salt spray on your tongue.

“What.... are you guys?” you ask in a whisper, so soft that you wouldn't have thought the creature had heard you were it not for the quirk of its sail and the expansion of its pupils, each growing enough to nearly encompass the red of its irises.

Irrationally, you fear they could easily turn into a pair of black holes that might swallow you down into their depths if you peer at them for too long.

“Can you, uh... can you understand me?”

Again, the question is only a decibel away from being utterly silent.

For a long moment, the creature only stares back at you, its chin crooked forward onto its chest to keep you within its sights.

Mouth slightly agape, you wait...

And wait....

And wait...

But when no acknowledgement follows your question, you find the heart to ask another, one that's perhaps more pressing than its predecessor.

“Where are you taking me?”

This, at least, emerges from your throat as a louder sound.

It's just a shame it comes out as a sob.

Your theory that the beast can't understand you is suddenly scuppered however when, as if in direct response to your query, it tilts its head back until it's upside down, facing the direction you're headed.

Underneath you, vast muscles shift and contract, and with just a flick of its tentacles, the creature adjusts the course, turning its body effortlessly to face the towering cliffs.

Giving a gasp of alarm, you drop your leg to lay flat across its chest and plant both hands into its spongey flesh, keeping yourself steady when the movement nearly sends you toppling sideways.

Following the mer's gaze, you allow yourself a second to wonder why it's turned towards the cliffs, only to feel your heart suddenly careen forwards to smack against your ribcage as you register an all too familiar sight.

“That's-! That's the cottage!” you exclaim, briefly startled from your existential fear as the sea monster surges cleanly across the ocean on its back like an immense dreadnought cutting the waves in two. For just a moment, you forget yourself, drinking in the sight of the old fisherman's cottage that sits upon the cliff, plain as day, a beautiful splash of white shining out through the gloom of the storm.

You would have never thought that the ramshackle, little place could almost reduce you to tears of relief, but... here you are.

“I-I don't understand!” you gasp out, craning your neck back to gaze up at the cliffs looming over your head as you approach, “Why have yoU~OU-HEY!”

All at once, the familiar slickness of a gigantic tentacle slips gently, but quickly around your waist and you're pried from the mer's chest, flailing wildly for a moment before you remember that there's little to no point. Struggling hadn't helped you escape its clutches before, why should it now?

Gulping audibly, you stare down at the churning waves far below you as the creature rights itself and reaches six of its eight, writhing appendages towards the cliff face.

Powerful suckers crash into the solid rock and adhere themselves to it, and you can do nothing but hang from its grasp as the giant begins to crawl its way up towards the grassy plateau overhead.

It doesn't take much, just two immense pulls from its tentacles working in tandem and suddenly, you're being lifted over the lip of the cliff.

Bracing your hands on the slippery flesh wrapped around your waist, you watch the ground sweep by under your dangling leg as the beast hoists itself up after you, it's breaths coming in great, heaving swathes like a set of bellows intended to coax the sun to rise.

Without prompt, the mer carries you right up to the cottage, just as it had yesterday, almost to the back doorstep before it lumbers to a gradual halt, and, to your mounting confusion, it begins to lower you towards the ground.

The sole of your foot touches down on the sodden grass, yet the tentacle remains around your waist, holding you aloft where you'd likely collapse without the aid of your crutch or prosthetic, both of which are still lost to the sea by now, placing you at an even greater disadvantage than you already were. Not that it'd make a lick of difference, you suppose.

Once again, warmth and potential safety are only a few, hobbling steps away, but this time...

“You brought me back...” you murmur softly to the giant behind you, feeling the ground tremble as it settles its weight onto its arms, “Just like I asked you to...”

This time, something foreign and strangely familiar floats above the lay of fear bobbing inside your belly, something you'd almost forgotten you could feel. You hardly even recognise it for what it is at first, not until you use your arms to pull yourself around in the tentacle's loose grasp, slowly bringing yourself face to gigantic face with the mer.

You've turned towards potential danger, instead of trying to get away from it.

How could you have forgotten the tantalising lure of curiosity? Has it really been lost to you ever since the accident, only to return now, when you're standing on the precipice of something huge and unknown?

Still, the horror and disbelief attempts to force its way to the surface, howling at you to listen to your baser human instincts and continue fighting to escape. But rationality, at last, has found you. The mer is only blinking down at you, its pale chin hovering just a foot or so above the grass and its sail flickering around in the air behind its head, buffeted by the ever-strengthening gale. Behind it, the extensive tentacles stretch towards the edge of the cliff. All bar one.

You've only just realised that the tendril holding you is the same one you'd freed from the net.

Releasing a long, somber breath, you pinch your brows together and rove your gaze over the cross-hatch of pale, pink lines that have been left behind in the otherwise indigo flesh.

Your fingertips press down on the tentacle surrounding you in a quiet offer of sympathy.

The wound looks as though it'll scar, but the creature hasn't lost its limb entirely.

For that, you suppose, you can at least say you've done a good thing.

…

“Huh,” you murmur aloud, a tiny sound of surprised realisation.

When was the last time you did a good thing?

Blinking the rain off your lashes, you draw in a trembling breath and raise your eyes to meet the leviathan's stare.

It lays on its stomach, peering back at you with a curious tilt to its head, twitching the gills on its neck when you open your mouth to speak.

Before you can so much as utter a word, you're almost immediately interrupted by a loud, unexpected warble drifting up to your ears from somewhere below the cliff.

Your stomach flip-flops when you spot the sunny mer's head rising like its namesake over the edge, its fins perked towards you.

With one, almighty heave that sends sediment skittering down into the sea far below, it hauls itself up onto the plateau and starts dragging itself eagerly up towards the cottage, covering several dozen metres in the span of mere seconds.

Even with the storm dulling the landscape around you to deep, oppressive greys, somehow, the mer's golden tail manages to gleam like a solar flare bursting through the darkness of space.

With enormous effort, you drag your eyes from its undulating tail and try not to press yourself backwards into the tentacle's grasp as the second beast careens to a halt beside its counterpart, planting its massive palms in the grass and churning up the soil in its wake.

To your relief, it stops before it can bulldoze straight over you. The tremors rolling through the ground cease, and you're left gaping up into that wide, round face as it beams back at you, bending at the waist to bring itself closer, rainwater cascading off its rays and splashing against the dirt whilst it settles on its forearms in front of you, mirroring the pose of its ethereal friend.

Heart in your throat, you try to slow your breathing, warily eyeing it when its chin finally brushes the tufts of grass underneath it.

If you were to stretch out an arm, you'd wager you could touch the slippery surface just below its mouth.

Slowly, ever so slowly, those baleen teeth peel apart right in front of you, giving you the jarring impression that it might be seconds away from swallowing you whole.

Peering down that damp, cavernous gullet would have your knee collapsing out from underneath you, were it not for the tendril still keeping you aloft.

Before the panic can steal what little body heat still remains in your extremities however, you see it.

A flash of white, sitting slap-bang in the centre of the pink, fleshy tongue.

“No way,” you breathe incredulously, overcome by the disconcerting gnaw of deja-vu.

But sure enough, only a second later, the familiar, shiny plastic of your once-thought-lost prosthetic comes tumbling out from between the leviathan's jaws and lands with a dull 'splat' in the mud at your foot.

Mind reeling, you rove a daring look up the length of its body until you meet its pale stare again. “You... went back?" you croak, releasing a shuddering exhale, "For this?”

By way of its own, unusual reply, the sunny mer trills noisily, clicking its baleen together and shifting its weight until there's enough room for a colossal arm to creep forwards along the ground. Then, extending one, long finger, the beast nudges at your prosthetic, sliding it a few inches closer to you before withdrawing its hand and flicking its gaze between the lump of plastic and your face a few times, as if to silently convey a message it can't communicate through speech.

For a long moment, you can do little else but blink numbly at the limb in front of you as your brain tumbles over itself piecing together bits of information that have, until now, been nothing more than fleeting thoughts.

They brought you back. They brought your lost prosthetic back. Neither mer has caused you any real harm, barring the admittedly dicey incident where you thought you were about to be crushed under a gigantic fist for the crime of producing a blunt knife.

Even now you can feel the gentle pressure of a tentacle around your waist, just enough to keep your standing upright on the ground, yet never once does it grow tight enough to cause discomfort. You've seen the power behind those limbs. The strength they'd have to possess just to heave such a gargantuan body up over the side of a cliff. The control it must be exerting simply to keep itself from hurting you is...

Well. It's substantial, to say the least.

What monster would extend such a courtesy?

What monster would allow you to free its injured limb from a suffocating net, and return you to a place of safety?

Just what in the world have you stumbled upon?

Or perhaps, more fittingly, what in the world has just stumbled upon you?

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you drag your gaze up to their faces, each hovering so close to you now, you can feel the warmth of their combined breaths chasing away a bit of the chill in your muscles.

What you wouldn't give for a nice, hot bath right about now...

When you open your mouth, they immediately perk up, a twitch of their fins alerting you to their attention. You only hesitate to gather yourself before you manage to say anything that won't come out as a squeak.

“... Maybe I'm just going insane,” you begin, listening to the yellow mer croon at the sound of your voice, its smile stretching ever wider, “But I'm starting to think you guys aren't gonna hurt me...”

For several seconds, the only movement around you comes from the rain pelting rythmically against the wet earth.

But then, at the pace of a vast, white glacier, the moon-faced beast pushes its head along the grass until it's hovering right in front of you, so close that you can see a reflection of yourself gawking back at you from deep within its eyes.

Two slitted nostrils flare and wink shut several times near your face, blasting your hair back off your slick forehead.

Your trembling hands uncurl themselves from the fists they'd squashed themselves into.

“Maybe I really have gone insane...”

A shaking hand tentatively peels itself from your chest, and before you can think to come to your senses, you start reaching out across the meagre space separating you from the mer's head.

“Please don't bite me,” you whisper under your breath, mouthing 'please' over and over again and screwing your expression up into a tight ball until, with a soft gasp, you feel your hand make contact with the spongey skin on the creature's nose, just between its eyes.

Breathless, you open your mouth to try and draw in a trembling inhale, easing your brows apart and staring up at the sight of your fingers pressing tiny divots into the pale, malleable wall of flesh.

“Oooh~ my god,” you half sing, half whimper as the beast's eyes slip shut and it emits a contented rumble, sending quakes up your arm and into your chest, “This is crazy. This is... I mean... Shit, I don't know. But it's huge!”

Evidently taking umbrage to the fact that its friend is receiving attention and it isn't, the sunny mer warbles a loud complaint. The next thing you know, your moon friend's face has been bunted aside to make room for a grinning beast of equally epic proportions.

Taken aback, it's tentacle jerks open and you're dropped, landing on your backside in the mud with a startled yelp only to find your space thoroughly invaded by that same insistent, yellow snout.

A swift reprimand is dealt by the larger mer, who snaps its sharp teeth perilously close to the offender's orange fins, though the latter either doesn't care, or doesn't notice, too preoccupied with gazing down at you with a hopeful chirr.

“O-okay,” you hum, swallowing your heart back down into your chest and reaching up with a quivering arm, “Just... just steady, all right? You're a lot bigger than I am, remember...”

Where the first behemoth had waited for your hand to find its nose in your own time, the second seems a little more impatient, and before you know it, the warm, squidgy tip of its snout has all but shoved itself into your palm.

It takes every ounce of courage you have to spare to keep yourself from recoiling.

Instead, you force down the lump of nerves in your throat and allow your fingers to splay out across the yellow skin. At first, the mer's eyes grow wide and round at the sensation, as if it's overcome by wonder.

“There,” you utter, biting down apprehensively on your lower lip, “Happy?”

Yes, apparently.

The behemoth's immense chest expands and contracts around a sigh that nearly bowls you over onto your back with the force of it. The strong stench of fish doesn't help to keep you sitting upright either.

“Eugh,” you cough, flapping your free hand in front of your nose whilst you give the creature's flesh a steady pat, earning yourself a pleased hum in response, “Sorry I asked.”

If it's at all put out by your mild repulsion, the mer doesn't show it.

Gradually, the seconds tick over into a minute, and all the while, you keep your hand pressed against the curious nose, feeling the apprehension drain from your heart with every passing moment, and in spite of the cold, in spite of the terror you've felt over the past few days, even in spite of the twinge of your missing limb, your lips twitch up into an unmistakable, albeit tentative smile. The first, genuine smile you've plastered on your face since the accident.

The muscles in your cheeks bunch and ache a little, as if it's been just a little too long for them to remember what they're supposed to do.

There, at the very bottom of your chest, just below your thrumming heart, a tiny spark of wonder ignites.

But as soon as you notice its presence, your smile wavers, falling at the corners of your mouth.

“I don't know what you guys are or how the Hell you haven't been discovered yet but... whatever this is, it's big.” Slowly, your hand drifts away from the yellow mer, much to its apparent dismay as it opens its eyes and utters a petulant whine.

Shaking your head at it, you add, “It's too big for me...”

Perhaps if you were a marine biologist or... or an adventurer of some kind, you'd be beside yourself with excitement right now.

But as it is, you're neither of those things.

This is... They are someone else's discovery. Someone who would have half a clue of how to approach this from a sensible, level-headed point of view. This kind of thing doesn't happen to people like you.

You just want to be left alone.

“I don't know what you two want from me,” you sigh, raising a hand to scrub at the back of your neck, “Or whether you even want anything, but... but I don't think I'm... I'm not what you're looking for... Okay? I have to go home...”

Your statement doesn't seem to have much of an effect on either of them. The yellow behemoth keeps sending fleeting but pointed glances down at your hands whilst its counterpart remains still and silent, its eyelids dropping into a lazy blink.

“I have to go home,” you repeat, gesturing behind yourself at the house before pointing a finger between the two mer, “And you... you have to go to your home.” You lean sideways and indicate the ocean, prompting them to twist their heads around to follow the line of your finger.

“Do you understand?”

Apparently not, given the blank stares you're receiving.

Heaving out a sigh, you throw your hands up before leaning forwards and grabbing the prosthetic, grimacing when your fingers slide against the sticky, cooling saliva that clings to the plastic.

All of a sudden, the sky above you seem to grow darker, and at first, you assume the storm has taken a turn for the worse, but a quick glance skywards reveals that it's only your two new acquaintances looming closer, each watching with wide-eyed fascination as you begin pulling the prosthetic liner inside out and tug it over your stump, squeezing the air bubbles out of it as you go.

It'd be easier if you were standing, but with the mud still slick beneath you, you don't trust yourself not to simply slip over as soon as you attempt to get up.

Your audience continues to observe closely whilst you stick your residual limb into the socket and wriggle it around, ensuring the pin hasn't come loose in its journey from the beach back to you.

Once satisfied, you plant your feet against the ground and try to rise, but almost instantly, you realise it'll be a little more tricky than you first anticipated.

Your shoes slide jarringly across the wet grass as you try to gather purchase.

“Dammit,” you curse, making a second attempt, failing to notice the mers raising their heads to look at one another. You only realise they've moved when they both utter some kind of warbling croon, drawing your attention up to find them once again engaged in a back and forth of watery sounds that you have no hope of ever learning to decipher.

For a moment, the pace of your heart quickens slightly, wondering if, by some miracle, they understood you earlier and they're about to depart.

But that brief hope is extinguished almost a second later.

With no prior warning, the blue mer dips its head in the eerily human gesture of a nod before it returns its focus to you, shifting onto one elbow and reaching a mammoth hand out towards you.

“Woah, woah, wait! Hang on!” you blurt, waving your arms about as if you could deter it, but your efforts are all for nought.

Scrambling backwards only gets you a few inches of distance before you're promptly scooped up by smooth, cautious fingers and gently tilted sideways until you find yourself nestled safely within the cup of its palm.

Disoriented, you throw out a hand to grasp the creature's immense thumb and hold yourself steady, giving your head a rough shake to dislodge the hair plastered to your forehead.

No sooner have your regained your bearings than a soft pressure lands upon the crown of your head, pushing a yelp out of you at the jarring presence.

You instantly try to duck away from the pressure, lifting your hands to shove against cool skin, but it only follows your head down, nudging persistently into your hair.

“Hey-!” you start to complain, only to stuff your lips together and screw your face up when, of all things, the mer drags its entire, pale cheek across your nose and mouth.

Cracking open your eyes, you have to slam them shut again because the leviathan turns its head and slides its opposite cheek back across your face once more, further baffling you with the seemingly innocuous yet undeniably bizarre behaviour.

What in God's name is it doing?

Gasping out a breath, you're only slightly relieved when the mer lowers its attention and begins to nose at your chest instead, bowling you over onto your back as it rubs its chin very deliberately over the top of your leg and prosthetic.

“Gah! Stop that!” you complain, rolling over onto your stomach in an effort to escape the unwarranted attention, yet all this accomplishes is presenting your back to the mer, who wastes no time in giving this side of you the same treatment. A wheezing breath is pushed out of you as it squashes its cheek into your spine, and – to your mortification – starts to nuzzle into the fabric of your wax coat.

“Come on, man,” you whinge and reach out to grab at the webbing between its fingers, hoping to pull yourself away from the uncomfortable weight on your back, “You're gonna make me stink of fish!”

Just then, you pause, raising your head and squinting in disbelief through the mer's digits at the cottage, and the other behemoth lumbering towards it.

“What the-!? What the Hell are you doing!?”

Trapped by the face of the giant behind you, you're helpless but to watch on in disgruntled bemusement as the sunny mer flops its way right up to your grandfather's cottage and promptly drags the length of its body along the crumbling, eastern wall, not unlike a giant, slippery cat rubbing itself fondly between the ankles of its owner.

Lacking any apparent shame, it circles the cottage slowly, hauling itself along on its arms and exposing each wall to a rough scrape. You grimace when the poor, old stone creaks and groans in protest.

Struggling to raise yourself onto your hands and knees, you aim a shout at the yellow beast, trying to hear yourself think over the sudden croon of the mer nosing at the back of your neck.

“Oh, great! That's just great!” you yell, “Now the whole place is gonna reek of you guys! Do you mind!?”

Completing one, full circle of the cottage, the sun-faced giant finally peels itself from the walls and replies to you with a shake of its fins, slapping its fluke against the ground and giving you a smile that makes it look entirely too pleased with itself for your liking.

As if in response to your grumbling, a slick, wet tongue laps gingerly over the seam where your prosthetic is attached to your stump, pulling a shrill squeal from your lungs.

Indignant, you whip yourself over onto your back and address the enormous face hovering over you, jabbing a shaking finger at it and hollering, “All right! Enough! Put me down this instant!”

Slitted nostrils suck the air from around your head as the mer gives you a good, long sniff before, at long last, it obliges, though you imagine this is due to mere coincidence rather than any acknowledgement of your squeaky demand.

Still, it seems this mortifying and undignified ordeal might finally be coming to an end as you're lowered to the back step of the cottage and tilted gingerly from the behemoth's palm.

Back on solid ground, you stumble away from the hand, uttering a belated, "Thank you," and letting your spine hit the doorknob.

You were right. The entire house and your clothes are now saturated with the salty stench of the sea with a rather unpleasant, fishy undertone. You can only hope this rain will wash off the worst of the smell.

The dinky, little shower at the back of the cottage is suddenly seeming more and more like a good idea, and you're reminded of just how long it's been since you had a good, long scrub.

Sighing rigidly, you aim a hesitant glare between each of the giants, fumbling with the doorknob and twisting it open, kicking the door inwards with the back of your heel. “Right... This has been...” You hesitate, trying to find an adequate word to sum up the entire experience. Eventually, you can only settle on, “Weird.”

It isn't a lie. Not entirely. Terrifying would be another word you'd use.

“Thank you for bringing me back,” you add, nodding at the blue mer before flicking a quick smile at the yellow one, “And thanks for returning my prosthetic.”

The pair of them seem to preen, either because they've earned your attention, or because they can at least comprehend a word of gratitude when they hear it.

With slow, shuffling steps, you edge backwards through the threshold of the cottage, keeping your eyes trained on the giants outside. “Now... Uh, go... go home,” you tell them, once again pointing out at the sea beyond the cliffs.

They don't follow the line of your arm this time, apparently far more interested in keeping their eyes glued on your face, so you drop your limb to your side and take another step, grabbing the edge of the door as you pass.

It's odd. You actually feel awkward closing the entrance on them, especially given that they're still staring down at you in total silence, their fins pricked to attention as if they expect you to continue engaging with them in some undisclosed way.

Swallowing thickly, you offer one last, uncertain smile that comes and goes as swiftly as a blink, and at last, you close the door, listening to the subtle 'click' of the latch sliding into place.

Spinning around, you let your back thud into the wood behind you, sagging like a deflated balloon.

Being inside, unable to see the marine giants, your brain starts trying to convince you that they hadn't even been real in the first place.

Out of sight, and all that.

But as you shuffle unsteadily to the bathroom at the back of the cottage and pass by a window on your way, you happen to glance through a gap in the curtains and catch sight of a single, enormous red eye peering in at you.

“Okay,” you mutter to yourself, reaching out a shaky hand and tugging the curtains closed, “Where the hell did granddad keep the towels...”

#fnaf #Mermay #Sunnydrop #Moondrop #Daycare attendant #daycare attendant x y/n #reader #giant merman #g/t #gentle giants #Moon: We're going to make you and your nest smell like us #Moon: So everyone will know you're part of our territory #Y/n: I need to shower this smell off immediately #Moon: Wait

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eshasunrise · 1 month

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Deepsea Glass

This is a pre-Splatoon fan fic that takes place in Alterna, days before its destruction.

Selena (Saline, moon) is an analogue for Marina

Kohime (little princess) is an analogue for Pearl

Inspired by the squid ink panels reflecting the desires of humanity.

Read below the cut.

Selena wanted to bash her head against the wall. She was the project lead in Alterna's delusional corporate suicide cult. Sorry, she meant 'Happiness Research Lab', a once important figure in maintaining Alterna's long-term survival, now a haven for madmen demanding humanity return to the irradiated, flooded surface.

Her job was to figure out the logistics of building, and launching, a rocket from deep beneath the sea and into the Earth's soil. Needless to say, all calculations show the probability of successfully launching a rocket deep underwater was literally, no smudging the numbers, 0%. And that's ignoring the readings showing that the surface is still flooded, irradiated, and over 15 degrees hotter than is ideal for agriculture, let alone maintaining human life. And THAT is ignoring the fact that the force of the rocket would fracture the stone of the cavern in which the population is maintained, assuming the psychic backlash of every neuroLCD panel suddenly exploding from energy overload wouldn't kill the population outright.

So obviously, the higher-ups appealed to reason. Or not. Instead, they scrapped the research to start building the rocket. Needless to say, it was now up to Selena to build an anti-gravity device which could withstand the water pressure while her roommate and boss, Kohime, tried desperately to get the company to stop.

It had barely been 60 years since Alterna was finished and colonized, and yet already people were demanding the impossible. Small crowds creating conspiracy theories about the land being just outside the walls, as opposed to the waterlogged crag of the flooded cavern that you can very clearly see if you just switched off one of the panels.

Selena needed a break. She decided, if her job wasn't going to listen to her findings, then she wasn't going to bother staying the full day. Clearly she wasn't alone in this thought, as when she approached the door, she caught her roommate standing outside on her phone. Selena's own phone pinged a notification right as she opened the glass door, greeting the shorter woman's slightly embarrassed face. That didn't last long however, as she begun to speak:

"Oh good. I just texted you." Kohime said. "You wanna head out early?"

"Absolutely." Replied Selena. She was glad that she was living with somebody who had some sense. The two of them grabbed a frozen tofu desert on the way home (most of the non-seafood was tofu, as it was one of the few crops to easily grow down here), and Kohime began to complain.

"Every day. Every goddamn day, these fucking bastards keep fucking ignoring me! 'Oh look, the princess is mad again' like, no shit? I'm trying to keep you alive! I don't care if the goddamn escapists are profitable, we aren't here to make a profit! We need to focus on the future! Making sure there's a planet to live on, not running to our death as fast as possible! What are we, fish to an angler?!"

Selena sighed in agreement. She had nothing to add, as everything she would say has already been said. Instead, she half-listened to her best friend's impatient ramblings while thinking of how to cheer her up later. There was that one project...

"Hey Kohime." Selena interjected. "You remember that old shark movie we watched the other day?"

"Oh yeah, Jaws, right? You wanna watch it again?" Kohime responded.

"We could, but first there's something I want to show you."

Kohime's attention was peaked right as they got home. From the table in the back, Selena grabbed an audio device.

"I came up with this song while thinking of that movie."

"Oh, fresh! Lemme hear!" Kohime slipped the speaker cuff over her left ear. From it emitted a steady, slightly modern approximation of the shrine music her grandmother would play for her. It was a curious sound, but she couldn't figure out what it had to do with...

"Wait a sec. The chorus, is that-?"

A slightly mischievous grin snuck up on Selena's face, "yup. That was made using the two note progression from the really tense scenes!"

Kohime's face lit up like the midday skylight. "That's hilarious AND awesome! Only you could come up with something so crazy, I love it!" A giggle pushes her face into childish glee, while Selena turned to grab something else, hiding her guilty smile.

It's been twelve years now, but she still couldn't get over that phrase from Kohime. 'I love'. It makes her uneasy every time.

"You wanna watch another movie?" Selena asked, "I found another Jaws movie, although I think it's the third one. Don't know if there's a two we're missing."

"Oh hell yeah! Pop it in!"

An hour later, and Selena was thoroughly bored. This was definitely a sequel to the first movie she saw, but it felt half-hearted and phony, like the corporate slogans she had to write for every apartment and street corner back at her old job.

"Are you watching this?" She asked the small woman beside her. No answer. Her roommate had fallen fast asleep, clearly as bored as she was, and had let her head fall against Selena's shoulder as she dozed.

Selena felt a pang in her chest. A muddy feeling that followed every bit of affection Kohime had given her. She stayed like this however, in part to let her old friend rest from the nightmarish days they've had, and in part for the comfort she has in knowing Kohime would always be beside her, ready to take on the world, which day by day became increasingly relevant.

Selena slowly nodded off herself.

That night, an exhausting dream filled her mind. In it, she was swimming up waterfall after waterfall. She strained against the crashing current, believing that soon, she would find rest. But no rest would come. At the final hurdle, the last jump, she dove straight into the maw of a hungry bear, wearing the Alterna logo on it's forehead, and announcing her retirement.

Selena woke with a start. It was midnight, and she felt dumb for being stressed about such a wild dream. She didn't question why she had it though. She had been working too hard for too little. The research she conducted, the machines she built, all wasted on projects that would kill her led by people who would never listen. She needed to quit. She could do so easily in fact. Sleeping in her lap, having moved herself in her sleep, was the very person she worked under. All she would have to do is wake her and tell her she couldn't work there anymore.

And leave Kohime to fight alone.

Selena let her head fall back onto the couch cushion. She would work tomorrow, if for no other reason than to ease her guilty conscience. To make sure some semblance of sanity stayed in this broken order, just because she knows Kohime would never stop fighting. She's always been bull-headed, and they needed that now more than ever.

"It's is time for your shift at the Happiness Research Facility, Citizen 2117: Assistant Director KOHIME.

It is time for your shift at the Happiness Research Facility, Citizen 2224: Project Manager SELENA.

Have a productive day."

Selena's second waking was a slow groggy ordeal. She had barely gotten back to sleep, and it feels like she just had that nightmare. Clearly some time has passed, as Kohime was sitting next to her. Unusually though, she wasn't dressed yet. Instead, she had an uncharacteristically uneasy glower in her face.

"Oh, you're up." Selena noted.

A long, heavy silence dulled the air at her voice. Kohime continued to stare, pressure rising from her sleep-matted hair. Eventually, she spoke:

"Selena."

At her word, a deafening pause filled the room.

"Do you ever feel like...something big is coming? Like..."

"The end of the world?" Selena finished her thought. "Of course. Every day. It bears down like an ocean of pressure every time I have to think about that goddamn rocket."

"Exactly!" The smaller woman replied "it all feels like we're marching into the end, all over some vague dream!" Tension filled her voice. She lacked energy, however. Selena took notice and pressed the back of her hand to Kohime's forehead.

"! W- what are you doing?" Kohime was flustered.

"You're overheated." Selena spoke.

"Well, that's 'cause you-"

"No, I mean actually" she wouldn't let Kohime finish. Now wasn't the time. "You're getting sick. R.C.A.?"

Selena called to the AI transcriber installed as living assistance. "Contact the HRF. We're taking today off."

"Very well." The voice responded.

Kohime protested: "No! Without us, who knows what those idiots will do?!"

Selena was worried of course, but she wasn't going to let her friend suffer. "How smart do you think they actually are. The lunatics wanna fire a rocket in a closed cave, through the ocean. You think they can think through the logistics without us?" She prattled, hoping she was right. It was her last hope at this point.

"..."

"Come on. You need to rest, and they'll never figure out how to actually build a rocket in the few days we'd be gone. Plus when we get back, you can rub the fact that you were right in their faces."

Kohime couldn't help but laugh at that. "As if. They're heads would be so far up their asses, they wouldn't be able to hear me." She joked, coughing near the end of her sentence.

Selena chuckled back, "in that case, I'll build you a megaphone. Nobody'd be able to ignore you then. Better yet, I'll build a bomb-"

"Okay, stop right there crazy lady. Don't give R.C.A. the wrong idea. Plus, that'd totally defeat the purpose of stopping the rocket in the first place."

The two joked like that for a few more minutes, until the tension left Kohime's shoulders, and she nodded off again.

It would take a week before Kohime would recover. The anxiety from the escape project pushing them to the boiling point. It was only at the end of that week when she had rested enough to feel like working again, and scheduled their shifts for the next day.

When Selena woke, from her bed this time, to the work day she'd been dreading, she noticed that Kohime had already left. Nothing unusual there. She was always a bit of a workaholic, and the praise helped feed her ego. Selena would finish her breakfast before heading out.

Upon opening the front door, however, she was blinded by a scorching white light. The skylight above them was in overdrive, forcing her eyes down. On the porch, collapsed to her knees, eyes wide despite the overbearing light above, was Kohime. Her face was filled with fear as defeat killed what little hope had remained.

Fearfully checking her friends help, Selena would follow her unbroken stare to the neuroLCD panel on the West edge. There, where once was the image of a field with sparse green trees, now stood the image of a white rocket ship, repeating down the walls. The grass, which once had a photo-like quality, now rustled as if blown by the wind. Sparse depictions of clouds were circling the blinding sun.

To any other, it would be an echo of their deep-seated desire to reach the upper world. To the two women here, however, it was a monument to their failure.

Selene rushed to the far moat, from the shore of which she grabbed a raft, unconcerned with ownership. Kohime followed behind, having barely broken from her stupor, and praying her closest could find a miracle. The datapad Selene brought was connected to a terminal on the wall. The screen behind it flickered off, exposing behind it the rocket they had lobbied so hard against, somehow completed.

Selene swallowed her fear as the datapad downloaded the Alterna Logs only people from the Happiness Research Facility has access to. The log read as follows:

HRFLog004.02: The Divide

As humanity began it's foolhardy errand to escape their salvation, a small group of resisters, lead by those scientists from the first generation, had resisted the change.

Amongst these were two high-ranking officials who had researched the surface, and concluded escape would doom humanity. These two would be the head speakers, and last bastions, of the Preservationists.

Rather than heed their warnings, those who profited from the Escapist movement would instead sabotage the resistance, slipping a mild poison into one researcher's water.

With the voice of opposition in recovery, the Preservationists were left without a rallying point, and a new fervor would grip the escapists. Thus, the rocket would be built in record time.

Awaiting further data.

Selena's heart dropped. A deep, fervent rage built in her heart. They had nearly killed her closest friend, over this pipe dream?! They would doom humanity for their pride?!

Her rage was interrupted, however, by a deafening scream of anguish. Having read the report on her own datapad, Kohime collapsed into a ball, shaking the raft beneath them. Selena steadied herself, then crouched to her friend.

"IT'S OVER. ITS THE END OF THE WORLD. WE'RE GONNA DIE..."

She was yelling, but a defeated misery filled her voice. She was not just screaming out of anguish, but because she couldn't find the strength to control her voice. Selena watched in pain as, for the second time ever, she watched her friend's heart break. She grabbed the girl and held her close, ignoring the pain in her ears. She needed to help her, to make her happy. Something to make her smile. Something she...

A familiar tune resonated from the wall behind her. The neuroLCDs picked up on Selena's desire, and reflected a memory of a week ago, the smiling face of her closest friend. The sound that played was the song she wrote, and Kohime took notice. Her crying slowed as she looked towards the reactivated panel. She couldn't help but laugh.

"Look, it's us." She barely managed to croak through tears. She hummed sobbing in a strained voice to the song that played, while holding desperately to Selena's waist.

This brief reprieve would not last. Those other researchers would hear the song, and, seeing the crying girl, wished for her to be happy. The rocket would be starting it's test launch after all. Soon, she could go home.

As the song spread, more and more people would hear it, carrying with it the image of the surface and the big white rocket. Soon, people began to sing along, making up lyrics that blurred together, as an anthem to the freedom they strived towards. All the while, the woman who wrote the song wondered how her feelings were strong enough to override the panel.

She wouldn't have long to wonder, though, as the nearest panel changed again, this time to a scene all too familiar. A scene she had avoided for so long. As it played, the sobbing in her arms changed to a wretched scream.

At once, two voices spoke. The same person twice, one screaming to a world that would not hear, the other whispering to her closest friend, who alone would listen to her once and once again.

"Selena"

"HOW DARE YOU"

"Is it alright if we talked?"

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?!"

"I wanted to get something off my chest..."

"THAT WAS HER SONG"

"It feels like we've known each other forever"

"THAT WAS HER LIFE"

"And I needed to tell you"

"YOU CAN'T TAKE IT FROM HER"

"Just how important you are to me."

"YOU CAN'T TAKE IT FROM US"

"Selena"

"ALL OF YOU"

"I love you"

"I HATE YOU"

"I love you so much."

"I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU"

"You don't have to respond"

"YOU SHOULD HAVE LISTENED"

"And I'm sure you don't feel the same way"

"SHE CARED FOR YOU ALL"

"But I wanted to be honest"

"AND YOU BETRAYED HER"

"I've always felt this way"

"I'LL NEVER TRUST YOU AGAIN"

"And maybe, if you're willing"

"YOU ALL GET WHAT YOU DESERVE"

"We could go out some time?"

"FOR KILLING HER!"

A lump held in Selena's throat. She knew what was about to happen. She felt it. She tasted it. Regret boiled in her stomach. And here at the end, she could only manage one more sentence.

"Kohime,"

"Kohime-"

Behind the wall, the rocket's thrusters burst to life.

"I'm sorry."

At her final word, the pain of her closest friend before her once and once again, the wall cracked. The crying smile shattered into a thousand pieces, lacerating the overflowing wrath. Selena tried to hold onto Kohime's dying body, but was pushed back by the torrent erupting from the wall in front of her.

As Selena fell deeper and deeper beneath the flooding water, shards of neuroLCD shone around her. In each reflected the memories that replayed in her mind. Not the plans to maintain Alterna, and not the speeches she gave to the reckless businessmen that doomed them.

Her memories were of the happy times. The days in University she spent learning. The machines she managed to make float in the air. The simple Japanese style tune she composed from the Jaws theme. The grin on Kohime's face when she showed her.

The times she and Kohime would complain about work. The praise she received when Kohime was in charge. The sleeping face of Kohime resting her head on her shoulder. The day Kohime confessed, and how she stayed beside her despite rejection.

Selena scolded herself as air left her lungs. She should have spent more time with Kohime. She should have done what she could to make her happy. She should have humored her, just to see her smile one more time. She should have loved her.

Oh.

She already loved her.

Selena's thoughts were clear in her final moments. She already loved Kohime. She had spent her life seeking that attention, that love, which was always reciprocated, and she never paid it any mind, taking for granted the bond they had shared.

Warm tears of regret mixed with the bloody seawater, as Selena's thoughts betrayed her feelings. Her love. Her fear. Her shame. Reflected in the shards of the neuroLCD, her memories changed to the visage of Kohime. Her smiles, her rage, her sadness, her love. All surrounding her in the deep dark ocean. Even as her sight went dark and her thoughts slowed, all she could see was Kohime's proud, loving face, smiling back at her, as if everything would be alright.

She should have loved her.

She should have...

Tens of thousands of years later, a young woman, barely 18, nervously approached the loud stranger on Mt. Nantai. Just a few months earlier, she had defected from the army she was raised by, inspired by a strange song she had heard. A simple, repetitive shrine song performed by enemy mercenaries. One which filled her with fear, love, and a dream of freedom. One which, two days earlier, she heard screamed from the other side of the mountain, as if sung by a particularly skilled jet turbine.

Five years after, at the height of her career, Marina Ida ducks backstage at the end of her band's world tour. At her side, marches the proud woman who found her, one Pearl Houzuki.

The small woman looks back at her, and flashes a proud grin, as if telling her that everything would be alright. At this, only one thought echoed in Marina's head.

I love her.

#Splatoon #Off the Hook #Pearl #Marina #Pearlina #Alterna #O.R.C.A #fanfic #Selena #Kohime #Blood #death #suicide mention #tragedy #romance #sci fi #I don't have an ao3 yet

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best-underrated-anime · 6 months

Text

Best Underrated Anime Group E Round 1: #E8 vs #E1

#E8: Lesbian vampire & human go on road trip to escape the horrors

In a bleak world where music is banned and Vampires have emerged at the top of the food chain, a girl named Momo breaks past the barrier and connects with Fine, queen of the Vampires, and the two journey to find a safe haven where their races can co-exist.

#E1: Modern people transmigrate* to ancient Chinese fantasy world (BL)

People from the modern world transmigrating into the ancient fantasy world has become a common and everyday occurrence that the royal court in the latter has decided to moderate them. If you’re a transmigrator, you must report your existence to Lou Zhu, the master of Best Tower. Once you pass his test and prove that you are indeed a modern person, you can then be assigned to work in different areas of the government and be given a high salary.

Because of this promised benefit, many impostors have showed up before Lou Zhu. And one day, Zuo Yunqi shows up for this test. Is he an impostor, or is he an actual modern person?

But some transmigrators also choose to hide their existence out of distrust in the government. Where are they? And with their knowledge of science and technology, what are they planning in the dark?

*Transmigration = similar to isekai, but the world where the characters get isekai’d to is not always a western fantasy type.

Titles, propagandas, trailers, and poll under the cut!

#E8: Vampire in the Garden

youtube

Propaganda:

This anime came out a year ago, but I literally never heard of it until earlier this summer because Netflix had it. You guys are SLEEPING on such a good series—it’s 6 episodes so it’s short, but it feels like a whole single film. The voice acting is so fun, the music slaps, the animation goes HARD during fight scenes, and it’s just so so good. The art style is pretty, and the scenery makes me lose my mind, it’s SO pretty. I need to write an essay one day about how VitG uses music to carry the story because wow that is 🛐🛐🛐 Also there’s a goofy looking dog named Connie that continuously appears and serves no purpose in the plot. Love that

Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore, Racism, Self-Harm.

Child abuse & emotional abuse for Momo’s complicated relationship with her mother. Also emotional abuse for Fine’s past traumas and current strained relationship with other vampires.

This is a vampire anime, so there’s a lot of blood and fighting. There’s also a drug introduced in ep1 that mutates a vampire horribly.

Racism is human-versus-vampire shenanigans.

Self-harm for a scene where a human attempts to feed a vampire and for drug usage as mentioned above.

#E1: Are You Ok (You Yao)

[Admin: I could not find a single trailer of season 1 w/ English subs, and its OP seems to have been taken down on YouTube since Iqiyi, its producer (?), started their own channel. As such, I’ve cut a small portion of S1E01 instead, featuring the test the transmigrators have to take.]

Propaganda:

This donghua (Chinese anime) is based on a comedy novel with the same title, and the adaptation is just stellar. Instead of showing each character’s story separately like in the novel, the donghua combined everything. Because of this, there’s more focus on the plotty and political mystery aspect—but without losing the heart of the original. The entire show is still just as hilarious.

And for an adaptation with several original characters, for once I actually don’t mind it. I usually find such additions annoying, but in this show they really serve a purpose and also add to the enjoyment.

I also like the choice of animating it in 3D, like the one in video games. It fits the “transmigrate into a fantasy world” setting well. The donghua also plays around a lot. In one episode, they had one character sing and dance like in a musical, with the beginning of the song sounding like “Do you wanna build a snowman?” from Frozen 😂

Moreover, this is a Boys Love story, and with more than one couple, too! The secondary couple (Zhou Rongqi and Li Ke) even gets a very gay ending song that’s all about them. But since this show is from China, where censorship rules are strict, don’t expect anything explicit. Just think of it as another shounen with homoerotic undertones, except the homo is actually canon.

All in all, it’s a very fun show that doesn’t lack in depth. If you’re in the mood for something light but don’t want to miss out on plot, you should definitely watch this. And if you’ve never watched a donghua before, then you’ll definitely find this fresh and intriguing.

Trigger Warnings: None.

If you’re reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

#anime #donghua #best underrated anime #polls #poll tournament #tournament #anime tournament #animation #animated show #group stage #group stage round 1 #tournament polls #chinese anime #vampire in the garden #are you ok #you yao #group e

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heliianth · 5 months

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actually bc im never gonna shut up abt it while im still on this im gonna ramble abt botw and totk and maybe how i wouldve written a sequel . & i will pay u money to listen i promise

my favoritest of totks ideas are what it expands from botw. botws whole atmosphere is drowned in quiet mourning. something bad has happened but it was a long time ago. it still hurts but theres nothing to be done now but move forward. something is still missing but all you can do is find something else. nobody has resources to rebuild and you can hear deafening echoes of better times but the alternative is giving up. you are in this frozen state of not quite moving on and not quite in despair. like the numbness stage of grief. and the pivotal element of all of that is that link is alone. like, oppressively alone. its the primary vehicle of conveying this mood. and its interesting because this can be read not only as what link is experiencing through the player but what zelda is feeling as she holds back ganon. its an interesting contrast to have zelda mature faster than link in the flashbacks, only for link to pull her the rest of the way by growing himself

and the reason why i so strongly adore the light dragon aspect of the plot is because it shows how attached to everything zelda has gotten. arguably, zelda held back ganon in botw because she loved link. in totk, she becomes the light dragon because she loves hyrule, which had previously been so unimaginably cruel to her. the crux of her character is learning that attachment is good. loving is good. you deserve to leave an imprint on the world in a shape of Your choosing instead of being another factory print on a paper. on a surface level, shes making the same choice, but the motivation and growth behind it is really powerful

i could waffle for literally ever about all that and the point is that totk takes these ideas and implements them really well through in-game worldbuilding and specifically zelda turning into the light dragon. i would occasionally get extremely emotional just seeing how things have expanded because it feels like the world is finally moving on. theres a catharsis in seeing hyrule finally heal after knowing its desolation so intimately, especially because the state of the land itself is such a strong parallel to the arcs of the two main characters, so you get the sense that not only can people move on, link and zelda specifically have started to as well. thats my favorite part

thats why i think its an odd choice that they decided on a time travel plot. if zelda HAS to be the one getting saved, if she cant be a companion in some way either via sheikah facetime or spirit tracks shenanigans or whatever, there are lots of ways to do this without her being magic fruit snacked ten bajillion years into the past. why spend all this effort intertwining her and link with the land, only to remove her from the equation and have no further growth? in botw its understandable that hyrule is stagnant and only changes when link does because zelda is stagnant and link is doing the one changing during the game. in totk its the opposite. there are lots of ways to do this with out Having to play as zelda (though honestly that would be the way id go about it)

also a lot of my own ideas have to do with the wasted potential of a place like the depths???? what the hell do you mean theres this mind bogglingly big cavern underneath the entirety of hyrule which mysterious people used to live in and it has almost no story relevance beside being a cool setpiece???????? I FEEL INSANE?!?!??!?!? there are so many good ideas in totk that never get expanded dude FUCK

i think no matter how much i speculate and draft my own preferences of how i wouldve liked totk to elaborate on the things it introduces i cant ever bring myself to present them like they couldve realistically happened and gotten thru the nintendo writing room simply bc of the games format. if it were up to me doing certain story missions would radically change the open world as events happened in real time and thats not the MO of the game's design philosophy. honestly totk's biggest enemy is the memory system and i need to kill it with fire

#for all im talking abt it i dont actually know how i would implement the light dragon twist in my own version of the story #in a way that would preserve that surge of emotion u get upon realizing who she is and get rid of the needlessly convoluted time travel #my first thought is that it happens in the depths and the connection is disguised by red herrings #and similarly to the light dragon breaking the cloud barrier it breaks areas of the depths open #so theres prophecies and literature about the light dragon or whatever down there that leads the player to believe that shes just-#-like farosh naydra and dinraal. that the depths is just where she hangs out #and she doesnt have a unique name like them because of a language barrier #heliichats #tloz

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felikatze · 21 days

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Hi, this is your ticket to infodump about isat/fe aus.

whehe. wheh. wawawawa. (i start vibrating)

i dont know how much i've posted abt my thoughts vs how much i just monologued to various people on discord (hello and thank you to pix, alice, and lozy (i think i also monologued to riu once? hi riu)) but you can find all (most?) of the stuff tagged under "isat emblem" on my art blog

ANYWAY. SO. I'M NOW TALKING ABOUT THE UHH. fourth. isat/fe crossover i have, which is the "what if isat ran on FE lore" one, instead of any roleswap or isekai shenanigans.

i'm looking you straight in the eye. look at me. listen to me. the forgotten island is Valla. It's literally just Valla.

FULL GAME SPOILERSSSS riu don't look at this.

ok. listen

you cannot say its name. if you say its name, you fucking die

people from valla cannot share that they are from valla, making them simply foreigners from "somewhere else"

the disappearance of valla seems to be recent, yet nobody besides people from it have any memories of it

it still physically exists, but is generally impossible to access

associated with water-based enemies that attack anybody yet also represent the regrets of its people

IT'S JUST VALLA, YALL

THE VALLA ZOMBIES ARE IF SADNESSES WERE ACTUALLY DEAD PEOPLE.

so. you may have already seen my Manakete Siffrin, but it is needless to say, i took a FUCKTON of cues from corrin for this. this entire AU is generally very fates adjacent. with some engage in it, for flavor.

Manakete Siffrin is so tasty. Please also look at Pix's dragon sif AU because this is VERY MUCH the exact same flavor because me and Pix were just on the same brainwave i guess.

In this Au, Siffrin is a dragon (silent dragon or divine dragon, either works). And the dragons lived on the island, but the island disappeared. Because dragons were so deeply associated with this place, knowledge of dragons disappeared, as well, outside of perhaps the occasional myth. (Imagine Sif being told "Dragons aren't real, silly!" man.)

Siffrin is a dragon, and fucking forgot about it. All they know is that they are Different. But not how. Or why. Imagine.

Imagine, as the loops progress, Siffrin grows stronger not through training, but through learning how strong they already were. That there are claws beneath the gloves, that they can see in the dark, that if they focus just right, they can breathe fire.

Imagine, for me, Siffrin learning they are not human. They are Other. They are a Myth. And how this plays perfectly into Siffrin's increased alianation from the party, and Siffrin's growing belief that they are a monster, and that if this is ever discovered, his friends will leave him.

If you want to bring my wolfskin Isabeau into this. I already mentioned it briefly but. Isabeau is also not human but he is In Control of it. He makes it palatable. People know what beastfolk are, they're documented in Vaugarde, I'd imagine that there's one or two frozen around the House. They are a Known Quantity. Even compared to the nonhuman, Siffrin is Other, is a Beast, and he can feel his control slipping. Compared to Isabeau, he is a feral animal. (Or, at least, they believe they are.)

Augrh. Okay.

Also. Lizard Loop. Ok.

UM. SO. I mentioned Engage, so. EMBLEMS!! This Au actually has Emblems in it. See, on the island where the dragons lived, the Emblems lived as well. And people prayed to the Emblems, to the heroes from the countless stars, to the heroes sent by the universe to guide them. Only the dragons could summon Emblems, but they could grant favor to anyone. And if all Emblems came together, they could rewrite the Universe itself.

The Emblems knew this.

And thus, when the Emblems came togehter, they wished to be forgotten. The place where they dwelled, and the people that worshipped them... were casualties of an ill-fated wish, to seal away this catastrophic power.

Yup, I made Wish Craft emblem flavored!! Because man. It's literally "prayer incantation". Divine Dragons draw power from Emblems through Prayer, through belief, and Fell Dragons draw power from Emblems through Incantation, through ritual. And the most powerful of all is combining the two. IT'S WISH CRAFT RULES, YALL.

So so, the concept of Emblems also got forgotten, but the main wish just erased the Emblems as people. That's why Sif and Co could find out about Emblems as the story progresses, same way in canon they can find out about Wish Craft.

Because I love suffering, I'd say. Instead of a Silver Coin, Siffrin has a silver ring, instead. It's just a plain band that's been around their finger for forever. It's not special at all.

....or is it?

...sometimes, Siffrin manages to rememeber a friend. Only for brief moments. When Siffrin does Mirabelle's hair, he wonders how he knows to work with kinky hair. When they eat the fish head, they reminisce that someone else liked it..... and then they forget again.

In this AU, that friend was an Emblem. That was Siffrin's Marth. But they're gone. That ring is empty.

....or is it?

hihi.

About Loop.

I think this was Lozy's suggestion, but. Loop is an Emblem. Loop wasnt always an Emblem, but Engage shows how people can become Emblems, yeah. So, Loop is a spirit from another world, sent by the Universe to guide this one. Loop is bound to their own ring, though neither of them realize. When an Emblem is asked for power through incantation, they cannot refuse. Siffrin's wish causes the timeloop by calling upon the power of the dormant Emblem they carry, which is Loop.

(How did Loop cause their own loops? Well, it was still an Emblem, even before Loop was in it. Who was it? Well, I don't know, and that's the pain, isn't it?)

Also I think it'd be really cool if Big Sif isn't just, Sif fully transforms into a dragon (which is already cool as hell) but also like. Siffrin manages to Engage with their Emblem. And after that, the Emblem is well and truly gone, for good. It just said goodbye for the last time.

And ofc Act 6 when Loop disappears, Siffrin picks up the ring that houses them in the hopes Loop will awaken one day. Yeah.

UM. CHARACTERS BESIDES SIFFRIN!!

I've mentioned this in my FE6/ISAT parallels posting but Mirabelle is so lord-coded. Specifically the Roy-flavor of "just some guy" lord. She wasn't chosen for this she just happened to be here. SHE EVEN HAS A RAPIER!!! AND AN UNAVAILABLE MENTOR!!!

Listen to me she's so so so Roy-coded MIRABELLE IS A FIRE EMBLEM LORD.

Ok. Ok.

I think it'd be really funny if Odile was just straight up from Hoshido. It would work. I don't want to change Vaugarde to a FE country because the culture is just too unique for any straight equivalent, but the other countries with less detail work. (Puts Odile in Onmyoji because she's a magic class 100%)

Bonnie's class is actually Transporter. Lozy suggested "Aptitude Villager" but i feel we need to keep the spirit of "Do not Attack The Child". So Bonnie is the Elibe-exclusive Cannot Die Items Holder class. It even works with Bonnie's potshots that Merlinus (the only transporter in the whole entire FE series) gets daggers in Heroes, which is the debuff support weapon.

Bonnie chucking holy water from the back of a horse. Thank u. That is all.

Um yeah. So that's all (most?) of the FE-flavored ISAT thoughts I have. yeah. Um.

Thank u very much for asking this. I love talking.

#Feli gets asked #in stars and time #isat emblem #isat spoilers

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briarpatch-kids · 6 months

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Hello. Genuine good faith question that you don’t have to answer. I saw lots of the medication as mobility aid drama and I have a question. Are there any medications that could count as a mobility aid? Like I take pain medication and medication that control my tremors and tics which both mean I can walk more does that for the definition of a mobility aid? I asked google google made me more confused.

Have a wonderful night!

Cat as a thank you

No problem! I divide aids into two categories, active and passive. Active aids are things that literally interact with the world, like wheelchairs, sight canes, knee scooters. mobility canes and crutches. These are what I and a lot of other people consider "mobility aids" and some things that aren't traditionally meant for disabled mobility that could become a mobility aid in the right situation like a Segway or hoverboard. (Some people need wheels but can't sit and use them to get around in the world)

Then there are passive aids, like pain medicine, some braces, ear defenders, muscle relaxers, and glasses. These things interact with you verses interacting with the world if that makes sense. Glasses allow you to see an obstacle: a sight cane would physically interact with the obstacle. In the case of medicine, my muscle relaxers allow me to move instead of being frozen in place, but the mobility aid would be what actually gets me around. (My power chair)

Some aids thought as "passive" could become active if they're the right kind though, like my shower chair is also a mobility aid because it's a transport chair that actually rolls me into the shower. My last shower chair, one without wheels, wasn't and I wouldn't consider that a mobility aid.

The categories are more squishy and maliable than rigid and unchanging, but the general rules I use are "if it changes your body so you can interact with the world better, it's a passive aid. If it directly interacts with the world, its an active aid. If it directly interacts with the world AND helps you move through the world, it's a mobility aid.

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thana-topsy · 10 months

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WIP Wednesday!

Tagged by @mareenavee ! Thank you, dear. And I know you tagged many people I might also tag, so I'll try to pick new people.

Tagging @kookaburra1701 @dirty-bosmer @viss-and-pinegar @moriche @expended-sleeper and @skyhon

---

So, I started in on this wip mostly because it was just a scenario that I wanted to see playing out in my brain. Isn't that how all writing begins? I'm not sure where it will go, if it'll ever be its own story, or anything, really. But I'm borrowing muldezgron's One-Eyed Teldryn from this fic, because he and Elanwe technically, exist in the same universe. On a collaborative technicality. Elanwe is from my fic "Hollow Men". And, of course, my unintentional muse, Kordin belongs to DirtyScrolls, who has so graciously given me their blessing to do whatever I want to him lmao. Wip below the cut, plus some art at the end:

“We’ve crossed paths before you know,” Elanwe said without making eye contact. Her gaze remained locked on her half-empty cup of ale. “In Windhelm. The day I–or, at least, I assume that was you. Same armor.”

Teldryn ran his tongue across his teeth then huffed a humorless laugh. “Ah, the mystery of the missing Thalmor prisoner. I was there, yes.” He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “You have quite the memory, sera. My memories from that day are… hazy, at best. Intentionally obscured by my own mind, at worst.” He drummed a finger against his own cup in agitation. “Kordin was… changed after that day. It probably goes unsaid, but he was unused to having his–” The word stuck in his throat, the hand on his knee tightening into an involuntary fist. “–his possessions taken from him.

She seemed to turn pensive, then took a long drink, draining the cup. “Did you know?” she asked sharply. “What he was doing?”

Teldryn waited for her to meet his eye, then nodded. “I believe you know well by now what his preferred type was.”

“I’m gonna need more booze for this conversation,” she said, the skin around her mouth drawn tight, stretching the scar across her lip until it turned pale and bloodless.

“That makes two of us,” Teldryn muttered to himself. “Get me one while you’re up. Greef, though. None of that Nordic swill.”

Elanwe returned with two large bottles of greef, twisting the cork free of one and filling Teldryn’s cup. He offered a soft Dunmeris ‘cheers’ in response before taking a sip, letting the liquid rest against his tongue. He supposed he might as well talk about it. There was no one else to listen, as it stood. No one else who even wanted to, really.

“I was in his service for three years,” he began. “Of course, if I’d known–” Another humorless laugh. “Well, it’s complicated.”

“Hence your prior hesitance to take on a new long-term patron, I take it.”

Teldryn just nodded with a tight smile. “And we don’t have to dance around the subject. I know the way you Altmer are. Yes, he had his way. As often as he could. And I let him.”

Elanwe’s grip around her cup tightened. The soft curve of her lips twisted into a snarl, the corners of her eyes wet. “I wish I could kill him again. I wish–” Her jaw worked around the unsaid words.

“Like I said,” Teldryn continued after a beat of silence. “It was complicated.”

He took a long drink, breathed through his nose, wiped his mouth on his netch leather bracer. Elanwe said nothing, the snarling distaste frozen on her face like a death mask, as if she could transmit the feeling through Teldryn and into the realm of the dead.

Or wherever Kordin was. Teldryn was relatively sure he was in Coldharbour.

“It wasn’t all bad, believe it or not,” he said after her prolonged silence showed no signs of ending. “Unlike your friend, I was not a literal prisoner. I had a modicum of–”

“Bullshit,” Elanwe spat. “I don’t want to hear it. So don’t even start.”

Teldryn managed to keep the surprised look from his face, and instead shrugged as casually as he could manage. “I suppose you’re right. There was always a part of me that hoped he’d… come to his senses, maybe. I was always searching for those moments of empathy. Some hint of regret… Anything.” Teldryn sighed and took another drink. “A fool’s hope. Something in that boy was broken long before he found me. But he was the Dragonborn…” Hollowness settled behind Teldryn’s sternum. “And now he’s dead.”

Another doomed world without a prophet.

And now they're all I can think about... WHOOPS.

#topsy writes #wip wednesday #skyrim fanfiction #skyrim fanart #topsy draws #teldryn sero #oc: elanwe #topsy's ocs

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rayshippouuchiha · 1 year

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SPEAKING OF PSYCHOPATHS

a personal favorite of mine is https://archiveofourown.org/works/30531345

it plays w/ the idea that tsuna might possibly, potentially, maybe a psychopath???? at least in xanxus' pov bcs of his change in outward attitude whenever he goes into his hyper dying will mode unlike most people *cough* basil *cough*

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30561488

same premise but in reborn's pov this time

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29205690

5 times the stress of combat and war woke the god residing in tsuna's head. the last two have MAJOR spoilers from the manga tho so maybe dont read rn but its great pls im obsessed w/ this

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10843146

tsuna collects that cast as his pets! literally!! most of them are animals!! its cute <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10208549

r27 college fake dating au where reborn is the normal one and tsuna and his friends bring the chaos into his life. LET ME SCREAM ABOUT THIS PLEASE ITS SO???? like not only do i LOVE LOVE the kind of progression to their romance but also the found family???? yell heah!!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24756379

UA has to deal w/ these weird people hanging around the mysterious boy frozen in ice in the middle of the school courtyard.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28050993

getting entangled w/ so many crazy people couldve been tsuna's villain origin story, he's too good for that tho (featuring chikusa as tsuna's childhood friend which i really adore for some reason???)

anyway this has become a fic rec ask but instead of just that one fic i got reminded of 😭 but i do hope you enjoy them when you get the time!

!!!!!!

#RayRambles #Fic Rec #KHR #Katekyo Hitman Reborn

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neverlearnedtoread · 3 months

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Spinning Silver

⭐⭐⭐⭐; the staryk king and mirnatius with the word 'wife' on the board: there's only one thing more horrible than a wife.... *rips off paper* MY wife

Oh?? 👌😉😏

women are fucking amazing and wonderful and terrifying and unequivocal badasses. especially to their husbands. it's about the fantasy of a marriage you have no control over being perfectly suited to you in ways you didn't even know it could

inhuman fae creatures that actually have a separate culture and set of rules they are governed by. they're much more powerful than humans, of course, but they are bound to their laws, and if you're smart you can work with that

fairytale-esque magic system that relies heavily on (1) trickery (2) Having Audacity and (3) the rule of threes 😉. we love a soft magic system that rewards big swings and BDE!

not one, but TWO separate arranged marriages engaged in HEATED pvp AKA two people bound in hostile matrimony trying to kill each other while having 'wait, are they hot? fuck!' moments

you can be cold and practical and still be a good person. you can be strong enough to protect yourself without sacrificing others. with a good enough grasp of contracts you can force a demon to leave your kingdom AND husband unharmed in a 2-for-1 deal

No.. ❌🤢🤮

multiple POVs with no names for chapter titles so you have to figure out who it is from context clues - if you're like me and love a little puzzle to go with your reading time, you'll really enjoy it (Novik does it VERY well) but if you get confused easily or don't wanna put in the brainpower its annoying and overly complicated

if you don't like enemies-to-lovers where they actually argue and are ideologically opposed, you're not gonna enjoy the romance subplots. this is not a 'forbidden-lovers' kinda enemies-to-lovers. this is firmly in the 'my husband misses me a lot - but his aim is getting better!' zone

really quick wrap up - it gets tied up a little too fast after the final confrontation with the Big Bad. i wouldve liked at least to have irina POV at the end because her side of things just. gets left hanging

Summary: Miryem is a daughter and granddaughter of moneylenders, and though her father doesn't have the hardheartedness to be a good one, she'd rather be despised for what she's owed than starve. Her knack for the trade, coupled with her sharp tongue, draws the ire of her village, and even more alarmingly, the Staryk's attentions; faerie creatures who only covet gold, they take her offhanded boast that she can turn silver into gold quite literally, and show up at her door to hold her true to her careless words - which, honestly, kind of backfires on them when she rises to the challenge and upends their realm into complete disarray, so maybe there's a lesson there for the next group of nonhumans to learn: don't bet the house against a human girl whose Had Enough Of All This Bullshit. She might win.

Concept: 💭💭💭 I don't know Rumpelstiltskin's story very well, and Ice Kingdom aesthetics aren't my favourite (you can blame it on my residual dislike of Frozen), but I DID read Uprooted before this. I wasn't as into the book blurb as I was with Uprooted, but I'm an experienced (and opinionated) enough reader to know when to trust my gut - if I find an author's writing style easy to read, and I enjoy how they handle their themes, I'm not afraid of diving into deep waters. If it's that bad, I can always DNF

Execution: 💥💥💥💥 As I've come to expect with Novik's writing, a wonderfully easy read; the storytelling voice flows smoothly and makes me want to keep on reading. No slogging through difficult to understand passages and too slow pacing for me! I instantly wanted to collect every POV character like puppies in a basket, no matter how brief their sections were. I will say the ending does forget what it wants to say and simply ends on a happy note, instead of a complete thought. It doesn't tie in the POV characters together strongly enough - I would've loved to see an epilogue scenes with the 3 main female characters supporting each other, or at least being three distinct Bad Bitches!

Personal Enjoyment: ❤❤❤❤❤ Mostly because of Irina and Miryem (and Wanda)'s absolute BDE. They truly brought their stories to life and felt very dynamic, constantly driving the story forward through their actions, especially because their personalities and characteristics were so well-suited to the challenges they faced (Miryem rules-lawyering the Staryk, Irina taking to politics, Wanda keeping faith despite all the shit she's been through). Honorary shoutout to the complete hilarity of Mirnatius's POV (though ultimately it IS more indulgence than necessity, I respect Novik for it) - may he spend the rest of his life desperately drawing his wife in vain search of her bad angles!

Favourite Moment: the running gag of mirnatius losing his fucking mind trying to prove irina isn't hot. you know that post that's like 'find a blorbo to draw and your art skills will start improving so much faster'? irina is his blorbo. special mention of the scene he gets jealous realizing a random guard has a crush on his behated wife and immediately jumps to the conclusion that irina would want to fuck the guard for the sake of the kingdom. babygirl the hoops you are jumping........where is this gymnastics routine even going 😭 this man is not beating the meow meow allegations..

Favourite Character: It's really a tie between Miryem and Irina, who are both so similar yet different at the same time. Miryem's BDE was enjoyably explosive - she throws it in everyone's face, which is perfect to play off of the Staryk's otherworldly impassiveness. Irina's BDE was a lot more...steely. Quietly coming into her own as she realized how adept she was at politics, and how perfectly well-suited that made her to being tsarina - and when they finally met each other? it was so funny when were like 'hey...why dont we kill our husbands via pokemon battle??'

#spinning silver #naomi novik #books #book review #booklover #bookblr #reading #my hot take is that the staryk king is not immune to double dog dares.#staryk king: please stop asking for anything else you have already taken EVERYTHING FROM ME. STOP FUCKING ASKING!#miryem: what are you - scared??#staryk king:#my OTHER hot take is that irina and mirnatius spend the next six months to a year irradiating (pun intended) EVERYONE in their castle with #life-threatening levels of pining angst and UST.#like theyre super into each other (everyone knows. fae living on the moon would know.) but theyre both like 'what if the other person #sees it as pity sex or thinks im just using them???' and instead of talking about it they simply. Dont. for ages #in a distant realm miryem wakes up to another day happily annoying her ice fae husband in new and exciting ways and is like.#'hmmm. somehow i feel like there's a disturbance out there. oh well not my issue'

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vernal-witch · 9 months

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Have you ever read the fancomic "tale of two rulers"? If you have, what do you think of their version of Vaati?

Oh. Oh, I am very sorry for how long this message is about to be, but I've been waiting for an excuse to talk about this. To be completely honest, I'm sick of fanworks that focus only on Vaati's characterization in two small scenes from Four Swords/Four Swords Adventures when Minish Cap is RIGHT THERE and has infinitely more potential for compelling character work. He actually HAS a character in Minish Cap, whereas Four Swords is a glorified tech demo where the Only story is one scene where he kidnaps Zelda to be his bride. And Four Swords Adventures has a story about him kidnapping maidens to sleep with in its intro cutscene-- but it never comes up again after that-- and is heavily implied to be a legend that is not accurate to what was really happening, because you see for yourself that he's Really kidnapping the maidens because they're sages who give Link the power to defeat him. He doesn't even have any dialogue in that game; he's used no differently than any other boss monster. Aside from using his human design from Minish Cap, a lot of these fanworks choose to completely ignore his characterization from that game/manga, even though they have HOURS of content that is SO much more interesting than "evil wizard wants to fuck Zelda". He's clearly an emotional abuse victim at the hands of Ezlo, and has been so ever since he was the same age as Link. He's out on his own for the first time in a world that's literally stepped on him his whole life-- as a late teenager at the absolute oldest-- with godlike power in his hands after a life of being completely powerless. That's why he's so obsessed with the idea of perfecting himself; Ezlo drilled it into him that he had to become a perfect sorcerer, so that's what he's going to do. But he's a KID; he's angry, he's impulsive, he lashes out when someone crosses him even if it wasn't really their fault, and he has breakdowns when things don't go his way. When his first plan to get the Light Force doesn't work, he straight up does not know what to do, and spends the whole game trying to course-correct his mistake and making it SEEM like he knows what he's doing to keep himself from giving up. He clings so desperately to his goal and to his powers because he doesn't want to be controlled by anyone like Ezlo ever again. He'd rather be a monster than a rat in a cage. Tale of Two Rulers-- and other fanworks like it-- could do SO MUCH with that in conjunction with Vaati having been used as a puppet by Ganondorf in Four Swords Adventures! How violated and furious he would feel that, after he finally broke free of his imprisonment after centuries-- probably still a late teenager since he was frozen in time that whole time-- he's right back where he started with being taken advantage of by an older more powerful wizard! What would drive him to willingly work with someone who did that to him? But no, instead we get "he's horny and tries to sleep with every woman he meets". There's nothing WRONG with writing him like that-- people can do whatever they want so long as it's not hurting anyone-- but it's just ALL I SEE from most Vaati fans, and has been ever since the old days on 2012 deviantart. I wish I had the energy and time to do a fanwork myself, because I want so badly for there to be one that does Vaati justice re: his portrayal in Minish Cap. But I just don't have it in me to commit to a project like that when I've got my own videogame to worry about.

#vaati #critique #minish cap

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aloneinthehellfire · 11 months

Text

Chapter 12: Victory

Fortress Of Memories

Word Count: 11.4k (i went all-out for the finale my keyboard is basically smashed to pieces and it's all written in gibberish)

Warnings: swearing, violence, blood, death, lots and lots of tears, trauma, mourning, (there may be more i've missed so pls let me know!)

[A/N: wow. it's been almost two months since i've updated fom and i apologise, i've just been busy with uni work but FINALLY we have the finale. this literally just started out as a blurb i wasn't sure about but all of you lovely people encouraged me to keep going so thank you thank you thank you! this is now my second series i've finished, i'm emotional]

Masterlist

Present Day. Above the Fortress. Upside Down.

Mike wished he could have a fight or flight instinct when he was scared. Literally either would do.

Instead, he stood in paralysed fear at the three-headed beast towering over him, red scaly skin covered in dirt and grime while all six eyes stared down at him, sharp teeth.

The last time he had the courage to fight resulted in his head hitting the wall and almost immediately falling unconscious. And that was just against an angry boy a few years older than him. This was a monster from another dimension that could literally spurt fire.

It didn’t help that his skin was itching, his bandages covering a throbbing scar from his earlier encounter with a Demogorgon. It was a near-death experience that would have been final if Lucas hadn’t managed to distract it. Died, he realised. He almost…

A day earlier. Hawkins Memorial Hospital. Upside Down.

Mike matched his footsteps to Lucas’, keeping his eyes set on the blurry view in front of him, particles of dust clinging to his mask.

Out the corner of his eye, he thought he could see a flash of grey move in the distance, but the dusty storm was just playing tricks on him. His anxiety didn’t let up. Cautiously, he reaches behind him to grab the sharpened metal pole from his back. The action caused his footsteps to lose their rhythm with Lucas’, but only just.

And it cost him.

Suddenly, the metal pole was snatched backwards, his grip leaving him attached and thrown to the ground. Instinctively, he drops the weapon, scrambling to move forward. He was unsuccessful.

A grasp on his foot pulled him further away from his friends, the mask muffling his cries for help as his fingers merely brush against the pole. A giant hand reached down and anchored onto his side, flipping him over until his back hit the ground fast. Mike’s breathing stops.

The Demogorgon uncurls its horrifying mouth, growling down at the boy’s startled body. The pressure of its hand increased as it leans down further to him, Mike struggling to inhale. His eyes widen when the monster raises an arm, flexing its claws.

“NO!” Lucas’ scream echoed from behind him. But it was too late.

A strangled cry leaves Mike’s lips as the goggles are torn from his face, a searing burn of pain spreading across his eye before he passes out completely.

Present Day. Fortress Of Memories.

Lucas and Will almost lose their balance as something heavy lands on the surface, the tunnel walls depositing flutters of dust and unsecured stones. Their breaths were heavy, turning to one another.

“Mike and Dustin.” Will panics, turning back around and scrambling back up the pile of debris.

Lucas is frozen for a moment, eyes still glued to the tunnel in front of him. The wall of rocks that once blocked their path had suddenly disappeared with no explanation, nor any evidence to ever being there in the first place. He had noticed it just as he got to the surface, hearing Will’s footsteps behind him, and expecting Dustin and Mike to follow.

And now, a terrifying roar ripped through the air and he realised his friends had yet again found danger.

They needed him. They needed eachother.

Abandoning the tunnels, he pushes his way onto the surface, rocks sliding down around his feet. The Thessalhydra’s body wasn’t an easy sight to might, a breath caught in his throat as he stands by Will’s side.

“Any chance your superpowers can help us out here?” Lucas suggests, already knowing the answer.

“Look, I know I’ve made a show of it before, but I’m not actually Will the Wise.” Will gulps, frantically searching around for some place for his friends to hide, or any kind of distraction.

Meanwhile, Lucas’ eyes had widened at Will’s words.

It’s just like a campaign.

“Mike!” Lucas stares at him expectantly, and Mike snaps back into focus, narrowing his eyes to see Lucas craning his neck around the thick body of the monster and waiting for some kind of reaction. Mike frowns.

“What the hell are you looking at me for?”

“You’re our Paladin!” Lucas urges, gesturing between him and the Thessalhydra.

Despite the fear of death, Mike found himself slumping his shoulders and taking a deep breath to shout across the patch of land. “DO I LOOK LIKE A PALADIN RIGHT NOW?!”

“Not without a sword.” Dustin mindlessly retorts while still gawking up at the creature above them, threatening fire.

“He needs a sword!” Will’s eyes widen and he rushes off, much to the confusion of his friends.

Managing to keep his balance against the slippery surface of moving rocks beneath his shoes, he sprinted back down the tunnel with haste, eyes darting around in the dark. And then he found it.

Skidding to a halt, he swoops up the sword and almost recoils at its weight, stopping for just a moment to adjust it in his arms. As he does, he drifts his head down to look at the broken body of a skeleton, just laying there among the dirt.

Vecna steps out of the shadows, a murderous glint on his eyes, raising his left arm.

Will didn’t think he had ever screamed louder than he did when a vine shot straight through Mike’s chest, blood pouring from his mouth.

His body falls to the ground, something metallic and shiny clattering beside him. A sword.

Will shook his head furiously, stepping back and regaining his fast strides back to the surface, clinging onto the sharp metal like his life depended on it. Vecna wouldn’t scare him. Not anymore.

“Mike!” Will yells across to him, his friend’s attention turning to him with a frown before his face dropped into something more surprised, focused on the shiny weapon in Will’s arms.

The sword soon floated towards Mike, powered by a boy who was studying it with immense concentration, until it finally dropped onto the ground in front of his worn boots. It was heavy as he grabbed onto the handle and pulled it up, testing the feel of it in his hands. Both gripped onto it as Mike raised his head and looked to his Party.

A Cleric, a Ranger, and a Bard all stared back at their Paladin, worn but ready to fight. The Thessalhydra was baring its ugly teeth, a creature too powerful to be taken down by one man. But they weren’t just one man. They were a Party.

And a Party fights together.

Mike gives the signal and they’re all snapping into action. Lucas loads his crossbow as he and Will run past the monster and towards their friends, Dustin testing the swing of his bat as Mike raised his mighty sword.

“We ready?” Mike asks, glancing between them. The Thessalhydra rips a loud roar from its throat and they all glare up at it.

“Ready.” They reply with steady voices.

They didn’t need to go over a plan. After all, they had defeated it before in their longest campaign. It was as easy as the roll of the dice. Hypothetically.

Just as the Thessalhydra dips the middle head towards them in attempt of attack, an arrow is shot through one if its eyes, causing it to screech in pain. Lucas reloads and aims once again.

As he took care of blinding the thing, Dustin makes his way around the large expanse of a thick flesh of armour, locating its hind legs. And, when it stumbles back from Lucas’ arrows, Dustin strikes the scales with enough malice to slice through the skin of the monster’s ankles, prohibiting it from moving back.

Its wings uncurled from its spine, heads pointed to the sky in attempt to retreat. Until those wings were pinned back down by Will’s stare, a trail of blood staining his top lip.

The three of them were keeping the Thessalhydra in place, over-exerting themselves from the size of it but pushing through the feeling. Lucas glances behind him to see Mike’s gaze focused on the thing’s chest. It was a sure way of striking it down for good… if he could just get up there.

“Catapult!” Dustin instructs, reading the situation perfectly as he drives the nailed bat down again from the prompt of movement.

“Catapult him with what exactly?!” Lucas stresses, dodging the swipe of the creature’s tail and shooting another metal arrow at its left head.

“Will could throw him!” Dustin suggests and Will glares at him.

“I’m a little busy!”

In their debate, Mike claims an advantage point. He runs up the fallen tree trunk, leading him further toward the sky and shouts for his friends’ eyes. Heads whip towards him and they know what they need to do.

Dustin changes course, driving the creature forward as Lucas runs to the right side of the thing to grab its ferocious attention. Will keeps his focus on restricting it to the ground, waiting for Mike’s signal.

One second, then another, and the Thessalhydra is exactly where they want it.

“Now!” Mike shouts, and Will pushes his arms out.

The winged creature is pulled back slightly by the force, trembling under the destruction of the legs it attempt to stand on, and displays its heads to reveal a clear shot of its chest.

Ignoring that beating fear that thrummed in the back of his mind, Mike let his feet take control as he gained momentum, leaping from the high ground with his sword raised above his head. He plunges it straight through the wall of flesh, riding the gravity of the sword splitting open the gut before his feet finally find the ground again.

Lucas and Dustin lunge forward to pull him back as the Thessalhydra screeches against the fatal wound, swaying on unsteady claws before crashing to the ground in a cloud of dust and smoke.

“Holy shit.” Dustin breathes out as the dust settles, revealing a very dead monster.

Mike feels his lips widen to a smile, looking down at the sword that bore the blood of a creature he had just slain.

“Holy shit!” Dustin screams again in glee, practically jumping onto Mike in an attack of a hug.

Mike looks to his friends’ beaming faces, grinning in return as they yell and hug in a fury of celebration. One successful campaign was completed.

And then another arose.

A stomach-churning scream rips through the air and they freeze, eyes wide. It sounded like…

“El.” Mike gasps before they take off in a sprint back down the tunnel, praying they’d make it in time.

Present Day. Inside the Fortress.

“El?!”

It felt like El’s brain was beating against the side of her skull, sending bursts of unwanted reminders that she was alive.

“El!”

Her name was repeated over and over, causing her to flinch from the noise piercing her ears. But she couldn’t move. She tests her left arm. Nothing. Then the right. Still nothing.

“El, wake up!”

Your voice becomes clearer the quicker she reconnects with the world, blinking against blurry vision. There’s a sigh of relief at her acknowledgement, sort of like a sob. El looks down at her body, the putrid sight of slimy vines pinning her against the wall. Her gaze shifts beside her. Your glittering cheeks and blood stained skin stare back as you thrash against the vines. You were both trapped and injured.

El’s small gasp of consciousness had felt like a miracle to you. After Eddie had thrown you against the wall, another wall of debris came crumbling down. The cries and screams of your friends from the other side were now muffled by stone. Eddie had walked away shortly after, disappearing into the shadows.

Instead, he was replaced by something much more sinister.

Once you saw Vecna dragging El’s body across the ground, your blood had frozen solid. Dumping her in front of you, you began screaming and crying, desperately pulling away from the vines that only tightened the more you struggled. Slithering ropes eventually pulled El into the wall beside you, but that fear that Vecna had killed her remained until she finally answered your prayers.

“Glad you could finally join us”

Vecna’s growl triggered a switch in El’s brain, the girl suddenly straightening her body and clenching her fists. She was weak, however, her head trauma making everything seem foggy. She couldn’t focus.

“You should never have come here” Vecna steps forward, tilting his head, “Now the game has to finally end”

“Your fortress is crumbling.” You spit, relentlessly tugging yourself away from the vines. “You’ve lost.”

A dangerous glint of rage shines in his eyes before he lunges towards you, striking a claw down your cheek.

“Leave her alone.” El demands, feeling her power recharge with every breath she took.

His head snaps towards her, arching with a sneer. She just needed him to be distracted long enough for her to be able to burst free from the vines. And he knew that.

“You may have ruptured my plans” He points his stare at El, chuckling darkly, “But I can still take everything away from you”

A moment of silence ensues before El’s eyes drift to the claws slowly clutching your face, cupping your chin. That numbing fear coated her entire body as he grips your face tighter, a whimper of pain.

“No.” El gasps, shaking her head and struggling to free herself. “No!”

“Yes” Vecna taunts with a chilling smile on his burned lips, staring back into your eyes.

You could just see the reflection of your horrified face in the milkiness of colour, the faint acknowledgement of his left arm raising beside you. All you could hear, taste, was your own rapid heartbeat.

But, unexpectedly, he steps back and releases you of his hold. You frown. His arm moves towards the shadows, pointing- no, summoning something.

You already knew before it began.

The boy you loved stepped out of the darkness, obeying his master’s orders.

“Eddie..” You whisper, tears in your eyes, but he barely glances at you. His attention was on Vecna, waiting.

Vecna grins at you, a sight that rose bile into your throat, and his arm moves back to you. This time, pointing.

“Get rid of her”

There was a blur of movement, begs and pleads that echoed against the cave walls.

Then, a scream.

Present Day. Inside the Fortress.

“Y/n!”

Once the wall of debris had been cast down in front of them, they started shouting for their friend, for the girl locked inside the cave with a monster. Nancy and Jonathan’s voices were strained, Argyle and Robin tried pulling away stones, but nothing was working.

Steve just stared at the wall like he was imagining it. He had been running to you, frozen in his tracks by the sight of Eddie. He wasn’t even sure why he had stopped, a beating drone in the back of his mind telling him he wouldn’t win that fight. And now you were trapped.

“Steve!” Robin yells out at him, shaking his shoulders and snapping him out of his guilt. “Help us move these rocks.”

“Right.” Steve nods, grabbing a large stone and rolling it away from the pile-up. But, no matter how many he moved, they wouldn’t be getting through the thick expanse of the debris in their way.

“Nah, man.” Argyle pants, stretching his back and exasperatedly gesturing to the rocks. “It’s impenetrable, dudes. There’s, like, a lot of Rocky’s to get through.”

“We don’t have any other way in! She could be-” Nancy gasps out before collecting herself, taking a deep breath and ignoring Jonathan’s concerned gaze. “Okay. Okay, let’s… let’s just think about it.”

But there wasn’t any time. A stomach-churning scream echoes against the hard debris, striking fear in their veins.

“Y/N!” Jonathan cries out, lunging forward and tearing away rocks from the pile once again, his attack nasty enough to leave his fingertips bleeding against the friction.

It was a relentless attempt to get to you, one that left Nancy in tears at the sight. Steve and Argyle are trying to pry him away, but he wouldn’t stop. Jonathan couldn’t lose his sister again. He just couldn’t.

It wasn’t until an echo from the tunnel behind them sounded that he then stopped his insanity.

At first, it was small, then it grew into a rush of footsteps. Robin’s eyes widen as Steve searches the ground, picking up a rock light enough to hold but heavy enough to do some damage.

He steps forward, Nancy cocking her gun behind him, just in case. Steve raises his arm just as the echoes become clearer. Whatever it was, it was fast. Another creature, maybe.

Everyone is silent as the approaching monster gets closer and closer, Argyle knelt beside Jonathan while Robin stood just behind Nancy.

Steve waits until the perfect moment, until he can practically feel its footsteps through the vibrations on the stone, and then he makes his move.

The stone still raised in his hand, he jumps across the entrance to meet the creature…

… and is met with a terrified Lucas Sinclair instead.

“Stop!! Stop, no, it’s me!!” Lucas screams, holding his hands out in surrender, eyes clenched shut in fear.

“Jesus, Sinclair, I could have killed you!” Steve stresses, dropping the rock with a sigh and placing a hand on his chest. “You gotta stop doing that.”

Three more shadows revealed themselves in the light, a sore sight for eyes as Steve felt a weight disappear from his chest. They were okay.

“Where the hell have you guys been?” Steve frowns. Dustin readies his answer but Will simply shakes his head.

“Did you hear it?” Will asks, wide eyed.

Jonathan slowly nods, tears threatening his eyes while he clenches his fists in attempt to hide his torn fingertips. His voice is quiet. “Y/n’s stuck behind there.”

Will’s face drops completely as Mike steps forward.

“It was El.” He explains, “Her scream.”

“Shit.” Steve hisses, placing his hands on top of his head.

“That means Vecna’s got both of them.” Nancy shares, iterating what all of them were thinking.

“He’s gotten exactly what he wanted.” Robin shudders, lowering her gaze.

Everyone stares at the wall of debris, hearts heavy. They had tried to kill him before, and it had failed miserably. This time, they claimed an advantage; El was stronger, you and Eddie were powerful. Everything was working, Max’s soul released, the fortress crumbling. But at what cost?

They had won the war, but they had lost the fight.

“No.”

Will’s small voice whispered into the silence, earning a chorus of confused expressions.

“He’s not winning.” Is all he says as he marches up to the wall and focuses his stare.

His sisters were trapped with a monster that had been haunting him for five years. You had both protected him, cared for him, believed in him. The both of you had sacrificed for him. You were strength when he was weak, when he was merely a ghost of himself.

And he was done being the scared little boy Vecna had dragged into the Upside Down.

Throwing out his arms, his glare pierces through the stone barricade between him and his sisters. He stares and stares, a tingling sensation of fire and fury coursing through his veins, from his mind, to his heart, to his fingertips.

Dust pours into the atmosphere with a loud cascade of rubble, a shock strong enough to burst through the rocks like it were merely made of plastic.

They cough against the air, fanning the space in front of them before gripping tightly onto their weapons and charging forward. They didn’t have time to stand in awe of Will’s power.

Running in, their eyes are immediately set on Vecna, the monster stood with a curious look at the rocks currently collected around their feet.

Nancy raises her gun as Lucas takes aim with his crossbow, Will’s arm pointed in suggestion of what he would do. Mike and Dustin bare their weapons, Robin and Argyle lighting their cocktails once again. Steve and Jonathan take the rear, searching through the thick dust that soon settled.

It was an intimidating stance by all means, enough power behind their rage to scare even the worst of creatures.

But Vecna simply smiled.

Small sobs and tears became clear as it echoed against the stone walls. Turning their heads, they find El pinned against the wall, tears streaming down her face. By her side, Eddie is stood with crimson eyes, gripping tightly onto his spear.

The spear that was plunged directly into your stomach.

A few minutes before…

The boy you loved stepped out of the darkness, obeying his master’s orders.

“Eddie..” You whisper, tears in your eyes, but he barely glances at you. His attention was on Vecna, waiting.

Vecna grins at you, a sight that rose bile into your throat, and his arm moves back to you. This time, pointing.

“Get rid of her”

You can’t even comprehend anything that’s happening until a gasp leaves your swollen lips, tears threatening your eyes from a sudden sharp pain. Something drips from your mouth as you stare back into Eddie’s crimson eyes. He was closer than before.

A scream cuts through the air. You assume it’s from the girl beside you, but everything seems distorted now.

You look down to find a spear covered in your blood. Eddie had obeyed his orders, and his spear was now plunged into your stomach.

Nothing led behind his eyes. He was staring into his girlfriend’s eyes, but there was no emotion left. Vecna had taken over him completely. But you still had hope.

Eddie tries to pull away, but you wrap your hands around the cool metal and keep it in place. You needed him to listen. And, rather than fight, Eddie met you with curious eyes.

There’s a sudden burst of stone that blows down the dividing wall, but you barely flinched. You couldn’t seem to register it was happening anyway.

El’s sobs and cries were vibrating straight through your head, dust settling all around you. You weren’t concentrating on that, though. You needed Eddie to listen.

“Eddie…” You struggle to speak, keeping your gaze on his dark eyes. “You have to… remember…”

His eyes searched yours, frowning. Eddie isn’t even sure why he’s letting you speak.

“You have all LOST” Vecna boomed, vines slithering up and around his body.

Everyone was frozen in place, from shock or fear they didn’t know. You were bleeding, blood dripping from your mouth, a tight hold on the weapon that had cut directly through vital organs.

Nancy can’t believe she has to watch you die again. She had been fighting this entire time to keep you alive, to bring you back home so that Jonathan can have his sister back. So she can have her best friend back.

A small sob must have hitched in her throat because Robin suddenly steps forward, juggling the fiery cocktail in her hand.

“I’m done.” She says simply. No blabbing, no rants formed by her nerves. She was done being frightened.

Robin’s display of bravery caused everyone to wipe their tears. You weren’t dead yet. They still had time. And none of them had the heart to lose anyone else.

That rage fuelled revenge. Taking places, curt nods were exchanged as they refocused onto Vecna, his startled expression all they needed to make the first attack.

Robin raised her arm and Vecna caught onto it immediately, throwing out his hand and keeping her wrist suspended in the air, struggling against the ghostly grip he had on her. He grins, believing this was a fight he could win. But Vecna had one fatal flaw.

He never learnt from past mistakes.

The entirety of his back suddenly seared in a burning flash, a swollen yell exiting his lungs. He turns to find Argyle standing with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Distraction.” He mouthed, grinning, and Vecna roars in anger.

A sharp blow of a bullet hits his chest and he stumbles. He attempts to retaliate, but then there’s another slice of pain that cuts into his cheek. Lucas lowers his crossbow, reloading.

Between strikes from metal weapons, to fire engulfing him, he was surrounded completely.

From the attack, the vines retreat away from the fire, spreading to where El was still pinned against the wall in a hopeless attempt to regain her strength. Along with the rest, the vines disappear back into the stone cracks that laced the wall, dropping her to the ground.

The vines had unwrapped from your body, but the spear in your stomach was infiltrating the wall behind you, just leaving you hanging there. You ignored the burst of pain as your weight attempted to pull you downwards.

Eddie’s eyes were slowly fading from their crimson prison as he watched the tears pour down your cheeks. This was your opportunity to save him.

Delicately removing one hand from the spear and brushing your fingers against his cheek, you pant against the blood filling your lungs.

“I love you.”

Your forbidden whisper travels through his mind, piercing through the gates that Vecna had thought impenetrable. A rush of emotion hits him all at once; fear, joy, love, pain.

The sudden realisation knocked him backwards, taking the spear with him as he crashes to the ground and claws at is head that ached with memories.

Once the metal slips out of your flesh, you slide down the wall and wince harshly, trying to cover your stomach with trembling hands.

El blinks against the movement before crawling over to you with weeping eyes, searching your own.

“It’s okay.” You insist with shaky breaths, a feeble smile hidden behind blood stained lips. It wasn’t okay. None of it was.

A yell of furious defeat echoed across the space, your eyes drifting to look through the dark.

Their attack against Vecna was working. He was finally growing weaker, his surges of power merely causing them to stumble for a second before they were hitting him again with all that they had, circling him like the prey they had once been.

He was frantically calling for help, but whatever control he had over the other creatures had dissipated. His victims were now covered in his blood. But he refused to lose. He wouldn’t let this be his end.

Knocked onto his back by the driven attack of a spiked weapon, his eyes noticed movement in the remaining ceiling of his fortress. A cold stare was all it took to bring it closer. To bring them all closer.

Too fixated on beating Vecna until he no longer breathed, they failed to notice the darkened strings that carried Vecna’s last hope lower towards them.

Dustin clocks it first, a shadow behind Jonathan who was driving the golf club down into Vecna’s chest over and over. He watched as it grew wider, uncurling. Then, he felt something like hot air on his cheek.

Turning to his right, he found himself looking into a breathing flower.

“Not again.” He mumbles just as the flower spits into his face.

With a yell, he retreats and earns the attention of his friends. They soon become aware of their surroundings, each member falling victim to the toxic spores that blinded them and itched at their throats.

Sputtering coughs echoed everywhere as the group were forced to retreat, unable to see eachother through the fog of white dust.

Rubbing his eyes, Will tries to blink away the dust that spurted into his face. As he does, he notices Vecna’s scorched and bloodied shadow creep away from them, heading to the far wall. Piercing his gaze through the storm of particles, he can just make out two silhouettes sat on the ground, Vecna moving rapidly towards them.

El barely noticed the fight happening behind her. All she could focus on was the rush of blood leaving your stomach, coating your hands in a scarlet hue of despair. She couldn’t stop crying, even as your fading voice kept reassuring her that everything was fine.

Your head started to loll to the side and she reaches forward to catch it in her hands, forcing you to look at her.

“Don’t leave me.” She begs in a short cry, and you blink against the tiredness threatening your body. You were trying, for her.

“Please don’t leave me again.”

March 1986. The Wheeler House.

El tears her eyes away from the vine-covered buildings, distracting herself by reaching below her sleeve and softly stroking the tiny pieces of rope that made up her bracelet. It brought her comfort, knowing that she was going back to her family, to the sister that made it for her in the first place.

She had flashes of Max’s bleeding eyes infiltrate her mind before she shudders, straightening in her seat. Mike sends her a worried glance, but she doesn’t acknowledge it.

He had saved her when she was convinced she couldn’t be. And she was grateful. Of course she was. But something didn’t feel right. Not between them anyway. And she’s known it for a long time now.

A superhero. That’s what Mike called her; how he sees her. But she was nothing like the superheroes in Max’s comics. They all wanted to save people, to risk their lives and dedicate themselves to the cause. El just wanted a normal life.

None of them seemed to understand that. Hopper did, before he sacrificed himself. Will did his best to treat her like a sibling, but he couldn’t hide those pitiful faces anytime she pulled down her sleeve to cover her tattoo. The last people who actually treated her like she was human were Max and her older sister.

And now she only had one of those people left.

“Guys.”

Jonathan’s voice brought her head up and she braced herself on the back of his seat, leaning forward for a better view.

They were back on a familiar road now. And, a few houses down, she felt her heart lighten at the sight of her friends. She and Will share a grin, excited to finally see the person they had been aching to talk to.

Argyle rolled the van to a stop and they eagerly slide the door open, stepping out onto the driveway of Mike’s home. As soon as they catch eyes with their loved ones, they’re all smiling, running and hugging in rejoice of their reunion.

She and Will clung tightly onto Dustin, pulling away with their wide cheeks aching.

“Where’s Lucas?” Will asks, searching the area around them.

“He’s at the hospital.” Dustin replies, and they share looks with one another.

“Is he hurt?” El frowns.

“No. No, he’s…” Dustin’s face drops at their confusion. “Oh god… you don’t know.”

El’s heart skips a beat. She already knew deep down why Lucas was at the hospital.

Dustin’s explanation was only heard by Will, El’s mind drifting off in conflicted feelings. Hospitals were good, right? That’s where people get better.

But all that replayed was her best friend’s death. Max’s heartbeat coming to a stop. There was a pain inside her chest as she relived it, spreading into her nerves until her entire body felt heavy. She had felt this way the night of Starcourt, when Hopper never came back. Grief. That was what you had called it.

As Dustin was nearing the end of his account, El began looking for comfort in the person who understood her more than anyone.

“Where’s Y/n?” El asks as she searches across the driveway, eyes settling on the front door as if you would suddenly appear.

When she doesn’t hear a response, she turns back to see Dustin’s teary eyes shift to the ground below his shoes, tight-lipped. Her stomach dropped.

“Dustin?” Will frowns, exchanging glances with El. “What is it?”

Attempting to open his mouth, he raises his head before the eye contact caused the first tear to slip, wiping it away furiously.

Will’s face goes pale, voice cracking as it rises in panic. “Where’s my sister?”

No words were needed to know the truth. Everyone’s mournful faces looking at the Byers-Hopper family were enough to spark that aching pain in their chest. Will’s focus shifts to Jonathan, the older boy hunched over while Nancy clings desperately onto him.

His hands rise to cover his mouth as the tears come pouring out, small sobs bursting through the flesh. Mike clocks the sound and whips his head to the noise, running over to catch him in a hug.

“How?” El managed in a small whisper, feeling all and entirely too numb.

“She saved us.” Steve is the one to answer, pushing away from his car and placing a hand on Dustin’s shoulder. “She… she was a-”

“Hero.” El finished bitterly.

Steve nodded, lowering his head and guiding Dustin to Robin. The boy wasn’t opposed to her comforting arm. Once Steve was satisfied that he’d be alright, he walks back to El. Except, she wasn’t there.

As soon as the boys turned away, El felt herself drifting into the house. Her legs moved without thought, guiding her through the familiar door and down the steps that creaked beneath her weight. She went directly to the corner she once slept in, sliding down the wall and curling her legs flush against her chest.

A small cry emitted from her mouth until everything came rushing in all at once, her entire body shaking from the force of her sadness.

It felt like just yesterday you had placed a kiss on her forehead as you left to return to Hawkins to see your boyfriend just before the break. Like only a day had passed where you promised your return to her, saying that you’d try and drag Max back with you if you could.

El remembered the smile you had given as you waved her goodbye, an excitement in your eyes at the thought of seeing Eddie.

That was the last time she had saw you. And now she had to accept that she never will again.

Present day. Fortress Of Memories.

“NO!”

Will’s scream echoes against the stone walls and sends chills down their spines, everyone turning to eachother with startled looks. They didn’t understand what was happening until they saw it.

Vecna was stood with his arm outstretched, rising it slowly above him. And, on the other side, he had his claws wrapped around El’s throat.

She was too distracted to see it coming. One moment she was pressing down on your wound, blinking against the watery haze lacing her eyelids. The next, she was forcefully pulled away from you, spinning around only to find One’s tightened grip on her neck to be lifting her from the ground.

She tried to tear at his hand, but it was useless. It wasn’t a pain any worse than he was already experiencing.

“Let’s finally end this” His voice was deeper than usual, rough. And that look in his eye was something that made her blood run cold.

Eventually, his grip was released, but she was still left dangling in the air. And it only got so much worse.

Suddenly, a burst of pain shot down her spine and she screamed, her body turning in the air until her back faced the ground, every nerve set alight as she felt herself drain.

She never thought of what One really wanted, never made that connection before. He wanted power.

He wanted her power.

Vines shot from the ground below her, biting into her back over and over until the attack became too unbearable, knocking her unconscious.

The others yelled for her, surging forward through the smoke in the direction of her cries. But they wouldn’t be able to get her.

More vines slipped from the cracks below them and bared teeth. They managed to hold them off, barely a scratch on their skin, but the vines were more relentless than before. And they knew it was because Vecna was gaining power.

Will yells out in fury, surging forward with his target set on the monster currently killing his sister. His arms were outstretched, nerves tingling at his fingertips. But he was too close, and Vecna’s left arm extends towards him. At first, nothing happened.

Then suddenly all Will can hear is the chittering noises of creatures he had since forgotten.

“Will?”

Shadows danced around him, reminding him of the time he was dragged into this world and forced to fend for himself. Reminders of the Demogorgon hunting him, the whispers of a girl in the dark.

“Will!”

The walls were taunting him, arms reaching out and clawing at his clothes. He couldn’t stop them.

“Will!” Mike was trying to snap him out of it, but Will was too panicked, caught up in fighting off imaginary creatures. Mike’s sword clatters to the ground as he grabs Will’s face in both of his hands, forcing him to look in his eyes.

“Hey, look at me! Look at me!” Mike yelled as Will muttered about monsters. “They aren’t real! Will, they’re not there! I’m right here!”

After a second, Will’s nervous movements stilled and his hazel eyes finally found the boy’s in front of him. He takes a deep breath.

“I think I’m going crazy.” Will cries, Vecna’s effect stronger than he thought.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’ll go crazy together, remember?” Mike, sliding one hand down to clasp Will’s and holding it tight.

A small grunt behind them made Will jump and Mike looks over his shoulder, eyes widening.

Lucas had stumbled back as a vine shot straight at him, dodging the attack but tripping over something on the ground. He quickly recovered from the fall, noticing that Mike and Will had rushed to his side.

“I’m fine.” Lucas breathes, reaching down to collect his crossbow.

Until another hand shot out and grasped onto his wrist, causing a high-pitched scream to erupt from his mouth.

Dustin and Steve turn to the noise, nodding to the others in confirmation that they had enough force to defend themselves before joining them and looking down in shock.

“How about you stop staring at me and help me up?”

The gruff voice said, and Dustin’s eyes lit up.

Argyle and Robin finally managed to light their cocktails, shouting at Nancy and Jonathan to move before the bottles slip from their fingertips and ignite the ground of ivy monsters. Their screeches were ear-splitting, but worth it.

“Uh, dudes…” Argyle took a step back, gawking at something above them. “How are we helping out our superhero girl?”

They all tilt their heads in the direction he stared, breaths hitching.

Vines descended from El’s back, her body floating mid air, arms limp. The vines made a trail. As they follow it with their eyes, it leads straight to another body, sliding into his back just like they had seen in the attic.

It was some kind of suction, the vines breathing as they pumped something from the girl’s body to his. It was monstrous. And it was killing her.

His eyes had fluttered shut, feeling the power course through his veins. Once upon a time, he wanted her to join him, to rule the world as the two most powerful beings. That was until he discovered the mysteries the world beneath Hawkins held, a result of Eleven’s banishment.

He was connected to everything here, accepting his body as a part of the land. He didn’t need her by his side. All he had to do was break her down until he could take what was rightfully his.

He was growing stronger.

And no one could stop him.

A clean sound of something slicing through the air made Vecna’s eyes open with a snap.

Something heavy hit the ground.

Then came a burning pain.

He stared at the arm that was outstretched towards Eleven, heart beating faster in his chest as the burning grew and grew.

His hand was no longer attached to his wrist.

A guttural yell erupted from his lips as he retracts his arm, wrist spurting blood onto the cold ground. The vines fell from his back, and the girl fell from the air. Someone caught her, but he couldn’t comprehend anything that was happening.

“Plenty more where that came from.”

He slowly rolls his neck to the voice and glares at the boy holding a bloody spear, not one ounce of hesitation behind his expression.

“What? You weren’t ready for that?” Eddie questioned with a low voice.

As Vecna cradled his wrist, he stumbled forward in his steps, laughing.

“Eddie Munson” Vecna growled, every slow footstep making him grip his spear tighter. He wanted to intimidate. He wanted them to fear him. And then he remembers, eyes flickering to the left.“I know what you fear most”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie held his ground, aware of the silhouettes behind him ready to back him up. “And what’s that?”

“Losing her” He smirks, and Eddie almost loses control, narrowing his stare.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” He warns, malice in his words.

“The damage you’ve done is irreparable enough”

There’s a split second of confusion until it all comes rushing back.

Stood there, barely acknowledging the girl that cried for him pinned against the wall. His orders, carrying them out like a loyal soldier would. Feeling the gasp that left your lips fan against his skin. The tears you had when you made him stay there. Your whisper of truth that lit a passion, spreading like wildfire until all of his emotions were his once again.

Eddie’s head turns to see you slumped against the wall, head lolling ever so slightly to the side while Nancy is desperately trying to stop the blood gushing out of your wound. The wound he made.

Everything he was holding back suddenly flipped like a dangerous switch. With a loud cry of war, Eddie feels his the wings spread behind him before he jumped.

His height was an advantaged as he lunged at Vecna, taking the monster by surprise as he raised his spear and aimed at his face. Thanks to his ‘boss’, he knew he could never miss.

It was karmic justice when the blade pierces through Vecna’s eye.

The roar was loud enough to startle anyone, Vecna’s only hand desperately cupping his torn eye socket. The weight of the spear caused him to tumble back, struggling against the impending doom of death.

He reached out, expecting the slippery soldiers of the dark land to save him, carry him far. They never did.

That’s when he knew it was his end.

A shadow leaned over him, hair dishevelled, face sinister. He didn’t need to focus on their features to know exactly who was there, taking their revenge. Beating him once again in a world he thought he would be unstoppable in.

“Goodbye, One.”

They spoke with a hoarse throat, before a boot was driven down onto his head, and everything went dark.

Once Vecna’s body had hit the ground, Eddie sprinted towards you. He collapsed to his knees once he was closer, slightly sliding against the ground and scuffing his already ripped jeans. He was sure to be bleeding, but it wouldn’t be worse than the sight in front of him.

Nancy’s cheeks were glistening with tears, her hands pressing down onto your stomach as you winced from the pressure. Your face was covered in small scars either side of your mouth, blood trickling down your chin as you coughed.

The tears on your face weren’t fresh, you hadn’t cried since Eddie finally woke up from a monstrous hold. Because you weren’t sad. You were barely starting to feel the pain now.

“I can’t-” Nancy cried, her efforts leaving no lasting hold.

Eddie immediately slides off his denim jacket, bundling it up and gesturing for her to move her hands. The wider surface area works, nothing new staining your dark crimson clothes.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Eddie panics as the denim rapidly dyes red. It wasn’t working. Nothing was working.

Your eyes flutter open, heavy as the drowsiness threatens to take you under. Eddie’s eyes widen and he places a hand on your cheek. You’re just able to raise your own arm, palm against the rough exterior of his hand.

“I need you to stay with me.” Eddie begs quietly, applying more pressure. But you didn’t wince this time.

“Did you do it?”

Eddie’s head whips back up, the first tear trickling down his face as he frowns.

A small smile stretched onto your lips. “Did you... finally finish your campaign?”

“I did.” Eddie grins with a sob hitched in his throat. “I won. We won.”

The smile grows brighter, fresh tears finally lacing your eyes knowing that everyone was safe. Everything you and your friends had been through over the past few years was coming to an end. You could all finally be happy. They could all be happy.

“Good.” You slowly nod. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you wanted to do. But it seemed the universe didn’t want it that way.

No matter how hard you tried to fight it, the eternal slumber was winning the war inside your body, heart rate slowing, eyelids closing.

“Woah, hey. Hey! Stay with me!” Eddie persists, eyes flickering between you and the blood-soaked material failing its job. “Y/n, don’t you dare die on me!”

You didn’t respond. He moves to shake your shoulders until he feels the brush of your fingers against his hand, travelling down to his wrist until your arm was limp at your side.

“No.” He whispers, ignoring the sobs that echoed behind him and clasping your face in both of his hands, thumbs wiping away the tears like it may wake you up. “No, come back! Please, Y/n, come back!”

He rests his forehead against yours, squeezing his eyes shut. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare. He wanted to go back to that summer in ‘83, making promises and arguing over mix-tapes.

But, most of all, he just wanted you.

June 1983. Sattler’s Quarry.

“You could have at least added in Metallica.” Eddie groans, slipping the headphones off his ears as you stare at him in disbelief.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were the first nine mix-tapes with Metallica not good enough for you?” You mocked and he rolled his eyes.

It was like this most days lately. Ever since school finished for the summer, you’ve both been walking out to the quarry. It’s nice and quiet here where you sat, overlooking the pool of water and munching on snacks. Everyone else would be at Lovers Lake, catching sun and the eyes of the people they liked.

But you and Eddie never really fit in with that crowd.

“Can I ask you a question?” You suddenly ask between the comfortable silence.

“Sure.” Eddie mumbled, setting down the chip bag and looking at you with inquisitive eyes.

Your focus was set on the view opposite the quarry, trees stretching for miles. “Do you think this is it?”

“What do you mean?” He frowns, collecting a small stone and tossing it into the space dangling below your feet, hearing a faint splash as it made contact with the water.

“Hawkins.” You explain, tilting your head. “We’re born here, we go to school here. And when that’s over, we’ll work in some low wage job until the day we die. Hawkins-bound.”

“Aren’t you the pessimist.” Eddie chuckles. But when he glances at you, he notices the sad expression on your face; a slight pout to your lips, brows knitted softly. You looked… worried. “But, uh, to answer your question…”

You shift around to face him, waiting his response. He sighs.

“No.” He smiles and you raise your eyebrow. “Come on, you can’t think like that. You gotta have some kind of dream outside of this crappy town or it’ll suck you in. That’s how you end up working in some low wage job until you die… giving up.”

“I guess.” You shrug, turning to collect your Walkman and shove it into your bag. But you didn’t look any happier with his response.

“I mean it, Y/n.” He says, grabbing both your hands. “You’re destined for a life outside of Hawkins. You’re gonna graduate and you’ll go to some fancy college that actually notices how freaking smart you are. Maybe… maybe you’ll meet someone who isn’t an asshole jock.”

He said that last part with a smirk and you couldn’t help the smile creep onto your face, scrunching your nose in attempt to hide it.

“See?” He laughs, pointing at your incriminating face. “We both know it’s true. So promise you’re not gonna give up and you’ll actually get out of Hawkins to be the person you’re meant to be.”

You were silent for a moment until you squeeze his hands. “Under one condition.”

His eyebrows raise at your serious tone, eyes widening. “Uh… sure.”

“You come with me.” You say and he feels like his heart is on fire in the best way. He probably couldn’t hide the pink in his cheeks, but he figured the warm day could cover it pretty well. “Seriously. I’m not leaving Hawkins until I know you’ve escaped too.”

Eddie pretends to ponder this scrunching his face as if it were the hardest decision of his life. That was far from the truth.

“Hm… I guess I can probably arrange that.” He laughs, and you jump forward to hug him. Eddie tries to ignore the way his stomach fluttered at the contact, gulping.

He’s been in love with you ever since he met you. But he never said anything since you were with Steve Harrington at the time, practically Hawkins’ ‘it’ couple. He remembered how unbearable that got, watching the jock flirt with other girls when the perfect one was right in front of him. One night, he had worked up the courage to just cut you off completely. He didn’t want to, far from it actually, he always thought he’d want you as a friend if nothing more. It was just that his heart couldn’t take one more look at you and King Steve holding hands in the hallway.

But that same night, he got a phone call from you. He was going to ignore it, but he could never do that to you. And once he picked it up, he was so glad he did. Because you needed him. That was the night you broke up with Harrington.

Eddie supposed it was okay now for him to admit his feelings. But he didn’t need you as a girlfriend to be satisfied. Just having you there, hugging him and feeling your heart beat against his, promising never to leave without eachother...

That was all he needed.

“We’re meant to get out of this together.” Eddie whispers against your forehead, holding you close. He couldn’t feel your heart beat against his anymore.

Jonathan had immediately turned to Will once he saw you die, catching him a hug as the young boy cried into his shoulder. Jonathan tried to keep it in, to be strong like he always had been, but silent tears crept down his face.

Robin had her arm around Nancy, the girl biting her lip with glistening eyes as Robin sent concerned looks over to Steve.

He was in shock, for the most part. Once again, you had died right in front of him. Once again, he didn’t save you. His best friend was gone... once… again…

The boy crying into his jacket suddenly pulled away and wiped his tears. Dustin turned to Eddie and took a deep breath, gently touching his shoulder. Eddie didn’t move, but he wasn’t opposed to Dustin’s head resting on him in support.

Steve scanned the room, noticing Argyle’s soft frown as he stared at the floor. That was the first time Steve thought he had seen him look sober. Mike and Lucas were also looking away from the dead body, eyes closed.

Just behind him, he saw another figure. El. As he mindlessly approached, he saw that she was staring down at Vecna’s dishevelled body. He almost vomited at the sight of his face, caved in at the sides and running blood onto the floor.

“Hey.” He started, tightening his lips. He wasn’t even sure where to start; the other kids were easier to talk to, to figure out, but he and El hadn’t been very close before she left. “I…”

“Let me guess.” El raised her head, lip wobbling. Her voice was low and scratchy. “She died a hero.”

Steve wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She notices his silence and arches her neck until she’s facing the sky, eyes squeezed shut.

“How come…” She starts before lowering her head, “How come after all of this… she still dies?”

Steve sniffs away whatever emotion threatened to come through and takes another step forward. “Death isn’t something we can control. And Y/n… Y/n was a hero- still is. Will always be. She did everything for us. Survived for as long as she could. And no matter how much we hate to admit it, we can’t bring someone back. Even- even if that person is someone who never deserved this.”

His voiced cracked at his last sentence and he lowers his head, shaking away the tears. He didn’t have time to cry. He needed to get everyone out.

“Come on, we should-”

“What if I can?” El asks and he whips his head up in surprise. “Bring her back? What if I can?”

“What- how?” Steve stutters, creasing his forehead.

“I did it with Max.” She starts to explain between sniffles. “I restarted her heart. From the other side.”

“From the…” Steve shook his head.

“The void.” El nods, “Like piggybacking.”

“Piggy- okay.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “You’re saying that you think you can bring her back? From the void thingy.”

“Yes.” El’s eyes are light as the idea starts to form into hope.

Steve risks a glance behind him, frowning when he sees that Dustin has finally managed to drag Eddie away from you.

“Are you sure about this?” He questions, looking back. “Jesus, we don’t know if she can even be-”

“I can do it.” El said with enough determination for him to step aside.

As she walked forward, she noticed the looks between her friends, the stares as she crouches beside your body and gently touches your face.

But she didn’t hate the way they were looking at her. She wasn’t a monster in their eyes anymore. But she wasn’t really a hero, either.

Maybe she was a saviour.

Six months later. Hopper Cabin.

“Heads up!”

The girls duck as quick as the words leave their mouth, the can barely missing their heads as it’s launched across the space.

“Got it!” Lucas yelled after jumping and retrieving it mid air, grinning. He notices a look one of the girls send him. “What?”

“Boys.” Max murmurs, leaning back. El giggles at her comment while Erica nods in agreement.

Six months after their final battle, they found themselves enjoying the beginning of summer, sat under the sun outside of Hopper Cabin. They had to take their business outside after one near-miss at a lamp when they tossed a ball around.

Max, El, and Erica were led on blankets, enjoying the heat. Max was sporting her red sunglasses, smiling to herself at how normal she felt.

When she finally woke up, her first sight had been the blinding light above her head. She thought for a second that maybe she was crossing over. An ironic thought, since she didn’t believe in an afterlife. Then a head popped into view and she ended up frowning. But not in fear.

Erica had been sat by her side, quickly explaining what Lucas and the others had set out to do before rushing to grab doctors.

It took three months for her to heal. Her vision was still a little blurry, prescribed glasses for reading, but she was safe. A few bruises still stained her skin but they were fading now.

Behind them, Steve yells a cheer at Lucas’ catch and hands one to Robin. She almost didn’t notice it, too engrossed in her conversation with Vickie via the cordless phone.

When the fight was finally over, Robin decided to swallow her nerves and make the first move. After all, if she could survive battling monsters she could most definitely survive asking her crush out on a date. Now she and Vickie were officially dating, long-distance since Vickie’s parents moved her out of Hawkins to be safe. But they wouldn’t be apart for long. Steve was ecstatic about it to say the least.

After defeating Vecna, Steve decided to take the leap and apply for an internship at a fancy law-firm. He didn’t expect a response much less an acceptance. It wasn’t necessarily something he wanted to do, but it gave him a chance to get into the real world, to start a life.

“Woah!” Mike shouted as a tower of cans almost came crashing down on him. Will tries to hide his snicker but is caught immediately. “You could have killed me.”

“With Diet Coke?” Will raised an eyebrow and Mike smirked.

“Could happen.” He shrugs and Will lightly shoves his arm, smiling.

Mike and Will grew closer than ever after the battle. Mike had confessed why he had gone down into the Upside Down, talking about how he didn’t want Will to feel alone again. He did it for Max, but a selfish part of him wanted to make sure that Will was protected. He felt stupid explaining this to him but Will just pulled him into a teary hug.

Will found out a few months ago that Mike and El had broken up just before they went into the Upside Down. El had known something was different between them and decided to just finally come out and say it.

El wouldn’t say that she’s particularly knowledgeable about love, but she believes she can see it in other people. She saw it when she looked at Joyce and Hopper. She saw it when she looked at Nancy and Jonathan. She even saw it in your eyes anytime you talked about Eddie in California.

And she saw Mike was in love. Just not with her.

“Who the hell put Madonna on?” Dustin pouts as he lifts his head from the radio he was fixing, the tune to ‘Material Girl’ whistling past his ears in the soft breeze.

Everyone glances to eachother before settling on the older boy stood next to Robin.

“Don’t look at me!” Steve says a little too defensively, “Look at her!”

He points down to an oblivious Robin, noticing the disbelief in everyone’s eyes.

“Yo, I thought you asked me to play Madonna, dude?” Argyle whispers to Steve and his shoulders slump.

Rather than comment, he took another gulp from his can and sent the group a sarcastic smile.

“Thanks, Dusty-bun.” Steve retorts and Dustin silently raises his middle finger at the nickname.

A few weeks after it was all over, Dustin finally started to feel more like himself. He started wearing his hats again, finding the joy he had locked away. He started writing campaigns for DnD in whatever school he ended up in between the final exams for freshman year that they had held at the school’s gym. Maybe he’d create a new Hellfire, take care of those sheep like he always promised.

“Guys!”

Everyone span around to see Nancy stood at the back door with her hands on her hips, glaring.

Below her, Robin cranes her neck up to put her finger on her lips, motioning to the phone. But when she met Nancy’s eyes, she must have changed her mind.

“Uh… I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” Robin speaks into the phone before clicking disconnect and placing it beside her with a scared smile.

“We’re supposed to be packing!” Nancy stresses, looking a little flushed from the work she must have been putting in.

There’s a few groans before anyone actually moves. Mike and Will start clearing up the cans, smiling whenever they brushed hands. Lucas immediately moved to Max, helping her to her feet since her muscles still ached. Dustin and El begin collecting blankets and soon everyone is back inside the cabin in complete reluctance.

“Another hour?” Robin grins, Dustin nodding beside her. Nancy sends one look and they’re both trailing towards the boxes and bags.

“I mean, looks like you got most of it done by yourself.” Erica comments. It wasn’t a snappy remark, however, more like admiration.

“Yeah, well, I had some help.” Nancy sighs, wiping the sweat from her brow.

“Some?” Jonathan puffs as he enters the room, setting down a heavy box onto the table with a loud thump. “I’m getting a full work-out here.”

“About time.” Will comments from afar and ducks his head when Jonathan looks for a culprit.

“Nice.” Argyle chuckles to himself, pulling out an ornament and staring at it intently before placing it back into the box beside him.

“Speak for yourself.” Eddie almost stumbles into view, voice muffled by the stacked boxes in his arms that leave only his forehead poking out of the top. Steve swoops in and takes off the top one.

“My hero.” Eddie grins and Steve rolls his eyes.

They all got into a rhythm of work, only slightly distracted over now and then with random songs and funny stories. Another hour and they were practically finished, maybe a few knicks and knacks that could surely be shoved into a bag last minute.

“Thank god that’s over.” Lucas sighs, a chorus of agreement behind him.

“Yeah, I’m hungry.” Dustin grumbles and Steve frowns.

“You’re always hungry.” He comments and Dustin looks to him. “And it’s only 3.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that you’re gonna eat so much food that you won’t be hungry for dinner.”

“Yes I will.”

“No you won’t.”

“Yes I-”

“Oh my god.” Robin groans, head whipped back in boredom at their silly little argument.

Eddie slides a hand down his face. “How about snacks? That good enough for everyone?”

Argyle’s grin and a room full of nods had him sighing as he left the room and headed to his van, rooting through the back for the snacks he had bought before driving over.

“Shit, where did they go?” Eddie spits as he starts throwing stuff around in a hurry, almost tripping on his balanced feet.

When his search leaves him empty, he slams the back shut and moves to the passenger seat, swinging open the door and poking his head through.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie yells, jumping in surprise and catching his head on the door frame, wincing.

“Sorry, I forgot you scare easy.”

Eddie rubs the top of his head, face scrunched. He turns around to see a sight for sore eyes.

“You good?” You ask, stepping forward and delicately cupping your hands around his face and angling his head. You let out a low whistle. “Oh, yeah. Serious head trauma there.”

“Not as cool as the bat bites but I’ll take it.” Eddie grins, pulling you closer until your lips slotted perfectly into his.

“Hi.” You smile against him, pulling your head back. “I miss much?”

“Other than the usual? Nah.” He replies, shutting the door behind him and sighing. “Can’t find those damn snacks we bought this morning, though.”

“You mean the ones Dustin ate on the way?” You frown and his eyes widen.

“What?”

“You didn’t notice him munching away between us while we were driving?” You exasperate, shaking your head. “Jeez, that guy wasn’t being anything but subtle.”

“That was him?!” Eddie’s mouth drops open. “Shit, I thought my van was making that noise, I was gonna have it checked out.”

You finally let out your laugh and he can’t help joining in, your joy as infectious as it was musical.

After you died, Eddie remembered his friends pulling him away from your body, the feeling of guilt and despair bubbling away until it almost burst. Then El had walked over to you, crouching down and closing her eyes. It was a few moments of agonising silence until the sweet sound filled the air; your gasp.

He had immediately flung himself to your side, thinking this was all some kind of illusion. But you were there, you were breathing. And they wasted no time in getting you out of the Upside Down and into a hospital. While Eddie stayed by your side each and every night, he started to notice his sharpened ears return to normality. The inhuman strength just became… human. And the itchy feeling between his shoulder-blades faded with time. A direct result of killing the monster that made him that way.

You woke up the same day Max was released, fluttering open your eyes to the sight of your relieved chosen family. You didn’t question how you survived. You knew the girl sat beside you with teary eyes was enough of an explanation as you grabbed her hand tight.

“We should probably head inside.” You suggest as your arms wrapped around eachother, Eddie’s lips pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“But it’s so nice out here.” He mumbles into your hair and you smile.

“We only have tonight until everyone’s gone.” You arch your neck to see his face by placing your chin on his chest. “Who knows when we’ll all be together again.”

“I know.” He sighs, looking to the cabin. “You don’t have to be so right all the time.”

“But it’s a part of my natural charm.” You smirk, pulling away from his grasp and instead offering your hand, guiding him back into the house.

That night, you all set up in the living room and watched a movie, bathing in the last few moments you’d all be together like this. A family.

You were propped up on the sofa, Robin’s head in your lap as she stretched her legs across Steve. He had stopped trying to bat them away 20 minutes into the movie, accepting his fate. Nancy and Jonathan managed to squeeze into an armchair, Nancy on his lap while Jonathan hugged her tightly from behind. Then, leaning against the chair, Argyle was sat cross-legged on the carpet, eyes shut as he sways to the tune behind the scene currently playing.

Max had her back resting against the sofa, sporting both Lucas’ and El’s heads on each of her shoulders. Lucas was already softly snoring, El too engrossed in the movie to even think about sleep. Dustin, Eddie and Erica were sat on pillows beside you, barely paying attention to the screen as they exchanged quiet notes on what you could only assume were new DnD club names for Dustin to use at his new high school. Mike and Will were sprawled out on their stomachs, closest to the screen. Their legs became tangled with El and Max’s, but the girls didn’t seem to mind that much.

It was something you all knew to cherish. There wasn’t a chance in the universe that you’d never do this again, you all loved eachother too much to let that go. But it was likely to be a while.

Even after defeating the monster, the town was still ruined. The Hawkins they once knew was practically in ruins, houses left empty after families deserted them. Military were still working to seal up the gates for good, though no creatures had managed to slip through since your efforts.

Hawkins was gone, but it was okay. They all knew it was time to move on.

The party was sticking together, convincing their parents to move to California so they could all attend high school together. Steve and Robin were getting an apartment, just one town over from where Nancy and Jonathan would be attending college. Argyle was going to be visiting Eden while completing high school, seeing where things go.

And, finally, you and Eddie had plans to travel America. After you finish college and Corroded Coffin play some gigs, of course. You’d both be getting out of Hawkins. Together. Just like you promised.

When the sun finally rose between the trees, the cars being loaded with boxes and suitcases, no one felt sad about leaving. They’d all be back. Someday. It wasn’t an easy place to forget about.

For Hawkins was their very own Fortress of Memories.

thank you so so much for supporting this story <3

taglist: @h-ness1944 . @ali-in-w0nderland . @dylanmunson . @silky-luxe . @mothmanatemycat . @sattlersquarry . @sadbitchfangirl . @fangirling-4-ever . @averagestudent03 . @gnnnne . @munsonology . @vintagehellfire . @bokuto-kinnie . @crissicat13 . @katie-tibo . @harrys-tittie . @the-world-is-a-mess-and-so-am-i . @lxvesickreality . @fracturedarkness . @frogers . @we-out-here-simping . @h0peless-r0m4ntic888 . @astrolockley . @fallinginlovewithqueue . @chamomileh0ney . @engenelxver

#proud to say i finished this finale WITHOUT the help of a stupid ai robot #stranger things x reader #stranger things #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #dustin henderson #stranger things reader insert #eddie munson kas #kas #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #st vecna #st5 scenarios #st5 #st5 fanfic

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