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munson-blurbs · 2 years

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Fight for You (Dad!Eddie x Mom!Reader)

Your friends throw you an incredible baby shower, but an unexpected guest threatens to spoil your fun.

Warnings: all the fluff + angst, pregnancy language, emotional abuse (not from Eddie), a bit of violence (nothing gory, but mention of blood)

WC: 2k

Part One | Part Two

Taglist: @dylanmunson @tayhar811 @princess-eddie

August 1992

“Wow,” Eddie breathes as he walks into your bedroom. You’re wearing a flowing sage green dress that shows off your seven-month baby bump. “You look stunning.”

You press a kiss to his lips, smiling against him as your belly brushes against his stomach. It hasn’t always been easy to feel beautiful as your body changes, but your husband hasn’t stopped reminding you that he thinks you’re perfect; that he’s so happy you’re having his baby; that every time he thinks he can’t love you more, he looks at you and falls even harder.

He takes your hand and walks you to the van. You’d moved apartments last month; same building, but now you have a two-bedroom so the baby will have their own room.

“You ready for your party, little baby?” you talk to your belly, rubbing a hand over it. It was Will’s idea to make it co-ed, and Eddie wasn’t going to turn down an invitation to something DnD themed. He’s wearing his nicest pair of jeans and a blue button-down shirt. His hair is pulled back into a low bun, and you lean over and kiss his cheek. As you do, you feel a fluttering in your stomach.

“Oh my God!” you yelp, and Eddie slams on the brakes.

“What?” he asks nervously. “Is the baby okay?”

“Yeah, s-sorry,” you flush, slightly embarrassed. “They just kicked me.” You take one of his hands, feeling him visibly relax, and place it where you just felt the kick. “Right here.” Sure enough, the baby kicks again, and Eddie grins.

“Holy shit,” he says, “we got a little soccer player in there!”

You pull up to the Byers house and waddle you way up the steps. “Careful,” you hear Eddie murmur, placing a hand on the small of your back. You open the door to a room filled with your favorite people. Your parents are on the couch next to Wayne and Jim Hopper. Eleven and Max are drinking some punch, laughing at something Mike said. Or maybe just laughing at Mike; you never know with those two. Will and Lucas are fixing a streamer as Joyce oversees their work. Dustin, Robin, Steve, and Nancy are gathered around a bowl of chips.

Everything looks amazing. The family room looks like a Dungeons & Dragons game come to life. Even the food is labelled on-theme, with figurines placed strategically along the table. Next to a pile of brightly-wrapped gifts is a Dungeon Master throne, which would usually be reserved for Eddie, but there’s a sign on it that reads “Reserved for Mama Munson.”

The guests rush to hug you, ask how you’re doing, feel your bump. You hate when strangers do that, think they have the right to touch you just because you’re pregnant, but you truly don’t mind when your family and friends--your chosen family, really--do it.

Wayne shoves a paper plate into Eddie’s hands. “Go get your lady something to eat, hm?” he hints. No matter how old Eddie gets, Wayne will always treat him like a son.

Eddie obliges, leaving you with Joyce as she dotes on you. “You are absolutely glowing,” she says. “You were meant to be a mom.”

“Thank you.” Tears spring to your eyes. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“No, no crying!” she laughs gently. “C’mon, we’ll get started with the games.” She leads you to your seat. “Those pregnancy hormones are a bitch, huh?”

You laugh and nod in agreement.

Eddie, meanwhile, is loading the plate with cupcakes and cookies, knowing you’ve had a mean sweet tooth lately. He brings it to you and you bite into a chocolate chip, savoring the taste.

“This is exactly what Baby Munson wanted,” you state, taking another bite.

The next few hours pass in a flurry of games and gifts. You’re excited to go home with a collection of new bottles, burp cloths, teeny tiny clothes, and enough diapers that look like they’ll last a lifetime, but Joyce claims will only get you through the first week.

Eddie, Steve, and Hopper have loaded everything into the van, and everyone is helping clean up the Byers’ living room, when there’s a knock on the door.

“Who could that be?” Joyce wonders aloud, and Hopper steps in front of her to answer the door. You know it’s never good when his instincts kick in.

On the other side of the door stands a tall, scrawny man. He’s got a scruffy beard that matches his salt-and-pepper hair. In his hand is an open bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag.

“Can I help you?” Hopper asks sternly as the man peers inside the house.

“Yeah, I’m jus’ lookin’ for--” he slurs, stopping when his eyes land on Eddie, who lets go of your hand to step forward.

“Dad?”

You could hear a pin drop as Eddie’s dad walks in the house, nearly tripping over his own feet.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie growls, clearly unnerved. Your mom puts an arm around you as your jaw drops open. Steve stands next to Eddie, ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice.

“Got out of the clink a few days ago. Figured I’d come back to Hawkins and check up on ya. ‘S a small town, so I asked around about ya, and someone at the record store told me where y’were.” He hiccups and takes another swig from the bottle.

“You need to leave,” Eddie says tightly, fists clenched. “Now.”

But the man just ignores him, or maybe is too drunk to even comprehend what his son said. “So, y’knocked some poor girl up?” he laughs meanly. “Who’s the unlucky lady?”

His eyes find you, or rather, find your baby bump, and he points. “That pretty little thing? How’d you snag her?” Eddie’s silent; he’s heard the joke before, even thought it himself, but it’s never been said in such a condescending way.

“H-hi,” you manage, instinctively cradling your belly. “I’m Y/N.”

He walks over to shake your hand, and you oblige nervously. “Pleasure.” He doesn’t introduce yourself, and you don’t care to get to know him anyway. “So, when do I get to meet my grandbaby?”

Eddie is seething now, shooting daggers from his eyes. “Your grandbaby? This baby isn’t your anything. Wayne’s the grandfather, just like Wayne’s my father, because you couldn’t be bothered to raise me.”

“Eddie, please,” you start. You just want to leave, curl up in a ball and cry. “Let’s just go home.”

But the man keeps going. “You think it’s so goddamned easy, huh? Just you wait and see. That baby’s gonna come, cry every 15 minutes, and you’ll be out the door, too.”

You see the look that passes over Eddie’s face. It’s a mixture of rage and hurt, and you step forward. Joyce tries to hold you back, but you pull from her grasp.

“Fuck you,” you spit, willing yourself not to cry. “Eddie is nothing like you, and he’s gonna be the best dad to our kid, and you will never, ever get to be any kind of a grandparent.” You’re shaking but you press on. “You’re going to leave this party, leave Hawkins, and get the hell out of our lives.”

“She’s a little spitfire, huh?” he says to no one in particular. “Us Munson men like ‘em feisty.”

You can’t catch Eddie’s arm before his fist comes crashing into his dad’s cheek. Blood trickles from the man’s mouth.

“I’ve wanted to do that for 10 years,” Eddie’s voice is rising, and Wayne puts a hand on his nephew’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. He makes eye contact with Hopper, who grabs the disgraced Munson by the shirt collar and tosses him into the back of his cop car.

As soon as Mike closes the door, you collapse into your husband’s arms, trembling and crying.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Eddie murmurs into your hair, kissing the top of your head. “He’s gone.” He says the last part for himself more than for you.

Joyce suggests that you two head home, that she wasn’t going to have the guests of honor clean up anyway, and everyone agrees. You thank your guests and apologize, though you’re acutely aware that none of this is your fault.

The ride home is silent. Eddie’s leg bounces up and down and you put your hand on his thigh to ease his anxiety. It’s not until you get into the apartment and put down the first of many diaper boxes that you speak.

“Eddie, you know I meant everything I said, right?” You look at him, but he doesn’t meet your gaze. “Baby, look at me.”

When he does, you see that he’s crying. “I hate him,” he states, just a fact, voice barely above a whisper. “I hate him so fucking much.”

“I know. He doesn’t deserve your love or your respect.” You sit down on the couch and motion for him to join you. “He’s nothing more than a sperm donor.”

Eddie isn’t comforted by this. “Y’see, that’s the thing!” he starts, choking back a sob. “He’s part of me. I can try and pretend like he’s nothing to me, but the truth is, he’s my dad, which means that some piece of me is like some piece of him.”

You take a sharp breath in. “Do you remember our first date, when you took me to Enzo’s and we played footsie all night?” He gives a small smile, so you continue. “Or our first kiss, when we bumped into each other outside the Radio Shack and we realized we both got Dustin the same thing for his birthday?”

“Of course I remember,” he says, taking your hand and rubbing his thumb over yours.

“How about when you proposed after playing that beautiful song you wrote for me, and you told me all the things you love about me, and how I make you feel?”

He nods.

“Or when I told you I was pregnant, and I was absolutely terrified, and you reassured me that everything would be okay,” you rest your head on his shoulder. “And those were just some of the big moments. There’s the little things, the things that really add up. Like how you massage my scalp after a stressful day at work. Or how you always get me a little surprise from the grocery store. Or how you’ve been checking out those pregnancy and parenting books from the library, writing down the stuff you want to remember.” You nudge him gently.

“Eds, that’s all you. Your dad wouldn’t do any of that stuff. He’s never done anything to help anyone but himself. But you, Eddie Munson,” you poke a finger to his chest, “you are always thinking of others. Sometimes to a fault,” you tease.

“I love you so much.” He’s holding your hand tight as you kiss away his tears. “You’re my everything. You and this baby.” He bends down to kiss your tummy.

“I love you more. And this baby is gonna love you. Gonna absolutely adore their sweet, caring, silly, metal daddy.” You brush your fingers through his curls. “You’ll have them singing Metallica before they say ‘mama’.”

“Sounds about right,” he laughs. You can tell he’s not totally convinced about his parenting abilities, though.

“We’re gonna make mistakes. Sometimes you, sometimes me, sometimes both of us. But we’re gonna stick around to fix them. When we mess up, we’ll apologize. And I know,” you choke up, “I know that we are gonna have so many more wins than losses.”

You feel his tension ease a bit. “You really think I can do this?” he asks.

Another flutter in your belly as the baby kicks. “Not just me. We both do.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson angst #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #stranger things #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #dad!eddie series

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hbyrde36 · 6 months

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Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

Chapter 10

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 ao3 link

CW: Smut/NSFW

*Steve*

Sometimes in life there are people you just click with. Within hours of meeting them you know you’ll be friends for life, and it feels like you’ve known them forever.

Steve had a feeling that was exactly what happened between him and Robin during their insane car ride back to the trailer park.

She wasn’t the type of person he normally gravitated towards, not that normality held any sort of meaning in his life these days. Robin was blunt, with no filter to speak of, all the while being just a little bit awkward. She didn’t care that Steve had been missing, apart from the fact that she wanted all the gory details, for curiosity’s sake of course. Not in a cruel way, by the end it was clear that she had sympathy for all that he and the others had been through, but she was the first person to hear his story and not look at him with some level of pity. Even Eddie, who had been so great to Steve even as his own world began to come apart at the seams, had given him the look once or twice.

It was a little harder to concentrate on The Talk while he was driving, especially when he was so woefully out of practice after not having been behind the wheel of a car for so long. At least with Chrissy he’d been to give her his full attention, but Robin didn’t seem to mind the rambling way he explained things, and seemed to follow his off-the-track train of thought just fine. She poked fun at him whenever it was appropriate, and even once or twice when it wasn’t (though somehow Steve knew she meant no harm), and it made him feel wonderfully human again, and a little less broken.

“Jesus. You’re nothing like you used to be are you?” Robin said at one point.

“How so?” Steve asked, a little amused.

“If someone had tried to tell me that Steve Harrington, the same douchebag who asked dumb questions and dropped bagel crumbs on the floor in Click’s class every single fucking morning, would give a shit about some girl he found in the woods, I would have told them they were crazy.”

Oh.

He didn’t remember sharing any classes with Robin, but obviously they had. Maybe he was a douchebag.

Steve shrugged. “I guess…people change.”

“Clearly.” Robin said, huffing a laugh.

She paused for a moment and he glanced at her, noting the way she narrowed her eyes at him before continuing on. “But I'm not sure that’s it. I think maybe you’ve always been a good guy, it's just that no one ever expected you to be so they didn’t think to notice, and maybe, neither did you.”

Steve didn’t know what to say after that.

It wasn’t long before they were nearing the entrance to the trailer park, the car quiet for the moment save for the dulcet tones of top 40 radio coming from it’s speaker system.

“So, Eddie just happened to be the one to find you, huh?” Robin said softly, almost conspiratorial as he made the final turn into Forest Hills.

She nudged his shoulder with a knowing look in her eye. Steve wasn’t all that surprised that she had picked up on the energy between him and Eddie. She'd seen up close the way he had rushed to Eddie's side, maybe even clocked the way their touch had lingered as they stood there in the yard talking to her.

He’d certainly noticed the very not-straight way in which Robin had perked up when she spotted Chrissy Cunningham in their midst, and then immediately agreed to go with them.

Something else they had in common then.

Steve felt his face grow a little warm and glanced in the rear view mirror to see if any of his other passengers were listening in. They seemed to be otherwise occupied. Max was tucked into Chrissy’s side, listening to Lucas talking softly as he held her hand. Chrissy herself was staring out the window seemingly lost in thought, and Billy was unlikely to hear anything from where he was, locked in the trunk.

The urge to spill his guts to Robin about his feelings for Eddie was strong. It was miles ahead of where they should be as acquaintances go, and if that level of trust felt a little unearned, well, Steve would just roll with it anyway. Eddie had, in his way, predicted this budding friendship and Steve couldn’t help but trust in that. He had been right about far too many things thus-far not to. They had all accepted the bad premonitions without blinking so why not accept something good too?

Unfortunately, opening up to Robin would also mean outing Eddie without his permission, and Steve would never want to hurt him or anyone else like that. He and Eddie needed to talk anyway- about what they were to each other now, if anything, and how comfortable each of them was with others knowing. Steve decided that if Eddie gave him the greenlight he would tell Robin everything, but for now he would keep it to himself, mostly.

“I like to think we found each other.” He replied, unable to keep from smiling like an idiot at the memory.

In more ways than one.

She didn’t seem offended that he hadn’t confirmed or denied her subtle implication, and, as though she perfectly understood why he hadn’t, she didn’t push. He loved her a little bit for that, this girl he had only just met. It wasn’t often that people understood him like that, took the time to see past the packaging and really look.

“I don’t know what me and El would have done if he hadn’t been out there in the woods. We probably would have been caught and dragged back to the lab by now.”

She stared at the side of his face for a long time. It wasn’t until he parked in front of the Munson trailer and the others started to climb out that she spoke again, placing a hand on his arm to stop him from moving just yet.

“Why did you risk it tonight- being seen?”

Steve blinked at her, confused because, wasn’t it obvious? “We knew Max could be in trouble…it…we had to do something.”

Robin shook her head. “Even from what little I've seen and heard I know the others could have handled it without you. You could have stayed behind, safely hidden at Castle Munson with your magical little sister. Why did YOU risk it?”

He shrugged, not quite knowing how to answer, not that she waited for him to give one.

“I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’ve got a self sacrificial streak a mile wide.”

“I don’t…” He started to protest.

“Listen, Steve. It's shocked me to my core, but I like you. I really like you. I don't know how much I truly understand about what’s happening here, or what the future is going to bring if this Vecna creep really exists, but…try not to get yourself killed, okay? I think we could be really good friends, if you can manage to stick around long enough.”

They left Billy in the trunk.

Sure it was dark enough out to obscure their faces, but Steve knew that if anyone in the park did happen to look out their window it wouldn't be hard to make out the shape of two guys dragging a body out of a trunk. Also, with Hopper having arrived while they were gone and the addition of Max, Chrissy, and Robin to the party, they were honestly running out of standing room inside the trailer.

So, Billy could stay where he was for now, and at least this way they could feel Hopper out before making him aware of their latest crime.

Steve walked over to the van just as Eddie was getting out of it. He smiled broadly and it warmed Steve down to his toes. He wanted to kiss him, to brush lips over each of his dimples in turn before focusing his attention on that mouth.

Nancy and Jonathan came spilling down the front steps of the trailer, just in time to bring Steve back to his senses.

The couple’s eyes settled on Max, taking in her pale face and the way she clung to Lucas and Chrissy.

“Was it?” Nancy gasped, looking to him for answers as she wrung her hands.

“Henry, yes. We- we got there just in time.” Steve said.

She nodded, looking a little like she was in shock until Jonathan took hold of one of her hands and the two of them began to try and wrangle their brothers and the other kids.

“Hey guys, I'm sorry but we have to get you all home.” Jonathan called out.

Mike, Will, and Dustin all erupted into a cacophony of whining and complaints. Lucas was too focused on Max and she was watching the entire scene unfold with wide eyes.

“C’mon Will, you know how mom gets when you’re gone for too long.” Jonathan said, which quieted Will and Dustin pretty quickly. They all knew his mom had never quite been the same since ‘83.

“You too Mike.” Nancy added. “Do you even know what time it is? It’s a school night. Mom will freak out if we don’t get you home soon.”

“Oh please.” Mike spat. “Who cares about shit like school right now?!”

“Mike!” Nancy shouted

“What? It's bullshit Nancy! We’re just supposed to go on like everything is normal? When-”

Mike glanced around and lowered his voice, at least having the wherewithal to be quiet as he continued to argue with his sister.

“- when Eddie has fucking powers now and Steve is- I don’t know what the hell, and Eleven is real, and in danger, and there’s some evil wizard out there trying to kill our friends?!”

“That's exactly what you’re going to do. For now.” The booming voice of Jim Hopper came from behind them and the whole group turned as a unit, only just noticing that the man had stepped out onto the front porch and had been listening in.

Shit.

They were definitely not being careful enough.

Hopper shook his head at all of them as he tapped his hat on his leg.

“Anyone who’s staying, get inside. The rest of you- go home, and for the love of god keep your mouths shut about all of this!” He turned, grumbling, “There’s too many of you involved already,” to himself as he went back into the trailer.

“Who put him in charge?” Mike sneered.

“He’s a cop, I think they’re just wired that way.” Dustin said.

“He’s actually not a bad guy once you get to know him.” Max cut in, speaking for the first time since they’d left her house.

Everyone stared at her in surprise and she crossed her arms over her chest, a little of the attitude Steve had heard the boys talking about beginning to break through as she spoke again.

“Between Billy and Neil you don’t think we have the cops coming to our door every other weekend? Please...” She rolled her eyes. “Hopper might sound grumpy but he’s really just a teddy bear.”

“I heard that Mayfield!” Hopped bellowed from inside the house.

Max giggled as the rest of the group continued to look at her in amazement.

“What?! He takes me to the diner sometimes for milkshakes when things get bad.” She said with a shrug.

Everyone said their goodbyes and the remaining members of the party paraded inside.

Eddie went right to his uncle, whispering something in the man’s ear that made him drop his head into his hands and give the most long-suffering sigh that Steve had ever heard. Wayne walked off towards the hall closet a moment later mumbling something under his breath about a tarp.

Hopper was oddly subdued as Steve, Eddie, Chrissy, Robin and Max piled into the living room. Although, upon closer inspection Steve realized the man was trembling with anger. He was just on that level of angry where he was very fucking quietly seething and even Max was eyeing the man warily.

Wayne quickly found what he was looking for, which appeared to be a medium sized blue tarp and headed straight back out the front door. Steve and Eddie shared a look, rushing to follow behind the older man.

Steve popped the trunk to reveal Billy, staring up at them, eyes shining with rage and struggling against his restraints.

“Oh. He’s alive.” Wayne said, and began unfolding the sheet of plastic.

Eddie bent down so he could get his face as close to Billy's as possible and whispered threateningly in his ear. “You can keep struggling while we carry you inside if you want, but don’t be surprised when we drop your ass and you get hurt.”

Billy continued to glare but seemed to see the wisdom in Eddie’s words and stopped flailing, at least for the time being. They laid the tarp over him, tucking it under loosely to make sure he could still breathe and then together they awkwardly carried the bundle inside.

Hopper stared as the three of them reentered the living room and dumped the lumpy blue package unceremoniously on the couch, quickly unwrapping it.

“Jesus Christ! ...What? ...Why?” Hopper shouted as he began pacing around the small space. ‘You know what, no. I don't even want to know.”

He stopped in his tracks suddenly and growled in frustration. “No… no. Fuck. God damnit. I need to know. Spill.” Hopper stood in front of Eddie and Steve with his hands in his pockets and waited for them to explain.

As they did, with Eddie doing most of the heavy lifting, El appeared holding a stack of comic books she must have borrowed from Eddie's room. She took hold of Steve’s hand and smiled up at him. He could see the relief on her face that he’d returned safely and he felt a new surge of guilt for leaving her. He squeezed her hand to say he was sorry, to say he loved her, and she squeezed back.

When it was all done Eddie plopped down on the couch as far from Billy as he could manage. Everyone present ignored him as they continued to discuss things.

Hopper sighed. “I can’t say I'm happy about this, and I'm sure there were better ways to go about dealing with Hargrove here, but I'm glad you were there to help Max.” He admitted.

“Exactly Jim, that’s what matters here.” Wayne agreed, earning himself a little side eye from the Chief.

“Alright, so it sounds like she’s safe enough for now, assuming this music business keeps working but what’s the plan? Do we wait for this guy to attack again or are we going to try and take him on his own turf?” Hopper asked.

“We tried that already, in the game. Some of the party went into the Upside-Down while others tried to distract him. It, uh, didn’t work.”

“It didn’t work AND you died.” Steve corrected, taking the seat right next to Eddie. He wanted to take the other boy’s hand but settled for sitting closer than what might be considered strictly friendly.

“But if our only other option is to wait until he starts picking us off, then…” Eddie began to argue, but was interrupted by a frantic woman’s voice calling out over Hopper’s police radio from where it sat on the kitchen counter.

The chief lunged for it and quickly responded. “This is Hop.. Slow down and tell me what’s going on, Flo.”

“Hop?! Thank god. It’s the lab! There’s a huge fire over at Hawkins lab and they need all hands on deck over there.”

“Shit.” Hopper cursed, casting his eyes to the ceiling before clicking the button to respond. “Who’s been called?”

Flo’s voice came cracking over the radio again. “Hawkins Fire is on site now and they put a call in to Cartersville for back up. I sent Powell and Callahan over too but they need you on site to manage everyone.”

“Tell them I'm on my way.” Hopper said, signing off and slamming the radio back down.

Eddie must have sensed the tension growing in Steve as they listened to the call, he tried to hold on to him but Steve was out of his seat like a shot. “You gotta let me come with you.” He said to Hopper.

“Steve!” Eddie yelled at the same time Robin and Chrissy both shouted “No!”

“No, Christ, especially not you! You're in hiding, Steve! You have to stay here!”

“But what if it’s him, Hop?”

“I know, but..”

“It can’t be a coincidence!”

“I know!”

“You might need my help. Even if it’s not Henry, you don’t know what they’ve done, the things they have in that lab!”

“I KNOW!” Hopper shouted, loud enough that Steve flinched and El put her hands over her ears.

Hoper took Steve by the shoulders, the look on his face was still intense but his touch was gentle. “I know. Okay, kid? I get it, but I won't risk you going back there. I won’t risk any of you. I promise I'll come back as soon as I can and I'll tell you all about it.”

Steve nodded, a little dumbfounded that the man seemed to care so much. Then he remembered someone else who cared, if only a little and he stopped Hopper just before he had made his way out the door.

“There’s someone who works at the lab,” Steve began. “A Dr. Owens. He’s…he helped us. He saw me and El escaping and he let us go. I think he might be a good guy.”

“Owens. Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.” He gave Steve an awkward but well meant pat on the shoulder, and then he was gone.

Steve stood by the door staring, mind reeling wondering how the hell this could have happened and what could it mean? He wanted to be thrilled at the prospect of that hellish place burning to the ground, it was a thing he’d dreamed about doing himself dozens of times since he and Eleven had met. Now though, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this couldn’t be good news.

A warm hand landed on Steve's lower back. The touch was firm and grounding. He knew by the scent of leather and denim and just a hint of cigarette smoke that it was Eddie.

“You okay?” He said softly, and for Steve’s ears alone.

“For now. I should check on El though.”

“I think she’s doing just fine.”

At that Steve finally turned around and saw that El had walked up to Max. It sounded like she was introducing herself. She took the redhead’s hand, urging her to follow her into the kitchen. Max looked back at Chrissy as though she were asking if it was okay. Chrissy smiled and gave an encouraging nod.

As the two girls walked off to the kitchen, they could hear El saying. “Come on, Mr. Wayne makes the best hot chocolate.”

Steve wasn’t fooled into thinking she didn’t care about what was happening at the lab, but the girl had a remarkable way of carrying on through the bad shit. Helping Max feel better would make her feel better too, and it seemed like both girls could use a friend so Steve didn't want to interfere.

He and Eddie made their way back to the couch and the girls, Eddie’s hand remained a steady presence on his back. He wasn’t sure if Chrissy noticed but Robin clearly did, and sent him a smirk to prove it.

“Looks like Red imprinted on you like a baby duck, Chris.” Eddie joked, though Steve knew he meant it.

“Yeah, I think she sees you as the person who saved her.” He added.

Chrissy frowned. “But, I didn't do anything. You…”

“You caught her.” Eddie interrupted. “You held her hand and told her it would be alright. She feels safe with you.”

“Oh, I don't know if I…” Chrissy trailed off.

“Listen, Chrissy, you don’t have to stay involved with this if you don’t want to. You’re a target, there's no changing that but we’ll do our best to shield you even if you want no part of this.” Steve bit at his lip, he couldn’t help offering her an out. They’d told everyone the truth to keep them safe but he knew how overwhelming it all must be. “I know what it is to get pulled into this stuff, to find yourself feeling responsible for someone you didn’t expect. It’s a lot.”

“No, I want to help. For the two of you, for Max and for myself.” Chrissy said, sitting up a little straighter in her seat. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. I do have to go home soon though, or my mom will worry and she can be a lot.”

“Same!” Robin said abruptly and a little too loud. “I mean, uh me too. About the staying involved thing. Also the home thing because gotta tell you- my dad? Craaaazy conspiracy theorist. He’s the one you can thank for me believing you about all this crap by the way. Unfortunately that also means I can’t just disappear or he’ll panic.”

As her ramble came to an end Robin’s cheeks reddened. Eddie was staring at her, in his defense he hadn’t yet been exposed to Robin's particular style of speaking yet since they’d ridden in separate cars before, but Steve didn’t think his attention was the reason for Robin’s sudden flush. Chrissy was smiling at her widely and leaning into her a little, amused by her speech and Robin was panicking.

She was saved by a knock on the door. Three sharp raps from god knew who. It was far too soon to be Hopper coming back, and they certainly weren’t expecting anyone. Eddie moved to answer and Steve followed, hiding behind the door so as not to be seen.

Eddie tried to open the door just a crack but the person on the other side forced it wide and suddenly Jason Carver stumbled inside screaming for Chrissy.

“Where’s Chrissy? I know you’ve got her here, Munson. Chrissy!” Jason shouted, any remaining words dying on his lips as he took in the odd gathering he’d just crashed. His eyes fell on his girlfriend first, well, ex-girlfriend now from what Chrissy had told Steve. He moved towards her but stopped, eyes growing wide as he spotted Billy all tied up, who’d started struggling again with renewed enthusiasm now that there was someone new in their midst.

He backed up, unfortunately bumping into Eddie in the process and he jumped, screaming again. Steve watched him take it all in, Robin, Wayne and the girls in the kitchen, and then finally Steve himself.

“Harrington?” He mumbled stumbling to the side. He took one last look at Chrissy and then he bolted. He was out the door and in his car before any of them could react. Steve still had Billy’s keys and so he ran out after him, but Jason’s car was tearing down the road before he’d gotten halfway to the Camaro.

“Don’t worry about it, son.” Wayne said as they regrouped.

“He’s gonna be a problem.” Eddie insisted.

“Not much he’ll be able to do in one night. Hopper will handle it. Go on and get those girls home so we can all get some sleep. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

Steve had offered to stay behind and help Wayne keep an eye on Billy, as well as Max and El while Eddie drove the older girls home, but Wayne insisted they stick together.

Robin was dropped off first, they watched her stumble into the house half dazed after Chrissy had given her a hug goodbye. Steve caught Eddie’s eye and they shared a look, knowing they had both seen the same thing.

Chrissy was next, and In the back of Steve’s mind he knew they would have to pass right by his old house to take her home. They were neighbors. He just hadn’t thought about what it would be like to see the place again or how the sight of a for sale sign in the front yard would make him feel more abandoned than ever.

He didn’t say any of that out loud of course but he should have known that Eddie would sense something was up anyway.

Once Chrissy was safely inside, Eddie pulled away, turning in the opposite direction from the trailer park. Before Steve could form the words to ask what he was doing, Eddie was parking the van along the side yard of a house where the bushes were thick enough to hide the vehicle's presence from anyone who might be home.

Eddie turned in his seat, facing Steve. “It’s totally up to you, but do you want to go back to your old house? Just to see the place or maybe to get some of your old stuff?”

“Won’t someone see us?”

Eddie pointed out a path he couldn’t quite see and explained. “Through those trees and two backyards is the back of your place. I snuck in before, I can do it again.”

“Didn’t you get caught last time, sort of?”

“Technically, but I think Hopper is a little busy right now so we should be fine. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can just go back, as long as you don’t mind borrowing my old sweatpants, ripped jeans, and worn out band tees.”

Steve ran his fingers absently over the faded Iron Maiden logo that was plastered across his chest. He was still wearing the clothes Eddie loaned him the night before.

“I think they look better on you, but kinda like wearing your clothes. I like that they smell like you.”

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and curled his fingers tightly around the steering wheel. “Steve, you can’t just say shit like that.” He groaned. “And you're wrong. You have no idea how good you look, what it does to me to see you in my clothes. I would have thought that was obvious with the way I embarrassed myself when you stepped out of the bathroom last night.”

“I thought you were looking at me like that because of how much of a mess I am.” Steve admitted, running a hand through his hair self-consciously.

Eddie took Steve's other hand and laced their fingers together, eyes full of sincerity as he said, “Sweetheart, I was looking at you like that because I had to physically stop myself from jumping over the counter to eat you.”

Sweetheart.

“Oh.” Steve breathed.

“Yeah.”

“I would have let you.”

Eddie grinned. “I think I’m starting to get that.”

Steve leaned in and Eddie met him in the middle, rubbing his thumb over the back of Steve's hand as their lips met. Steve melted into the kiss, he had been wanting to do this for hours but the two of them hadn’t really been alone since Eddie had left to pick the kids up from school. It was an effort to keep himself from climbing over the center console and straddling the other boy’s lap. He could have stayed there with their lips locked together for hours but as hidden as they might be it still wasn't a good idea for them to linger for too long.

Steve pulled back from the kiss reluctantly and let his forehead rest against Eddie's while he considered what he wanted to do.

“I think I want to go in.” He said, finally.

“Okay.” Eddie said, pressing a kiss to the back of Steve’s hand before letting it go.

As they snuck through trees and backyard shadows Eddie whispered to Steve all about how he had snuck into the abandoned Harrington house the first time by crawling through the laundry room window, shedding layers to fit through the small opening which was how Hopper had found him out.

When they finally made it to Steve’s backyard, Eddie headed right for the window again, not noticing that Steve had broken away and was no longer following him.

As much as Steve would get a kick out of watching Eddie pull himself up through the small opening, he recalled that when he was younger his mother used to keep a spare key to the back door hidden in a flower pot so that he could let himself in after school. Sure enough, the second pot he checked had a small rusty key sitting under it.

Steve smiled to himself and jogged over to where Eddie was. He’d already removed the screen and was starting to push at the glass. He stopped as Steve dangled the key in front of his face. “I thought maybe you’d prefer using a door this time so you don’t risk losing your vest again.”

“Where did you? …How?” Eddie sputtered.

“Did you even try to look for a hide-a-key the last time, Eds?” Steve said, laughing a little at the incredulous look on Eddie’s face.

It was downright eerie inside the house. Steve had been home alone a lot growing up and It had always been a little creepy and quiet. He was used to it. Sometimes he’d even play a little game with himself, a challenge where he’d see how long he could stand the silence before giving in and turning on the television or radio for company. What he wasn’t used to was the way his and Eddie’s footsteps echoed now in the empty space.

There was something about the lack of stuff, or maybe the sheets covering the few remaining pieces of furniture that made Steve want to crawl out of his skin.

“Is it all like this?” Steve asked.

Eddie hesitated for a beat but answered. “Pretty much, yeah. Except for your room. I…I don’t know why, but they left it all the way it was.”

“If they thought I was dead they probably just didn't care. Would have let whoever bought the place chuck it all out, or keep what they wanted.”

Eddie was quiet, likely not knowing what to say but began rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“It’s okay. I’m… I know I should be numb to it by now.”

“Hey, Stevie no. You’re allowed to feel however you want to feel.”

“Could you…” Steve trailed off, biting nervously on the inside of his cheek.

“What is it, what do you need?”

“I don’t want to see anymore, do you think you could just grab some of my clothes for me? There should be an old gym bag in my closet.”

“Of course.” Eddie said quickly, leaning in to kiss Steve on the cheek. “I'll be right back.”

Eddie was fast. He was back within 5 minutes carrying a small duffel bag that looked full to bursting. He took Steve’s hand and squeezed. Steve squeezed back as Eddie pulled him out the door.

“Come on.” Eddie said. “Let’s go home.”

When they got back Uncle Wayne was sitting on the couch, newspaper held up to his face reading, while a sullen looking and still tied up Billy was sitting on the other end looking half asleep.

“I tucked the girls into my bed for the night. They wanted to wait up for you two, but little Red was pretty tired so it wasn’t too hard to talk them into it. I’ll be alright out here, I assume you boys don’t mind sharing Ed’s room?” Wayne said with a pointed look.

“Yeah, that’s… we’re fine.” Eddie muttered, blushing. “What about him?” He asked, gesturing to their captive.

“We can’t keep him like this, and we don’t know how long Hopper is going to be or if he could even come up with an excuse to hold him.” Steve said.

“We already tried to reason with him once.” Eddie argued.

Steve hadn’t even realized that Wayne had left until suddenly the man returned, marching back into the room with a shotgun held loosely in his hands. The older man walked straight past them and over to Billy, shoving the barrel of the weapon right in his face.

“Okay boy, I hope you're listening because I'm only going to say this once. If you do or say anything that might remotely expose or endanger either of my boys or their friends, I will personally see you dead, do you hear me?”

Wayne paused, waiting for some signal from Billy that he was listening. He gave a small almost imperceptible nod. Wayne lowered the shotgun and harshly ripped the tape from Billy’s mouth. He winced but didn’t cry out although it had to have hurt.

“I ain't afraid of your piece a shit father either so don’t even think about getting him involved in this.”

Billy grit his teeth but nodded again, looking off in the direction of Wayne’s bedroom where they could all hear Max and Eleven still awake and giggling together.

“The girl stays.” Wayne said, interrupting before Billy could even ask. “In fact, consider that part of our agreement letting you leave here with your balls intact. You cover for that girl with your parents, make up whatever story you have to but she’s staying with us until this mess is over with. My boys are the only ones who can keep her safe now.”

Billy agreed to their terms and with no better options they cut off his bindings and let him go, though it pained Steve to return the keys to such a beautiful car.

It wasn’t as awkward as it probably should have been, climbing into bed with Eddie for the first time, each of them wearing nothing but boxers. It probably had something to do with how exhausted he was, the need for sleep overpowering any anxiety Steve would have felt in the situation under normal circumstances.

He still wanted to talk with Eddie about what they were doing. He was trying not to get too hung up on labels, and he knew in reality it had only been one day of them kissing, one day of them knowing that they liked each other, and there were so many bigger things to be worried about. But life was unpredictable, you could never truly know what was coming next or how much time you had. Wasn’t that the whole reason Steve had thrown himself at Eddie that morning in the first place? But now just didn’t seem to be the time. He didn’t want to risk popping their delicate bubble just yet.

They both layed down on their sides, the bed too small to allow for much else. With Steve facing Eddie's back and no more than a few inches separating them. Steve tried to just go to sleep but it felt wrong to be that close to Eddie and not be touching him. He slowly eased his arm around Eddie's waist and scooted closer letting his chest press up against the warmth of Eddie's back.

“Is this okay?” Steve whispered.

In response Eddie took hold of Steve's arm and pulled, wrapping it even tighter around himself as he leaned back into his hold. Suddenly Steve’s cock was pressed firmly against Eddie's ass and he began to grow hard almost immediately. He buried his face in the back of Eddie’s neck, embarrassed, and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down but it only made things worse. It was all he could do to keep from grinding against him.

“Sorry.” Steve whispered again and tried to back away.

Eddie chased right after him, turning so they could face each other and pulled Steve back into a tight embrace. With their fronts pressed so firmly together there was no hiding that he was hard too. Steve groaned and captured Eddie’s mouth with his own, their tongues finding each other quickly as the kiss became messy and desperate. Steve found himself whining into Eddie's mouth as the other boy slotted his thigh between his legs, providing pressure and friction in the place he was most desperate for it.

For a moment his entire world narrowed down to nothing but Eddie. The feel of his lips, the way his arms fell around Steve's body, the way they shared breath, It all felt so good.

Too good, actually.

Steve froze, afraid of ruining their good time before it had even begun.

Eddie stilled too, breaking their kiss. He brought a hand up to caress the side of Steve's face, pushing a few stray hairs out of the way as he looked deep into his eyes.

“Do you want to stop?”.

“No.” Steve admitted, softly. “It’s just that I’m… a little out of practice.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I…” Eddie trailed off.

Steve nuzzled into Eddie's touch and closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was about to admit this out loud, but he had to say it. “No, I…Eddie, I haven't even touched myself in two years.”

“What?”

“The lab…there were cameras everywhere, even in my room. I mean, the shower was private I think but…”

“You didn’t feel comfortable.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so how about this. Why don’t you just lay back and let me take care of you.” Eddie’s hand disappeared from his face and began to slide down his chest leaving behind a trail of tingling skin.

Steve made a noise low in his throat “Eddie, I…”

“I promise I'll be gentle.” Eddie teased.

“That’s not what I'm worried about.” Steve gasped as Eddie’s hand moved lower, thumb pressing into the dip of his hip.

“And what are you worried about?”

“That I'm gonna cum the second you touch me.”

“I think that would be pretty fucking hot.”

Steve whined again and Eddie leaned in, kissing a wet line up Steve’s neck and taking his earlobe between his teeth.

“Can I touch you?” Eddie asked, his hot breath in Steve’s ear making his whole body break out into goosebumps.

“Yes.” Steve breathed.

Eddie pulled his leg out from between Steve’s and gently urged him onto his back. He ran teasing fingers up and down each of Steve’s thighs, getting closer and closer to his groin with each pass.

Finally, finally, Eddie dipped his hand into the waistband of Steve's borrowed underwear and wrapped his hand around his leaking cock. The simple touch drove Steve wild, his entire body growing impossibly hot with desire. Eddie stroked him slowly, it was dry save for the small amount of precum he was dripping, and a little bit clumsy, as though Eddie was as nervous and unsure as he was, but none of that made it any less earth shattering.

Tears streamed out of Steve's eyes as he bucked his hips, thrusting up into Eddie’s grip. He was overwhelmed and so close already.

“It’s okay baby, just let go. I've got you.” Eddie soothed as he kissed the tears away and continued to pump Steve's length.

He came with a soft cry and stars bursting along the edges of his vision. He surged up to crash his lips into Eddie’s, wanting to taste his mouth again as he worked him through his release.

Steve barely gave himself a moment to recover before attempting to return the favor. If he was honest he couldn’t wait to get his hands on Eddie for the first time. He hadn’t been with another guy before, not having discovered himself until he was locked away, but he knew what he liked and he thought it wouldn't be too hard to translate that to touching someone else.

He tried to reach for Eddie and found the other boy scooting away.

“You don’t have to…” Eddie started.

Steve was confused for a moment, almost hurt, until Eddie sighed and explained.

“I, um, came when you did.”

He sounded embarrassed, which was crazy to Steve. “That’s..”

“Sad?” Eddie said.

Steve couldn’t help it, he rolled himself half on top of Eddie, uncaring that they were both a bit wet and sticky and all but jammed his tongue down Eddie's throat.

He eventually broke the kiss, both of them panting. “That’s so hot, just like you said. That’s really fucking hot, Eds.”

“Oh.”

Eddie shimmied himself out of his boxers and helped Steve out of his own, both wanting to get them off before the mess could dry further. They didn’t bother putting anything else on, what was the point when it felt so good to be skin to skin. They continued to make out as they settled back under the covers, but It wasn’t long before long their kisses turned lazy, the day catching up with them as well as the afterglow.

Steve was almost asleep when the worry started to creep back into the back of his mind, and he couldn’t help thinking out loud. “Do you think the kids and everyone will be okay?”

Eddie, who had his arms wrapped around Steve, tightened his grip and dropped a kiss to Steve's temple as he replied.

“Yeah, they know what we’re up against. Red’s got El with her, and her headphones. Chrissy promised us she’d get hers on too as soon as got inside. The boys will take care of eachother, and they have Nancy and Jonathan too. Lucas lives right next to the Wheelers so he can sneak over there if he’s afraid to be alone. They’ll be alright.”

There was still plenty that could go wrong, Steve knew, but for tonight he let himself believe that everything would be okay.

Chapter 11

Thank you @penny00dreadful 💜

Taglist: @newtstabber @goodolefashionedloverboi @adaed5 @buckleybarnes @soaringornithopter @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @bestwifehaver @5ammi90 @sofadofax @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @hardboiledleggs @mentallyundone @epiclazershark @herebedragons404 @estrellami-1 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @the-s-is-silent @brbsoulnomming @goinsteddie @steddie-there @yeahhhh-suga

#steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve and el sibling supremacy #good uncle wayne #chrissy cunningham #max mayfield #robin buckley #canon is just a crazy game of d&d #sort of #ao3 #steddie fic #steve x eddie #fanfic

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maris-picnic-blog · 1 month

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Some Mari's Picnic whiteboard with the mods! out of context memes, Rabid Rui, and a Gregory mental breakdown!

#gregorknee #multifandom #meme post #five nights at freddy's #hatsune miku colorful stage #mod gory #no context #nene kusanagi #rui kamishiro #fnaf gregory #mod ichigo #mod linkle #fnaf daycare attendant #luca balsa #identity v

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mamaestapa · 2 years

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Take On Me||Jason Carver x reader

summary: With all of the deaths happening to teenagers all across Hawkins, Jason doesn’t know what to believe. Are Eddie Munson and his buddies killing innocent people (including his girlfriend Chrissy) due to their “satanic cult” the Hellfire Club? Or is a sinister evil from an alternate dimension to blame? Even though he’s told about the monster, Jason doesn’t believe that Vecna and his curse is real, until he witnesses you being plagued by awful visions and a terrifying trance. What Jason does believe though, is that maybe his feelings for you aren’t as platonic as he thought they were…

pairing: Jason Carver x reader

warnings: Angst, crying, swearing, spoilers for season 4, use of the word “freak” to describe eddie and his friends, slightly ooc Jason, gory descriptions, mentions of death, Vecna, your typical Stranger Things content, and a very fluffy ending

“Oh Shit.” Lucas sighed as he looked out the window of your living room, “Shit!” he quickly shut the red blinds and turned to look at the group. You, Nancy, Robin, Steve, Dustin, and Max looked at Lucas, all of you worried and confused about his sudden panic.

“Lucas, what’s wrong?” Max asked, walking up to the boy.

“It’s Jason.”

“Oh shit.” It was Steve’s turn now to sigh.

The sound of a car door slamming outside could be heard from inside the silent house. There was a knock at your front door.

“Y/n! I know you’re home. I know you’ve got company too.”

“What the hell do we do!?” Dustin whsiper-yelled, looking among the group for answers.

Robin visibly gulped, “We just...”

“Act casual.” Nancy finished for her with a nod and a forced smile.

Another knock at the door. You knew if you didn’t open the door, Jason would find a way to get into the house. You sighed and walked over to the front door, unlocking the deadbolt and taking a deep breath before opening it. You were met with a piercing blue gaze and an infamous green and yellow varsity jacket.

“Hi Jason.”

He gave you his signature bright smile, “Y/n, Hi.” He glanced over your shoulder, seeing the others crammed into your living room. Steve and Robin awkwardly waved at him, as Nancy and Max gave forced smiles. Lucas was trying his best to stay out of Jason’s sight, he knew there was no way to avoid Jason right now, but it was worth a shot.

“Mind if I come in? I just wanna talk.”

“I don’t know, now isnt really a good time Jason.”

He nodded, “I get it if you’re busy, but, I don’t mind talking with a few extra people present. Maybe they can help,” he stepped inside, pointing at Dustin and Lucas with a smug smile, “especially those two. Didn’t think I’d see you, huh Sinclair?”

I shut the front door, locking it behind me. Lucas waved at Jason, his hand shaking slightly from nerves. Steve moved so he was now in front of Lucas and Dustin, protecting them from Jason. He held his arm out in front of the two teenagers as Jason walked away from the door and closer into the house.

“Don’t get any closer Carver. You lay a hand on them and I won’t hesitate to beat your ass.”

Jason put his hands up in the hair, a chuckle leaving his lips, “Relax Harrington, I just want to talk.” He brought his hands down on his hips. Steve still stayed in front of the kids.

“You guys uh, you know where Eddie Munson is?”

We shook our heads no. Of course we knew where he was. But we couldn’t tell Jason about his whereabouts.

Robin spoke, “Jason, I don’t know why you’re so hell-bent on finding Eddie, but-.”

“Because he killed Chrissy.” Jason cut her off.

Nancy sighed, “Look, Jason, I’m sorry about Chrissy.”

He nodded, eyeing Nancy.

“But, it wasn’t Eddie who killed her.”

“Then why was she there? Why would Chrissy be in the freaks trailer, huh?”

You frowned, placing your hand gently on his shoulder, “Chrissy was,” you looked at the the others for help, but no one said anything, “she was seeing things, terrible things. She thought drugs would help her get rid of the ‘visions’ she was having.”

Jason looked taken aback and a little hurt at what you said. “No, no. If Chrissy was seeing these things she’d come to me. She’d, she’d talk to me, right?” It almost sounded like he was asking himself that question.

You frowned, feeling sorry for the blonde. You gently spoke to him, deciding now would be a good time to explain what’s currently going on and what has been going on in Hawkins. “Jason, you may want to sit down for this.”

…

“I don’t understand.”

Steve sighed, running his hands through his perfect hair. “God Carver, what don’t you understand!?”

Jason rolled his eyes, “You expect me to believe your bullshit story about some dimension called ‘the Upside Down’, that’s just like Hawkins, and the monsters that come from that place are what killed Chrissy and Patrick?”

The group stayed silent as Jason continued ranting.

“I don’t understand how any of that is even real! The only reasonable explanation for these deaths are satanic powers and Eddie Munson is responsible for it—all of it. Him and all of his other freaks. That Hellfire Club is a satanic cult, not some, some club where freaks gather to play some stupid fantasy game. No, they gather to KILL PEOPLE!” He roared, chest heaving as he finished his rant.

“The Hellfire Club is not a cult Jason!” Lucas exclaimed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes in annoyance.

“We just play Dungeons and Dragons, a totally harmless and fun fantasy game.” Dustin chimed in. Jason looked between the two boys, his jaw clenched as thoughts ran through his head.

“I won’t ask again, where’s Munson?” Jason spoke, disregarding the reassurance Lucas and Dustin gave him about the truth behind Hellfire.

You sighed, “We don’t know, okay? We haven’t seen Eddie since Tuesday.”

Jason looked at you, eyes narrowing slightly as if he didn’t one hundred percent believe what you were saying. His gaze snapped away from you when Nancy spoke.

“Jason, I know there’s probably a lot going through your head right now.”

“A lot is an understatement.”

Nancy smiled slightly, nodding in agreement before she continued, “But you have to believe us. Everything we’ve told you is true. We’ve been experiencing shit like this since the fall of ‘83. There really are monsters out there, but Eddie isn’t one of them.”

“But Vecna,” Robin spoke up, “the monster that killed Chrissy, he’s one of them. And I swear on my life, we swear on our lives that we’re telling you the truth—about everything.”

Jason looked around the group, eyeing all of us individually as his jaw clenched once again.

“I don’t know.” he replied, shaking his head, “That supernatural crap, I don’t believe in it.”

A chorus of sighs broke out in the living room. Of course he was still hesitant to believe you and your friends. You couldn’t blame him though, your stories sound insane and absolutely made up to someone who hasn’t experienced any of the things you guys have in the past three years. However, you were determined to get Jason to believe all of you.

“Jason,” you spoke softly, “what will it take for you to believe us?” Your e/c eyes staring into his blue ones, searching for some other emotion to show besides anger and skepticism.

Jason bit his bottom lip, shaking his head as he started pacing. It was obvious that the gears were turning in his head as he thought about all the information he was given in the past fifteen minutes he’s been at your house.

Steve rolled his eyes, his voice just below a whisper so only you and Robin could hear, “God, I wish he’d just say something other than I don’t know.”

You nodded, eyes still glued to a pacing Jason. Suddenly, his pacing stopped and his eyes immediately fell on you.

“I want to believe you.”

You breathed out a shocked laugh, “You do?”

He nodded, “Yeah. This whole ‘Upside Down, alternate dimension’ thing sounds insane, so either you’re all wonderful liars, or, you’re telling the truth. And Y/n, I’ve known you long enough to know you’d never lie to me.”

You smiled as he spoke. Just like the younger kids, you always had the idea “friends don’t lie”, so that’s how it went, you never lied to your friends and vice-versa. Jason had been good friends since your Sophomore year when he started dating your best friend, Chrissy Cunningham.

“I want to believe you, but part of me still feels like you could all be lying.”

“He’s definitely lying, he doesn’t want to believe us at all.” Dustin whispered loudly.

Max smacked Dustin upside the head.

“Jesus! What the hell?” He rubbed the back of his neck. Max rolled her eyes.

“Come on Dustin, leave him alone.”

Jason put his hands on his hips, “You got a problem with me Henderson?”

“No I don’t, expect for the fact that you’ve been hunting down one of my best friends with your buddies for the past few days.”

Jason laughed airily, “You don’t know the full story, so I’d shut your mouth before I shut it for you you little shit.”

“Jason-.” Lucas warned.

Dustin mumbled something under his breath as he plopped down on a chair that was pulled out from the kitchen table, watching in amusement as Steve stood up for him.

“Hey!” Steve yelled jumping out of his seat and walking up to Jason. The guys faces only inches from each other, Jason stood with his arms firmly crossed across his chest as Steve stood with his hands on his hips.

“Full story or not, talk to him,” Steve pointed at Dustin, “or any of them,” he firmly pointed at the rest of us, before jabbing his finger into Jason’s toned chest, “like that again and your ass is grass, you’re dead, Carver. You got that?

Jason clenched his jaw and stepped back from Steve, the two boys beginning to argue. You rolled your eyes and walked over to the window in your living room looking outside and trying your best to tune out the sounds of the boys bickering—the arguing did not help your headache at all.

The truth is, you had a headache and nosebleeds for a couple days now. Shortly after those started, the visions began.

You were Vecna’s next target.

And nobody knew except for you.

As you looked outside, you noticed the slight breeze had suddenly stopped. It was eerily calm and quiet. You furrowed your brows and turned around to tell the others, but you were met with an empty living room.

“Guys?” you called out, but there was no reply. You took slow steps away from the window, jumping when you heard a yell come from the door to your bedroom. You ran towards the door, quickly opening it. When you opened it you were in a completely different setting. You stood in the middle of a new living room. Your breathing grew heavy as you looked around at your surroundings. Your familiar surroundings.

You were in Eddie Munsons trailer.

What the hell? You thought to yourself.

“Y/n?” A familiar sweet and innocent voice echoed. You turned around at your name being called. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, you felt as if your heart stopped and all the blood in your body went cold at the sight in front of you. It was Chrissy. However, it wasn’t the Chrissy you knew and loved. This Chrissy had extremely pale skin, bruises all over her body, and her brown, doe eyes were replaced by bloodied out holes where her eyes were popped out of their sockets and gone from her face completely.

“Chrissy?” you breathed out, “what, what are you doing here?”

“Why didn’t you help me Y/n?”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you saw your sweet best friend standing in front of you. Something you never thought you’d get to witness ever again.

“Chrissy, I didn’t know where you were. I-I didn’t know you were in trouble before it was too late.”

“You let me DIE!” she yelled, her voice eerily echoing. “It’s your fault I’m dead.”

“Chrissy,” You whispered, a tear falling down your cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

“Admit Y/n. You’re not sorry. You’re happy I’m dead. You can finally fuck my boyfriend now that I’m gone. That’s all you’ve ever wanted…right?” She trailed off.

You shook your head, more tears falling, “No, Chrissy, it’s not like that.”

Chrissy started walking towards you, slowly. As she walked towards you, you walked backward at the same pace.

“That’s why you feel so much guilt. Sometimes you think it should have been you who was attacked in Eddies trailer, right? But the truth is…you’re happy I’m gone, so you can get Jason all to yourself.”

“That’s not true Chrissy. Jason, he’s just my friend.”

More guilt rose deep inside of you as you said those words. The feelings you’ve had for Jason since Sophomore year certainly aren’t ones you’d have for just a friend.

“But you don’t have to feel guilty anymore, Y/n. About letting me die or stealing my boyfriend now that I’m dead.”

A clock chimed.

“That’s why I’m here, to take away all of your guilt.”

The clock chimed again.

“No, no, no,” you said, as you continued to back up.

“I’m here to end all of your suffering…once and for all.”

Your eyes widened in fear as Chrissy suddenly turned into the monster you and your friends feared most—Vecna.

The clock chimed again. You screamed, tears streaming down your face as you quickly opened the front door to the trailer and bolted into the woods. You were hyperventilating as you ran, hoping you’d wake up from this awful nightmare. You kept running until you ran into a small clearing in the woods. You stopped to catch your breath. You heard a deep, distorted chuckle.

“You can run, but you can’t hide from me, Y/n.”

You gulped and continued to run away from the monster. You found a giant boulder as you ran further into the woods. Panting, you quickly sat down, hiding behind the rock and praying that Vecna couldn’t spot you.

“You cannot hide from me, Y/n.” the monsters deep voice echoed out into the darkness of the woods.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up and started sprinting once again. Your body couldn’t continue running anymore, so you stood still, deciding to scream out for help as loud as you could.

“Steve! Nancy!” You screamed, your voice echoing.

“Jason, please help me!” You cried out, desperately hoping someone could wake you up from this never ending nightmare. You panted after calling out the names of your friends. The reality suddenly hit you: theres no waking up from this. You were going to die. Just like Chrissy.

As tears began to cloud your vision, you noticed a dense, bright red fog enter the forest. You wiped your eyes and furrowed your brows in confusion. You walked into the fog, suddenly transported into another area. You stood still, looking at the scene around you. It was all red. The sky, the fog, the clouds, everything was red. There were black spikes of different sizes coming out of the ground, almost as if they were trees. There were all sorts of different things floating in the sky, the one thing that caught your eye though, was the giant grandfather clock that every time it chimed, it was getting closer to your time of death. You started to walk through the red world, noticing that the spot you were in had bits and pieces that resembled a house. You heard the clock chime, causing you to jump. You felt your back hit something hard. You turned around, eyes widening in fear as you saw Chrissy’s corpse tied to a pillar by vines that covered her entire body.

A sob broke out from your lips as you saw your best friends limp body. You covered your mouth, and closed your eyes as tears slipped from your eyes.

“What are you doing in here Y/n? Come back to me…”. Vecna’s chilling voice called out to you.

Your breathing quickened as you looked around at the pillars that looked like pointed tree trunks, hundreds of them spread around the place Vecna had lead you to.

“How do you like them, Y/n? Would you like to join them?” Vecna asked, appearing out of nowhere as you as you stood in fear, looking at the monster before you. He slowly started to approach you. You gulped and took off running in the opposite direction. With a flick of his clawed hand, Vecna made a vine wrap around your ankle, causing you to fall to the ground. Cursing, you started to panic once the vine being controlled by Vecna pulled you across the floor and flung you onto one of the pillars.

“NO!” you screeched as more vines were flung at your body, wrapping you tightly to the pillar. You looked around, frantically, trying to think of a way to escape.

You had to get out of this nightmare—and fast.

Meanwhile

“Munson is innocent! How many times do we have to tell you?!”

“Guys.” Dustin said reluctantly, as he started to make his way over to where you stood.

“It’s Vecna’s curse that’s killing everyone, Jason.” Lucas chimed in.

Dustin frowned as he noticed you stood still, not noticing him standing next you. That’s when it hit him.

“Yeah, guys, I think we have a problem…”

Jason rolled his eyes replying to Lucas with a scoff, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Shit,” Dustin breathed out as he noticed your eyes were rolled to the back of your head, twitching along with the rest of your body, “GUYS!”

“What!” Everyone yelled in unison, looking at the curly haired boy in annoyance.

Dustin gulped, “Y/n is Vecna’s next victim.”

The air in the room grew tense. Nancy’s eyes widened in fear and Max’s hand covered her mouth, her eyes filling with tears instantly.

“Shit! We need music!” Robin jumped up from her chair, running her fingers through her short hair.

Jason jogged over to you, not believing Dustin. You were this Vecna creatures next victim? No way, more like Eddie the freaks next victim. He felt his heart drop to his stomach as he looked at you, your body unresponsive and shaking.

“Y/n? Y/n, can you hear me?” He asked softly, placing his hand on your shoulder and shaking you gently.

No response.

Jason felt his heart rate pick up significantly. He had just lost Chrissy a couple days ago, he couldn’t lose you too. You were one of his closest friends. However, the feelings he had for you were nothing close to purely platonic. Sure, Jason loved Chrissy, but he also loved you. He’s always loved you.

“Come on Y/n/n,” he continued to shake you.

“Oh my god…” Lucas trailed off as he watched Jason shake your unresponsive body.

Jason felt nauseated at the thought of Eddie Munson doing this to you. Nobody deserved to die this way, especially you.

Jason cursed silently before he marched up to Steve and pulled him by the collar of his shirt.

“Where the hell is Eddie?” he spat, “I know he’s doing some satanic shit to Y/n, Harrington.” He jerked Steve closer to him, “WHERE IS HE!” he roared.

“It’s not Eddie man!” Steve yelled, moving so he was now the one holding Jason by the collar.

“It’s not EDDIE! Look if we don’t do something soon, Y/n is going to be dead. So Carver, I need you to drop the whole ‘Eddie is a satanic cult leader that’s killing innocent people’ idea and help us save Y/n, okay?”

Jason stayed silent, his blue eyes frantically moving back and forth as he looked at Steve’s panicked features.

“OKAY?!” Steve raised his voice as he shook Jason.

Jason glanced over at you, then back to Steve. This whole inter- dimensional shit still seemed crazy to him, but no matter who was causing this harm to you, Jason knew one thing.

He couldn’t lose you.

He nodded quickly. Steve let go of him and gently patted him on the back.

“Good,” he said, “Now, do you have any idea what her favorite song is?”

“Favorite song? What does-.”

“Answer now, ask questions later.” Nancy nodded with a tight smile.

Jason didn’t even have to think about what your favorite song was. Anytime you were in the car with him and Chrissy, the first song you’d play was Take On Me by a-ha.

“Take on me.” he answered shakily, glancing at you, “that’s her favorite song.”

Max and Robin started to search through a basket in your living room full of cassette tapes of your favorite songs. With shaky hands, Robin held up a tape, a triumphant smile on her face.

“I got it.”

Max quickly handed Robin her Walkman. Robin put the tape into the Walkman and handed the device to Jason, who was still closest to you. With shaky hands, Jason placed the headphones gently over your ears and pressed the play button.

He closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer to god.

Oh how he needed this to work. He needed you to wake up from whatever trance you were currently in.

And the only thing he and the others could do was hope that the sounds of your favorite song were enough to wake you.

…

Your chest heaved as you watched another vine wrap around your neck, choking you. You wanted to desperately pull the vine off of you, but there was nothing you could do. The vines wrapped around both of your arms were too tight. Vecna walked up to you, his body only inches from yours. He groaned in satisfaction at your whimpers. Suddenly, the beginning sounds of Take On Me could be heard. A creaking sound came from the distance, as well as the voice of Steve calling your name. Vecna turned away from you, looking at the new opening in his world full of red that had suddenly appeared. The vines around your neck had loosened slightly. You looked over to your right, seeing all of your friends standing around your unconscious body, desperately trying to wake you up. Tears welled up in your eyes at the sight. Vecna turned back to you, the vines tightening once again. You began to choke as Vecna spoke.

“They can’t help you, Y/n. You belong here…” Vecna’s deep voice echoed as he held his long, large clawed hand out in front of him, beginning to slowly bring it down to your face.

Shying away

I’ll be coming for your love, okay?

You glanced over to your right, a tear falling down your cheek as you saw Jason desperately shaking your shoulders.

“Come on, Y/n. Please. I need you to wake up. Please..” his voice filled with emotion.

Take on me (Take on me)

Take me on (Take on me)

Ill be gone

In a day or two

As Vecna’s hand grew closer to your face, you saw through the opening that your unconscious body had begun to levitate. Your friends started screaming your name. Jason’s eyes grew wide in fear. Maybe they were right after all…

You squeezed your eyes shut, thinking of a way to free yourself. You thought of an idea. Is it crazy? Yes. But is there also a possibility that it could save your life? Also yes. You opened your eyes and tugged your hand away from the vines as hard as you could. Your hand broke free. You grabbed at Vecna’s neck, pulling some of the vine looking skin. Vecna grunted in pain, pulling away from you, which caused the vines to release their strong hold on you. You fell to the ground, quickly catching your breath before you stood up and began to run towards the opening in the red clouds.

Take on me (Take on me)

Take me on (Take on me)

I’ll be gone

In a day or two

As you ran, you felt like time was moving in slow motion. Vecna was throwing things at you, trying to get you to trip, but you just kept running. You felt tears stream down your face as you got closer to the opening. You were so close.

You’re all the things I’ve got to remember

You’re shying away

I’ll be coming for you anyway

Take on me (Take on me)

Take me on (Take on me)

You could still hear the sounds of your favorite song and your friends pleading and yelling at you to wake up. You could feel your heart break as you noticed how Jason looked as if he was going to break down any minute. You felt the ground shake as Vecna threw another piece of sharp rock at you. You just kept running. You were almost there.

I’ll be gone

In a day (Take on me)

Take me on (Take on me)

I’ll be gone (Take on me)

In a day (Take on me)

Take on me (Take on me)

Take me on (Take on me)

“Y/n! Y/n!”

Your eyes snapped open and you gasped, suddenly falling to the ground and landing on your soft carpet.

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed out, rushing over to you. You were hyperventilating as tears streamed down your cheeks. You couldn’t believe it worked. You were awake and away from Vecna.

“Vecna, he…” you whispered, voice breaking with emotion.

“You’re okay,” Steve soothed, as he brought you into his arms. Dustin wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly. You brought your head up from the young boys embrace and looked at your other friends. Nancy and Robin were wiping tears while Lucas held a shaking Max, who knew exactly what you just went through. Your eyes finally fell on Jason. He stood still in shock, still trying to comprehend what had just happened to you.

“Jason,” you choked out, holding your hand out to the boy when Dustin let you go.

Tears were pooling in his blue eyes as he walked over to you. Steve let you go gently, Jason replacing him. He brought you into his arms, both of you crying and holding the other tightly. Jason brought one of his hands up to cradle the back of your head, doing his best to calm your sobs as he tried to contain his.

“You’re okay, you’re okay. Ive got you, beautiful, I’ve got you.” He whispered, rubbing your back with his other hand. You clung to him tightly, never wanting to let go.

“Please don’t let go.”

“I won’t, Y/n, I promise.”

You stayed in each other’s arms, letting your breathing calm down and your tears dry up. You were still extremely shaken up from seeing Vecna face to face, but being in Jason’s arms helped calm you down. You pulled away from his embrace, giving him a soft smile. He did the same to you. You stayed close to him as you told the others about what you saw.

“So do you believe us now?” Robin asked, looking at Jason with a pleading look.

Jason nodded, looking over at you. “I do.” He smiled softly at you before directing his gaze at the others, “After witnessing her float in mid-air and explain what she saw and what she just went through. Yeah, I believe you.”

The group broke out in relieved smiles. Steve placed his hand on Jason’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Jason looked up at him, both boys nodding at each other as a silent thank you.

“I’d still like to know where Munson is though,” He cut off Dustin and Lucas who tried to say no, “I know what you’re thinking, but, I just want to apologize to him. If there’s a way I can help prove his innocence to the town, I will. Tonight proved to me that we have bigger things to worry about than some cult in Hawkins, which, I now know isn’t even a thing.”

He looked over at you, your bodies still close to eachother. “I want to apologize to all of you too. I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you all through in the past couple days. I’ve just got a lot of feelings I've been trying to work through since Chrissy passed.”

He looked at you as he said the word “feelings”.

“It’s good Carver. Right guys?” Steve asked. You smiled softly, Steve was always willing to forgive.

Lucas nodded, “Yeah.”

“You’re one of us now.” Robin replied, smirking.

Jason laughed, a sarcastic tone to his voice, “Not sure how I feel about that one, but, thanks.”

You chuckled softly,but it turned to a yawn, you were suddenly exhausted from your run in with Vecna.

Nancy noticed your yawning and smiled slightly before she spoke, “It’s getting pretty late…”

You stood up from where you sat on the floor, stretching once you were standing.

“You guys can stay here if you’d like,” you offered, “my parents aren’t supposed to be back from Tennessee for a couple days.”

Steve smiled, “Thanks Y/n.”

You nodded, “It’s no problem. Two or three of you could take the couch, the guest room is open too, and I could put some blankets and pillows on the floor in either room for the rest of you. And theres room in my room too, I don’t really want to be alone tonight,” You glanced over at Jason as you said that.

“I’ll let the kids have the couch,” Steve said, grabbing some pillows and blankets from an open closet and throwing them on the floor, “I’ll take the floor.”

“Robin and I will be in the guest room.” Nancy said, looking at Robin who nodded in agreement.

You nodded, gulping as you looked at Jason. You silently hoped he’d stay with you.

“I’ll stay with Y/n.”

You couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto your face at his response.

“You don’t have to, Jason, really.”

“But I want to,” he cut you off with a reassuring smile. You just nodded and gave him a soft smile in return.

After saying good night and making sure everyone was comfortable and had enough pillows and blankets, you and Jason headed upstairs to your bedroom. You closed the door behind you and walked over to your bed, sitting down with a sigh. Jason stood awkwardly by your door.

He cleared his throat, “I uh, do you have any extra pillows and blankets?”

You nodded, “In the basket by my bookshelf.”

He nodded, “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” you muttered softly. You stood from the bed, “Im going to go change real quick. I think there might be a pair of gray sweatpants in my bottom drawer. They’re a pair from my ex-boyfriend.”

He smiled, laughing softly and thanking you again. You returned the smile and walked into the bathroom. You changed into a pair of y/f/c, silk pajamas. As you washed your face, you noticed how bloodshot your eyes looked. The visions you’ve been having, along with almost dying, have definitely taken a toll on your emotions and your sleep schedule. Hopefully after escaping Vecna today, you’d finally get a break from the visions—for good. You finished up in the bathroom, your body aching for sleep. When you opened the door, your eyes instantly fell on Jason, whose bare (and extremely muscular) back was turned to you until he heard the door open. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat when he turned around to face you. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over his defined chest and abdomen. You subconsciously bit your bottom lip when you noticed the gray sweatpants he had on hung low on his hips, his v-line being slightly exposed.

“You okay, Y/n/n?” He asked, worry evident in his tone. “You’re not having more visions are you?”

You shook yourself out of your trance, feeling slightly embarrassed that Jason totally caught you checking him out.

“No, no. I’m just really tired.” You reassured him, walking over to your bed. You carefully pulled the covers away before you laid down. Jason watched as you situated yourself under the duvet before asking:

“Do you need anything?"

You shook your head, “Not right now, just sleep.”

He smiled, “Okay. Well if you need anything, I’ll be right here.” He pointed down to the few pillows and a pile of blankets that sat on your floor as his makeshift bed.

You nodded, thanking him. He walked off toward your bathroom. Once he shut the door, you were left alone with your thoughts.

You felt guilty for feeling the way you did about Jason. The two of you have been friends for a while, but you couldn’t help but have stronger feelings for him. Jason could be a total douche, but if you were someone he cared about, he was very caring and protective. Even when Chrissy was still alive and she and Jason were dating, you had feelings for him. Little did you know, Jason felt the same way, about you. The door to the bathroom opened and Jason walked out, quietly laying down on the floor beside your bed. He tried his best to get comfortable, but he knew it was no use.

About ten minutes had passed. You couldn’t sleep and neither could Jason. You were too scared to sleep. Every time you close your eyes your mind wandered to Vecna and all of the things he showed you. You saw Chrissy and her bloodied out eyes as she told you about the guilt you had because of your feelings for Jason.

“Jason?” You called out shakily. He instantly sat up, worry covering his face.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

“Can, can you come up here?” You asked hesitantly. Jason stood up from his “bed” so he could climb into yours. You pulled the covers back and slid over to make room for the blonde. He carefully laid down in the bed.

“I’m sorry, I’m just too scared to sleep alone.”

He turned so he could face you, “Don’t apologize, I don’t mind. S’ comfier up here anyways.”

You chuckled, causing Jason to crack a smile. His smile soon faded when he noticed tears in your eyes.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” He moved closer to you, bringing you into his arms, which you gratefully accepted. He cradled the back of your head and rubbed your back gently as you cried into his chest. “Do you want to talk?” He asked softly.

You sniffled, “No. Just hold me.”

And that’s exactly what he did. Jason just held you in his strong arms, whispering sweet words of comfort until you were ready to talk.

“Jason?”

“Yeah sweetheart?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You moved your head so you were laying against his chest. You placed a hand over his heart, which you noticed picked up it’s pace.

“Thank you for staying with me.”

He smiled, placing his hand over yours, “Of course, anything to make sure you feel safe Y/n/n.”

You lifted your head and looked up at Jason. His soft blue eyes looked at your lips briefly before making eye contact with you. You didn’t even have time to think before his lips met yours. You instantly kissed back, bringing your hand up to his cheek, him doing the same with yours. You pulled away for air before going right back to the position you were in. He lifted his hand away from your cheek and pulled away from you, a blush on his cheeks.

He cleared his throat, “Sorry, I just,”

You kissed him again, pulling away with a chuckle, “Don’t apologize Jason.”

He smiled softly at you, you doing the same.

“I like you Y/n. I really like you. Even when I was with Chris I had these feelings.” he paused and took a breath, “I love Chrissy, but we weren’t meant to be. Our friends and my parents just wanted us to be together, to be those typical high school sweethearts that get married in a church, live in the suburbs with a white picket fence, three kids and a golden retriever.”

You smiled at his description as he continued to speak.

“And I want that, I really want that life. But not with Chris. I never truly wanted it with her.” He looked at you, speaking wholeheartedly, “I want it with you. I’ve always dreamed of that type of life with you, Y/n.”

You smiled at him, reaching your hand up and cupping his cheek.

“I want that life with you too Jason.” You said softly, "Since the moment we became friends.

He grinned, his blue eyes shining as he was overwhelmed with happiness. You hadn’t seen Jason this happy since the championship game. Him showing this much happiness made you happy, however, your smile faltered though when guilt started to rise. It felt so wrong to do this to Chrissy…

“I feel so guilty for this though, don’t you?” You questioned, “I mean, Chrissy has only been gone for a couple days.”

He shrugged, “Maybe a little. But Chrissy and I had a serious talk before the game. She seemed shaken up, but she wouldn’t tell me what happened. I know now that she was having terrible visions just like you, Patrick, and that redheaded girl did. But anyway,” he continued, “We talked about our relationship and how it wasn’t realistic for us. She told me that she wanted me to be happy, that no matter what happens, she wants me to be happy. Even if it meant for me to be with someone different. Chrissy knew I liked you Y/n. Her last words to me were that she wants us both happy. She gave me this knowing look,” he looked at you, “You know the look she’d give anytime she’d try to say something without actually saying it?”

You nodded, smiling slightly. Chrissy did give you that look often.

“Well she gave me that look and told me to be happy with you because that’s all she’s ever wanted. The two of us to be happy, even if it meant us getting together.”

Typical Chrissy, always putting others feelings and happiness over hers. You took a moment to process everything Jason said before you laced your fingers with his. You looked up into his beautiful blue eyes.

“Then how about we fulfill her final wish?”

Jason smiled, “I’d like that.” He spoke gently.

“Good,” you replied with a smile and small nod, “I would too.”

You laid your head back down on Jason’s chest, taking a deep breath and letting it out, snuggling closer to him. You brought your hand back down to rest over his heart. He wrapped both of his muscular arms around you, holding you tightly against his flesh.

“Goodnight Jason,” you hummed, kissing his chest, “thank you for staying with me tonight.”

“No need to thank me,” he placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, “Goodnight pretty girl.”

That night, both of you finally got a good nights sleep after all of the events that have happened lately.

But it was only because you and Jason both finally found your happiness—with each other.

A/N: I think Jason/Mason Dye is SO FINE, but I don’t support any of Jason’s actions. So anytime I write for Jason, it’ll be very out of character for him. I really think the writers could have given him a good redemption arc and I’m sad they didn’t:( any way, I plan on writing a few more for Jason because there isn’t a lot of content for him and I know there are people who enjoy reading about him like I do, so I figured I would add to the content! Every fic I have read about Jason has been amazing, so hopefully mine is decent :) I hope you all enjoyed this! Thank you for all of the love and support. It means SO much to me, you are all truly the sweetest.

#jason carver imagines #jason carver #jason carver x reader #jason carver x y/n #stranger things imagines #stranger things #imagines #stranger things 4 #netflix #mason dye #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #Spotify

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ceo-of-kimona · 3 months

Text

Some Kimona headcannons for y’all to chew on.

I honestly don’t know if I can really come up with enough ideas for one of these posts but whenever I see someone else do one of these for a ship I like I go fucking bananas so this needs to be done.

• They often watch horror movies together. Kim usually doesn’t react to them that much other than a few snarky comments but Ramona does sometimes need to cling onto Kim’s arm if things get really messed up.

• Sometimes at super gory scenes she tends to stare at Kim like “you really watch this crap??” Partly out of judgement but mostly just so that she doesn’t have to watch the scene.

• Kim is more of a coffee person while Ramona is obviously a tea person. One time when they were bored and feeling silly, they tried to combine their tastes and brewed a concoction they called “cofftea”- a mix of black coffee and herbal tea. It went extremely badly.

• They now have an inside joke that whenver there’s some horrible concoction of booze and god knows what being served at a party one of them goes “hey at least it’s not cofftea!!” And then they both pretend to laugh hysterically in order to mess with people at the party.

• Whenever thanksgiving comes around, they tune into the dog show that happens after the Macy’s parade just to play a game called “how many rats could it take in a fight” where they judge each dog in the show by guessing how many rats it would take to defeat it.

• Gideon (cat) likes Kim a lot but weirdly enough he licks Kim’s hands whenever he can. Sometimes when she’s just resting her hand somewhere, he specifically comes into the room to just lick it. Kim is very annoyed by this but finds it just endearing enough to let him do it.

• Ramona is trying to teach Kim how to skate. Kim is a clutz so it’s not exactly going well

• Ramona and Kim regularly go to smashing rooms together (they’re these places where they give you some smashy weapons like hammers and bats and roll out a bunch of breakable stuff like old tvs for you to smash. They exist irl and are very cool).

• Ramona is very much prone to simulation sickness, i.e. getting really motion sick when playing video games. One time she tried out playing on a gameboy that Neil gave her for her birthday and after 45 minutes of playing she immediately needed to go throw up in the bathroom. Kim sat by her while she hurled into the toilet, patting her on the back occasionally.

• They are both chronic insomniacs, but in different ways. Ramona often just straight up cannot sleep, while Kim falls asleep fairly quickly but repeatedly wakes up in the middle of the night. They both have the same remedy for their insomnia when it happens, going downstairs and drinking some lemon soda. Whenever their insomnia syncs up and they see both of each other downstairs, they say hi and then both pretend that the other doesn’t exist (lovingly).

• they tend to gossip with each other about their exes (especially Scott). Kim tells dumb stories about Scott being a weirdo in high school and Ramona has gallons of scolding hot tea to share.

• Gideon attempted to reassemble the league in order to fight Kim, but none of them really wanted to fight her. Lucas felt bad about beating up a girl, Todd was too busy having his gay awakening to care about Ramona anymore, Roxie was already very good “friends” with Kim so she was an auto no-go, and the twins were just kinda over the whole league thing and were too busy with their music carreer, so the only one who showed up was Matthew. He proceeded to fight Kim in a very similar fashion to how he tried to fight Scott (crashing one of her gigs) but the two ended up having a heart to heart about how high school relationships can suck a lot and can still affect you into adult life. They both came out of it as better people and Matthew just kinda left. He strode into the sunset if you will.

• They nuzzle each other’s noses… a LOT.

I think that’s all I can come up with right now I think. If I do come up with more I’ll make another one of these I suppose. If any of you wanna submit hcs for me to put into a post send an ask please please please please

Special thanks to @subspace-surfer for helping me come up with some of these! Lil headcannons like this are surprisingly tricky for me to come up with. I specialize more with lengthy rants.

#kimona #kim pine #ramona flowers #pineflowers #scott pilgrim vs the world #wlw #headcannons post #ramkim #this is my first time doing a headcannons post #I hope I did I a good job…

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 1 year

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Hello, if you write angst, may I request a any character you want x reader, where in the process of time travel, they lost reader.

If you don't write angst, may I request a any character you want x short reader, with anything you want.

lost in time with luxiem

part 2 here ↣

mmmyess YESSSS i do write angst! it’s been a while since i wrote some but i’m glad i got to practice my hurt skills :D long post incoming but i really enjoyed writing these. especially the gory scenes. man. i really am a briskadet aren’t i

tags: established relationship, hurt no comfort, gender neutral reader

⚠️ drinking + gore in luca’s entry

⚠️ drinking in mysta’s entry

⚠️ suffocation + fainting in shu’s entry

⚠️ gore + panic attack in vox’s entry

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you’re ripped out of your universe and sent to a completely new world, it’s only natural to react like that...

🖋 Ike Eveland

His usual solution is to throw himself into his work. The must tumultuous of times create the best stories, pressure turns carbon into diamonds, and writing down the pain make it so much easier to let go of when he scraps the draft.

Ike commits pen to paper, as is second nature. He holes himself up in his office. Sleep comes to him randomly. He can never predict when, but he sleeps deeply, and when he wakes up it’s right back to his nightmare. Food becomes a second thought to written word, then third, then fourth, until it’s forgotten completely.

It’s addicting, is what it is. He needs to write. The situation he finds himself in, peeled away from everything he knows, is so wildly impossible that maybe, maybe, impossible thinking will return him to where he once was. If he wishes so much to return to the one he loves, creates a world within his pages that mirrors his own, then maybe the stars above or the spirit of the universe or some cruel higher power will hear him and return him to where he came from.

The world he finds himself in is angular, blocky. Its features are so foreign to the intricate architecture of his homeland. Where there once was grass is now endless gray and metal and stone, pavement under his footsteps, so he stays inside now. The office, just as geometric as the outdoors, is blank and the paper serves as the color he’s neglected to spread within his room.

Because, after all, he’s not going to remain here. Of course, he can’t remain here.

There’s so much he wants to do in his original world. He’s no revolutionary author, but his works are getting recognition after years and years of publishing. He just used the money to move into a proper home of his own, and it’s no mansion but it’s more than comfortable, and the window in his bedroom is at the perfect angle to gently wake him with soft sunlight every morning.

And after all, there’s an angelic face sleeping next to him every time he rises.

He writes tales of a princess trapped in her own castle, with no way to communicate with her subjects. After that, a novel about a hermit who returns to society, and how decades of living alone impacts his daily public life. Whenever he runs out of ideas, he works on a collection of short stories from the perspective of various people locked within a strange, enclosed new environment.

The poetry is new. Novels are paintings, but poetry is sculpture, and he struggles to find the right words in the right order, but whenever he writes the last line it always tells stories of loneliness.

Each draft takes place along flowering fields and rolling skies, clouds that adorn tall trees. Houses painted in candy colors. Streets in sepia. Snow that falls gently like blankets, and sun rays that greet mountain peaks. The aurora borealis heralds the climax of each protagonist’s journey.

Ike’s pen runs out of ink on what he would estimate is the seventh night. He curses, and his throat is so out of use, the sound is barely decipherable. He reaches to his drawer of office supplies, only to grab nothing. There is no drawer. He’s forgotten exactly where he is again.

Ike clears his throat, and raises his voice. “Reader? Be a dear and get me some more ink, please?”

Ike waits.

“Reader?”

There’s no response.

“Reader, my darling.”

There is no Reader. He’s forgotten exactly where he is again.

It’s strange that he does, he notes. Why, he’s written so many stories as his own escapism, but he can’t even remember that he left his darling Reader.

His darling Reader, all alone, the only person in their shared home. They make meal servings for one, now, and wakes up later now without another in their bed. They have access to the study and the shelves upon shelves of home-bound books, the first edition before publication, but there is no novelist at the desk, no handwriting, no one to hold a mug and offer his gratitude. No one to sit behind as they read his latest work and offer their thoughts and notice his plot holes and typos and errors, no one to hold his pen back and insist, It’s late, let’s go to sleep, and carry him out of his chair and tuck him into bed themselves, and run their hands through his hair until his eyes close and his breathing softens and he wakes up to warm soft sunlight on an angelic face.

“Reader.” Ike says it again, but this time he knows there’s no one to respond to it. His voice breaks halfway through.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🦁 Luca Kaneshiro

At the end of the day Luca Kaneshiro is a social creature. Moreover, he’s a social creature that just got cut off from his friends, family, mafia, and lover all in one fell swoop.

It’s that appreciation for others that drives Luca to walk the streets, acting like he still owns the world despite the completely different reality he finds himself in. He’s a man that’s spent his life around family, both blood and hired. New people to meet and friends to catch up with. A sweet thing he could hold and love openly, one that he would do anything for. Believe it, he means anything; that’s a promise only a mafia boss could keep and truly mean.

There’s no replacement for them in this time, but he can’t let go of it. He doesn’t actively drink in his original time but in 2022, there’s a party every night, and he wakes up every morning with a hangover. Luca admits it. He’s a nobody, a friendless loser here, but at least every night coupled with the booze and the bodies all dyed under the colorful lights he can forget. Pretend those faces are the ones he’s come to know underneath lion masks.

The first night was the hardest. He entered the club to color his mindlessly lonely days, because at least he could have a meltdown properly with drinks than the husk he is during the day. A young woman taught him to dance, and he traded dance partners with the rest of her friends until most of them went to get drinks, and the best dancer of them all cozied up to his arm.

By the time they returned with cocktails Luca was already long gone on the way back home, his coat wrapped around his body. He felt dirty. Everything about that night was supposed to make him feel like his legacy was still alive but when it wasn’t you feeling him up, he could feel his stomach turn.

Sure enough, the next morning he retched out the remains of alcohol and women, and swore he’d never go clubbing again until he returned to his timeline with you by his side… until the loneliness threatened to swallow him whole, and that very evening he was back to pretending that the people in the club were his.

People flirt with him often, and he’s surprised he hasn’t bolted from one yet. Instead he politely excuses himself and ditches the club with a hollow feeling in his chest.

Luca wakes up every afternoon- noon or later, depending on how wild the night before was- alone in a bed meant for two people. His apartment is nice, but it’s devoid of personality. Glass encompasses one side of the wall, granting him a view of the skyline, and every piece of furniture is clean white. It’s almost hilarious how much it resembles one of his penthouses in Melbourne, but without any of the charm that branded a Kaneshiro home.

He misses it so much. His active schedule has gone to the wayside, and instead he can spend hours at a time laying in bed. It’s a destructive cycle. Party at night to keep up the pretend life, then wallow during the day about how the life is gone. How unfair, he thinks bitterly. I never asked for this. I don’t even know how I got here. Why me?

The dreary thoughts never ebb while the sun’s out, and once night falls he can’t bear to spend another moment with them. Everything is a distraction now. He can’t bring himself to imagine the mafia surrounding him at the clubs anymore. It sends him into veiled turmoil.

That’s a future worry for future Luca, though.

He walks home one night in better condition than usual. The night is blank and silent, only to be interrupted by a stifled cry.

He turns to the source of the noise. Two people stand by a closed store. One of them is a older man, and the other is a young woman. Luca recognizes her as a girl from the club he just left, mostly because she barely looked old enough to enter. Her face is flush with alcohol, and the man practically drags her along closer to the door with a hand over her mouth.

Luca’s eyes meet the woman’s. They’re nearly closed, but widen when she realizes there’s a bystander, and then she’s gone. The man led her into an alleyway out of sight.

Sobriety regained, he dashes to the alley, and feels for the hidden pocket on the inside of his coat. It was one of the first things he reached for when he fell into the future, and he thanked his lucky stars he still had a pistol and rounds of ammo on him.

He takes the safety off but keeps it concealed, and turns into the alley. Two other men lurked deeper into the row, while the first shrugged the woman’s body off to the ground. She was barely conscious.

One of the creeps cocked his head. “The fuck’re you looking at?”

Another raises an arm but Luca fires before the loser aimed his weapon properly. The bullet shatters the wrist, and the gun spills out of his grasp along with blood. He clutches the mangled appendage and cries out. “Bastard shot my fucking hand!”

The second man raises his gun as well but Luca’s already aiming for his arms and fires, disabling him long enough to move closer into the alley.

The final guy brings out a knife, but Luca’s built for this. He shoves him off, then grabs his arm with one hand and forces the knife away in the other. There’s a cold look in Luca’s eye, he hasn’t said a thing. He pushes the arm the wrong direction, and feels muscle trembling to stay upright. The creep curses again, an empty threat Luca doesn’t care to hear, and the knife clatters to the floor. Luca stomps on the handle with his sole, preventing it from moving any further.

Luca keeps his grip on the arm, and feels the other guy’s joints give out. An ugly thought wants him to go further. So he indulges even after he hears the snap of broken bone, and when he’s done twisting the limb he yanks it out. The scream of dislocation is like music.

He feels monstrous, but the most alive he’s been in weeks, an animal let out of its cage with the scent of blood in the air. He notices the one with bullets in either arm struggle for one of the guns, so in one clean movement Luca pins him down, blows an elbow joint out with his own gun, and drags the disfigured arm out along the jagged pavement as his weight rises. Hopefully he’ll get it amputated.

The first one he shot, the one with one less hand than he started with, helplessly struggles for the gun he dropped with his good arm, so Luca drives the leftover knife through the flesh and into the ground. He lets the bloodthirst win as the blade curves into the muscle like a hook, twists, and snatches it out.

He covers the knife in a handkerchief, then retrieves the guns, and crouches eye-level to their drunken target. Her head is lolled to the side, but unharmed.

“I’m gonna bring you back outside the club,” Luca says. “Get some staff to watch you and call a taxi.”

He helps her up. She’s conscious enough to walk, but her body is limp, and she relies on him to guide her. The blank silent night returns as they return.

The woman slurs something out, and when Luca looks to her in confusion she repeats herself. “You’re the guy that’s always there…? At the club.”

“Yeah.” Luca keeps his face steady. “Yeah, I am.”

“You always have people around you.” She giggles. At least she seems to be a happy drunk. “Normal people don’t gun. Have guns.” She throws her free arm into the air and makes a finger gun. “Pew, pew…”

He doesn’t answer that. “What’s your name?”

She tells him. “Don’t remember it. You’re too sad for me.”

“I just saved you.”

“And thanks but you’re so… fake!” Luca should be insulted, but he’s so taken aback he doesn’t say a word. The woman is amused by it though. She continues. “Like, okay, you’re cool, I’d hang, but you’re avoiding something, aren’t you? And I’m not talking about the, the pew, guns…”

She used up so much energy talking that she doesn’t notice a crack in the sidewalk and trips. Luca catches her.

“Hero, much?” She laughs. “You’re such a hero, you’re waiting around for something. What, want me to trip again? Go find it if you care so much about it.”

The woman babbles on as they return to the club. Barely five minutes after, a taxi pulls up to the curb.

“Bye, hero!” She chirps. “Stop being so sad all the time!” Luca gives her a small wave and she’s off.

He re-embarks on his walk home, and her drunken ramblings follow him the way back. He’d save her again without question, but her words pissed him off.

She’s right, you know, he thinks. But of course she is, and of course it’s not as easy as a drunk woman makes it out to be. Longing for something is one thing. Longing for a time long gone is another.

Luca looks back at the club, so small in the distance. Already he can feel the isolation taking hold, and it’s only going to get worse the more time he spends in his apartment, but it’s not like he has the energy for anything else.

He brushes his hand against his coat. A splatter of blood stains the fur, not so much to be noticeable in the night but daylight is a whole other story. Some hero he is. He’s never been as brutal in a fight as he was today, and the way he didn’t feel a thing, how easy it was for the ugly and dark and depressed to control his weapons… it scares him.

That’s all he is. Afraid. Is this really who he is without anyone by his side? Maybe it was a good thing he was cast out of his original time. Someone like him shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near you. You’re too good for human trash that drinks until he can’t straighten out his thoughts anymore and revels in inflicting pain. Monsters don’t deserve kindness like yours, after all.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🦊 Mysta Rias

There is logic in everything. Everything happens for a reason; every action has an equal and opposite reaction; energy is neither created nor destroyed, only transformed. This is what the detective Mysta Rias knows.

But people don’t just disappear like that. The city he finds himself in is tall and sweeping just like his home, but the lights are brighter and the people are stranger. He catches the year 2022 on a billboard advertisement and balks. This is what the detective Mysta Rias doesn’t know, and he’d admit he doesn’t know in a snap. There’s simply no reasonable way he sprung over sixty years in the future just like that.

It’s been a while since he was transported into the future with no warning. After week two, he resigned himself to living long-term in the twenty-first century. About a month in, he started a private investigation service to scrounge up money and make sure his deductive abilities stayed sharp. He met some lovely people, but at the end of the day, this isn’t his time.

What goes up must come down, and what gets magically transported out of his intended timeline must return. You can’t toss an apple on Earth and expect it to float into space. Mysta acknowledges how silly it must be to apply physics to a time portal, but it’s the only thing he can cling onto. The Doctrine of Uniformity states the present is the key to the past, and surely the present must be the key to the future as well.

During his first week in the future he already searched for his information when he was in his original time. His house was destroyed decades ago to make space for a school. The home phone went to a storefront in Glasgow. So he retraces the steps. Surely there needs to be a gap where the original homeowners sign off on a deal with new owners, and that’s where he can identify the whereabouts of him and his partner.

Hours of research and calling later, either any mention of Mysta Rias and Reader were wiped off the face of the earth, or they were never on this earth in the first place.

Mysta tries not to let it get to him. After all, even if the original hypothesis is inaccurate, it narrows down the possibilities. Just keep going.

Staking out his old haunts proved to be fruitless as well. His favorite restaurant is gone, as expected, but so is the library downtown that his city insisted on preserving for decades.

Later that evening Mysta grabs a cocktail glass of orange juice, pours vodka into the glass, and places the screwdriver on the coaster of his desk as he looks deeper into the people of this world. Clearly there’s no records of Mysta Rias nor the person he spent his life with, but he recognizes the Queen of England even in her old age, and Paddington Bear is still a thing, so surely there must be other similarities between his UK and the one he landed in.

The first thing he searches for is his mother’s name, and he’s not exactly surprised when no search results come up. His associates are nowhere to be found either. The closest he gets to finding one of his old friends is an online obituary for someone he doesn’t recognize and an archive of a newspaper comic strip.

Your family is nowhere to be seen either. A few awkward calls later, he’s confirmed the phone numbers of family and friends as well as his old detective agency are being used by completely different people. He wishes he had some kind of photo from the past. While browsing around online he learned about reverse image searching. Maybe he could see if there were any social media posts or timeless landscapes that could trace back to his origin. Being able to see your face would be a good motivation too.

Mysta pauses. Man, he misses your face. He’s been so focused on getting back to the right time that he hasn’t even acknowledged the pit of loneliness he’s been fighting off. Emotion makes reason messy, after all. The screwdriver isn’t helping either. If only Reader was here, he muses. They always watch over me when I’m drinking. Fuck, his head’s spinning. How much vodka is in this thing? He’s poured another glass, at least one more, his recollections are getting blurry.

He blinks out of his thoughts before they can begin to spiral. Even if he didn’t measure out proper shots there’s no way he’s getting drunk on a screwdriver, and during a work night no less.

The detective hones in on his legal pad and the scrawl of notes on it. He crosses out another failed method. There has to be something out there that can explain it. He chants it under his breath, because after all, he’s a detective. What is a detective without his reasoning?

Whenever he’s struggling on a case, it always helps to have fresh eyes look over his thought process. It’s always you. But he’s alone now without his partner, and he fears he’s working himself into a rut. Ugh, who is he kidding. He begrudgingly drains the rest of the screwdriver. The rut’s already here, and it always has been. The drink’s making it worse but it’s about time he acknowledges it.

He’s sick of this feeling, so isolated out from everything he knows and the future that’s left him behind, and it’s almost like he can hear your voice melting into the silence of his bleak office. But the words that you’d say evade him. You’re irreplaceable even in his imagination, and it mocks him. His focus has abandoned him, and he’s been spiraling for a while now, it’s just that his mask is starting to crumple now, and he’s already starting to regret letting it slip.

“There has to be something,” he utters, and his voice is already lifting from the alcohol. It’s high and pathetic. Mysta slaps his hands over his face and lets them drag down, as if that would fix everything, and picks up his pencil again. “There has to be a reason.”

The pencil doesn’t move. Mysta repeats himself, reason is a mantra he’s lived by, but doubt drowns him. There’s no reason in time travel, after all, but he says it again, expecting something to change. He’s running out of platitudes. But he clings to it, clings to reason, because without it he’s nothing, and stripped of his home and love, it’s all he has left. Denial of absurdity is the only thing he can do. He can’t afford to wrap his head around it, because that means he accepts this nonsensical problem, so he lives without believing it at all.

He pours himself vodka without juice and drinks.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👟 Shu Yamino

The Yamino household was no stranger to holding the supernatural within itself. For as long as Shu can remember, there’s always been scrolls hung up on the walls in thumbtacks rather than frames for easy access, rows of herbs left out to dry for spellcraft, even the living room regularly had its furniture pushed to the side to make space for a magic circle.

That was what made morphing his own home into a witch’s hut a smoother transition than he expected from the apartment unit he shared with you. The glamour made it easier to work, and besides, looking at your favorite things and the home you created together hurt too much. Either way, you were going to come back. There wasn’t a single question about it.

Shu drags a clump of chalk along the stony floor. The outline of the circle is already complete, featuring countless shapes crafted for the exact target, and all that was left to do was to etch runes into it. The chalk digs into the floor with intention.

“It’s going to work.” He rubs a stray line of chalk away, and checks his handiwork. The angular shapes inside of the circle are in position for a standard summoning. Runes form coordinates along the outline.

He doesn’t even let himself feel proud for the summoning circle before he dashes off into your room. Moments later he returns with three items: your favorite accessory, your hairbrush, and a framed picture.

There are three winding spirals drawn equal distances apart from one another in the circle. He gently placed your accessory in the center of one, before pulling out a strand of hair from your brush and into the second spiral. One represents sentimental attachments, and the other is something physical for the forces that be to identify a target.

Shu takes great care as he removes the backing of the frame and turns the photo in his hand. He sees himself first. He’s barely holding a giant teddy bear in his arms, and the plush head poked his face, threatening to make the sunglasses on the top of his head fall. On his other side, his beloved partner held the phone in one hand and his shoulder in the other. You timed the phone to take a picture just in time as you pecked his cheek and the beginnings of his blush started to set in. When you printed out the picture, you insisted on captioning it with a thin marker. “5/11/2022: Went to an amusement park and Shu won me a bear. He got a prize too!”

The memory is warm but Shu’s face is still grim. He sets the picture down on the final spiral. Any sorcerer worth their salt knows that you reap what you sow and miracles don’t come from thin air, and if you want that miracle, you’d better be willing to sacrifice something with emotional value.

The picture captured his surprise and your affection from that day, and stares up at him as he stands. It’s been weeks since you were cast out of this reality. Even as a practitioner of the occult, Shu had no idea where the spontaneous portal came from, but it stole you away in front of his eyes. He was lucky he had the instinct to cast identification spells just as soon as you disappeared. They classified the portal as a time travel rift, and allowed him to reverse-engineer a summoning circle to locate and retrieve you. That picture, one of the most recent, was one of his favorites. It marked a shift in his relationship to you that was a long time coming, which is why it was so treasured. He would miss it, but, well, miracles aren’t cheap. He’d make new memories soon when you’re back in his arms in the timeline you’re meant to be in.

Shu lights a stick of incense, and rising smoke couples with the scent of jasmine and palo santo. He allows it to trail around the witch’s hut glamour and cleanse the room, a clean slate for his sorcery. Curses are his specialty, but he’s no stranger to ritual casting. He steps into the circle, and begins his incantation.

Shu’s flames alight after the first verse, a series of commands and words crafted carefully in accordance with the mystical. Shikigami circle around him as he gets to the second, manifestation of his ability. The room feels like it’s floating. Static prickles in the air as it warps, the smoke mixing with the buzz, and for a moment the glamour blurs. It’s the spirit of the circle shifting the world around it as it was programmed to do.

The chalk along the floor brightens, shining luminescent with his words in white to lavender to bright, burning violet. A bead of sweat dribbles down Shu’s neck. It’s getting harder to breathe. If the world intends on taking Reader away from me, he thinks, then I’ll shred the very fabric of space-time itself to bring them back.

His fury is quiet, but concealed under how the air compresses around him. It’s a strange sensation, and if the Yamino name didn’t have generations of magic practitioners before him, the way that the atmosphere around him morphs would take him by surprise and ruin his ritual.

Shu remains steadfast, though, and holds his breath through gritted teeth as the oxygen itself fights to separate itself from the circle. Even his flames flicker at the absence of fuel, and the heat transfers from the halo around his head and into his lungs as the air pressure increases tenfold, and tenfold of that.

The third verse of the incantation is a fight to speak clearly, especially as the movements require him to fight hard against the resistance of literally rending space-time apart in his living room. For a moment he thinks of Atlas, the titan sentenced to hold the world itself. Then he tells himself to get off his high horse, fight the urge to let go of his breath, and finishes the verse half-ready to choke.

As he does the circle of chalk bursts into flames that lap at his feet, now floating in midair, and he doesn’t need a mirror to know the fire spouting from his body resembles pillars more than anything. Doesn’t matter. He’s fighting to keep his eyes open, but he swears there’s a crack levitating in nothing right in front of him. The fire around him pulses away from the crack and the air gets even tighter, teasing him with the vacuity of the universe he provoked.

The sorcerer thinks of the final verse less of words and more of sounds, anything to make it seem less like all the world’s weight is suffocating him. The crack in space is real. It stares at him unblinkingly.

Even when his eyes are open he’s seeing double, even in the silence he can’t hear himself utter the incantation. His chest is screaming and burning, a red-hot sensation unfamiliar to his purple heat, like claws raking through his lungs and threatening to shred him into ribbons from the inside. The pressure is too much to bear.

The body is practically frozen in place as the vast emptiness of the crack slowly widens into a hole- a portal- and absorbs all the life from the room, and constricts him to where he stands. The claws inside start to pry and drag along his organs running dry without oxygen, and it’s a completely different sensation than incineration, it’s dead and deep, and slow. Shu’s eyes widen and strain, before blinking once, twice, and feeling the world turn upside down as everything goes black. He faints.

The sorcerer gasps alive minutes later, before entering a sharp coughing fit. The burning in his lungs has subsided, but the coughs are raspy and gritty.

Shu clutches a hand over his heart as the memories of the ritual flood back, some areas spottier than others. The last thing he remembers is the way that the portal widened and the watercolor webbing inside of it, freckled starlight between the pure pitch, and clouds of color dyeing the fabric of space-time.

He rolls over weakly. He doesn’t have the energy to stand up. Instead he drags a tired hand over the remains of the magic circle, now a smoldering drawing in the center of his living room. Looks like the witch’s hut glamor faded. Not only that, but the chalk has turned to residual ash, easily brushed away by his fingers.

He inspects the rest of his surroundings as best as he can in his faint bleariness. The incense has gone out long ago, the room is in utter disarray, and barely a speck of dust is left on the spirals where his components were spent. They’re gone.

Shu tries to call your name but before he can get a sound out he’s already choking on his words. He fights to stand upright and clear his throat. He doesn’t know why he tried calling out to you. He should’ve known it was a failure. It’s just that he’s gone so long without you, without answers, without a single successful summoning, but this was the first time he saw the crack in space.

Something’s going right. His body feels like it got caught in a land mine, but he’s on the warpath now, and he’s got his sights set on a new ritual draft, something that will certainly bring you back next time.

Shu hacks out a plume of ashy smoke and violet sparks. He’ll return to the drawing board soon, but he’s overexerted himself like nothing else.

Despite how much his body feels like a crumpled ball of paper, he writhes to a pen and paper knocked to the ground from his ritual. He’ll summon you yet. Hopefully his next ritual won’t result in drowning on land, but he’s not too optimistic. He’s not going to stop until you’re back in his arms or his body gives out entirely, but he can’t kid himself forever. He’s going to burn himself out one day if he keeps this up, either metaphorically or literally.

He writes down new observations from this ritual. It still doesn’t change a thing. He’s going to break himself if it means returning you to where you belong.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👹 Vox Akuma

The Voice Demon snaps awake with fire in his eyes and a growl from his throat. He’s been in stasis for what feels like eons but the memory of searing flames and cold wet blood and the razing of Akuma Castle is fresh. His heart aches. A look down and he identifies why: his red shirt is even redder along the center of his chest, and darkness blooms through the fabric in an unsightly stain. He stares underneath the fabric and sure enough, his torso is covered in slashes, though they fade in supernatural speed. This is demonic reincarnation, as expected, the same mind in a new body, the old transfiguring into the new. His blood boils as he watches the lesser lacerations fade into pale skin. The clotted blood reforms, places itself into his open wound, and the skin reseals itself. A fresh patch, an untouched body, a man seemingly unharmed.

It’s nothing compared to the first man fallen in his clan. Shot dead in the temple, an arrow protruding from his brain, pink and red staining the other end of the arrowhead. The young scholar that took up a bow to defend in the castle’s time of need, only for a catapult to sling a boulder directly to their perch, and send them falling to their demise. A woman, well-known by her Kindred for being a second mother to all, and how she went up in flames when the opposing army set fire to her refuge shelter.

Vox was no stranger to combat, and no coward that would allow his clan to fall for his sake while he stood by. He took to the battlefield, sword in hand, accompanied by his most trusted advisor and most capable warrior.

“Be safe,” was all you said before you armed yourself with your treasured naginata, grabbed him for a life-or-death kiss, and launched into the fray beside your lord.

You worked in tandem with Lord Akuma. His sword slid bodies for you to stab through, confirming they would never rise again. But you were only two of 522, and Tokugawa’s troops made short work of the defenseless, the inexperienced, the unprepared.

Blood pooled along your naginata blade, but when you could catch a glimpse of the metal, it reflected the burning of Akuma Castle behind you. You dodged one blade and blocked another, then skewered the man for his sloppy mistake.

Vox fought his own battles, now, as the shogun commanded his troops to target the lord of the castle. His sword caught on the bone of a soldier before slicing another. He snapped his wrist, shaking the two off his weapon, before raising it into a defensive position in time with another attacker.

You spun the naginata in your hands and fell back to reposition. The maneuver forced your enemies to approach, just in time for you to attack first. They dwindled in number. You were no longer the priority. You held your own against another warrior, decorated in medals and a wakizashi in their hands, more seasoned than the last unit you fought against.

The duel was a mind game, littered with fake-outs and feints, neither you or the warrior landing a blow. Their movements were calculated, without an obvious weakness, so you focused on observation. Their slashes were quick and left little room for a counterattack. They stayed in your face so your naginata can’t outrange them. They were mobile, moving low and high, their body contorting unpredictably against the backdrop of your burning home and-

And Lord Vox…!

You screamed his name. One of the bodies, one you recognized, still moving. Bloodied, barely alive, but quiet, behind your lord, raising his blade.

“Behind you! VOX!” You cried out so loud your throat went hoarse, only for blood to pour out of your mouth.

In your attempt to warn your lord, the warrior noticed an opening, and drove their wakizashi through your neck.

Vox spun on his heel at your command and drove his sword clean through the ambusher, only to watch as you fell to the mud. “Reader!”

He howled as a knife drove through his arm, the first good hit against him. You didn’t move. Another katana next. The gash on his leg disabled his movement. The fire against his blade flashed. Your body laid in a pool of your own blood. Tokugawa stood before him and pulled his own weapon back, aiming for the heart. You were dead, and he was no fool, but the sword plunged forward…

Vox stands. The ground below him, concrete. Across from him is a tiled wall and railroad tracks. He turns on his heel, fury in his eyes, ready to tear apart this subway station. “Woah, dude,” the man next to him says jokingly. His beard is turning gray and he’s covered in a worn winter jacket, and stays seated on the ground.

“Piss off,” Vox snarls.

The man is as unbothered as ever, but seems concerned. “No thank you. Er, you good?”

“Good? Why, yes, I’m the very picture of ‘good’.” Vox lowers himself to the man’s eyes. He slams a fist against the wall, next to his head, as his words alight with poison and ember through gritted teeth. His voice burns demonic. “I said, get out of my sight like the vermin you are and PISS. OFF.”

The man’s face, once so calm and and sympathetic, forms into a visage of fear. He trembles like a deer in headlights before pushing Vox out of the way and bolting further into the subway.

The subway platform Vox finds himself in is dismal and lonely. It’s dark, with some broken fluorescent lighting, and debris along the ground. The signs suggest the next train isn’t arriving anytime soon.

So Vox wracks his hands over his face, contorted in rage, and screams. When he runs out of breath he inhales and cries out again, ugliness crawling out of his throat, and when he closes his eyes he imagines the ugliness as blood, the splatters that coated your lips as you fell. The wakizashi sword through your neck.

He can’t form words, but the heartbreak is primal. It echoes through the empty station, and when his voice shatters into a sob the acoustics remind him of his mourning. His broken heart tightens, tries to reform itself around the blood of his chest, and only gives him palpitations that lodge in his chest.

Panic becomes him. What else could he be? Vox’s legacy is besmirched, his subjects slain, and most brutal of all, his greatest love gave their life to warn him in futility. He heeded their advice but- but the shaking in his heart, it’s so stifling, he can’t think straight, he needs to sit down- but he was useless to do the one thing you requested, to be safe. Now here he is, another casualty right after you fell, without the grace to even stay a dead lord. In another world, with another chance at life, and the first thing he does is spiral. How pathetic of Lord Akuma. Utterly disgusting. Even after his demonic blood gave him another chance, he’s spending it bawling like a baby, crumpled on the ground of a grungy subway station, his breath so shallow he feels like he’s about to die again.

Misery. He’s too afraid to take in the world around him without the comfort of you, so his hands tangle into his hair and against his tears. Rebirth is nothing to an infernal, but today, the very picture of grief, the Voice Demon has been defeated for the first time in his immortal life.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

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