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#just collect them from friends and from the street lol

snvffsoda · 12 days

Text

some silly/random headcanons i have for Strade, Ren, and Lawrence!!

i know a lot of people like to think he kidnaps people from the same bar, using the kind of pick up lines, but that wouldn’t be an efficient way to keep the bodies coming, and he knows that, how long until someone catches him dragging an unconscious/unsuspecting person in his car? And makes a call to the police? Strade doesn't take chances, not with the cops, he may be insane, but he's still extremely smart at what he does, he would go out to clubs, late-night parties, concerts, crowded busy areas, anywhere he could slip in and find someone and leave toghther with less caring eyes on him.

has cut his finger while using his power tools and made Ren suck the blood from his finger before, not because he wanted comfort or anything he just wanted to see Ren's sheepish look while he did (Ren enjoyed it too for the blood, albeit nervously)

Strade is a confident, charismatic man, but i still think no matter how hard he tries to hide his sadistic psychotic tendencies, they bleed through him with the way he talks to people, you always get this underlying feeling of unease when he speaks which is why he prefers alcohol to be involved to get his victims, it'd be harder to notice Strade’s eyes staring just a little too long for comfort when you're 4 shots in

always keeps eye contact, almost to an uncomfortable amount, it feels like he doesn't even blink half the time his stare feels like his eyes are always threatening to pierce your skull open and see what's inside from his gaze alone.

Strade is strong, but he's no amazing fighter, if you're fast enough, and have the intent to win, or to kill him i dont think his brute force and heavy swings will do much plus i think he uses a lot of street fighting tactics ie; slamming, grabbing you and pinning you, using weapons instead of just his fist to his own detriment (and that’s what i think got him killed)

really good at texting, he's very descriptive when he texts almost like you're really speaking to him on the phone or in person, he doesn't use a lot of slang or emoticons, Doesn't abbreviate his words like ‘idk’ ‘wyd’ so on, and lots of Periods. Commas, exclamation points! might reply to something funny he sees with a ‘LOL’ in all caps or ‘😂’ but that's it.

really really wants to learn guitar efficiently, but his claws always cut and get caught on the strings when he tries to play so whenever he does try to play he plays with a pick, he doesn't play the best because of it, it was one of the first things he bought with Strade’s money after he died since Strade didn’t want him to get one because it was ‘too noisy’

avid gamer and discord user to an unhealthy amount, and will spam you with messages when you dont hop on the game he's spam inviting you to play with him

sleeps on Strade’s old shirts and pants and coats, anything to where he can get his scent again in his room will sometimes cry himself to sleep thinking about him when laying on them, muttering to himself how sorry he is for letting him die

he remembers and still can understand basic Japanese formalities and such, he's since tried to relearn his native language online, and he did horribly because he forgot almost everything

sassy, when he's stressed, or angry, he can and will be sarcastic and make sly remarks regarding the situation to you, roll his eyes, cross his arms, mutter to himself, just more on the pouty side when it comes to handling his stress

has a collection of old chew toys, he's torn and bitten through with his fangs when his more animalistic tendencies kick in when he's in heat or just needs to keep his mouth busy

has been sent to psychiatric mental hospitals many times before when he was an adolescent by his family he never made friends or spoke much when he was, he did well, and never caused trouble

he’s fallen asleep while in the bath and somehow hasn't drowned himself hundreds of times he can't help it, it reminds him of the river,,

smoking weed helps him sleep through the day, it keeps him in a deep sleep since he's a light sleeper, so he isn't startled awake by his neighbors stomping about during the day

enjoys horror movies like ‘Jacobs Ladder’ and ‘The Jacket’ movies where the protagonist feels as though they are already dead or trapped in their mind, he relates to that feeling when he watches those films

would definitely be the type to go nonverbal when he is high, resorting to nods and shaking his head to get his point across if he's with you and comfortable around you

hates sweet tea and store-bought tea in general, he hates the way they taste and the texture they leave on his tongue, he prefers making tea himself with his plants and the ingredients he grows

#this my first time ever writing headcanons like this for these characters #and writing headcanons in general #thank you all who voted!!#im sure it's not perfect but please lmk how you feel about them!!#your thoughts and opinions help me explore these characters even more so thank you for reading through through these <3 #snvffsoda #:3 #btd headcanons #btd #btd strade #btd ren #btd lawrence #tpof #btd2 #btd2 headcannons

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sanguineterrain · 7 months

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Hiii, discovered your fics on AO3 and they’re very my jam! If you’re still taking requests, could I suggest something where Jason rescues you, an angsty hurt/comfort? Maybe they’re pining for each-other and maybe confront/confess their feelings, or are already together, up to you.

No worries if not 😊😊 Thanks for the good words ❤️🖤

Hey I know you! Thanks for leaving nice comments over yonder 🥰 Idk if I really delivered on this prompt but I hope you like it anyway lol 😅 I combined this prompt with another I received about Jason and the reader fighting before the reader is hurt/kidnapped.

jason todd x fem!reader. tw: creepy men, crime alley, injured reader, jason shoots people (🎶whatta mighty good man🎶)

****

"If you don't know who this is, you shouldn't be fucking calling. Leave a message after the beep or whatever."

Beeeep!

"Jay, it's me. Can we please talk? You can't ignore me forever. I want us to fix this. I—" You swallow hard. "I miss you."

You sigh, rubbing your forehead as you think of what to say. You've already left three unanswered messages. There's no more for you to say. You just want things to be fixed.

You want your best friend back.

"Okay. Call me when you can."

You hang up and pocket your phone.

The fight was stupid. Jason doesn't respond well to being pushed, but you pushed him anyway. You wanted to know where he disappeared to at night. You were sick of the secrets, of always feeling like you were three steps behind, left in the dark.

If you really cared about me, you would tell me where you go.

Jason had stilled, expression cold.

I don't owe you anything.

Your voice had turned wobbly then.

Jay, don't I mean anything to you? I want you to trust me, I want this to be a normal friendship!

He'd put on his jacket and collected the few things he left in your apartment.

You're right. You deserve normal.

You haven't spoken since. At first, you thought Jason left for a few hours to cool down. So you gave him space.

But then hours turned to days, and now it's been a full week and a half since you'd fought. Last night, you broke down and cried. This is it. You've lost him for good.

Part of you fears the reality is darker than him just leaving. You've long suspected that whatever Jason goes out to do is probably illegal since he's always out at night.

What if you're called down to the police station to identify a body?

All those things left unsaid. Jason will never know you love him.

Screw this. You're going to his apartment.

It's late. It's really late, and this is actually not the best idea to carry out at eight o'clock at night in Crime Alley. There's a reason Jason always insists on hanging out at your apartment or at a cafe.

A man whistles at you down the street. "Goin' somewhere, girlie?"

This was a bad idea. Jason might be the one who has to ID a body tonight.

You can't remember which of these apartments is his. But you can't call him. He can't know you're here, not yet.

"You shouldn't be here, lady!" a kid shouts at you from a fire escape. "He don't like new people on his turf!"

You don't take the time to figure out who the kid means. Crime Alley is known for, well, crime. The sooner you can locate Jason's apartment, the better.

A group of men light cigarettes down the road. You pause and turn around. In the process, you stumble over a garbage can.

That instantly draws their attention.

"Well, what have we here?" one jeers. "You lost, sweetie?"

You run.

You don't care if it makes you look afraid—you are afraid, and you're beyond caring. You shouldn't have come here.

You turn abruptly. You have no idea where you're going, but maybe if you act like you do, you'll throw them off. You take another turn, then another, and you look behind you to check if—

Wham!

You crash into a body. A muscled body, one that forces you backwards.

White, glowing eyes that smolder inside a red helmet meet your own.

Jason's never warned you about the Red Hood. He just tells you to stay away from the area altogether. You don't really need to be warned about Hood anyway. You know what he's about. You know you've probably just sealed your fate tonight.

"What the fuck?" he asks, modulated voice rough.

"I'm sorry," you babble. "Please don't hurt m—"

Gunshots ring out, and you realize you've just stumbled into an active gunfight. With Red Hood.

Fuck your luck.

The gunmen have spotted you, and they take great pleasure in using you as a distraction; they fire at you instead of Hood.

He shields you with his body, blocking the bullets. It works until a flash grenade is thrown, and you're separated from Hood, ears ringing. You hit the ground hard from the impact, scraping your hands and arms.

Someone's arm wraps around your neck, and you're suddenly dragged backward. You scream, scratching at the arm, and a fist thumps your head. You blink at the pain, too dazed to keep fighting.

"We had a deal, Hood!" your captor shouts, arm tightening around your neck. "Let us go or she dies!"

"Negation's over," Red Hood snarls, and shoots all four men.

You cry as the shot echoes too close to your face and for a moment, you fear you've been shot too. The now dead man slips off of you, collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Your ankle protests when you step on it. In the chaos of the fight, you hadn't realized you sprained it. You trip and fall on your butt, scrambling away from the pooling blood.

"What are you doing here?" Hood growls at you, stalking closer.

You start to cry, edging backward.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your fight, please d-don't kill me—"

You press down hard on your wrist and that hurts more than your ankle. You cry harder at the pain, grabbing your wrist.

Red Hood gets closer, and you try to scramble away with one arm and one leg. He kneels down and holds your good arm in place so you can't move.

"I'm sorry!" you say again, tears thick on your lashes.

"Fuck," Hood says roughly, and unlocks his helmet.

Your eyes widen as he pulls it off.

"J—"

"I told you to never come to this area, and you come alone, in the fucking dark, without a weapon? What the hell is wrong with you?" Jason snarls.

"Please don't yell at me," you whisper, covering your face with your hands.

You're shaking, adrenaline turning your stomach. A moment later, you throw up.

"Shit," Jason says and puts a hand on your stomach to help you sit back up. "Shit, I'm an asshole. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

"I thought you died," you say, daring to look at him. "You weren't answering my calls, and you only go out at night. I thought..."

Jason immediately looks avalanched by guilt. He cradles you to his chest.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. I should've—I thought it would be better, leaving."

"I didn't want you to leave," you cry, arms curling around his neck. "I love you so much, Jay. I was so scared. Don't leave me again."

Jason's breath hitches. You freeze, suddenly sure you've screwed it all up.

"Jay—"

"Y'love me?" he asks, cupping your cheek.

You nod emphatically.

"Even though I'm..." He gestures to the helmet.

"I'm just happy you're alive," you say. "I missed you so much, Jason."

His arms tighten around you. "God, I missed you too, baby. I was going crazy not talking to you. I'm sorry I ignored you. Wasn't right of me. But don't ever do this again, okay? If I hadn't been here—"

He takes a shuddering breath and kisses your neck. You nod against his shoulder.

"I promise. Just don't shut me out again, please."

Jason's quiet for a moment. You can feel him thinking.

"This isn't gonna be normal," he says. "If-if we do this. This is part of me. Who I am."

"I don't care," you say. "I love you, Jay. Every part. Whatever that entails."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #i do notttt like how this one came out but im lowkey struggling to write this week so. oh well 😔#inbox #blurb

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chizoies · 2 months

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STRAWHATS FAMILY AU

The Lore Drop:

Alright,in this alternative universe the whole gang is a family. Robin and Franky are married and they are the parents. Brook is Franky’s adoptive father. Jinbei is Robin’s biological father. Brook is African (Nigerian (Bantoid))American and he was never married. Franky is caucasian, his roots comes from Turkiye. Jinbei is Indian, he married Olvia, she is Brazilian. So Robin is half Indian half Brazilian.

Only Luffy and Chopper are Frobin’s biological children.

When Robin and Franky got married, they had realised that they are rich enough to set on a quest to help the children of need so they went to see the world. HEAR ME OUT it makes sense because um Jinbei is a very respected doctor and Brook is a renowned musician; Franky own a ship/boat/cruise fix company and Robin is a doctor in the archeology field 😁 they are rich rich

First, Luffy was born. And their first destination was Japan. That is where they adopted Zoro. He was in Juvenile. They sorted out things and adopted this child to save him. Cause he was innocent. Luffy was 6 and Zoro was 10 when this happened. (I know the punishment age range is after 14 in Japan but the crime they were accusing him of was so severe or something that they had to, like you should know I’m just making shit up leave me alone)

After a few months they go to Finland. That is where they adopt Nami. A Swedish girl who was in the hands of a gun mafia that killed her sister and mother. She was 9. So they fight fight and get her.

The new year comes, and they decide to go to Mozambique. That is where they meet Usopp! When Franky and Zoro was walking through streets with full of shops and all, they run into Usopp (same age as Luffy) who was selling things he built. Usopp’s father Yasopp left their home when he was born, and her mother dies of sickness. The social workers does not give shşt about the poor. Franky sees this spark in him. He and Zoro buys things from him. And at the end of the day Franky asks if he wants a family they can be one to him. Usopp refuses because of his sick friend Kaya. Saying that he cannot leave her. Later in the week, yk the drill they show everyone that Kuro is bad person blah blah, they both save Kaya and Usopp. Usopp accepts to be part of their family.

They make BIG AHH turn and go to France. They drop at some seaside town. Such a nice touristic place. But so many shop owners with rent complaints. The mayor of this town goes againts its country’s law and increases the rents per SECOND. They dig down this mystery by accident and find out that the mayor is a evil motherfrucker scientist. He also has a son , Sanji (10 yo), whose very much so sweet. They want to fight the scientist but the country is actually supporting him. Since his products and the stuff he does supports the economy or something. So they technically kidnap Sanji. But Sanji needs it. With Franky’s relations they get him a fake id and all that. But they promise that ona day they will have enough power to defeat him. Sanji is happy.

The next destination is Canada. That is exactly where Franky and Robin decides to make another child 😁

After that they go to Egypt. They come across an organisation that Robin did her internship, the one that ran by Sir Crocodile. They find a lost child named Vivi. Vivi is an 8 year old who is getting used by Crocodile. They save her, save the country, yay! Allthough Vivi was a part of their family for a quite time after they learned that Vivi was a princess, they help her to meet her father. The Strawhats leave Egypt and promise eachother that they will meet again.

After 9 months Chopper is born. And the family is complete for now. But they are still in a quest to help children. Or to collect them lol. After a while the grandpas also join their quest. And yeah thats it. I would binge read it if someone makes a fanfic about it.

#one piece #one piece fanart #op au #one piece au #frobin #one piece modern au #op modern au #luffy #roronoa zoro #op nami #op usopp #sanji #drawing #tony tony chopper #nico robin #op franky

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silverskye13 · 10 days

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I am turning EB around in my head like a microwave and I have a couple questions:

What is EB and EX's relationship like? I know they view each other as family and EX gets EB's booth, but will we see how they interact more?

Did anyone wind up telling EB that hels!zedaph is dead? If not, does he have suspicions that he is?

and a more general Hels question (that is totally not related no siree) - what is the upkeep for the remembrance walls like?

EB and EX are on friendly terms! They previously saw each other,,, not as rivals in the traditional sense. They didn't openly attack or oppose each other. But EB viewed EX as a challenge: How do I stay distinct from my brother's shadow? Anyone looking for it would find it obvious. EB got Bigger and Louder whenever EX was around, and he used to be much bigger and much louder than he currently is. It's less that he was mean, and more that he was prideful. Becoming friends with Helsknight changed him for the better in that regard. Since he's mellowed out, he and his brother have become closer. They enjoy visiting with each other during Colosseum matches [EB will often stand with EX in the box and talk both before the events, and during intermission] and EX invites EB to a lot of parties, where they shit talk the guests together. We'll see them together once during RnS, but EB is a secondary character, and outside of the one appearance, I don't intend to have EX very involved in the story. He's kind of the unspoken god of the world: he gets a lot of mentions because he's very important to hels, but he's not very important to the plot lol.

Someone did wind up telling EB about hels!zedaph, though yes, he did suspect before he was told. EB hadn't gone looking for HZ for a reason. He didn't want to be the one to find out he was gone. If I can't see it, maybe its not really there.

And the Remembrance Wall Ramble got long so its under the cut!

[Hello future me cutting in here because I just realized you were probably talking about what individuals like EB would do to upkeep a name of a loved one. Mostly it involves regular visits. Keeping the stone clean, replacing it if it gets cracked, making sure it doesn't wear down. Nether bricks to me are a bit brittle, and the ones on the bottoms of the walls will crumble and break down over time. Most of the time, the Order of Remembrance is pretty good at getting them replaced, though they encourage individuals to do it themselves, to decorate the stones, paint or carve them, and overall keep the care personal. People will also sometimes leave gifts of food, flowers, and favored items at walls where loved ones names are kept. Walls are very colorful spots in hels, full of a lot of care.]

The Remembrance walls are, basically, graveyards. Alongside friends and family, who will make sure loved ones names are put down and remembered, the Order of Remembrance manages all Remembrance Walls in the city. We'll get into it a little in the upcoming chapters, but the Order of Remembrance church, and its knights, have a very active presence in hels. They are the cloaks seen most often roaming the streets, in twos and threes. They have regular routes they walk, with walls they are assigned to tend. They make sure the stones are stacked straight and don't fall, replace broken ones, and help people carve names. Many knights have prayer chants where they intentionally try to memorize every name on the wall. Their focus is on the idea that no helsmet is truly gone as long as some memory remains of them. They welcome helsmets approaching them with fond memories of loved ones, and will take testimony from people who know their time is coming. Their church is a glorified library and house of memorization. Part of their worship in remembrance of people is also in the remembrance of history, and they have at least one copy of every book, memoir, and journal in hels they can get their hands on. They have one private collection in the church, and one public library in hels, which they regularly update with copies of originals from the church library.

The only place outside the Order of Remembrance's domain is the shady side of town where Cleo's gangs keep the peace. For control reasons, Cleo doesn't like any opposing force on her claimed land, which includes Order of Remembrance knights. She does still have Remembrance Walls on her side of town, but they are up-kept by the people that live there as a community project. People get together once every few weeks, make food, talk about those that are gone, and make sure none of the stones are broken or stolen.

Erasing memory is a big taboo in hels, understandably. The universe is already cruel enough in taking people, and people, once taken, are woefully easy to forget [they were never meant to exist in the first place, after all]. On the sides of town where the Order of Remembrance upkeeps the walls, anyone caught stealing or destroying stones is tracked down by their paladins, and subjected to community service under close supervision. They're often roughed up in the process, but the paladins won't kill you for breaking a stone. Depending on whose stone you break, and how angry hels is that day, the same can't be said for anyone else who catches you. Repeat offenders, or people who destroy many stones at once with the express intent of erasing memory, are branded by the Order with a mark somewhere visible, normally on the hands. Anyone with that unlucky brand will see increased hostility from their peers, ostricization, lost of livelihood and home -- it's a great way to make everyone in hels hate you. Anyone on Cleo's side of town caught destroying a stone is hunted actively in the streets, and leaving her side of town will not save them. She offers high bounties for that kind of thing.

#rns asks #evil xisuma #evil beezuma #remembrance walls #hels #hels worldbuilding #aloe-vera-ghost #sorry you activated my trap card #i have a lot of thoughts on the Order of Remembrance #They're very very good guys #They're some of the few people in hels everyone likes #There is also an unspoken rule you don't mess with [attack or rob] Remembrance knights #because if you do that gives them a reason to forget you #and to make sure the world forgets you #to anyones knowledge they've never done that before #but then again -- if they did how would you know?

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heartkyeom · 2 years

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pretty party favor

kim mingyu x fem!reader

word count: 3.7k

tag list: @onlymingyus @junkissed @maijunejuly @hyucks-rose @freakyfriedrice @aceofvernons @fallinwoozi

warnings: not really enemies but they know and hate each other lol, gendered nicknames, reader has vagina, reader receiving head, overstimulation, squirting, slightly fluffy

a/n: hi this is halloween-esque but not necessarily spooky. just tension between idiots which I love to write! shoutout to june giving me the title to this + getting me to finish this with her comments on my google doc <3 pls enjoy

“get in the car.”

“fuck you,” you muttered under your breath.

“what was that?” mingyu spoke up again, clearly trying to push your buttons. he’s always done this, always acted as if he’s entitled to an answer even when it was none of his business.

you stopped in your tracks to look at him. “I said fuck you, prick,” you spat out, quickly facing your attention toward the path back home.

you were coming back from a friend’s Y2K themed costume party which unfortunately meant taking the short walk back home in a denim miniskirt, a baby tee with a stupid saying on the front, and a pair of sneakers. it was a fun night, you drank sufficiently to the point where you felt light on your feet while walking home.

sure, your feet were comfortable, but it was still an inconvenience to walk back when it was cold and dark, but you typically never encountered any trouble since your apartment was located on a quiet residential street.

however, tonight, mingyu had other plans. you thankfully managed to avoid him the entire night at the party, so much that you almost forgot he existed for a few hours. you spent the night catching up with friends that you hadn’t seen in a while because of work, gossiping a bit too much over red plastic cups, but you still spotted him occasionally doing the same thing.

despite your friend group’s best efforts to help you make amends, you two didn’t get along one bit. there was too much tension for them to cut through as a collective group, so they eventually let it go in an effort to keep the peace.

“get in the car right now. cheol’s gonna have my head if I don’t take you home, especially since you were drinking. I know you were taking shots all night,” he responds with that sly grin of his, you don’t even have to look at him to know.

“that’s not true and cheol should know better than to expect me to ride with you,” your words slur slightly, exposing yourself a bit too much. you subsequently trip over your feet on a crack in the sidewalk, losing your balance momentarily.

you hear him laugh a bit too loud at the mistake and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. of course, he saw it and he’s not gonna let you forget about it either.

“you can’t even walk in sneakers right now! get in the car, princess, seriously,” he objects. you look over and you’re shocked that he’s still bored enough to keep up with you, it’s actively starting to piss you off.

“fuck, just let me fall on the pavement and die,” you yell into the air with your head tilted back, “you’re not even supposed to care what happens to me!” you turn your head to him again with a bewildered look.

“stop before you wake up the whole neighborhood,” he warns. “you know what, enough,” you hear him shut off the ignition and get out of the car, shutting the door behind him and meeting you on the sidewalk faster than you expected.

“you’re being ridiculous,” he points at you with an accusatory finger.

you scoff. “do you think you’re gonna fuck me? is that why you’re doing this?”

it feels wrong the moment you say it, but what else were you meant to say? he has notoriously only been friends with girls just to have weirdly long situationships with them, never establishing a proper relationship due to a lack of commitment. he thought it was convenient, you thought it was irritating.

“what? are you fucking kidding me?” he seethes, running his hands through his hair. you’ve really done it now, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this flustered and angry at the same time. yet, it was the truth.

even when the rest of your friend group teased him, mingyu always took it without too much resistance, that’s just the kind of guy he is.

“am I wrong? you think every girl you come into contact with wants to fuck you,” you insist, you cross your arms in front of your chest and stare at him intensely.

“i’m doing this because you need to get home, whether I like you or not,” he clenches his jaw, not breaking eye contact for a second. it would probably scare you if you were less drunk, but you were feeling testy.

“what happened to princess? hmm?” you smirk.

he barely lets you finish before he picks you up by the waist, doing his best to place you in the passenger seat despite you hitting his back with your fists.

“put me down!” you scream into his ear over and over until he’s somehow opened the door and clicks your seatbelt across your waist. you immediately shut up the moment he throws your discarded purse in your lap, you clutch it while looking down at your feet.

you watch him walk around to the driver’s seat and settle into the car, shifting gears before driving away from the wooded area.

“you’re such a fucking brat, you’d rather fight me until you’re blue in the face instead of just taking the ride,” he tightens his grip around the steering wheel until his knuckles tense a bit too tight, it makes you swallow weakly.

the next few minutes are uncomfortably tense, you don’t miss the way he sets his jaw just a little bit tighter each time he stops at a red light. you don’t have to tell him how to get to your apartment, he’s been there too many times to count.

he pulls up to your apartment, turns on the hazard lights, and sits back in the leather seat.

“get out,” he says in a sharp yet quiet tone. you didn’t think it would strike a nerve that badly with him, but the guilt settles into your chest as you unbuckle the seatbelt and exit the car. you slam the car door and walk away, not letting yourself look back at him.

you fish your keys out of your front pocket and fumble your way inside without much effort and shut the door behind you. that probably makes the top 5 worst conversations that you’ve had with mingyu, but you won’t remember it in the morning.

you hope not, at least.

you don’t even have a full moment to yourself before you hear a soft knock on the door. you throw off your sneakers before padding across the hardwood floor toward the door, opening it to reveal a slightly disheveled mingyu.

“your purse,” he sighs, holding up your bag with his fingers out toward you. you stare at him for a moment before taking it.

you both exchange a look, but you turn away from the door toward the pitch darkness of your living room.

it was an intrusive thought, the thought of getting split open on kim mingyu’s dick.

he’d probably show no mercy since there are infinite levels of tension in your relationship that not even scientists would understand.

it’s so stupid, but there’s probably some alternate universe where you aren’t forcing yourself to do this, you would both act like normal adults and you would just ask him to have sex.

but, this is real life and you’re about to go back on your word not even an hour later.

“i need you to fuck me.”

“you’re drunk,” he seems to be unbothered before he starts blinking a bit too much, his nonchalance shifts into a state of processing.

“I'm barely drunk and I know you want to, you want to put me in my place,” you approach him with blind confidence. he stares you down, no emotion evident on his face.

“I need full consent and I mean it, I’m not touching you without it.”

“I give you full consent to fuck the shit out of me,” you deadpan, sighing as if you’re telling him off more than actually informing him. he nods silently, accepting the terms. he steps past you into the apartment and you shut the door behind him, gently locking it before facing him again.

you walk toward your bedroom, fumbling around to turn on the lamp before sitting down on your plush comforter.

he approaches you at the end of the bed, considering his next move as he stares at your thighs.

he sinks to his knees, his face now eye level with your cunt. he slips his hands under your skirt to find no trace of underwear, the shock is visible on his face as he looks up at you.

“this seems like you wanted to get fucked tonight, princess,” he shakes his head and returns his focus to the task at hand, finding your clit with his thumb.

“m-maybe,” you let out a shaky breath as he increases the pressure, making torturously slow circles on your clit. you lean your head back as you let out a few involuntary moans, mingyu laughs as you slowly give into the pleasure.

“but my skirt was long enough to cover it, who cares,” you brush off the fact and prop up your elbows in an effort to steady yourself.

“such a naughty girl,” he collects a bit of your arousal on his fingers before lifting them to your mouth. he pushes them into your mouth and you happily swirl them around on your tongue, sucking them clean. it pulls another moan out of you, and you’re not sure if it’s from the nickname or the act itself, either way he’s making you feel so pathetic.

“you like that, huh? you like being my naughty girl,” his voice goes especially raspy as he returns to your thighs, pressing gentle kisses on the path to your clit. the lack of pressure is sweet but disappointing, you wanted a little bit more action.

“thought you were gonna go harder than this,” you retort. you can feel the confidence die in your throat as he looks up at you.

“you didn’t answer my question,” he scratches his nails down your thighs to your slight discomfort, “and if you don’t, i’ll be agonizingly slow,” he warns. you don’t want to be putty in his hands, but he just pulls you in so easily.

“i like it,” you whisper and shut your eyes immediately. you put your arm over your face in an effort to hide, but he’s already up to his feet, pulling it away from your face a moment after.

“what was that, baby? what do you like?” you hear him ask you and the shyness washes over you again.

you whined and forced yourself to answer. “i like being naughty for you,” you moan, you shift your hips in an effort to get more friction, silently asking him to start up again.

“good girl,” his words melt on your core as he settles himself onto his knees again, he chooses to keep murmuring soft praises against you and it drives you insane.

the compliments go to your head and you think you want to get drunk on his words, the way his voice rasps against your skin as if he’s trying to make sure the words never leave your flesh.

he arrives at a faster pace sooner than you expect, making you place a hand in his hair. the harder he licks your clit, the tighter your hold gets. the resulting groan from him is heavenly, it adds an extra bit of pressure that has you clutching the sheets for dear life. you no longer hold yourself back from bucking your hips up against his face, he has to force you back down with his hands after the third time you do it.

“mingyu, please please please,” you slur out, you throw your head back to try and fight the building coil in your stomach.

“please what?” he looks up at you with a glistening mouth, eager to get back to the task at hand.

“let me cum, please,” you grit your teeth at the loss of pressure. he bites back a smile and steadies his hands on your thighs, fingers spread across your skin for balance.

“asking for permission, good girl? should I let you?”

“yes, I’m losing my mind gyu, please,” your heart feels like it’s in your throat the moment you respond.

“one question and I’ll let you go, ok? were you avoiding me at the party?” he asks it so easily, it makes you want to scream.

of course you were and of course he noticed.

“yes, I was,” you admit. he tilts his head slightly.

“thought I wouldn’t see you, princess? no matter how much you wanted to look at me?” he mumbles the words against your slit, not breaking eye contact with you for even a second.

“you never see me,” you know it’s too vulnerable, you’re pushing your luck with this response.

“I always do,” his eyes linger on you for a little bit too long, you can see the fondness spread across his cheeks when he smiles.

it’s disgustingly charming.

you want to see more.

he doesn’t warn you before he licks a stripe against your entrance, it makes you lift your hips again in shock. he laughs against your thighs at your response, closing his eyes for a moment. “stop trying to get away from me,” he pouts.

“force of habit,” you can’t even look at him but it’s true. this is all a little too foreign for you, your body still has some catching up to do with your heart in terms of accepting mingyu’s attention.

before you can process, the coil is tight once again and you’re desperate to cum, you don’t like the fact that you’ve been involuntarily edged multiple times now.

your whines are the only thing you can hear and you can only say his name over and over until your thoughts no longer have a way to escape from your mouth.

you get so caught up in your own pleasure that you’re rocking his head back and forth with your hips in order to coax your orgasm out.

mingyu, bless his heart, has latched his arm around your thigh to help you get there, hoisting your leg over his shoulder and leaning into the movements to tether himself to you.

“fuck, I’m gonna cum,” your voice thins out into a whisper as he concentrates on your clit, the clear area of interest now that you’ve spoken up.

mingyu replaces his tongue with his fingers so that he can look at you. “come on, princess, cum for me,” he whispers. the determined look he gives you, the nickname, and the relentless speed he’s moving at leave you absolutely done for.

white spots hit your vision and you’re screaming his name, you screw your eyes shut and feel a gush of cum pool underneath your thighs and your pleasure is now twisted into horror.

“fuck, that was so much,” you contort your face at the feeling, you scoot yourself away from the mess in sheer embarrassment.

kim mingyu was able to make you squirt just from giving head during your first time together?

you’d never hear the end of it.

“it was hot as fuck, baby, I promise,” he’s grinning like a kid in a candy store, it makes you cringe but he’s still cute.

“you sure?” he's already licking your thighs clean, he was definitely sure.

“very sure, now let me clean you up. and take off your clothes, you’re sweating,” he’s slightly concerned as he finally stands up, leaving to retrieve a damp washcloth.

once you hear the water running, you’re alone with your thoughts for a minute.

mingyu clearly likes having sex with you, even indulging in multiple nicknames that were making themselves comfortable in your mind.

it was confusing yet exciting all at once, how could he break you down like this so easily?

has this always been the truth? were you always waiting for him to take it too far? or did you just have to find the courage to ask him for yourself?

all of these thoughts return to the back of your mind as he reappears after a minute or two with said item, standing over you for a moment.

you realize that you’re still clothed and let out a small gasp to his amusement, you quickly discard your clothes on the floor.

he finally joins you on the bed, knees caging your body to help you clean up. “good girl,” he begins to wipe you down gently, taking his time to carry out a thorough job.

“these nicknames are so,” you trail off. he gives you a patient look, not forcing you to answer until you’re ready.

“so new,” you arrive at the answer a few seconds later with squinted eyes.

“i’m testing them out. nothing is permanent,” he offers.

you don’t want him to change his mind, the idea of being his princess is viable, it becomes more realized in each passing moment.

“well, i assume you don’t want to be in a relationship,” you watch him with your hands across your chest, suddenly a bit self conscious.

“that would be wrong,” he doesn’t look up, he simply wrings the washcloth in his hands.

“what?”

“I haven’t been with anyone casually in a long time, I want to be in a committed relationship.”

“then how do I fit into this?”

“I always thought you were pretty, stubborn as fuck but pretty,” he seems to recall past arguments with a scoff, “but I know when I’m not wanted, y/n. I wasn’t gonna force myself onto you,” he doesn't look up at you.

“right,” you nod solemnly. it makes sense. why try when it’s clear what the outcome will be?

“and we were always mad at each other over dumb shit, I just let that idea die. how do you feel?” he finally looks at you, all other movements cease to just look at you with those pretty eyes of his.

“same reason, it was just mentally easier to be mad at you. better than rejection, I guess?” you’re processing it as you say it out loud.

“we’re both pathetic, huh?” he giggles and you finally let yourself go. it’s nice to finally agree on something for once, to let the air be clear of any resentment.

“just a little. god, they’re gonna lose their shit over us,” you whine, placing your hands over your eyes.

“hey, hey, we don’t have to tell anyone anything yet,” he reassures you while removing your hands from your face. “we haven’t even gone on a date, we can take our time,” he kisses your cheek in an attempt to make you smile, it doesn’t work.

you sigh at the idea of a potential dating timeline. “right. what happens when we look like we don’t hate each other the next time we hang out? the lack of tension would be almost too obvious,” you’re overthinking and he tries to quiet the fears with a peck to your lips.

“we‘ll be fine, baby,” he smirks against your lips and kisses you once more. “what if I don’t want them to know, huh? what if I want you all to myself?” his hands trail down to your chest, slowly kneading your breasts to your surprise.

you don’t fight the groan that escapes your lips, mingyu smiles knowing that he’s broken your brain out of its anxious trance.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” you sigh out, he flops his head against your chest and finally takes in the weight of everything, laying next to you.

you both take in the silence and you decide to run your fingers through his hair. he moves accordingly and lets out a content sigh at your choice.

“mingyu?” you break the silence.

“yeah?”

“i’m sorry about tonight. what I said was cruel,” you try to express yourself as earnestly as possible. it was only right that starting fresh with each other meant building a new foundation of honesty and trust.

“I forgive you, baby. you were right, anyways,” he grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your palm before intertwining your fingers together.

“it was still mean.”

“well, I’ll tell you what, I still haven’t kept my promise of fucking the shit out of you,” you blush at him remembering your words. “so let’s do that instead of going back and forth, ok? I promise I’m fine,” he cradles your face in his hands and you’re acutely aware of how calm it makes you feel.

his eye contact still makes you a bit nervous, but nervous in a way where you want him to keep looking, you want him to keep accepting you with his sweet eyes.

“okay,” you finally feel more relaxed at the sight of him, the tension leaves your face and he notices it immediately.

you’re broken out of your trance when his phone rings. he’s clearly annoyed until he sees who it is and flashes the screen toward you.

you smile and your eyes widen.

it’s seungcheol.

he answers the phone while stroking your cheek with his hand. “hey, yeah, I got her back home. I don’t know why she’s not picking up your calls,” he responds in between pauses and looks at you with a knowing smirk.

you feel your cheeks heat up again and you flip your head into the pillow. your ass is now exposed, a costly mistake when you feel his hands travel over your skin. you hear mingyu “mhm” and “yeah” his way through the rest of the call while occasionally squeezing your ass, it was terribly cocky of him.

“okay, talk to you later,” he hangs up and you hear him place his phone on your nightstand.

“hey, pretty,” he leans down to your ear and you groan.

“oh god, I didn’t text him,” you sigh at the idea of getting a lecture from seungcheol.

“it’s fine,” he flips you over with a short grunt.

“it’s not fine,” you pout to the point where he can’t help but pinch your cheek.

“I just covered for you and I still want to fuck you, unless you still need convincing,” he takes his hand from your face and places it over his erection. it feels too big under your hand and your heart starts racing.

“shit,” your breath hitches. “okay, go for it.”

“you’re so fucking cute,” he kisses your forehead before stripping down.

“I am?” you catch your breath at the sight of his chest.

“yes, and I’m about to enjoy every single second of this.”

#svthub #mingyu smut #mingyu fic #mingyu oneshot #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x reader #svt smut #heartkyeom #this one slayed I'm gonna be honest #excited to see the reactions YAS

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officialspec · 1 month

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Have you been to eat street? I’d wanna know what the dungeon meshi characters think of there :D I went there yesterday and got a caramel apple there for my birthday on monday!

I LOVE EAT STREET !! ive been twice now and its soooo good i always end up glutting myself on seafood

EDIT JUST REALISED THERE WAS ANOTHER QUESTION LOL

i think falin would enjoy it the most out of everyone w so many little treats to try. marcille ends up blowing thru her budget twice over bc falin will see those little pastries in fun shapes and turn on the puppy eyes. they both get a stomach ache from eating too much every time and never learn their lesson

senshi doesnt go, hes appalled at the prices and the questionable food quality at some of the stalls, and he cant put up his own stall bc he doesnt have the right paperwork. the crowds are too much to deal with for him anyways. hes probably friends with a few of the vendors though

its wayyy too expensive and crowded for chilchuck, i think him and laios both get completely overwhelmed by the people and noise so if they do go theyre both sticking to the far seating areas the entire time. falin shares her bounty w them but laios is the only one who tries everything she brings back

kabru collects a whole lot of unexpected free samples and then sits along the riverside bar and eavesdrops. also i think he would like the nut stall based on absolutely nothing but pure vibes

#its my favourite but so much harder to find here than im used to <- cairns boy #ask #i love the lemonade stand too #brisbane meshi

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sixzeroes · 1 year

Text

candy! a miniseries featuring nct dream’s ‘00 liners + a collection of short oneshots.

huang renjun, lee jeno, lee donghyuck, and na jaemin are a couple of buds in their senior year of high school. not a single one of them is taken and all of them probably have questionable rizz. but that’s alright, because love is love and having good rizz does not correlate with scoring a romantic relationship. (that’s why all four of them were able to find a girlfriend by the summer after graduating.)

alternatively, just a bunch high school romance aus that i mourn because i wish i was a teenage girl again instead of a tired adult.

inspired by nct dream’s mini album, candy.

EP.01 : ❝ you are my tangerine love. ❞

huang renjun has liked people before. he’s not some special case where his heart is solely reserved for his one true love—no, none of that shoujo manga bullshit. but whenever he sees you, his neighbour of ten years, renjun feels this sweet, tangy taste in his heart.

pairing. huang renjun x reader(f). genres. fluff, romance, slice of life, neighbours-to-lovers, high school au, non-idol au.

status. every time my type!

EP.02 : ❝ the feeling that reminds me of you. ❞

lee jeno has had you as his best friend for as long as he can remember. every step of the way, you were there, stuck to his side like glue. jeno always believed you’d be his best friend forever, so why is he starting to view you in a different, non-platonic light?

pairing. lee jeno x reader(f). genres. fluff, romance, slice of life, (best) friends-to-lovers, high school au, childhood friends au, non-idol au.

status. one step, crunch.

EP.03 : ❝ i walk this cold path with you. ❞

lee donghyuck did not believe in ‘love at first sight.’ key word: did. he does now, but only because you happened to fall into his arms on the icy road in the narrow streets. you’re going to render him breathless from the countless times your smile takes his breath away.

pairing. lee donghyuck x reader(f). genres. fluff, romance, slice of life, strangers-to-lovers, high school au, meet-cute au, non-idol au.

status. breathe in, breathe out.

EP.04 : ❝ can i stay by your side forever? ❞

na jaemin does not like you, not one bit. you’re one brat of a student body president, never failing to show-off to him. but on the day of your high school graduation, you unexpectedly confess to him, and all of a sudden, you’re more important than suneung results.

pairing. na jaemin x reader(f). genres. fluff, romance, slice of life, academic-rivals-to-lovers, high school au, non-idol au.

status. coming soon.

nabi’s note | i need to stop coming up with new ideas when i haven’t even finished my other fics. anyway, this is gonna be my return to writing on tumblr bc i rly rly wanna write smth for dream’s winter special !! all of these are probs gonna be ard 2–5k words, and (hopefully) no more than that lol :”

btw | all of these fics are written from the boys’ povs’! so please don’t be shocked if they’re a little wonky D:

taglist | @matchahyuck @lovehowdream @niinjo @jeonnyread @pckeia @dandelionxgal @huangstape @lemarkjun @mosviqu @neosdaisy @haven-cove @toothfa-1-ry

please send an ask or comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list! <3

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lace-coffin · 2 months

Note

hii!! I absolutely love your works ‼️‼️ yummy

But I was wondering how Asa Emory would react to a Kid? Around 7-9.

Butttt, Asa comes home from teaching a bunch of kids, gets dressed and goes to the hotel but when he comes in, there’s stuff like missing, other peoples doors / cages open, etc, and there’s like a little kid stuck somewhere (like maybe Asa’s safe room or whatever) and the little kid kinda of just broke into the hotel looking for shelter.

(Like the kids in an abusive family, etc, and has really ripped clothing and a few bruises on their face)

Idk if this is silly, 😭I just wonder how Asa would react to a abused kid breaking into his hotel and being like ‘dis my hotel now’

How would Asa Emory react to a child breaking into his hotel?

Requests are open!

Asa was bone tired. Teaching children will do that to you. Not that anything particularly noteworthy happened, a few tantrums he had to sooth but that was about it, nothing special. Still, teaching kids sucks the energy and maybe your soul out of you.

Children operate on such a different wave length to us and come out with and do things that Asa couldn’t even begin to conceptualise. Today a kid told him “mommy said that my daddy is going to be having a sleep over at his lady friends house from now on, so I get to sleep in the big bed!” And then walked off like it was nothing.

Trudging into his room Asa tugs off his tie, work clothes following soon after, sighing he slings them onto the bed in a heap, he can deal with it later. Usually he would take a shower but considering the work he does it would just be a waste to get clean to get dirty again.

Slamming the door of his white, but mostly grey van due to it being in dire need of a wash, Asa makes his way to the front entrance of the hotel.

Immediately he can tell something is wrong, the door is still locked as he left it but the bordered up window has a gaping hole across two of the planks, most likely rammed in on the spots that were weakened by weathering.

The gap was maybe large enough for a lanky adult to squeeze through, maybe a child? It definitely wasn’t the police, there would be cop cars and way more fanfare. Looters maybe? If it was looters then there’s a chance the traps inside had taken care of the issue already. It’s not like they’d find anything of value, well anything of monetary value, he’s not sure criminals would consider his collection as valuable as he does.

Steeling his nerves he enters the building, hand readied at his pocket knife clipped to the ring on his belt, it’s unlikely anyone would manage to get the jump on him in his own hotel but it’s always good to be prepared. After darting around corners cautiously he makes it to the control room, something of a safe room almost, before pausing.

Ah, a child. Stood defensively just beyond the door is a dirtied looking child, skin unclean and clothes having seen better days. He defiantly has some guts breaking into here of all places, or maybe it’s just desperation? It looks like the child may not have anywhere to go or atleast doesn’t have a safe home environment. Ok, get the kid to safety and then he’s out of Asa’s (lack of lol) hair. He’s pretty sure all his subjects are secured and in there cages but he can never be too sure what happens overnight when he leaves so it’s best to be hasty. He works with kids all day, he can do this.

He can’t do this. Admittedly the kid probably has a lot going on but they’re a nightmare. So far they’ve kicked and hit whenever Asa approached, attempted to bolt from the locked room, and declared “this my hotel now” to an unamused collector. Eventually they come to a truce, finally managing to subdue the kid with fruit slices and the promise of taking them to the authorities. As much as he doesn’t want the police snooping around here it’s not like he can leave the kid in the cold like this. Asa’s going to have to drive to a random street and essentially lie about where and how he found the kid.

Lord help this man.

#slashers #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #writing #asa emory #asa emory x reader #my writing #the collection #slasher fucker #slasher hcs #slasher horror #slashers x reader

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meggiesposts · 1 year

Note

i love your monoma posts they give me reason to live 😭 if u get the time, i think a funny premise would be if the reader was thristing over monoma (to like… an unhealthy extent), and he just can’t pick up on it?? like he’s calling them and their friends 1-A losers n shit and the reader is giddy over the fact that he’s just talking to them lol. maybe kendo can break the news that the reader has a giant crush on him and he like… doesn’t know how to act at all. he can’t tell if he should give them mercy and be nicer to them or call them out and be a little bitch about it 🤭

WARNINGS ⚠️ : reader thirsting, Monoma (kidding I love him), kendo being done w Monoma, reader being kind of a pervert, tried to make reader gender-neutral, a kiss, delusional Monoma

DONE

They are done.

Class 1-A is officially DONE.

Done with your bullshit.

Every time he comes around you go insane. So insane that you’ve said to his face that you would take him out on a date if he would let you.

His response? “Why would anyone go out on a date with a 1-A loser?”

They were done with listening to you thirst over the man that hates their guts. Mina was done listening to you choke over yourself with how much you want him.

Honestly she can’t listen to it anymore- listen… she loves you. More than anything in the world. But if you don’t stop- she’s going to burn your tongue off. She can’t hear your reasoning anymore either-

“But Mina- his arms-”

“I swEAR TO GO-”

She’s done.

She’s tried to talk to you about it too. What do you actually see in him, Ya’know? To be fair, you gave some valid reasons.

His eyes being the color of the ocean and his hair in line with the sand. His smile- taunting or not- was indeed- maybe, on some molecular level- attractive.

He also had potential to become a great hero! Seriously, he did! But oh- oh god his mouth. Every time he opened his mouth- all she saw was thousands of reasons why you shouldn’t like him.

Hell- Aizawa had to tell you to knock it off a couple times- and god forbid that one time you got put in a sparing match with him. The collective number of groans that rang throughout class 1-A was comical.

You rode that high for weeks. Let alone the fact that you used it as a chance to get your hands on him. With the strength of your quirk that- unfortunately for him he could not copy- you sometimes just held him.

He of course didn’t notice- using bakugou’s quirk to fill the air with dust from exploded cement.

You even got to straddle him- to which you told him to yield. He didn’t.

But that knowledge was just for you.

Yet he remained oblivious.

The class can’t count how many times they had straight up watched you say he was hot and how many times you had asked him out- to his face- which he didn’t understand.

The people of UA didn’t know what was worse. Your blatant thirst for the man- of the fact that the man was such an idiot he didn’t see.

It was clearly starting to piss even you off.

So finally, Kendo had to take it into her own hands.

It was gruesome.

“Y/n likes you-”

“Of course they do- the 1-A’s should bow to us.”

“No- Monoma- y/n likes you like-”

“A god? I am one.”

*smack*

She looked deep into the eyes of the disgruntled man as he rubbed the back of his head. The intensity of her silent stare man his shiver as he cowered back.

“Listen to me Monoma. I am being serious. Y/n likes you. Like a married couple. Like a significant other. They want you to be their boyfriend.”

…

“You serious?”

She’s done.

Now Monoma is hit with new information as he dwells in his dorm lair. He laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling as he was stuck in his thoughts.

On one hand. Your pretty. Like- really pretty. Like walk into a pole on the street because he was starting at you busy. Your strong, fast, really smart… aaannnndddd you like him. A major plus if you will.

But- you were in class 1-A. Could he even date someone in class 1-A after trashing on them so much?

He couldn’t decide yet. So he let it sit.

Unfortunately for him, due to his new knowledge of you, he became hyper-aware of everything you did.

The comments, the touching, asking him out point blank.

Everyone saw the change in him too.

The way he suddenly got tongue tied when he stepped up to class 1-A and you made a comment on how he looked hot when he smirked.

How when paired together he was suddenly stiff and stopped communicating.

He was flustered.

Something that you realized. Something you were going to have fun with.

Oh and you did.

Any chance you got you touched him. Your hand flat on his chest or wrapping your arm around his waist, you did everything.

It builds and builds and builds of course. So the next time he sees you- he snaps.

You were just trying to get a drink after going to the bathroom. It was pure coincidence that he was out too.

To say you were shocked when you were suddenly body slammed into the corner was an understatement.

You stared, wide eyed at the boy in front of you at he fumed.

You stayed quiet, waiting for him to say something- anything really. But he doesn’t. Just holding you in place- breathing heavily with anger swirling in his eyes.

You couldn’t complain- no.

His face was so close to yours. His breath fanning your lips and his body continuously brushing against yours.

You finally broke.

“If you wanted me like this so bad, you could’ve just said so-”

Lips cut you off. Soft, warm- and you melt. Your arms instantly forcing him against you as you eagerly push against him. Your head is fuzzy, filled with him, everything is him.

His warmth, how soft he feels, his hair under your fingertips.

It’s driving him crazy how easily he drives you crazy.

When he finally manages to pull away, he’s disoriented. His hair is a mess, his eyes trained on your love-stuck eyes and your swollen lips.

It takes him a minute of the close proximity to get his head clear. He suddenly shoves you back against the wall again as he pulls a few steps back.

He swallows thickly as he tries to get his barring together. Straightening his uniform shirt he quickly points at you.

God that love-sick smile your wearing, it makes him sick. Sick in love- sick with vile he doesn’t know.

So he points at you and he says-

“Keep quiet about this. I-I can’t be seen with a 1-A loser.”

He doesn’t mean it. Not really.

But that’s okay.

You’ll steal these flustering moment alone where he moans into your mouth and clutches so tightly onto your hips while he lives in his beautiful delusion.

You’ll keep openly pining after him while he continues to hate on class 1-A.

It’s okay though. You know where you stand. So you’ll let him continue to loose his own mind figuring you out, not fully realizing the extent in which your all his.

OKAY THIS WAS RUSHED AND IM 50-50 WITH LIKING AND HATING IT BUT I LIKED THE ENDING SO IMA KEEP IT

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a-writer-on-elm-street · 1 year

Note

do you take requests? if so.. can i ask for terrifier imagine. like imagine its halloween he comes to your house to get candy, you’re in a cute (sorty slutty) outfit and he compliments you, you guys start talking (well only the reader lol) (make the reader like super cute and ditzy.) while talking, some other guys come and make you uncomfy. art isnt having it and kills them.. but later, not in front of reader. art comes to the house later that night and reader invites him and so forth

a/n: thank you so much for the request! so sorry it took so long but i hope you like it! :)

pairing: art x gn!reader

warnings: clowns, blood, weapons

"Just a sec!" You called out, almost tripping over your cloak on your way to the door, a half full bowl of candy already balanced in your arms.

Pushing the handle down with your elbow, you finally managed to open the door. And you were met with a white painted face, paired with black rimmed eyes and a black smile, fake blood spattered across the side of his head.

"Wow." You exclaimed, your eyes going wide with surprise as you took in the clown's appearance. "I love your costume."

He seemed to share your enthusiasm, as a wide smile broke across his face, his eyes scanning up and down your body.

You were wearing some sort of mildly revealing witch costume; a tight black dress that barely covered your thighs, a dark purple cloak--that you had almost tripped over--and a pointy hat that had slipped off the top of your head slightly during your hurry towards the door.

"You like it?" You asked, grinning at the clown as you showed off your costume.

He simply nodded, smiling widely at you.

"I love the blood by the way." You marvelled, reaching out to touch the side of his head. "Super cool."

Before you could compliment the clown's appearance further, however, new voices could be heard at the bottom of the walkway.

A group of guys were currently heading in your direction, all dressed in plain dark clothing. They seemed fairly underdressed, par for the flimsy plastic masks hanging from their fingers. You could manage to identify around two of the masks; a clown, much similar to the one worn by a young Michael Myers, and then some sort of red monster mask.

The clown that had originally been standing in front of you had stepped aside now, watching as the men at the foot of your walkway loudly approached. They didn't seem like they were here for candy.

"Hey sweetheart!" One of the men shouted, his friends laughing behind him. "Love the costume!"

"Thanks." You muttered, offering them a polite smile, despite the fact that you just wanted to run back inside your house and lock the door.

The men continued to stand there, throwing various inappropriate comments your way, and it wasn't until the clown that had initially come to your door stepped forward, that their attention was directed away from you.

"Oh, hey there buddy." One of the men spoke, an amused grin on his face. "Nice costume. Very scary."

The clown didn't speak, but you noticed him reach into the black garbage bag at his side, before pulling out a bloodied meat cleaver. This person was committed.

You watched as he dropped the garbage bag, his gloved hand clutched tight around the weapon, and he advanced towards the guys. And it seemed the weapon had achieved its desired effect as the men slowly began to back up, fear evident in their faces now.

"Alright, we're going." One of them said, all of them practically running down the walkway now as they disappeared down the street.

You didn't even get to thank the clown though, before he was collecting his things and walking off in the direction the guys had gone.

Later that night, whilst you were in the process of getting changed into comfier clothes, you heard a knock at your door.

And when you opened it, the clown from earlier was standing on your doorstep, a fake bouquette of flowers held in his hands as he grinned at you.

"Thank you." You chuckled, taking the flowers from him. "And thank you for earlier."

He simply gave you an enthusiastic nod, his grin never faltering as he looked at you.

"Would you like to come in?" You offered, not really knowing what else to do.

He nodded again, his eyes alight with excitement as you stepped aside to let him in. He was still smiling as he dragged his garbage bag in behind him, the various objects in it clattering loudly.

"Would you like something to drink?"

The clown simply shook his head, looking around your house, taking in the paintings that were scattered along the walls, the empty mugs littering different surfaces.

"Oh, I know what I can get you." You suddenly said, turning and disappearing into the living room to find your vase of fake roses.

You quickly yanked them from the vase, holding them tight in your hands as you hurried back to the clown.

"Here." You smiled, holding the flowers out to him. "Think of this as a thank you."

His eyes went wide, his mouth forming an 'o' as he reached for the flowers, carefully taking them from you.

"Uhm...what's your name, by the way?"

The clown paused for a moment, before raising his finger, seemingly tracing a letter in the air.

"A...R...T." You spelled. "Art?"

He nodded, his smile growing wider as he looked at you.

"Nice to meet you, Art."

[Main Masterlist]

#art the clown #art the clown x reader #art the clown x you #art the clown oneshot #art the clown fanfiction #art the clown fanfic #art the clown terrifier #terrifier fanfiction #terrifier fanfic #terrifier

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sophiegoose · 8 months

Text

ATSV Characters Meeting Borrowers

Ah yes, one of the classic tropes in the genre, and always one of my faves. Borrowers are great, man.

Anyway, here's my headcanons on how I think different ATSV characters would handle encountering a borrower, enjoy.

[Contains spoilers for Across The Spiderverse]

Miles:

Somewhere between panic and being way too much for the borrower. Can see him doodling at something in his sketchbook, then seeing something fall on his shelf across the room. He shoots some web at it to catch it, assuming it's one of his action figures or similar then screams when he looks down to see a tiny, living person in his hand. Probably freaks out a bit and tries to shake the web off his hand and let go of them but this ends up freaking both of them out even more. Once they're safely down somewhere he's apologizing profusely and is genuinely curious but the borrower is probably scared out of their goddamn mind and he's not helping.

Probably eventually gains their trust some more and once they both set up some boundaries/rules (don't touch my collectibles/don't pick me up like that again, plz) they're probably chill. Can see Miles playing music he likes for them or letting them glance at his sketchbook from time to time or even helping them borrow stuff on occasion. The fact that their new human friend is also Spiderman is pretty cool, too.

Overall, clumsy but well-meaning.

Gwen:

Much more alert than Miles, and probably ends up scaring the borrower when she finds them too. Perhaps not as friendly or as active about sharing her interests with them as Miles, but just as protective and helpful in her own way.

Would definitely let them chill wherever they want in her room, warning them that her dad is the police chief and not to go borrowing when he's around the kitchen, and probably carrying them around to help them gather stuff and the like.

Hobie:

Has known there's a borrower in his home for a long time now, and is incredibly chill about it...perhaps too chill.

Like, unintentionally frightening chill.

Like if said borrower were to ever trip and fall for a high place, Hobie would casually catch them, say hi to them, then just as casually plop them into a pocket on his jacket whilst he goes about whatever he was doing, chatting with them like they've known eachother for years.

Extremely intimidating at first, but once the borrower realizes he's chill they honestly couldn't ask for much more in a human to be borrowing from: he's relaxed, doesn't care if they're out in the open around him, they can take what they want from the kitchen, and he sometimes plays music that they're free to listen to. Once word gets out amongst the local borrowers that this particular bean is chill he's gonna have soooooo many living in his house, lol.

Can totally see Gwen or Pav coming over and seeing, like, a half dozen or so borrowers just chilling out somewhere and turning to Hobie and he's just like "they're cool, don't worry about it" and continuing on like nothing out of the ordinary happened, lol.

Pavitr:

Speaking of Pav, I feel like he'd unintentionally scare the crap out of a borrower by being way too bubbly and nice to them right out of the gate. Like he'd spot one in his home and just be like "oh my goddddds you're so cuteeee! You're like an itty bitty person oh my goddddds" and just be absolutely enamored with them and want to pick them up and give them a lil' hug and just overall be incredibly sweet but also unintentionally intimidating with how attentive and curious his is about them.

After they get to know him I think they'd be fast friends, though: Pav would SO be down with helping them borrow anything they need and, heck, he'd probably even let them go out with him when he's busy being Spiderman, maybe even making/finding a small disguise for them for when they're out on the town with him. He'd totally introduce them to the street dogs and make them a tiny cup of chai and show them to his friends and tbh he's just a big ray of sunshine who gets a little over-enthusiastic sometimes.

Peter B:

Similar to Hobie in that he would definitely know that there's a borrower in the house, but doesn't want to intimidate them and wants them to come out and introduce themselves on their own time.

Of course, things don't work out that way and he eventually encounters them and he's just like "whoa, whoa, relax: not gonna hurt you little buddy." Tbh he has big dad energy all around and would be very chill and supportive towards them, definitely coming off as the hot mess he is but also being nice and trying to maintain comfortable boundaries with them so that they don't feel intimidated when he's around.

DEFINITELY shows them pictures of Mayday and talks non-stop about her and her escapades, and at some point introduces them to the kiddo, making sure she doesn't try to grab them. Introduces them to MJ at some point too, who is A, completely unfazed (she's married to Spiderman: she's seen him drag things much weirder than a tiny person into the house at this point, lol) and is super sweet and kind. Can totally see a tiny spot being set up at the dinner table for the borrower to join them for meals and hang out, probably having to deal with Peter showing them a million pics of Mayday daily, lol.

Tbh, probably the best of the group to end up in the home of as a borrower, Peter would definitely make them feel like family.

Miguel:

In contrast, the absolute WORST Spiderperson to end up in the home of as a borrower. Not only are his senses much sharper than your average bean, but he's also roughly 5000% more aggressive and attentive than most.

The absolute terror of being caught red-handed borrowing something from the pantry as this absolute tower of a man with red eyes and fangs just growls "Put. It. Back. Then explain yourself" would probably put at least a few borrowers in an early grave. Not just that, but imagine accidentally borrowing something he needs for a project or something of sentimental value to him and this already terrifying man suddenly sprouting claws from his fingerprints and chasing after you on ALL FOURS across the house. Absolute nightmare fuel.

Not just that but you KNOW he doesn't care about manhandling borrowers properly: he's gonna be picking them up by the collar of their shirt or squeezing them too hard in his hand while he lectures them on ASKING first before they take something, or growling for them to not to touch stuff for his gizmos and gadgets. He's definitely the man most likely to put a borrower in a jar or cage and interrogate them, and would not give a flying hoot about how intimidating he's being until he goes too far and scares them to tears.

While I can't imagine it'd be easy to gain his trust as a borrower, should the stars align and a borrower manages to befriend him or gain his loyalty he would be an absolute freaking force to be reckoned with when it came to protecting them. The sheer power move as a borrower of sitting on this man's huge shoulder as he glares someone down would be immense, and I feel like he might appreciate having a little pal he can talk to and confide in from time to time.

Overall, big man scary and would be absolutely terrifying to ever have to borrow from. 0/10 would not recommend.

Spot:

Spot I feel would be a bit of a hot mess to be around as a borrower. Pre lab accident he'd be a dorky scientist with a scatterbrain who probably wouldn't even notice the tiny person taking a whole croissant off the kitchen counter whilst he scrambles for those lab notes he put down by the sink last night, and after the lab accident I feel like he'd be a bit intimidating but well-meaning.

Like he's only recently become aware of the multiverse and seen other realms so he's very curious about any odd phenomena he witnesses, so when he finds a tiny person standing in his lab he's just like "ooooooh, what're YOU?!" and immediately fascinated and want to talk.

Definitely would come off intimidating, given he's a big guy with a hole for a face, but being a scientist he's just gonna be asking a bunch of questions and being genuinely curious. Would probably be perfectly fine with them borrowing stuff so long as they don't take anything he needs for his mini collider, and would probably appreciate someone to talk to about his woes (captive audience or not: I mean, are you really gonna say no to the giant guy with interdimensional holes ranting to you about Spiderman?)

Tbh I think the only way Spot would REALLY get scary is post-ascension. The idea of being a borrower and knowing this whacky dude without a face and then one day there's an explosion in the apartment and he dissappears, only to return as a freaky monstrosity whose very presence distorts reality around him and who's gone all-in on his plan to ruin Spiderman's life would be terrifying. How would one even react to someone like that coming back to that dinky little apartment and greeting you, distorting the whole time with limbs appearing and disappearing as he speaks to you in a booming voice?

I take it back, he might actually be scarier than Miguel.

#spiderverse g/t #across the spiderverse spoilers #atsv spoilers #atsv g/t #sfw giant/tiny #sfw g/t #giant tiny #g/t #across the spider verse #borrowers #such a good classic trope man

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dadsbongos · 2 years

Text

a warm body

Stranger Things x Horror Movie Collection

American Psycho / Halloween / Scream / Friday the 13th / Fear Street / Jennifer’s Body

13.7K words

warnings - sexual allusions lol!, descriptions of wounds/violence (blood n gore n such), bimbo reader bimbo reader <3, jennifer’s body au

summary - You drag Robin to The Hideout in hopes of fulfilling your fantasy of hooking up with a boy in a band. Hijinks ensue and suddenly you’re a succubus that only your bestest friend can satiate.

“Hey, we’ve gotta go to The Hideout tonight.”

“Ew,” Robin gags, “Enough of Munson, okay? I’m sick of going to their gigs.”

“It’ll be fun,” you pout and lean your head against the locker next to Robin’s, “besides, there’s a new band showing up today. Heard it straight from Gareth in the lunch line - Bombed Grave, or some shit. Should be good.”

“Oh my God,” Robin shakes her head, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, “You need to get over this fantasy of being a groupie, it’ll get you killed.”

“It will not get me killed, it’s just a one-time thing, you know?” you fiddle with one of the rings Robin had gifted you a couple of years back, “Some stupid boy in a stupid band and me, just once. It’d be fun. And then it’s over.”

You shrug like it’s simple - like you’re talking about a piercing.

“Well, as long as I’m here - no stupid boy from a shitty band is getting anywhere near you,” Robin grins sardonically.

“Hey,” you stick out your bottom lip, elbowing Robin in the side, “I’m a big girl now, I can take care of myself, Rob,” then just to tease, you throw out, “Mom.”

“Don’t call me ‘Mom’,” she groans.

“Then don’t act like I need a savior,” you look away, immediately finding the gaggle of math club members staring at you.

Robin watches as you wave and giggle and they nervously return the gesture.

Robin hates to call you an airhead, but sometimes you didn’t think things through. Going to The Hideout every Tuesday in an effort to sleep with a band member, she suspected, was one of them.

“Fine, okay,” Robin doesn’t know why she puts up a fight anymore, she always gives in. Perhaps it’s just the illusion of debate - the back-and-forth - that she likes, “I’ll go. And I won’t be your little savior.”

“Okay, then!” you perk up, reaching into the collar of your cheer uniform and pulling out your half of a BFF magnet necklace.

It was your part of a heart-shaped strawberry charm. You held it out proudly and Robin, despite how much she’d pretend to hate it, couldn’t help but pull out her own half. She connects your pieces and watches you light up at the way they click.

“I’ll drive you home to drop off your shit and change,” you pause, narrowing your lashes, “And I need to borrow a shirt,” she raises a brow and you just shrug, “People dig the short cheer skirt, but the uniform top makes it a little too real.”

“Gross,” Robin shuts her locker as the minute bell shrills.

“Uber,” you bump her shoulder with yours, “‘kay, I gotta go. See ya!”

“See you later!” she sighs once you’ve left.

What shirt could she possibly lend you that you didn’t already steal?

Every cute shirt - or article of clothing period - she owned was most likely already stashed in your closet. Not that Robin necessarily minded, it isn’t like she wore those clothes very often (or at all) anyway.

Robin has no fucking clue how you and her stayed friends after elementary school. She was adopted by the Hawkins’ middle school band and you became one of their beloved cheerleaders. Your rise to popularity was swift and unmatched by even King Steve himself and even now, you haven’t fallen from your pedestal.

She assumes it’s because you, unlike most other popular kids, are actually really nice. Chrissy Cunningham is your cheer co-captain and if it weren’t for Robin, you two would be the most iconic duo since Sonny Crockett and Ricardo Tubbs.

Now, as you’re both seniors, Robin remains a band geek, and you queen of Hawkins High (if not all of Hawkins itself), and you two are still tied at the hip.

Seriously, how Robin is your little friend after X amount of years, is an absolute cold case to her, but she’s not about to give it up.

So, Robin just bites her tongue and goes to her Spanish 3-4.

“No, no, no, no,” you pause your cycling through clothes and Robin looks up from her peeling black nail polish, your head is tilted and you pull out whatever has caught your eye, “When’d you get this?”

Robin’s cheeks flush and she huffs, reaching out to rip the offending sweater from your hands, “Oh my God, just put it down!”

“No!” you whine, clutching the pink fabric to your chest, “It’s adorable. I like it.”

You hold the sweater up. Robin usually buys her clothes in bigger sizes than what she actually is, that’s why you like borrowing her clothes - it’s rare to find something of hers that won’t fit you too.

It was something you’d have to work with - just a plain pink sweater with red hearts. And it’s not like it’d go with your cheer skirt.

You throw the garment over one shoulder and move to where Robin stored the skirts she doesn’t wear anymore.

“See, this always happens,” Robin rolls her eyes, all in good fun, and leans back on her elbows, “‘Just a shirt,’” she mocks, “You’re a little thief.”

“Whatever,” you chuckle and pull out a short, black skirt, “As if you were gonna wear these.”

“It’s the principal of the matter,” Robin stands, sighing loudly and draping her arms around your shoulders.

“Okay, turn so I can change,” when she doesn’t move, you shrug, “Fine. Don’t.”

It wouldn’t be the first time Robin has ever seen you change, but it never fails to make her squawk and cover her eyes before giving up. You’d be lying if you said that her watching you change never sent a spark through you.

“What’s even your plan?” Robin tilts her head, trying her absolute damndest to keep her eyes above your collarbones, “Hook up with who? The guitarist or the singer? And then what? Just go after a painter?”

“I dunno,” you grin, “Maybe I’ll keep chasing bands. Maybe it isn’t a regular guy I want, but Eddie Munson, and now I’m just trying to fill the void,” Robin wretches dramatically, “Okay, okay. I’m kidding.”

Eddie’s nice. You don’t have a reason to dislike him, you just didn’t think he was your type beyond a quick fantasy. Not that you spend all day thinking about how he isn’t your type, mainly because if you do that then you have to confront what - or rather, who - is your type.

“What about after, though? Are you still gonna drag me around so you can screw with guys who don’t deserve you?”

“Haven’t thought much about it,” you move to look yourself over in Robin’s full body mirror, “Best friend approval?”

Robin hums as if thinking, eyes narrowing and lips pressing thinly before she ultimately nods, “Best friend approves.”

“Yay,” you cheer under your breath, grabbing your purse from her vanity and skipping over to her bedroom door, “Ready?”

She looks around as if there’s anything of importance that she could possibly be leaving behind. Everything she needs is already at the door, ready to flutter out and right into the arms of some guitarist. Or vocalist. Anyone but the drummer.

“Maybe the drummer,” you announce to Robin, parking in front of The Hideout.

“How low will you go?” she gasps, scandalized, then giggles when you shoot her a glare, “I’m just saying, bunny, it isn’t that big a deal if you go with the drummer instead of the guitarist. I bet 99% of people won’t even know who you’re talking about if you tell them who you’re with. Just saying.”

“You know what I think?”

The both of you climb out of your car and Robin tilts her head, watching as you wait to hear your doors lock.

“Hm?”

“It wouldn’t hurt you to get out there.”

Robin scoffs and you bounce up to the door, lugging it open for Robin to enter the dingy, dim, dank bar.

You see Eddie immediately and Robin hates to say how jealous it makes her when you squeal and throw yourself on him with a giggly, “hi, Eds!”

“Hey, bubble-brain,” his eyes flick to Robin, “Someone’s outta their element.”

“Huh?” you rear back and nod, “Oh! Yeah.”

Robin tries smiling at Eddie, but it comes out strained, her hands packed in her pockets and clenching tightly. Her rings indent her skin and she can feel her teeth digging into the thin stretch of skin inside her cheek.

“Hey,” you reach into her coat pocket and take her hand, “if you really don’t wanna be here, we can go.”

She considers it.

Honestly? Honestly - she’d rather be back at her house, with you. Eating ice cream with bad romcoms stuffed full of cliches she makes fun of but always cries to at the end. With you, though. It’s only worth it if it’s with you.

“I’m fine,” she looks over at the bar, then past your shoulder, “You go look for your boy toy,” her brows shoot up at Eddie, “Munson, wanna help a girl out?”

“I’d be honored,” he bows and you peck Robin’s cheek appreciatively before bounding further into the bar. Eddie is observant - it’s one of the things Robin hates most about him - and he pulls out a fake ID while staring right at her.

The bartender knows Eddie - hell, everyone in town knows Eddie - and she knows that he’s only twenty. But hey, then again, he’s twenty and it isn’t like she’s being pressed to card the people they serve anyway. Because nobody even gives a fuck.

“What’s your damage, dingus?” Robin can hear how tired she sounds but there’s no room for her to try and pretend she’s anything else, “Staring’s rude.”

Eddie orders before looking down at Robin, “I think you should get it over with and just take her home.”

“You’re crazy!” she swats his shoulder, “Also, shut up.”

Eddie finding out Robin is a lesbian was a massive accident. She didn’t know he was behind her and Steve during Ferris Bueller and kept whispering about how hot Ally Sheedy was. It was way after hours at Starcourt, how was she supposed to know anyone else was there?

But he kept her secret.

“I’m just saying,” Eddie hands over a glass ripe with condensation, “You’re gonna watch her flirt her cute little sweater off with some douche, and then you’re gonna whine and ask me to drive you home. ‘Cuz if you go with her, she’s gonna drop you off and you’ll have to walk through the door alone knowing the one you love is about to get her shit rocked.”

Robin stares down at the cocktail. If she was a little smarter, she would’ve asked what it was before taking it. It’s clear, if a little auburn. Just a tad.

She doesn’t even know what to say, “It’s my sweater. She’s ‘borrowing’ it.”

Eddie coos, pouts, and pats her head, “Poor thing. You’re so fucked.”

Robin takes a cautious sip of the cocktail and her face immediately screws up, she gags and holds the glass away as Eddie laughs, “Dude, what the hell is this?”

“Moscow mule,” he clinks his glass to hers, “Vodka. Ginger. Lime. Enjoy and don’t drink it too fast.”

“Won’t be an issue!” she huffs, watching his stupid vest’s stupid Dio back design disappear into the crowd, “Atthay assholeyay.”

She takes another sip, somehow more careful than last time, and that’s when she sees you. You’re talking up the lead singer of the other band and he’s eating it up because who wouldn’t?

You’re sweet and, yeah, simple, but you’re more than that. You’re not just a best friend, you’re her one. Her person. The Nancy to her Margaret. The burger to her fries. The Shaggy to her Scooby. You two are Wham! You stay up until midnight just to call and wish her a happy birthday. She holds back your hair and helps you out of your heels when you go overboard at your popular friends’ lame parties. You feed each other soup when the other is sick.

You try really hard. All the time. Doesn’t matter what it is. School, cheer, dressing, befriending, shopping, whatever it may be - you try like someone will die if you fail. It’s intense and admirable to her at the same time.

And right now, you’re trying really hard to get the singer to like you. Robin would bet her entire college fund that it’s working, too.

So she stays out of your way and pretends that seeing that stupid guy’s hands pet over her sweater on your body doesn’t make her silently languish.

This time, her drag of Moscow mule is longer. Stronger. And she thinks that somewhere in the back of her head, or perhaps the back of the bar, Eddie is laughing.

“They’re not good,” Robin mutters as soon as you’re back at her side.

You wrap an arm around hers, yanking her shoulder into your chest, “Yeah…” you sigh, “but he’ll do. Not like he’s gonna be my boyfriend after this or anything, so no need to pretend.”

Robin has hated every single one of your boyfriends.

“You, uh,” she swallows the marble in her throat, “you giving him a ride?”

You giggle and she groans, “Jeez, Rob, talk about forward.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she tosses her head back and when you just keep laughing, it’s almost like things are how they should be.

Then your cheek presses to hers and you nod, “You need a ride home?”

“No,” she clenches her eyes shut, “Munson said he’d give me one.”

“Aw, he’s such a sweetheart,” you pull away, one hand wrapping around hers, “Call me if you need anything, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Robin watches you reapply her favorite gloss that you own, “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Impossible,” you search the crowd and wave over your beau for the night, “Seriously, though. I’m a ring away. Maybe just gimme an hour or two before you have an emergency.”

“Sure,” Robin knows she’s being curt, but it’s not like she can help it. She can, but she shouldn’t. If she talks in longer sentences then everything will come loose and all her secrets will be like a rippling wound.

Eddie hangs an arm over Robin’s shoulders and laughs in her ear, “Hmm, did I get it word for word? Or did I get it word for word? I need to be reminded.”

“Shut up and get me another, Munson,” Robin shoves her glass into his chest.

To her, boys were ugly, red, agitated zits (except maybe Steve, who was a smaller, healing zit). To you, they were momentary fun when Hawkins felt a little dry. If she wasn’t so desperately wishing she could be the boy you give a ride, then maybe she’d be happy for you.

You wait for your car’s heater to thaw at Hawkins’ chilled night air before pulling away from the bar, “Your place or mine?”

“Actually,” the singer, Robbie he’d told you, lays a hand on your thigh. Toothy grin and pink lips on display, “there’s this cute little place in the woods. Think you’d like it.”

Robin didn’t like drinking. It gave her a headache and made her stink. Made her have to sneak back into her room just to avoid her parents finding out. Made her mind somehow less aware of her words.

So she laid in bed - face down in sunset sheets and stripped to her shirt and underwear - with one hand on the bedside table phone. Her fingers were wound tight around the receiver in a wavering display of determination. She wants to call you.

Make sure you got home safe. Make sure that idiot didn’t hurt you. Make sure you’d sleep well.

But you’re probably busy, so she also wants to leave it be.

Her fingers don’t move though, and when the sheets grow too hot with her breath being shot back in her face, she angles her head to the side. Her hair falls into her eyes and over her cheeks; she can’t be bothered to fix any of it, so it remains.

Fuck it.

You said to call, right? You want her to be able to call, right? Yeah, of course, you do. Robin knows you well, and she knows you don’t say things you don’t mean.

So she picks up the receiver and her fingers fly about the numbers in muscle memory. Turning onto her back, Robin blinks up at the ceiling as the phone rings.

A few streets down, your bedroom window is still open from when you forgot to close it before school. Inside your bedroom is an egg-shell white nightstand on the side of your bed not pressed to a wall. On the nightstand is a bubblegum pink phone gifted to you by your parents. It rings once. Twice. Three times.

Robin blows a stray hair from where it’d tangled into her lashes.

Four times.

The line beeps and your family’s voicemail message plays.

She slams the receiver down and picks it back up. You usually don’t let the phone ring more than twice - even if you don’t want to take a call; you have the balls to either pick up and say so or simply pick up the phone and immediately hang up. So she dials your number again and sighs.

A handful of blocks away, there’s a forest that hides Lover’s Lake. A few miles from Lover’s Lake is Skull Rock. Against the side of Skull Rock is a young girl - you, in a torn pink sweater that wasn’t even yours - bound and screaming through a gag. You watch, wide-eyed and seconds away from pissing yourself, as Robbie unsheathes a knife, his drummer readies a printed prayer to Satan.

In your bedroom, a pretty pink phone sends its unlucky caller right back to voicemail.

Robin groans, scratching at her stomach, and lets the receiver tumble back into place.

She debates calling again. You probably aren’t even home.

You probably aren’t even home.

The thought makes her turn back onto her stomach and groan louder into her pillow.

The night is dark and cold. Robin hates the cold. It reminds her of the dead - of how her Aunt Shauna looked so pale and plastic in her casket. Young Robin made the mistake of touching Aunt Shauna’s hand and now teenage Robin has to deal with the consequences.

It’s agony.

She awakes with a shiver and looks to where her peachy curtains are dancing gently in the wind from an open window. Of which, she was sure she shut.

Robin rises from bed and yawns, one hand on the window frame and the other rubbing at her drool-crusted cheek. Just as she goes to shut the window, she sees it - right on the ledge of the frame are two big bloody handprints.

That’s when she wakes up a little more - realizes that her bedroom door was open when it’s normally shut. She hears it then, too, the rustling in her kitchen downstairs.

Someone’s inside.

Robin scurries to her closet and pulls out the bat full of nails that Steve insisted she keep for him. Her bare feet touch cold wood and her legs shake as she makes her way to the kitchen. The lighting there is limited to the bulb inside the fridge.

There’s more rustling. Things unwrapping and ripping open. Tupperware lids thrown across the tile and the sounds of something - an animal - eating straight out of the containers.

She wants to run, but her parents are upstairs and even if they don’t get along at the best of times, she’s not going to let them be attacked by… by…

There’s a sharp gasp of pain and her resolve is wavering.

Then the thing comes up, and it casts a human shadow on the wall opposite the fridge. A feminine silhouette dances across the ugly pistachio paint.

A croak. A cough. A call.

“Rob…in?”

It’s broken and pained and inhuman, but it’s your voice. Undoubtedly.

Robin’s bat clatters to the ground, just narrowly missing her feet and she runs into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” she clasps her hands over her mouth, eyes wide at the sight of you.

You’re fully leaning against the counter, arms limp at your side and head slid against the side of the fridge. You look like hell.

You swallow, sputter, and blink at her miserably, “Robin.”

“What…” her eyes roam - sweater torn open down the middle and stomach gaping with blood and prickled flesh, shoes missing, socks ripped and stained with dirt and blood, skirt weathered to threads at the end and thighs slashed. She can’t look you in the eye, “What the fuck happened to you?”

She flies forward, hands cradling your face. She can feel her heart in her stomach and throat simultaneously.

You’re so out of it, your eyes don’t even seem to be seeing her. They stare straight through, like she’s not even there.

You smile and that’s when she sees the blood staining your teeth, it spills out between your split lips and you giggle when she gasps.

“Oh my God,” she backs away, head on a swivel to find the paper towels, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God- “

You wrap your arms around her waist, chin leaning on her shoulder and temple pressing to her cheek, “Robin…”

“Yeah,” Robin extends her arm, fingertips just brushing the paper towels, “I’m Robin - and I’m gonna get you cleaned up. Then we’re going straight to the hospital,” she stops, “Or should we go to the hospital now? We should go to the hospital now.”

“Uh-uh,” you tut, squeezing her tighter, your tone drops a little lower - how it does when you flirt, “Are you scared?”

“Scared of you?” Robin tries worming from your grasp but you’re holding too tightly, “I’m not- I could never. But we need to go, right now. You’re really hurt and I can feel you bleeding on me and you’re- “

“Good,” you coo and stumble back. There’s a rumble, you belch, and then your jaw drops open - black mucus-tar amalgamation spills out. It spots and bubbles and Robin throws herself backward - spine cracking against the doorway. Her hands clamp over her mouth to muffle the scream that rips her throat sore.

Her eyes squeeze shut and she slides down to her ass, hands covering her ears. There are tears and her chest burns and she can’t breathe. The air is too thick and she squeezes into herself, as if it’d make her physically disappear.

She starts rocking. It’s all she can do.

This is a nightmare. A nightmare. A horrible fucking dream.

When she opens her eyes, everything is the same. The fridge door is tossed wide, there’s blood smeared on her counters and floor, and the thick muck you tossed up is spreading across her floor.

But you’re missing.

Bloody footprints lead from the fridge to the where kitchen meets hallway - then vanish. Her bat is gone, too.

“What the fuck?” her eyes bubble with tears and she collapses onto her side, legs pulled tight to her chest, “What the fuck?”

The room smells like death. It’s cold. So very freezing cold.

“Hey,” you look tired, books hugged tight to your chest as you approach Robin and Dustin at her locker.

“Hey,” Robin stares. Eyes almost cartoonishly popping from her skull.

She knows what happened was real. She spent hours cleaning and scrubbing and showering. Unless that was all part of the dream.

Jesus, Hawkins was fucked up if that was passing as a mere nightmare now.

Dustin nudges her with his elbow and shakes his head, then turns to you, “Are you… feeling alright?”

“God, no,” you frown and droop into the locker beside Robin’s, “I’m breaking out and I pulled out so much hair in the shower this morning. I thought I was about to go completely bald.”

“Maybe you should go home,” Dustin leans down to see your face when your head hangs, “You really don’t look good.”

“I’m fine, Dusty,” you pat the boy’s shoulder before turning to Robin, “I think I have to cancel tonight, though,” you pout and if it were a normal day, she’d just want to make that dismal expression go away, “Gonna stay in and hope whatever this is passes.”

“Oh, yeah,” Robin looks into her locker and pulls out a random textbook, she slams the door shut and clicks the lock back into place, “No worries, just…” you looked like something from a horror movie last night, “What happened last night? After you left.”

Dustin figures this conversation isn’t for him and wanders off when he spots Eddie in the crowd - wishing you well as he goes.

You shrug and scoot closer, “Normal stuff. I mean, nothing even happened with that guy,” you shouldn’t be lying, but it isn’t like she’d believe the truth, would she? “He figured I was a virgin and when I corrected him, he - like - demanded that I bring him home.”

But you didn’t correct him. Didn’t have the time. Didn’t get the chance.

Now you’re hoping that Robin figures last night was all just a nightmare - and from the look in her eyes, you know she’s teetering on that edge.

She wants to ask, you know that. You know her. If she wasn’t so terrified of speaking last night into reality, then she would. But asking would make it real. Outside of the gates and monsters and girls with telekinesis, Hawkins was normal and there was a certain level of abnormality that a person could take before they snapped.

And you and Robin both knew that this was just outside her limit. So she doesn’t ask and you don’t tell.

Instead, you yawn and shake your head to keep yourself awake, “Anyway, I gotta go to Mr. Peters’ math. See ya later?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, though. Her lip balm tints her lips a soft red and you like the way it looks. She accepts the kiss you press to her cheek, “See you later.”

In the meantime, you catch Sully Vacks outside of your shared first period. You drag him away from the door by the sleeve of his varsity jacket.

He looks at you weirdly and you already know it’s more about your lack of makeup than the fact you’re a living zombie wanting to take him somewhere private. Well, private-ish.

Sully isn’t a nice person. He dated your fellow cheerleader, Stacey Bennett, for a while and you knew firsthand about the explicit polaroid pictures he’d taken of her without her permission. And you knew secondhand how he shared them with the football team.

You can justify this to yourself. To what remains of your conscience.

“Do you have any plans later?” you tilt your head and gently run a finger over his bicep, “If not, I was thinking maybe we could… hang out?”

You put on the show of what boys like and you watch, half there and half out of control, as he dumbly falls into your line.

But you remember how much he hurt Stacey, and you can imagine she isn’t the first (or last) girl he’s hurt. So you decide that you can justify this meal to yourself.

Like a cheat day - he practically doesn’t even count.

“So,” Sully’s brows draw tight as he looks up at Skull Rock, “you bring all the boys here?” then he looks at you, “Or am I special?”

You simper and loop your arms around his neck, “Which do you prefer?”

“I like to think I’m special,” he leans down, nose nudging yours.

You nod slowly, “You’re very special, Sully.”

He practically collapses into your kiss and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t amusing how desperate he was. Your hands settle over his chest, then sink lower, lower, lower until your fingers are grazing under his shirt.

“Is this okay?” you whisper against his lips, watching your work through your lashes.

Sully’s breath stutters before he nods, “More than okay.”

Your nails scrape his stomach, just enough to be there without hurting, “Good.”

Prey should be at ease before they die and prey should die quickly - it’s inhumane otherwise.

And the news spreads as Robin gets out of the double doors after the final school bell rings.

“Did you hear what happened?” Steve is glaring right at Robin, “No, I am not letting you walk home. Get in the damn car.”

“Steve,” Robin sighs, “how’d you even know I needed a ride? You stalking me now?”

He gives her a pointed look and she relents, throwing open the passenger door of his BMW and climbing in.

“I didn’t know you needed a ride but I wanted to make sure,” his brows furrow as he continues to wait outside the school, “Also heard your little girlfriend wasn’t feeling well.”

“She’s not- “ Robin smiles at the thought though and the retort dies under her tongue, “Also, what happened?”

“You didn’t hear?”

“Obviously not, dingus.”

“That varsity kid - Vacks? He…” Steve sounds winded, he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes wide, “His torso was torn open. Literally. Apparently, it looked like something was eating him.”

“Oh my God,” Robin’s hands fly over her mouth, slowly lowering for her to ask, “Do they know what did it?”

“‘What’?” Steve shakes his head, “No. That’s the weirdest part. It wasn’t like a wild animal did because it wasn’t those wounds that killed him,” Robin tilts her head. Steve looks out at the double doors and honks when some of his kids pile out, “Something snapped his neck. He died fuckin’ instantly.”

He puts up a finger to preemptively shush Robin as Dustin leans into the driver-side window.

“What?”

Steve nudges his head toward the backseats, “Get in.”

“No way,” Mike folds his arms, “We have to get Will and go to Hellfire tonight, we can’t just skip it.”

“Eddie will literally kill us,” Lucas tacks on.

“I can name something else that will literally, actually kill you,” Robin pipes up, earning a glare from Steve.

Mike and Lucas come closer to the car and Steve can practically see their hearts in their throats.

“It doesn’t look good,” Steve sets both hands on the wheel, “We don’t know what did it, but… Sully Vacks was more or less turned into a Thanksgiving dinner.”

“‘Don’t know what did it,’” Lucas shakes his head, “Yes, we do! Obviously, we do!”

Steve spots Max in the throng of people exiting Hawkins High, “No. Hopper said it didn’t look like anything we’ve seen, but I don’t want to rule it out entirely,” he drags a hand down his face and briefly wonders when his gray hairs will grow in, “Ask Mad Max if she needs a ride, will you?”

“There won’t be enough room,” Mike points out.

“Then we’ll deal with it,” Steve grumbles, “Someone sits on a lap. I don’t care, you’re not staying late and I’m making sure you little shits get home.”

“I’ll go talk to her,” Lucas backs away, jogging over to where his girlfriend is sitting on the curb, fiddling with her walkman.

“How the hell did you even hear about this?” Dustin stands straight.

Steve rolls his eyes, “I may or may not have gotten a call that I legally can’t admit to,” his gaze darts between the boys to Robin, “From someone that may or may not have been Hopper.”

“Is El with him?” Mike asks, and Steve hates to see the way his face deconstructs in worry.

“Yeah, she’s with him,” Steve waves them off, “Go get Will and come right back. Do you hear me?” when they walk away with no confirmation, he shouts out the window, “I’ll hunt you all down, I’m not kidding!”

“You’re a regular Mama Bear, Steve,” Robin throws her head back against the rest, mind flooding with thoughts of you. More specifically, if your sudden change has anything to do with the possibility of the Upside Down being open again.

“These kids have seen too much,” Steve grips the steering wheel as Lucas approaches his car, “If possible, I want them as out of this whole thing as possible. If it’s even a thing,” his shoulders are tense and his mouth is distastefully dry, “Hopefully it’s just some psycho.”

But he doubts it.

Lucas leans down, one eye closed when the sun hits it dead on, “Max says Eddie can give her a ride. I’ll hitch with them, too, so your car’s not crowded.”

“Alright,” Steve nods, “Radio in when you’re home. Tell Max, too. I want to know you two are safe.”

“Yes, Mom,” Lucas rolls his eyes, waving off Robin as he walks away.

Will, Dustin, and Mike come upon the BMW. Will shakes his head vehemently, his hand brushes the back of his neck and he continues shaking his head.

Robin takes note of how at ease Will’s body is. As if everything, aside from this new paranoia, was totally fine.

Maybe this isn’t the work of the Upside Down. Which would usually be good - great, even - but it would raise more questions than it answered.

Who slaughtered Sully? Why would they do it? Why were you so suddenly ill? And what the fuck kind of dream did Robin have last night?

The Upside Down was officially ruled out as an option to the spectacle of violence when neither Eleven nor Will felt that it was open. Things were… safe.

You’re just glad Robin excused you from the meeting, on account of you being “sick”, before you could even hear about it. You don’t know how long and how hard you can lie, but you don’t plan on testing it out.

You give it a couple days before you return to Robin’s side at school.

And a good sum of weeks before forcing the whole thing out of your head.

Books hugged to your chest and preppy little cheer uniform on in eager wait for the pep rally and game later, you bounce up to Robin and slap a hand on her shoulder, “Boo!”

She gasps and jumps and glares when she realizes it’s only you, “You’re evil.”

“You’re just easy to scare,” you move and lean against the locker next to hers, “So…”

“So…?” she shuffles a couple books around, then flips down the cover to a mirror plastered on her locker door, peering into the glass.

“Prom is coming up,” you lean in close, grinning as she flounders for lipstick.

“Yeah, in two weeks,” she shrugs, “I know your schedule of tryouts for people to be your date is usually packed, but I am not so lucky.”

You roll your eyes and pull a garnet red lipstick from your bag, handing it to her over her shoulder, “I can only go with the people the general population would approve of, so that sucks.”

It was true, you couldn’t bring a girl to prom in the way Robin couldn’t. Unless it was as friends. But everyone knew that if you brought someone to prom as a friend, then you couldn’t dance the way you would want to dance with your date.

Except Robin, but that was more cowardice to confess than anything else.

“We could just go together?” you watch her apply your lipstick and you can hardly find it in yourself to tear your eyes away.

“Nah,” she sighs and caps the tube, “I don’t wanna screw up your chances of being prom queen.”

“Aw, don’t say that,” you accept the lipstick she holds out and replace it in your bag, “You wouldn’t mess up my chances. And it’s not like prom queen is that big a deal to me, you of all people should know that.”

“But this is our senior prom, if you didn’t win then I know you’d be bummed,” Robin shuts her locker and leans back against it. Her face dangles in front of yours like a carrot on a stick, “I might just make Steve bring me.”

“Ew,” your head thunks back on the metal, “I have no idea who I’m going with. All the boys here suck.”

“Are you just realizing?”

You shove her shoulder and huff while she laughs, “As true as that is, I can’t have my judgment mocked.”

“Oh, of course,” she shakes her head, “I’m so sorry, your highness.”

“I forgive you.”

Robin mocks a curtsy and swings her bag over her shoulder.

Things between you and Robin are different. You feel like she knows and she feels like you should know.

Over the same night, with two perspectives, you two are bound into different corners of the same room.

You want to tell her. You want help, you’re tired of fighting whatever it is inside you that tells you to feed. But you don’t want to drag anybody else into this - both for their safety, and yours. If you assume wrong, and there’s no way to help this curse, then you’re already dead.

Robin wants to tell you about her terrifying dream. Or at least, she’s decided it was a dream. She feels like you have a right to know, but you don’t. And also, what a peculiar thing it would be - to tell you about it. You weren’t even acting like yourself, it’d be childish to hold it against you. It is childish to hold it against you.

But there’s a pit in her gut no matter how badly she tries to shake it off.

“Wanna watch a movie together later?” but you’re so sweet and she adores you so much.

“Uh, sure, yeah,” Robin looks up at the ceiling as if it would tell her what’s in stock at Family Video, “Anything specific?”

You hum as you think and she’s always found that adorable about you, “Something cute. I don’t wanna think too hard after what happened.”

“I got you,” she promises, “I’ll get a great movie. No thinking required.”

“Awesome,” you stop outside Mr. Peters’ room, “Alright, I’ll see you at lunch, right?”

“Definitely,” she punches your shoulder, “as long as you remember where the band table is.”

“I remember, I remember,” you swat her hand away and set a hand on the doorknob, “See ya!”

Robin nods dumbly, grinning lovestruck as she waves, “See you later.”

Fifth hour is a mixed bundle.

On one hand, your lab partner is Robin! That’s exciting. On the other, your teacher is Mr. Gordon Vacks. Sully’s father. That’s exhausting.

You wonder, though, if he’d be pressing people to bring justice if he knew what his son was doing with explicit polaroids he took and showed without permission.

Would he even care?

Probably not.

You discovered at a young age that most fathers don’t care what their sons do as long as they can brag to their friends how smart or strong or funny he is.

It might be unfair to lump Mr. Vacks in with such a crowd, but you have yet to be proven wrong (aside from Wayne Munson, he was more of a father than most biological dads in your opinion).

Another study day is laid upon the students. Another day for Mr. Vacks to spend grilling teenagers about if they saw anything, what they heard, where they were, and whatnot without having to worry about actually lecturing.

There’s a sick, twisted glee trapped between the rungs of your ribs every time he mentions his son. It’s bizarre and you don’t like it, but there’s something undeniable about it.

Your hand pressed to your mouth just to hide your growing smile, you act like you’re reading from the study guide while he speaks with Trinity Liú about Sully’s death. She last saw him with Jason Carver.

Good.

A paper pricks the side of your arm and you jump slightly, calming when you see Robin trying not to laugh at you.

You roll your eyes and take the paper.

ouyay okayyay?

“Pig Latin, really?” you whisper and she shrugs, trying not to giggle while you translate.

You pass the paper back.

fine. just worried i guess

As if.

Sully was a bastard.

But did he deserve to die?

Duh. He was awful. He was only going to hurt more people.

Well yeah, but did he deserve to actually die?

Did he?

You’re not so sure anymore. It makes you sick.

Robin passes the paper back.

ouyay ooklay icksay

Huffing, your reply is quick.

write like a normal person

She concedes and crosses out her previous statement. Replacing it.

you look sick

Are you sick because of your cracking mind? Or is it because you’re growing hungry?

You tilt your head and shrug.

i’m fine

Liar.

Though, now that you think about it. It’s been a good month of peace since Sully had to die, and now - you hate to admit it - you do feel weaker. You got a paper cut after feeding last month and it healed instantly.

You look down at your hands now, where you cut yourself removing a staple in homeroom, and it’s still a fine line of puckered, dying skin.

“You can tell me anything,” she whispers.

Not this. Robin doesn’t want to know this - she doesn’t have to know this.

Your eyes flip across the room. Past Robin. Past Trinity. Onto Andy - one of Jason’s best friends. He hasn’t done anything to you other than be annoying, but you know he bullies your friends.

Well, Eddie’s friends that are your friends by association. And the freshmen, who you insist are your friends.

Robin leans forward, brows knit tightly and lips pursed, “What’s wrong? Seriously, you’re being weird.”

“I’m fine, Rob,” she doesn’t look convinced. Not at all, and you don’t blame her. Your hand finds hers under the table and you squeeze, “Really. I’m okay.”

She doesn’t let go of your hand, and you don’t let go of hers.

Robin hates this feeling. She hates distrusting you. She hates feeling like you’re lying - because that’s not you.

You're her best friend. You’re more. You’re her one. Her person.

“I’m here for you,” it's the last ditch.

You nod, “Thanks, but really. ‘m okay.”

And it falls through.

She hates distrusting you.

When the bell rings, you’re quicker than her to pack up. You rush after Andy and she can’t surmise why. You have never liked Andy, never so much as muttered about how he was even cute. Robin wishes she could just look inside your head and see what’s wrong.

Why’re you acting like this?

Or is she being paranoid?

She hates this.

Robin chooses to stay on the sidelines when she sees you pouring the sugar over Andy. She won’t tie you down when you two aren’t even dating, but there’s no chance she’s going to sit there and listen to you hook up a date.

Eventually, you’re back at her side, “Sorry. Had to make plans for tomorrow.”

“You can…” she sighs, “you can go tonight, if you want.”

“I don’t.”

“You sure?”

“Duh.”

It doesn’t fix what’s between you two - whether you’re hiding something or she’s paranoid - but it makes her beam. Pride and joy and love.

Movie nights are simple and easy.

This movie night is different.

You look awful - dried, bumpy skin and heavy bags under your bloodshot eyes. She doesn’t say anything, though.

“Okay,” Robin stands in front of your TV, holding up three videos, “We have: Sixteen Candles, Footloose, and Flashdance.”

“Uhm,” you wet your dried, cracked lips that persisted no matter how much balm you applied, blinking hazily, “Sixteen Candles.”

“Sucker for Ringwald,” she ‘tsk’s but pops the movie in all the same.

“Says the one who liked Vickie McNulty, that girl’s a carbon copy of Molly Ringwald. Have you seen Pretty in Pink yet? They’re the exact same.”

“Yeah, and I liked her. Past tense,” Robin emphasizes, returning to her rightful place beside you on the couch. She tosses an arm over the back and you drag yourself into the open space of her side.

Robin is warm while you shiver. Your skin is cold - like death. Like Aunt Shauna. She tries not to let it show and brings a family favorite throw blanket over the two of you.

Your eyes are already beginning to flutter shut and Robin can’t help but grin. There’s an adorable quality about you - no matter how tired or sick you look, there’s something in the air around you. Sunshine and bubblegum and a BFF necklace in the shape of a strawberry heart hidden beneath your shirt collar.

Robin checks the clock. The game isn’t for another two hours, she can let you sleep awhile.

But then you’re pawing at her shoulders, lips pouting and eyes pleading. The tactics you usually bulldoze through are now lathering thick over her like cement.

“What, uh,” she blanches, hands coming to entwine with yours, “what’re you doing?”

“Hm?” you simper, for real this time, “Playing.”

“Playing?” she quirks a brow.

You nod, leaning up to kiss her cheek again, but this time it’s different. No more friends and no more giggles. This is want.

Need.

You feel foggy, though. Like your actions aren’t yours and when you realize what’s coming, you also realize that they aren’t.

And when Robin’s caged beneath you on the couch, you’re entirely out of control.

The hunger is just a little too strong.

It’s need that makes you lean down - lips pressing to hers.

It’s want that makes her reciprocate.

Her hands are on your sides and you feel something burn at your skin. It's sparkling. Sensual and smooth. Robin keens into your lips and you feel a little better than before.

But Robin’s brows furrow and she pulls back.

She wants this, but it feels odd.

You don’t feel like you and this isn’t how she wants this to go down. But she also doesn’t want to outright reject you. So she settles for the middle.

A cowardly, stupid middle.

“Maybe not now,” she whispers, eyes avoiding yours.

You jump off of her and nod. You press your lips to gather the lasting taste of Robin’s watermelon chapstick, and you notice your lips are pillowy instead of rough. Your skin feels fuller. Firmer.

You think Robin notices by the way she stares at you. You look down at where you cut yourself removing that damned staple.

Completely healed.

“You can…” Robin clears her throat, “see him. If you want.”

You have to. You know that.

And rather than assume Robin is just conflicted, you accept this as rejection. Because what in God’s name would it be otherwise?

“Right,” you have a little under two hours until the game, “Right. Sure.”

“Sorry- “ Robin stands, hands outstretched for you when you begin walking away.

“It’s okay, Rob,” you pull on your shoes, head too full of thoughts about the next meal to even begin conceptualizing the fact that the girl you love is directly turning you away, “I’ll see you at the game.”

“See you at the game,” she wrings her hands, already regretting her decision, “Things don’t… they don’t have to change.”

“Yeah,” you pause before you leave, leaning over to press a cautious kiss to her cheek, “Bye, bye.”

“Bye,” she waves.

Why did she do that?

It felt wrong. Not the same kind of wrong in how it would if you had been high or drunk, but also not entirely different. It was like something was moving for you. She’s known you for a long time. She’s seen you - studied your movements and mannerisms and she knows how you behave.

She’s not being paranoid, there is something wrong and she’s convinced that the “nightmare” wasn’t a nightmare at all.

So why isn’t she stopping you from visiting Andy?

You wouldn’t hurt Andy. You’re a sweetheart, you wouldn’t. Bizarre happenings or not.

Robin doesn’t know what to do, so she calls Steve. Stupidly.

“What would you do if I told you someone was off?”

A few streets away, you’ve already got Andy on his knees at an abandoned construction site. You’re trying to think of things he’s said before. Things he’s done. Anything to justify this.

“Your girlfriend? Yeah, the whole group knows she’s been off her rocker lately.”

He’s pressing strangely kind kisses up your thigh as you wind a hand in his hair. It makes you salivate in sick and hunger all at once.

“She’s not my- ! Whatever, I’m just saying. I’m worried. I know we agreed that the Upside Down isn’t open but… I dunno. What if they were wrong?”

You kneel down to Andy’s level. You cup his cheeks in your hands - gentle and tender and loving. You bat your lashes and his lips quirk upwards.

“I guess. Maybe it took a new host?”

Your hands wretch his head. Sharp and quick. Prey shouldn’t suffer - it’s inhumane.

“Maybe. We shouldn’t mention this, huh?”

You feel disgusted. Just until your stomach growls and the hunger grows. No longer can you sustain yourself on watermelon kisses and sun-bleached hair and pretty freckles.

“Probably not. That sounds like a one-way ticket and I don’t think we’re ready to use it yet.”

There’s nothing you can think of. Not that you’re thinking while you eat. If you think while you eat then you have to present, and if you’re present while you eat - you think you might go completely mad.

“Right. I gotta go get ready for the game. I’ll talk to you later, Hair.”

Before he can get out a “don’t call me that!” Robin hangs up. There’s a dagger in her gut and she can only rub at the ache building behind her eyes - it’s overwhelming. It crashes over her - unlike the ocean as it fails to build. More like a firework, sudden and unforgiving. Bright. Loud.

It hurts.

Robin wanders to her room and tries to fight off the urge to check if her bat is there. She hasn’t looked out of fear. If it’s still missing…

She doesn’t even want to think about it, so she doesn’t. She thrives in blissful, selected ignorance. But a glance outside her bedroom window, still unclean of blood and split open, shows your car left on the curb. Abandoned. Not even the cherry charm you keep hanging on your rearview mirror is swinging. Completely untouched.

Robin, foolishly, saves her concerns until homecoming that night.

“Hey! Someone’s lookin’ better!”

You turn at the coo and smile sunshine bright at your favorite drug pusher, “Hey, Eds!” you wave him over with a pom-pom, “Thought games weren’t your thing?”

“They aren’t, but post-game athletes in need of recreational fun,” Eddie holds up his black lunchbox and jingles it in front of your face, “they are.”

Humming, you look over his shoulder to where the Hawkins band is lining up in front of the bleachers. Lips pressing and head tilting.

There should be enough time, and it’s not like you’ll have any fun with anybody else. Besides, if you go to prom with Eddie and Robin brings Steve - it’ll be a friendly reunion. A nice reunion. There should be enough time between feeds.

Your face falls.

Jason’s running around the gym. He asks basketball players, cheerleaders, teachers, band members, and stray students alike. Where’s Andy? Where’s Andy? Where’s Andy?

“Hey,” Eddie settles a hand on your shoulder, face gentle but prodding, “you good, bubble-brain?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, airy and tired, eyes fluttery, “Sorry. Just, uhm, worried. I guess. Nobody can find Andy.”

Eddie shrugs and purses his lips, as if he has no idea why that might be alarming, “Probably fucking off somewhere. ‘s gonna work out. He’ll be here.”

Robin bursts through the doors with Steve hot on her tail, she searches for something. Someone. You.

She grins despite the saran wrap bundled relationship you’re sharing and rushes to you. A keyring is looped around her finger, fitted with three keys - each one with a different fruit painted onto it - and a fluffy pink and white ball charm. Robin presses the keys into your chest, hand lingering just long enough for you to cage her hand there with yours.

Your heart thunders and you wonder if Robin can feel it. You wonder if she knows why.

“You left these at my house,” Robin mutters, eyes staying on your glossed lips just a little too long for a friend - for a girl, “along with your car,” her voice is a little raspier than usual, you like it, “You should really keep better track of your things.”

“Right, sorry,” you release her hand and hand the keys to Eddie, “I’ll pick it up tomorrow morning. I’m kinda… tired.”

“Of course,” Robin nods shortly, then takes you by the arm and drags you away from the boys, “Look, bunny, something is definitely up. And- and don’t. Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely…” she laughs, hollow, “I’m into you, that way. I like you, like, a lot. I think I’m crazy for you, actually. Just- I wanna get this all figured out before we start anything.”

Nothing will ever be figured out. Not really, anyway.

But you nod slowly because you don’t know how much longer you have to be with her like this.

“I get it, Rob,” you reach out and clench her hand, squeezing with a saccharine smile, “‘m still gonna flirt with you.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” she grins, bottom lip tugging between her teeth.

You’re not dumb - lots of people think you are, but you aren’t. You know that the demon sleeping inside you was satiated by Robin’s touch and you now choose to keep that in your back pocket.

You’ve never gotten full off of mere touch, so the fact it happened with Robin will be a last-ditch effort. A just in case. For the worst scenario. You don’t want her in this more than she has to be. If she has to be at all.

You leave her side, prancing off to the line of cheerleaders in front of the bleachers.

Robin watches, face screwed in wonder. She’s not dumb, either. She can hear Jason asking where Andy is. She knows you were more than likely the last person to see him alive. She knows something’s wrong.

Upside Down host or not, you’re you now. That’s unmistakable.

She watches from the band section as you cheer with the others. It’s you. She can feel it. There are times where she can’t. Where she senses something else. Something off. Like a store-brand coffee or a cheap copy of a dress.

Sometimes it’s you. Sometimes it’s a mix. Sometimes, rarely, it’s that dread from before. When you were keeping her down, she felt it. Darker. Twisted. A thick rainstorm, a deathly hurricane that smothers the sunshine.

But now, as you cheer on the Tigers and subtly wave to her with your sparkly green-and-yellow pom-pom - she knows you’re you. Undeniably and absolutely revocably you.

...

“Thanks again, Eds,” you’re in Eddie’s passenger seat by the end of the night. Your feet kick up onto the dashboard and twirl the ring Robin gave you around your finger, “So, how much did you make tonight?”

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute,” Eddie pops you in the thigh with the back of his hand, “And I made a shitload. Haven’t counted it all yet, but - it was a lot. Not that you’re seeing any.”

“Aww,” you lean over the center console, pouting dramatically, “you’re so mean.”

“Go tell your girlfriend about it,” he smiles at you. Big and fake and dumb.

“Oh, you know what- “ you fold your arms, lashes narrowing at the metalhead. Then, your eyes go lax and hands fall into your lap, fingers now picking at a peeling edge of cotton candy tinted nails, “Do you really think she likes me?”

“You two are so oblivious.”

“Well, I mean, I know she does, it’s just…” you look out your window, watching trees skim past the skyline, “I dunno. Maybe it’s the childhood friends effect.”

“I’m gonna lose my mind,” Eddie shakes his head, eyes lingering on your side profile for just a second longer, “I feel like I’m listening to a bad rom-com,” when you stay silent, he sighs. Over-the-top and thoroughly done, “Even if it is the childhood friends effect, it’s still there, right? You two are still into each other.”

“Yeah.”

But for how long?

How long can you hold yourself together?

“Wanna go to prom?” your voice is a little too distant, a little too caught up in your own thoughts, “I mean, I’ll be with Robin, but we need someone to bring us and I figure you’re going anyway.”

You gesture to the backseat of the van where Eddie’s black, metal lunchbox has been tossed - originally onto the seat but it tumbled to the floor as soon as Eddie started driving. He should really get his driving under control.

“Wow, just call me a chariot next time,” Eddie mumbles, hands knocking on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the radio, “Sure, I’ll take you.”

“Great!” you punch the ceiling of his van, quickly earning yourself a glare that could kill, “Thanks a lot, Eds.”

“Mhm,” he slams to a stop in front of your house and holds up a fist, “Don’t get killed by whatever thing is hunting hot teenagers, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you hope your voice doesn’t shake too much, hope your giggle isn’t too nervous, “You either, ‘kay?”

When you bump your knuckles with his, Eddie then moves to twirl his hair - voice drawling up comically higher to supposedly mimic you, “‘kay!”

“Oh, get a hobby,” you roll your eyes and hop out of the van, “Drive safe!”

“Never!” he shouts through the window, honking twice and speeding away.

You jump at the sound and flip Eddie off as he drives, fully knowing he may not even see it.

A few streets away, Robin is laid back in her bed. Eyes on the ceiling. She feels like she could call. Surely, you’re home. But the idea makes her sick - so she shuts her eyes and lets the thought die.

Her room is so cold.

Grossly so.

Robin doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually, she falls into a fitful rest on top of her comforters. Cold and restless. Cold and unwelcome.

…

You’ve always been a firm believer that hell is just the day of prom. Over and over again. Even before recent developments that left you exhausted and drier than a bag of prunes without a good feed.

It’s a day chock full of last-minute promposals and athlete douchebags trying to somehow act too cool whilst begging you and your fellow cheerleaders to go with them. The begging is in subtext, but it happens nonetheless.

“You should probably skip that meeting with Ms. Moora,” Robin leans into you, watching as your gentle hands rub your temples, “Don’t look so good, bunny.”

“Yeah, I know,” you’re quiet, eyes scrunched at the volume of the cafeteria, “I feel like hell.”

Robin purses her lips, nodding while taking one of your hands and squeezing it, “Are you gonna be okay to drive?”

You sigh. Shrug.

“Yeah…”

You don’t have much of a choice.

Robin visibly cringes, “I dunno, you can barely keep your eyes open.”

“I’ll be fine, Rob,” you huff, ripping away your hand to cover your eyes, “Sorry. I just. I don’t feel good.”

“I figure,” she laughs dryly, the glee dropping from her face just as quickly as it’d arrived, “Sorry, I’m only worried. You’ve been acting really weird lately, and with the… you know, everything going on. I have a bad feeling.”

“I’m fine, Robin,” you groan and lean back, head tilting towards the ceiling, “Really.”

“But how do we know?”

“The only victims have been boys, right? That’s gotta mean something.”

“Well, yeah, but still. Don’t you care?”

“About a couple douchebag athlete dickheads getting ripped open? No, not really.”

Robin pulls back, eyes wide, “What?”

You pry your hands down from your face, giving the confused Robin a once over, “What?”

“Dude,” Robin shakes her head, “how could you say that?”

Robin wasn’t ever a fan of the Hawkins’ meatheads, but there’s something about the venom with which you said such a thing. The way you’re so apathetic. It’s not you.

“It’s just…” you toss your hands up, “boys! Stupid, asshole boys. What does it even matter? There are a thousand other jocks just like them.”

“Okay,” Robin guffaws in disbelief, “but this isn’t like you. They’re still people. You just… I don’t- “

“People change, Robin,” you rub your cheek and groan at how dry it feels, your stomach stinging with emptiness, “It’s totally not a big deal.”

“Are you sure?” Robin furrows her brows at you, “I don’t like this change.”

“Well,” you stop yourself.

You cover your mouth as your brain finally catches up to what you just said. What the fuck did you just say?

“I don’t…” you blink, slow and tired, dazed and confused, “I’m sorry- I don’t know why I said that…” Robin leans down to lock eyes with you, taking your hands in hers, “Any of it. I don’t know why I said any of it.”

Robin cups your cheek, gently rubbing a thumb over your cheekbone, “I think you should have your parents call you out of school.”

Your cheeks are sullen and eyes sunken. You look dead.

Something in the back of Robin’s head whispers. Aunt Shauna.

“They’re both at work,” you run a hand over your face, frowning as you pull the hand away, “I could probably just leave now.”

“Will you be okay to drive?” you stand, pressing Robin down by the shoulders when she tries following.

“I can ask Eds, he doesn’t plan on coming back after his stupid lunch deals,” you nudge your head towards the Hellfire table - noticeably lacking in a boisterous leader.

“Alright,” Robin chews her bottom lip, reaching under the collar of her Jem and the Holograms T-shirt, “Hey.”

She holds up her half of a strawberry heart BFF necklace.

You smile, earnest but exasperated, and pull out your own half of the necklace - bending down to click it in place with hers.

“We’ll be okay, right?” Robin wants to go back.

Before your stupid band and before Sully Vacks got killed.

But you lie.

“Yeah, we’ll be okay,” you kiss her cheek, leaving it faintly red in your lipstick’s stain, “See ya.”

“See you later,” she can’t help but feel like there’s something missing.

Torn out and shredded.

You find Eddie at his infamous picnic table in the woods, finishing up a deal with Stacey Bennett. Excitedly, he waves you over.

“The queen of Hawkins High! How can I help you?”

“Can you give me a ride home on your way out?” you sit next to Eddie and plop your head on his shoulder, “I feel like slush.”

“Aw,” he pouts, packing up his lunchbox of drugs, “muck, even?”

“Mucus, actually,” you giggle when he gasps, apparently horrified.

“Alright, get her started for me,” Eddie hands over his keys, and you grin, jangling them as you skip off to his prized van.

Robin can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.

It persists even as she gets a ride home from Steve. Even as she gets in her pantsuit for prom. Even as she applies her makeup. It burns, eating at the fraying edges of her brain. Or what’s left of it, at least.

A few streets away, you slam your window shut and shake your head at how long you must’ve left it open. No wonder your room is practically freezing cold. That’s it.

You turn back towards your open closet and pull down the dress you’d picked out with Robin mere days ago. It’s a salmon pink affair to go with her baby pink pantsuit. Eddie will be in his usual attire with the addition of a blazer and aggressively neon pink tie. You hear Steve bought a hideously Barbie pink suit because he lost a bet to Robin.

It’s a beautiful dress. Dips and hugs where you want it to - lacing on the skirt (which falls to your ankles perfectly).

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Absent eyes. Irritated skin. Lips chapped. You look ill. So unlike yourself that it’s hard to believe this face was ever yours. You can’t stop staring, though.

It’s odd.

It’s you.

You’re hungry.

Just to punctuate the damn thing, your stomach rumbles - your head feels light and for a split second, you can’t see. You stumble, one hand flying out to catch yourself on the vanity and the other clutching your dress.

You wish you never went to The Hideout.

You need to feed quickly. You don’t want to think about the people you’d be hurting. Your friends. Robin. Last time was too close a call, you can’t possibly risk it again.

A sharpness hits your gut like you’ve been pierced, you whine and fall to your knees. Your mouth runs dry and you can feel your muscles twitch.

You need to feed quickly.

Eddie had a crush on you last year - you know that. You feel bad because you like Eddie as a friend and want him happy, but that can never be you. Something inside you, though, can’t stop thinking about it.

The way he looked at you. How he’d bend over backwards for you. How he still lets you put your heel-clad feet on the dashboard of his van.

“Hey, pull up here,” you’ve got half of a BFF necklace pulled up to your chin, pressing the cold metal against your skin.

Eddie concedes, looking over at you, “Alright, bubble-brain, what’s going on up here?”

He pokes your temple twice before you catch his hand - he laughs when you glare.

“Wanna check out the abandoned pool house?” you nudge your head in the direction of the aforementioned pool house. Moss bitten and vine slathered. It’s cracking the higher you look and kids like to dare each other to go inside on Halloween.

“Mmm, I dunno,” Eddie rests his elbow on the center console, chin digging into the meat of his palm, “We sort of have somewhere to be.”

“So?” you lean forward, nose at his cheek, grinning when he flushes, “C’mon, there’s fun to be had before prom.”

He backs away, arms folding. He’s trying to smile like this is lighthearted, like he isn’t half considering it and half afraid of you laughing in his face.

“What about Robin?” his brows furrow. Tongue pressed to cheek.

“What about Robin?” you run the half-heart charm over your lip.

“No,” Eddie laughs again, but he’s breathless, “You- no. No way.”

“Eds,” you puff out your bottom lip, “Eds.”

“No,” he’s firmer this time, “Alright, we can check out the pool house, but nothing is happening, do you understand? I don’t know what the fuck your problem is right now, but you’re being weird.”

“Nothing’s my problem,” you roll your eyes and hop out of his van, speaking before shutting the door, “Now, let’s go before we’re late.”

Eddie watches you cross the yard, you stop before the door and turn back to him. Calling and waving your hand impatiently. He reaches into his glove box and pulls out a walkie-talkie Dustin forced him to start carrying (not that he knows why, but when it comes to Henderson, it’s easier to simply go with it). He keys into the proper signal before calling out.

“Harrington? Come in, Harrington. I know you like dressing yourself up, but this is gonna be important.”

…

Robin looks at the walkie, then where Steve is still in his bathroom - eyes narrowed at his reflection and fingers burying in his hair every two seconds.

“Hello,” the ‘o’ is stretched out, “pretty boy, I’ve got serious shit going on.”

It’s Eddie. Robin might not be allowed to get into Steve’s shit, but this seems like a fine exception. So she grabs the walkie off Steve’s desk and tunes in.

“Eddie? It’s Robin, what’s going on?”

“Your girl is actin’ fucking weird. We’re stopped at the pool house. I think you two should hurry here before she decides to leave.”

Robin drops the walkie and darts out of Steve’s room. If she was thinking a little more clearly, a little less pressed for time, a little smarter - she would’ve dragged Steve to his car.

But she’s got that bad feeling and Eddie might be in trouble and you might be the cause.

She fucking knew she wasn’t paranoid. She knew something was wrong.

You were the last person to talk to Andy, and she knew that and she kept quiet because she didn’t want to be wrong. No, she wouldn’t have been wrong - she knows that now and she knew that then. She just didn’t want you getting caught.

There has to be something else. There’s no other option.

Her feet ache in the platformed dress shoes she stuffed herself into - but she doesn’t stop running. Her lungs are fucking burning and her legs are screaming at her to stop.

Something told her it was wrong. She saw you at the end of the hall - she saw you grab Sully’s sleeve and she could feel it when you trapped her against the couch. You looked like she’d never seen you - like you were twisted. Inverted and crushed and ground up and spat back out. No life. No warmth.

She should’ve listened to the whispers.

Aunt Shauna.

You’re not you. You’re not human.

…

“I’m telling you right now, bubble-brain, if you don’t let go - I might think you’re gonna try something.”

“Hm? And if I do?”

“I already told you, nothing’s happening.”

Your hands have found a place on Eddie’s sides, he can feel your nails through his layers of clothes. Your face pressed to his back.

“No fun,” you pout. Your stomach growls - stronger, louder, more vicious. You pry yourself away to clutch at your tummy, “God- fuck-!”

Eddie turns, eyes wide, “Are you…” his hands hover just above your shoulders, “What’s wrong?”

“Hungry…” you collapse into his chest, forehead pressing into his neck, “So hungry, Eds. ‘m so weak. Can barely fight.”

“The hell’re you fighting?” he tries laughing, really tries, “I doubt it’s that serious, bubble-brain.”

“Can you help me?” your jaw feels loose. Hanging by a string of muscle, the bones detached. Tongue dry and numb and gut clenching, “You’re a good friend, right? You care about me? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course, we are,” he pulls you back by the shoulders and if you were just a little stronger then maybe you could’ve broken away like you did with Robin, “We can go eat right now. Where do you wanna go? I’ll use that game money to buy you anything you want.”

“Eddie…” you groan miserably, another growl and it rocks through you - a whole-body spasm. You snap forward at the hips as you yelp in pain. It’s like having that stupid bowie knife locked and twisted and dragged through your stomach again and again and again.

Your hands come back up to his sides, beneath the overcoat. Fingertips skimming up his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you bury your face into the crook of his neck, nails digging sharply into his ribs and keep sinking even when he grabs at you and tries pulling away. Even when he screams - even when he rushes you into the wall. You take it and you don’t know how much longer you can, “I’m so sorry.”

It’s desperation and agony and you don’t think you can live like this anymore.

You can’t justify this life - you want to stop but you’re too scared to die.

Or rather, too scared to find out what happens if you stop trying to drown out whatever thing inside you feeds on flesh. At least this way you control the meal. Somewhat.

But now you’re picking Eddie.

Eddie is your friend.

You scream as he does and you hope someone finds you two. You hope they shoot you through the back and pierce your blackened heart.

He bleeds.

“Bunny!”

You dart away from Eddie at the sound of her voice.

Not her. Anybody, sure. But not her. Not Robin. The only one who loves you instead of the cheerleading prom queen, the only one you love. She can’t see you like this.

Her sweet, rasped voice carries outside and you hide in a dark corner; Eddie collapses back into the wall with hisses of pain and Robin smashes through a cracked, spotted window.

Robin crashes in with glass scraping her knees, slicing through the legs of her clothes. Her eyes find you though - just like they do at every party and the cafeteria and friend get-together. She finds you. Under the grime and darkness, she sees you.

“Bunny,” one hand scrambles in hidden view while the other reaches out for you, “you can come out, sweetheart, come on out.”

You try. You move an inch before Eddie gurgles in pain and your stomach wretches.

It’s too much. Why did she ask before shooting?

It should’ve been Nancy that found you.

“Robin!” you wrench back, hands covering your ears and eyes clenched. Your back hits the wall and you slide down to your ass, “Robin, Robin, Robin- !”

Robin runs to you, her shaky hands try and steady on your shoulders, “It’s okay,” she laughs, hollow and dry, eyes heavy, “it’s okay, I’m here. I’m here, bunny.”

“I don’t like this,” you whimper, legs pulling up as close to your chest as possible, “I hate this- “ you gasp and sputter, a scream is building beneath the surface, “I’m not me.”

“You’re you,” she presses a kiss to your forehead and her arms come around your neck, “You’re you right now, right?”

You nod weakly, hands coming down and winding into her overcoat, “I’m me.”

“You’re okay, bunny,” she kisses your temple and gently pries you away from the wall. Your back is exposed, “Everything will be okay…”

You sniffle and bury your face into the crook of her neck, “Robin- I- I don’t know what to do…”

She nods. Silent. Because she knows that if she opens her mouth now, everything will come spilling out.

“Robin, what do I do?”

Robin’s face scrunches and she kisses your cheek, “I’ll take care of it, bunny. Just let me take care of it, ‘kay?”

You go lax in her arms, a smile - finally, a real smile - spreads over your lips and you hug yourself impossibly closer. Her voice, raspy and scratchy and comforting, lulls you in like a siren’s song. And you hurdle towards her song like a lovestruck pirate - you hurdle right towards the whirlpool.

And you drown.

Robin cringes when you screech, but she digs the glass deeper into your back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry- !”

Your hands scramble to her shoulders and you push and push and push until you can finally squirm out of her arms. You fly back into the wall, nudging the glass deeper. Your head rocks back and thuds into the dirt-caked surface as you scream.

You yank the glass shard from your back and watch the blood glint in the moonlight that leaks through cracked windows. Your eyes hesitantly flutter to Robin and you hate what you’re met with.

Wide eyes and heaving chest. She’s terrified. Terrified of you.

Then you look at Eddie. Bleeding and writhing in pain. His eyes can barely stay open long enough to properly watch you.

What have you done?

You drop the glass shard and it shatters across the concrete floor.

You like Eddie. He’s a good friend and a sweet person - an angel right to his core. If there was no way to justify hunting Andy and Jason - how in God’s name could you do it now?

Your knees ache when they hit the floor - a pain that rings up your thighs and nestles into your pelvic bone. Your forehead rests on the cold stone, dangerously close to the glass and you feel your stomach tighten. It growls and you wrap your arms around yourself.

“I’m hungry,” you whisper, head moving so your chin is on the floor and you’re staring right at Robin, “So, so hungry…”

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Robin clatters forward, on her hands and knees, face lowering to yours, “You were full with me, right? Why didn’t you just come to me?”

Your lip wobbles and you can feel the budding fears rise to the surface.

Months pretending. Months wasted trying not to think about it. It’s not real. The missing posters, the blood you scrub away, the voice in the back of your head - none of it is real. The suffering, the hunger, the violence, all because some shitty metal band mistook you for their ethereal virgin. All because they wanted fame more than they valued their fellow man.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, Rob…” your eyes burn and there are tears that drag down your face, “Didn’t wanna risk hurting you…”

“You wouldn’t,” she cups your face, brows furrowing, “We- “

Eddie comes to a stand, still leaning against the wall, still cupping his hands over his bleeding sides.

“We can go.”

You and Eddie both look at Robin, but her eyes are trained on you.

She can’t go through with it. Not you, she can’t lose you.

You’re sunshine and bubblegum and a BFF necklace in the shape of a strawberry heart hidden beneath a shirt collar. You’re her one. Her person. The burger to her fries. The Juliet to her Romeo.

“We can go, bunny,” her hands fret over your face and she lifts you onto your knees, “No more Hawkins.”

“What about the others?”

She shakes her head.

“What about Steve?”

Robin has said it herself. Her and Steve are Platonic soulmates with a capital ‘p’. She isn’t very sappy, but sometimes when it’s his birthday or is feeling especially emotional, she spills it all. To you, to Steve. To anybody who’ll listen.

If you’re her person, Steve is her schmuck. If you were to drop dead, Steve would be your eventual replacement. The mere step-bestie.

They’ve gone to war together, been interrogated and tortured together, almost died together. Steve is more than a brother, he’s the entire family.

Robin steels herself and tries to shrug off the weight she’s slinging over her shoulders as she says, “What about Steve? There’s a million people like him, but… but there’s only one you, bunny.”

You don’t believe her, and you can tell that she doesn’t even believe herself.

“I should’ve never gone to that fucking bar…” you heave, throat tight and stomach aching, “Those fuckers - Robbie - tried sacrificing me as a virgin and now I’m- “ you reach for Robin’s leg, thumb brushing over the exposed red lines of where she cut her knees on the glass, “I don’t know what I am, but it isn’t human.”

“Just stay with me,” Robin picks up your jaw, cradling your head tenderly and forcing you to lock eyes with her, “If I can help, I will. You feel full with me, so just be with me, bunny.”

“What if I hurt you?” you sniffle, eyes wet and body limp, “I can’t- “

“You won’t,” Robin kisses your cheek, “And if you do, we’ll deal with it together. You’re strong, bunny, you’re smart - I know you can handle this.”

Your turn towards Eddie, “He knows.”

Robin’s hands go to your shoulders, pulling you tight to herself, tucking your head into the crook of her neck. She stares at Eddie. Pleading and weak and uneasy.

“Munson, I know you haven’t been around for a lot of Hawkins’ shit like we have, and we’ll explain later - but just- “ her breathing is shaky, she shakes her head, “Please, this wasn’t her. I swear, this wasn’t her.”

Eddie is silent. It’s bizarre. He looks between the two of you.

He doesn’t know where to go. What to say. He wants the old you back, whenever you changed he doesn’t know but he wants you back. He doesn’t even know if that’s entirely possible. He doesn’t know what to say.

How does he laugh this off? How does he wave this away? This isn’t you mistakenly hitting a fence when he was trying to teach you how to drive. It’s more than you passing out on his bed after a late night. Bigger than accidentally missing Corroded Coffin’s gig at The Hideout.

Robin hugs you closer, “I know we’re not best friends, but you have to know - it’s Hawkins. She’s sick with whatever fucked up curse is here.”

Eddie stands up from the wall, he pulls his hands away from his side to inspect the blood there. He’ll live, most assuredly, but he doesn’t know how long it’ll take him to forgive this.

Should he forgive this?

His hand shakes as he points at you - past Robin and right at where you’re trying to hide, “I want an explanation… and- and answers for whatever Hawkins’ curse you’re talking about.”

“Will you keep quiet?” Robin’s trying so hard to sound like she has the power, but it’s all bravado she never mastered. She’s pleading. Begging.

You look at him now. Shaking and horrified. You don’t look like the girl he knows.

“Yeah,” so he submits, hands raising in surrender, “I’ll keep quiet.”

He slides back onto the ground and Robin turns your head to her, she smiles and you try to return it. You really, really do try. But you’re tired and you’re hungry and you want to disappear from his pool house. From the world where you’ve done what you have.

“You’re starving, huh, bunny?” Robin brushes a thumb over your bottom lip before kissing you, “We should take care of you.”

“Do you hate me?” you clutch at her despite the question, desperate to keep her close even if she does, “For the… for what I did…”

“No,” Robin kisses you again, hungrier, harder, “Not at all, bunny.”

Dare she say it, she loves you.

And one day, you’ll tell her you love her back.

“Come on,” she stands and you take her hand. She squeezes - your skin is warm. You’re you, “Let’s get you taken care of, bunny.”

You’re warm.

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley oneshot #robin buckley fic #robin buckley #robin buckley x fem!reader smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #jennifer's body #jennifer's body au #eddie munson x platonic!reader #i want this out of my drafts so bad #i'm so sick

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br1ghtestlight · 2 months

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because today is @seemoreseymoursbay minor and one-off character day i thought that i would share some of my thoughts and analysis on lily's younger brother ernest lombard. since he is a one-off character from season three and i have thought about him more than ANYBODY else in this fandom and that's a promise lol

he's five years younger than lily and alice got pregnant w/ him after billy returned from the war and they were kinda having a honeymoon 2.0 phase since she was so happy her husband was alive and safe. he was born in 1946

lily was VERY protective of her baby brother. he got picked on a lot by the neighborhood kids bcuz he was nerdy and kinda weak/feminine but because lily was older and not afraid of ANYTHING she would stand up for him against everybody at school and in their neighborhood. very louise and gene vibes in that sense (except lily actually is older than ernest lmao)

only alice and lily (and later bob when was born) called him ernie/uncle ernie. he did NOT like being compared to the sesame street character especially when he was a teenager. HE IS NOT A MUPPET >:(

he was more nerdy and shy/sensitive and kept to himself. not many friends outside of his sister and he mostly spent his childhood reading comic books and playing by himself in his bedroom. his parents were very understanding and supportive of him since they were both pretty progressive for their time in terms of gender roles

he LOVED superhero comics when he was a kid. still a secret passion of his as an adult and he collected them

he was devastated when his older sister moved away from home especially because he was going through his angsty high school years and he really needed her. they still phoned each other and wrote letters everyday and lily would visit when she was able <3

he was gay and it was really tough for him growing up in the 1950s and 60s with homosexuality not even being legalized. his family was as supportive as could possibly be expected for the time period (they didnt disown or abuse him) and lily didn't think any different of him when he told her (but she told him to kinda keep it on the down low for his safety) fortunately he lived in new york city so there was a bit of a community for him

he had a long term boyfriend throughout the 70s and 80s but unfortunately he died from aids/hiv during the crisis :( ernest never got into another relationship after that and that's why he died single with no kids. he also lost a lot of friendships it was really hard. poor guy!!!

never got along w/ big bob as he always felt that he was too cold/unloving/didnt talk enough and that he was stealing ernest's older sister from him (they started dating when ernest was like..... 14 so that teenage angst was expected) big bob would never be good enough for lily in his mind

he moved to new jersey with his bf when they were in their late 20s to be closer to lily & bob which is where he stayed until he died

he LOVED being an uncle and thought bob was so cute and funny and reminded him so much of himself at bob's age. absolutely adored the kid. unfortunately he stopped coming around as much when lily got sick so bob doesn't have too many memories of him :(

lily's death was really hard for him and he basically stopped talking to bob and big bob entirely after she died bcuz the reminder was too painful. bob tried to stay in contact but he was also a teenager so they just kinda..... fell out of touch. they hadn't talked in years when ernest died

he was always very empathetic and understanding towards people seen as different/unwanted by society due to being gay himself so he had a lot of sympathy and always tried to support homeless people drug addicts and the mentally ill etc. our differences do not define us type guy. he volunteered a lot at the homeless shelters after he retired and that's part of why he let chet stay in his storage unit for all those years (although chet actually WAS a seasonal employee at his department store) he felt real deep love and empathy for him </3 also protested the vietnam war with his big sis. very anti-racism compared to what was expected of white people at the time

always very quiet and socially awkward. it is true that bob got a lot of his personality from big bob but he got an equal amount from ernest tbh he just never knew him well enough to realize that about himself

tina also shares a lot of traits w/ ernest and had they known each other when he was alive i think they would have gotten along really well. he would have loved her erotic friend fiction and he actually wrote his own superhero comic fanfiction before that was an actual thing that ppl had a word for

always loved drawing but never very good at it. you could find doodles ALL over his tax stubs and receipts from work

he had a brief dream of becoming a comic book artist and he read all the new peanuts and archie comics when they released. billy would always bring them home from work for him to read

when he died he left pretty much everything he owned (which was.... not very much. he definitely wasn't very financially well-off after they bought out his department store to build the mall) to bob bcuz he was basically the only family that he had that was still alive. he never knew bob had kids but he did know about linda

he died of a heart attack in his 60s and nobody even found his body for a few days. his later years were very lonely

#txt #bob's burgers #headcanons #not even tagging any of the smsw tags this is literally NOTHING im just being unhinged #Love to study characters with a total of 0.5 seconds of screentime. bob's uncle frank you're next

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paradisepoisoned · 1 year

Text

I'm drunk, and work is consuming my life, so I give you the Death Note tattoo AU no one asked for.

-L was a world-famous tattoo artist, but no one really knows what he looks like except his clients and disgruntled employees, but his work is well recognized. Moved to New York to open his own tattoo shop but he's kinda a mystery in the industry and he's one of those owners that doesn't really show up to his own business anymore he rarely tattoos and when he does its only things he wants to do. Will fuck off to Cambodia for a month or something and then randomly show up to collect money and sleep there for a week.

-L has only ever took two apprentices and they were Mello and Near. He took them on at the same time and it was a complete disaster. L refuses to take on an apprentice ever again

-Near specializes in sacred geometry, mandalas, and all that tedious crazy shit. Line work is impeccable. I feel like he'd be great at lettering and that fine line bullshit that everyone else hates. No one takes him seriously as an artist cause he looks like he's fucking twelve. He has amazing work but is absolutely horrible with clients due to his non existent social skills.

-Mello is the black and gray guy. He's one of those guys who just whips out a 23 mag and goes to town and bangs out a half sleeve in a few hours. I can see him doing crazy horror shit and those big crazy religious pieces like praying hands statues and all that good shit. He doesn't do color and doesn't like anything with a lot of linework. Looks scary but kinda a softie.

-Near is great at linework. Mello is great at shading. They compete and fight on a regular basis. They have an ongoing silent war stealing each other's supplies,clients, etc. (They're secretly in love tho, deal with it)

-Matt definitely the anime bruh I could see him doing some super colorful new school anime type shit he's a street shop kinda guy at heart tho hell do the dirty jobs no one else wants to do and he's FAST he can bang out your little infinity symbol butterfly feather clusterfuck matching finger tattoo with your 13 friends no problem. He wears goggles while tattooinglmaoaoa idk why, but he also gives me big piercer energy, lol

-I'm sorry but I can't leave out Linda. I feel like she's the color girl. Specializes in cover ups and botanical tattoos but shes well rounded and can take mostly anything that walks in. Probably the most organized artist out of all of them and keeps the shop from falling apart on a daily basis. I feel like L also trusts her to be the one to manage the shop while he's not there since the others are all completely unhinged, lol. Shop mom 100%

-Matt and Mello hit the bar at least once a week after work and talk shit till 4am

-B Specializes in trash polka fucking fight me on it.

-B and L apprenticed together and were working together when L opened his own shop but B kinda went down a dark path and him and L drifted apart and now have beef so B is the artist no one talks about (except Mello cause I feel B woulda played a big part in his apprenticeship)

-B also kinda legitimately tried to burn the whole shop down before he left soooooo...

-L has kept B's room open for years, hoping he gets his shit together one day and comes back.

#death note #death note headcanons #tattoo au #wammys boys #wammys house #wammys kids #Mello #mihael keehl #nate river #meronia #mello x near #Near #Matt #mail jeevas #Linda #L #BB #Beyond birthday #headcanon

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mushroommushy · 1 year

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Please please tell me your ideas I will be so normal about it I am not at all desparate for Broken Masquerade content

Boy I have so many ideas I actually need to put this in a draft to list all of the brainrot things I’ve had circling in my head!! This does include some negative things so feel free for me to ask to tag.

All of the colleges (Particularly Harvard) adding Thaumaturgy to their classes is extremely cool in the canon and I think there should be many more schools

Site-43 College beloved I want to go there so badly please be real c’mon :[

Those Facebook mom groups…oh boy there’s so much drama

Lord help all the poor kids with minor anomalous power

Segregation with schools, even restaurants

A lot of anomalies end up in homeless shelters because not many jobs are willing to take the backlash of anomalous employees

Shitty parents faking their kid having a dangerous anomaly so they can send them away

Because they think the foundation would just kill them because of all the propaganda

You know that the cults are gonna take advantage of this to try and grow their numbers

Chaos Insurgency propaganda against the foundation

A flag that shows your support for the foundation, GOC, anomalies hanging outside your home

New Genders from the tumblrinas like us

Twitter DNI’s are a genuine hell

‘DNI IF YOU SUPPORT SCP’S/THREAT ENTITIES/OBJECTS’

‘Block me if you call anomalies SCP’s that’s a slur’

Speaking of slurs there’s probably a lot more

COTBG members constantly calling the Nälkan’s Sarkics just to piss them off

And Maxwellium members getting real pressed over internet drama

Someone trying to make the nicknames the Serpents Hand has into a slur

Dr. Glass walking down the street and just has someone scream ‘JAILER’ at him and he is desperately trying to not commit a crime

Also Twitter being Twitter

‘Is it wrong to kin SCP-076-2? I’d murder too if I was under the ocean.’

Extremely dangerous TikTok trends involving anomalies that makes both the GOC and SCP have collective heart attacks

Some girl posts a video from a foundation site doing Macarena during a breach and is just immediately cancelled on every platform

You know there’s gonna be dumbass teenagers trying to find some real dangerous shit to seem cool

‘Oh a lake full of bodies that makes you enter through mind control??? Sounds cool and not totally dangerous I’m gonna find it and go swimming’

Gonna readmore this it’s getting long lol

Five missing teens later the foundations getting slandered even though they did nothing

Articles with the ‘How to tell if ‘X’ is an anomaly’

Of course they’re bullshit and usually offensive

Charities to support anomalies

An actual cult around 2662 that didn’t spawn anomalously

You fucking know that the Christian’s will either take 343 well or absolutely horrifically

There’s also two sides of people when it comes to Cain and Able

The ones who hate Cain and think Able is reasonable and the people who think the opposite

Cain’s also not allowed to leave site-17 for more than just the fact he’d kill plant life it’s for his own safety tbh

Meri does get chances to wander the woods! Just..not in public because they rampage that would happen with the amount of broken phones and cars would be horrible

Iris gets to go home because she deserves it

I feel like Gerald would become a meme in general and people pay his hospital bills for him lmao

Parents keeping their kids out of school and switching to online or homeschooling to keep them away from anomalies

Conversion camps to send your kid to so people can ‘release them from their curse’

Those got the serpents hand real heated

Speaking of them they have the snarkiest Twitter account ever and just roast the living hell out of every word that comes out of the foundations mouth

Podcasts

So many fucking podcasts

There already is a writing on the broken masquerade hub of the foundation making a video with outdated slang to appeal to kids

But I think Dr. Gears should just stare at a camera and say swag with a straight face it would be beautiful

Kondraki, Clef and Gears get called dilfs and not a single one of them knows what it means

‘Kain’s the goodest boy’ even though he’s morally corrupt as fuck is very common

But he will Fuckin run if you even try to touch him he does not need his fur messes up

Ok I don’t want this to be a mile long so I’ll stop here but!!!

If you want more dm me so we can talk 👀👀👀 I need SCP friends

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