#my head hurts and also my ears hurt from wearing my mask all day

[olsenmyolsen]

Ups and Downs Pt. II

master list

dark master list

Slight MCU AU (Female Reader X Natasha Romanoff)

Be sure to read part one!

Summary: Your neighbor across the hall isn't anything like you thought she'd be.

Word Count: 4.7K

TW: Men, Guns, Violence, Bad Flirting, Fighting, Shooting, Blood, Feelings, Needles

Of course, the day you met the prettiest girl possibly in the whole entire world. You were also in a shootout with a spy.

Okay, yes, the spy and the girl are one in the same, but you get my point.

"How long ago was the guy here?"

"I-uh.." Since Nat's hands and sweet voice were all over and around your body, you truly lost any concept of time.

Nat ignored your non-answer as she looks out the window where her sniper is positioned before turning to you with a worried look.

"Y/N GET DOWN!"

You barely had time to move your body before the windows next to Nat exploded, sending you, her, and pieces of glass flying everywhere. Her body lands on its back in front of yours. New forming cuts already on her face. "Nat?!" You asked, sounding muffled due to the ringing in your ears.

Shit, a lot of you will hurt tomorrow if you get through this.

"Ow.." Nat blinks, her eyes opening as she wipes the blood from her forehead. Before she looks you over, making sure you're not harmed. "I gotta say that looks a lot cooler in the movies." You state.

"Yeah, I know." As if Natasha watches anything but classic James Bond. "Okay, Y/N, listen to me." She gets up on her knees in front of you but keeps you down low to the floor. Her hand on your back provides you with reassurance. Plus, it feels nice.

Should I tell her that my throat needs to be reassured?

"They blew out the windows because they saw me. If I know them.. and I do. They're about to send in smoke bombs. Try and flush us out. Whatever you do, regulate your breathing. Okay. In fact..." Nat keeps the two of you low but begins to move you both back to the kitchen. "Here." She grabs her bag off the counter and throws it down. Nat reaches into a side pocket and pulls out a hard mask.

"Come here." Nat motions you to come closer, and like a good girl, you do. "You're going to wear this." Nat quickly wraps the mask around your face. "As you can tell, your vision will be slightly askew, but your breathing will be fine as long as you..." Nat trails as she raises her eyebrow.

Fuck she's so fucking calm right now, and it looks so fucking hot on her- oh, she's staring at me. Oh, uhhh-

"Keep my breathing regulated?" You answer, which earns a proud smile from Nat. "Yep. Good job." I am a good girl. You think with a smile.

"Wait!" You grab onto Nat's arm. She stops rummaging through the bag to look at you. "What about you? Do you have a mask?" Nat shakes her head at you. "I only have one. But don't worry." She smiles. "I've dealt with far worse."

Nat pulls out a pistol you hadn't seen before. She looks up and onto the dining room table. You follow her eyesight. The small silver discs. "I can grab them."

"No, wait!"

You go to reach forward but get yanked back by Nat. A sniper shot rings out, the bullet going through the wood right where your hand would've been. "You okay?" She asks with a soft gaze, looking into your mask. You nod, even though you're growing more scared by the minute. "Shit, they have more than I thought." Nat rubs her hand up and down your back while she thinks. You believe this action to be absent-minded. But Natasha knows you are scared. The last thing she needs is for you to be scared and get hurt or, worse, killed.

So she's thinking of you first.

"Why haven't they fired the gas yet?" You ask. Nat looks at you before looking at the window. "They're playing a game. Shit.." Nat bites her lip and thinks.

You see her biting her lip, and you start thinking, too.

But you both aren't thinking remotely the same things.

"They're trying to draw you out. They know you're here with me." Nat looks at you. "Give me your hand." You hold it out for her as she takes your wrist and gently places the pistol she had behind her back in your hand.

"This is a Beretta 92. It's a very accurate close-range weapon. Okay? Keep it low. Away from yourself and me."

"What, Nat, I can't-"

"It holds 15 rounds. When the magazine empties, this thing will slide lock back like this." She shows you. Keeping her eyes on you instead of the gun. You look at her as she repeats the action.

"Natalie, I don't think I can do this."

"Natasha." She replies.

"What?" You tilt your head, confused. "Natalie is a cover. Natasha is my real name."

Unbeknownst to you is that Natasha still wasn't even her legal name.

You don't miss a beat before replying with: "You look prettier as a Natasha anyways."

"Really flirting? Now?" You shrug. "I've been flirting all along. It's about time you caught on." Even though you most certainly HAVE NOT been flirting this whole time. "So, is that what you call it?"

Natasha wins this battle.

"Look at the gun, Y/N." She coos you. You move your eyes to the gun as Nat holds your hand with hers. Showing you the first few steps again.

"Okay, now to reload-"

Nat gets interrupted as three canisters shoot through the broken windows. The second they land, they start leaking smoke. "Don't be scared." You go to argue that you're not, but with a smile, Nat raises her eyebrows, earning a scoff from you. Sassy even in a life-or-death situation.

"Okay, to reload. Push this down." She begins to talk faster as you both can sense that instruction time will be over soon. So she pushes your hand. "The empty mag will fall out, and then you shove the other one in. Like replacing batteries in a flashlight. Okay?" She asks as the smoke creeps into the kitchen. You nod, feeling the weight of the gun in your hand when Nat removes hers.

"Nat, I don't think I can do this. Shooting people." You clarify. Nat turns and looks into your eyes as the sound of men marching up your apartment building becomes louder and louder. "Okay, Y/N, listen to me." She grabs the sides of your mask so you can look into her emerald eyes.

Okay, how is she hotter now that she's covered in bruises and blood? Will I look hotter if I'm covered in bruises and blood?

Should I ask?

"Y/N, listen to me! These men are coming in here to kill you and me. I will do everything in my power to protect you, but in the event that I'm not able to, I'm trusting you to be able to defend yourself. Okay? Don't use it unless you have to." You nod with a dumb grin on your face that, thankfully, Natasha could not see, or else she would think you really were hopeless. "Most importantly, don't move unless I tell you to. Please don't do anything besides shoot this gun unless I tell you to. I say duck, what do you do?"

"Duck... Goose." You joke, but before Natasha could scold you, the front door to the apartment flies off its hinges. However, thankfully, the smoke has now possessed the room, covering for you and Natasha...

...Natasha?

You look to your right to see no one next to you.

Great, even in a shootout, you can't keep a girl.

You sigh and stay still as heavy footsteps are heard entering the apartment. You do your best to count, and you assume five men are now here to kill you. You stay still on the floor in the corner of the kitchen when you hear one of the men speak up. "Come on out with your friend, little widow! We promise not to hurt her."

You rolled your eyes through the mask, and that's when you heard two shots being fired off before a loud thud hit the floor across the apartment.

"How did she do that?!" You hear a heavily accented man yell before a multitude of bullets are fired from an automatic weapon.

However, instead of Natasha getting hit, she jumps up off the coffee table in the middle of the living room and knees one of the men in the nose. Making him stagger back in pain, leaving him little time to think as she attaches a widow bite disc to the man, shocking him to the floor but not before grabbing his pistol and aiming it at the other man in the room, sending one shot to his thigh and the other to his left shoulder before she empties the magazine and throws the pistol at the guy's face knocking him out.

Two more men to go.

Lucky for Natasha, the shooting and her elegant, quick movements confused the last two dummies. Plus, with their own smoke, it makes it impossible to see someone as highly trained as The Black Widow.

You nearly jump when Natasha slides on the kitchen floor before you. You go to speak, but Natasha signals with her hands to zip it.

You nod and try to think about how good she looks, kicking these guy's ass.

Natasha puts a hand in front of your face, making you focus up. You okay? She asks with her hands. You nod, making the redhead spy smile.

A genuine smile, too.

And even though she said it earlier, that's when you truly realize that Natasha is protecting you. Whether it's her job or not, you like to believe it's because she cares for you. Even if just a little bit.

Your beliefs would be correct.

However, before you could ask Natasha if she was doing okay or what her favorite color is, you watch her take off running. The smoke in the room shoots out and away from Natasha. You watch in amazement as Natasha jumps and wraps her legs around a man's head before spinning the top half of her body around, sending the man head first into the floor. His nose breaking on impact. Her landing on her feet.

Is it weird that you want that done to you?

"Your friends are taken care of. So I suggest you come out and let me kick your ass too." Natasha speaks aloud with her back facing you to the last man standing as the smoke in the room clears.

You stand up from the ground and take a step towards Nat. The gun still tightly gripped in your hand. Your eyes remain on Natasha as she starts to walk back towards you; however, before she turns around, your body gets hit with a force from the side. Launching your head into the cabinets to your left.

"Ow fucker!" You yell!

The crashing sound and your curse alerting Natasha. The larger man places his hand on your mask and pushes your head into the cabinet again, this time making it bleed as his other hand reaches for your gun. "Give up!" He yells before removing his hand from your mask to punch you in the side of your body. You groan and stumble.

He reels back to hit you again, but instead, Natasha rips the gun from your hand with efficiency and pistol whips the man in the face, sending him flying back. The man yells in pain as he readies himself to fight, but Natasha is fast. She runs and kicks the guy in his ankle, making him fall to his knee. She smirks as he yells out in pain before she double kicks him in the throat, making him fall as he begins to choke.

Before anger entirely overtakes Natasha, she hears you crash to the floor behind her. When Natasha turns around, she sees blood on the sides of the counter.

"Y/N!" Natasha runs to your side and drops the gun next to the two of you. Instantly, she's ripping the gas mask off of you and turning your head. "Let me see." She gingerly pulls your chin, making you look away so she can examine the extent of your head injury. "It doesn't look deep. But we need to stop the bleeding."

Natasha quickly looks around the damaged kitchen before finding a forgotten rag. She places it on your head and hates how you wince in pain.

"Keep your hand here." Natasha takes your left hand and places it over the rag over the cut. "Be honest.." You start as Natasha looks over the rest of you.

"Do I look cool or like dogshit?"

Natasha's lips crack into a smile at your joke. "You look so cool," Natasha says, whether it was true or not. "You took some hits, too. Impressive." Natasha says with a smile. "Yeah, well, someone didn't yell Goose." You playfully hit Natasha's leg with your foot.

"Next time." She says.

"Oh! Next time?" You say and continue. "Planning on our next date being another shootout?" You raise an eyebrow but wince when you move your head a bit too much at the moment, saving Natasha from seeing her blush.

"Who said anything about a date?" Natasha quips. You knew it was coming, but you still had a smile. "You're right. I guess shootouts aren't a good date idea. I'll pick something better for, let's say... Friday?" You laughed at your own joke per usual, but ended up coughing in pain. Not per usual.

Natasha's hands immediately went to the hem of your shirt before you reacted. "Hey. What did I say? We haven't had our date yet." Natasha thought it was cute but still rolled her eyes. "I need to check to ensure you're not bleeding internally."

"Can you really tell?" You questioned. "No. But I know a thing or two more than you, so let me look." She had you there. So, with your permission, Natasha slowly lifted your shirt but made a face when she saw your red skin already bruising and enlarging. "It's not awful, but it's going to hurt a lot before it gets better."

Natasha places her hand over the area and begins to rub. "Does it hurt here?" She lays a small out of pressure, forcing you to nod in pain. "Not at all." You whine and clench your jaw. "Okay... I'm going to call this in. Get us evac'd."

Your eyes widened not because of Natasha's words but because of the guy behind Natasha. Yes, the one she kicked in the throat started to get up. "Natasha..." You said, making her look into your eyes. "What's wrong?"

She noticed how you looked.

Natasha turned behind her to see the man perched up on his good knee. Gun in hand. She immediately puts her body directly in front of yours.

"Step aside, widow. Let me kill this one without trouble."

"Not going to let that happen." Natasha reached behind her and expertly grabbed the gun she gave you earlier from the floor and pulled it in front of her, not wasting another breath as she fired the weapon twice—one into the man's chest and the other directly into the man's head.

From her crouched position, she got up with precision and made it to the man on the floor. She kicked the smoking gun out of his hand and made sure he was... Wait- smoking gun?

Natasha looked from the gun to you.

Fear ran through her body as she saw your figure slumped over on the floor in a bigger pool of your own blood.

Natasha would've ran to your body if this would've been her first time in a position like this, but it wasn't. She had saved countless people before, and she was not about to lose you!

So Natasha ran to her bag and rifled through a side pocket until she found her phone and a needle of Tetrodotoxin B. A drug developed by Bruce Banner with the idea of slowing his heart rate to one beat per minute. Natasha didn't know if it worked on Bruce or not, but she knew SHEILD had it for some reason.

Right now, that reason was going to be you.

As Natasha flicked the end of the needle and pulled your arm out in front of you, she called Clint on speaker phone. "Sorry if this hurts," Natasha said to your now unconscious body. Her eyes watering.

"Hello?"

"Go secure!" Natasha yelled as she sat your body up and ripped off the right half of your shirt to examine your bullet wound.

"Secure," Clint replied. "Shit!" Natasha replied, confusing the bow and arrow man. "Natasha?"

Nat looked at your head wound and the rest of your body. The Banner drug was going to help keep you alive, but you were still losing blood.

Natasha hated everything about this moment.

Ups and downs. The day Natasha met someone who didn't know who she was. The day she could actually see herself being around someone was also the day they were bleeding out in front of her.

"I need evac! Safehouse A is blown. Got caught up in a shoot out, and Y/N is hit."

She got up and went to look for whatever medical supplies she had in addition to any extra clothes to get you changed and wrapped your wound.

"Y/N?" Clint questioned. "Like the Golden retriever? The neighbor from across the hall?"

"Yep! She's not going to make it unless you send someone right now, Clint."Natasha didn't want to believe her words. Barton, for one thing, couldn't.

"Are you serious?"

"Serious as a God falling from the sky."

"Go to safe house B. Evac is on the way."

With that, the line clicked, and the call ended. Natasha did her best to dress your injuries before the only thing she was doing was watching how slow your breathing had become...

_

You woke up to bright lights above you and a horrible feeling in your nose... and head.... and shoulder... and side. Wow!

Wow.

Okay, so you actually had this horrible feeling called pain all over you.

You tried lifting your head to look around, but it felt like a ton of bricks was pushing on your skull. But you pushed through and found a short brown-haired man sitting in a chair by the only door in or out. "Who the fuck was he?" You thought and tried to speak, but your throat was too scratchy to say anything, making you cough.

The man in the chair looked up at the noise and noticed you.

He sent a quick message on his phone before closing it. He got up from his lazy position, running to your bedside table, and filled up a tiny paper cup full of water. "Here." He said as he held it in front of your lips.

You don't know if he didn't trust you or if your hands/arms were too weak. You didn't want to find out, so you took a sip from the cup and let the cold water run down your burning throat. "Thank you."

"Welcome." Silence. "Natasha should be down here soon. I let her know you woke up." You tilted your head and looked over the man, slightly nodding. "So you're Y/N?" He already knew, but Clint was happy he could talk to someone new for a change. Even if he did talk like an uncle, you don't see but once every couple of years.

"Where am I?" You ignored the man walking back to the chair near the door and asked.

"You're safe if that's your concern." He spoke, but you just sighed. "Anytime a woman is alone in a room with a man and he says something like that. It doesn't make her feel safe."

Clint bit his lip as he listened to your words before nodding along. "Can't argue with that." Clint got up again from the chair and made his way to you. Making you jump and look him over. "I'm Clint. I'm the one Natasha spoke to on the phone." You remembered the phone call before the windows blew out, but not much after getting your head thrown into a kitchen cabinet.

"Hi, Clint. Are you going to tell me where I am?" You asked in a tone more annoyed off than friendly. Clint smiled. "I see why Natasha likes you."

Now that got you interested!

But before you or Uncle Clint could say anything else, the door opened, and in ran Natasha. Her cuts are all covered by bandages, and her face clean from a shower. "How long has she been up?" Natasha passed her friend, stopping to stand next to you.

"I let you know the second she did." Clint smiled at you and Natasha. "I'll leave you to it." Natasha thanked Clint, and the two of you watched him leave the room.

"You probably feel like shit huh?" Natasha questioned, but as she reached to move a hair from your face, you backed away. Natasha didn't understand why. "Y/N?" She asked.

"Who are you?" You asked, making Natasha's jaw drop before she quickly recovered. Helen didn't mention any memory loss. Natasha looked away, a little hurt that this might be the case, but when she looked back, she saw you smiling. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Holding in a laugh.

Natasha figured it out.

"Fuck you!"

"I got you!" You laughed and cheered before wincing in pain and coughing. Making Natasha smile at the instant karma while getting you a cup of water. "Serves you right."

She held the cup up to your pink lips and watched a little spill out the corners of your mouth. She watched a droplet slide down your throat and disappear into your gown.

Your voice bringing Natasha back. "I just lived through many movie cliches. I HAD to do this one." You said, making Natasha smile and nod to you before she sat at the edge in the middle of the bed.

Natasha wanted to reach for your hand as silence enveloped the two of you. She wanted to tell you how close you were to dying or how scared she was. But Natasha didn't reach for your hand.

Instead, you reached for hers. 

"You know if a hot spy is going to come into my hospital room in an unknown location, the least she could do is hold my hand."

That made Natasha Romanoff blush.

"Hot spy, huh?" Natasha teased, but you just nodded, feeling confident. "Look in a mirror, Natasha." Natasha laughed. "Sometimes you really just don't stop flirting." That made you smile. Natasha didn't say it was lousy flirting. "Just wait till we start dating."

"Oh?" Natasha raised her eyebrow but hit back a smile. "Is that what we're going to do?"

"Yeah, remember, shootouts don't count. So Friday, you and I are going out." Natasha shook her head but didn't disagree. "You don't even know what day it is." That was true. "Friday...?" You looked at Natasha with hope, but she shook her head again. "Nope. Besides. I like it went my dates aren't still in a hospital bed." You sighed but internally screamed at Natasha, flirting back. Natasha watched you before turning away. Her thumb rubbed over yours.

"Hey.." Natasha started making you look at her. "I- I'm sorry for getting you involved in my mess. You-" Natasha stopped and pulled her hand away to rub her face. "You almost died because of me." Natasha felt guilty. She should've kicked you out the second you weren't a threat. Instead, she liked having your company. In the minutes you spent in Natasha's presence, she wanted to keep you around.

"Natasha." You reached out for her hand again and was surprised when she gave it to you. But you still pulled her hand, making her look to you. Her green eyes shining. You nodded for Natasha to scoot closer.

She did.

"Don't blame yourself." Natasha went to open her mouth, but you interrupted her. "There's no doubt I would be dead if you hadn't been there. Besides... I'm the curious one. I knocked on your door. I wanted to get to know you. I stuck around because I wanted to. My body hurts like hell. But I'm alive because of you."

Natasha didn't look entirely convinced, but that would come in time. It was sad to see this badass person beat herself up over something that wasn't your fault or hers. It just happened because of horrible people. "Can you at least do me something?" Natasha tilted her head. "What?"

"Can you at least tell yourself that you saved me?" That sounded like a big ask at the moment but not as big as the next thing. "And! Tell me that you actually enjoy my flirting because it's only going to get worse." That made Natasha throw her head back and laugh, making you smile.

You were so focused on Natasha that you didn't see the room door open.

"Oh wow, never thought I'd see the day. Natasha Romanoff laughing! Time!?!" The man with a striking anchor beard and a Tom Ford suit called out as he walked closer to the bed you laid in.

"Good to see you awake. It's nice to put a name to the face of my almost-dead Budapest employee."

Tony Stark looked you over as sassy as the man is known for before looking at Natasha, who was internally scolding him for mispronouncing Budapesht.

"Quite a catch, that one. So what's the diagnosis?! How long we got?" He picked up your chart and began flipping through paperwork he should not be looking at before Natasha took it. "Tony..." She sounded exhausted already. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you." He said, looking upset that your chart got taken away from him. "I came to see who was moving in."

If Tony Stark. Your boss. Who also happens to have a hobby of flying around in a gold and red suit wasn't shocking enough to you than that last sentence that he said was.

"Moving in?!?" You asked, shocked. Ton- Mr. Stark- no Iron Man..?! What were you supposed to call him?!

Mr. Tony Man looked from you to Natasha before saying: "Looks like you didn't tell the Misses." This made Natasha get up and grab the not-so-tin man by his collar, whispering methods of torture she would use if he didn't leave the two of you alone.

"I expect to see you at work once you make a full recovery!" Tony yelled and pointed at you before the redhead slammed the door in his face.

Natasha composed herself before turning to you, still wearing a shocked face. "Moving in?!?" You asked again. Natasha nodded as she walked to you. "Yes. We-" She sighed. "I thought it would be the safest option for you. Plus, you can recover here. You're back in the States." Natasha's words fell on the quiet side before she sat on the bed.

Closer to you this time. "I can think of a few other reasons.." You look at Natasha and smiled.

"You don't have to. If you want to leave or go back to Budapesht, I understand." Natasha wants you to know that there is no pressure to stay. But you already know this. If you wanted to get up right now and leave, Natasha would probably let you.

"Staying might be nice."

"Yeah?" Natasha looks hopeful. "Yeah." Natasha smiles and reaches her hand to your face. Moving a stray hair back behind your ear. "If you do stay, that means I can tell you the best part."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" You curiously ask as Natasha looks at you like she's got some big secret.

"I'd be your neighbor across the hall."

You were free to leave the hospital bed 4 days later.

The next day you moved in right across from Natasha Romanoff.

A week later you took her on a date.

dividers by @/benkeibear

#natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natahsa romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow #one shot #marvel #tw men #protective natasha #black widow x reader #black widow x y/n #black widow imagine #black widow x female reader #black widow x you #clint barton #fluff #olsenmyolsen #daddy natasha romanoff #mommy natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #fanfic #y/n #feelings while bleeding out #tw blo0d #almsot crying natasha #uncle clint barton

[drdemonprince]

Can we really expand our window of tolerance as autistic people? I’ve been working on that kind of thing for so long and I can’t tell if I’ve made any genuine progress or if I’ve just unconsciously doubled down on masking :(

We can! But our expanded distress tolerance can't come out of nowhere. Something has to give. So for example, for me, I have way fewer sensory issues these days than I used to have, by a wide margin, and I have significantly less social anxiety and don't need much social recharge time on the level that I used to. I have more distress tolerance for sensory input and for social stressors now than I ever have before -- but this has required lifestyle changes and unmasking in order to get there. Let me break down both these improvements and how they happened:

Even as recently as a year ago, I would have terrible sensory meltdowns on a regular basis. But I haven't had a single sensory meltdown in months, maybe not even a single one for the entirety of 2023 so far? And that's because I have a) cut out caffeine, dramatically reducing my physiological stress levels, b) cut back on some workplace stress by reducing my commitments, c) stopped taking on additional projects outside of work that I didn't want to do and that only caused me stress (workshops and talks), and d) began working from home far more consistently, and made myself a wfh office that is more comfortable.

Now I operate from a really solid base of sensory comfort most days and I'm not overloaded with information or overwhelmed with obligations. This means I am far more tolerant of screaming people on the bus, the upstairs toddler slamming her feet on the floor, ambulances blaring by, noisy concerts, people bumping into me at the bar, etc.

I also am, for the first time in my life, clear-headed enough to recognize when I am starting to experience sensory distress, and can intentionally put on sunglasses or pop in ear plugs or remove myself from an upsetting situation more quickly. I had to experience what being relaxed and not overstimulated felt like, and get accustomed to living that way, in order to recognize subtler signs that I was feeling shitty and take steps to address those small annoyances before they exploded. I can handle a lot "more" in an intentional way now because I built my life to allow "less." My overall distress tolerance has still expanded -- but it's because I stopped masking and began attending to my sensory and stress regulation needs.

For the social piece, my distress tolerance has also gone up due to unmasking. If I was still motivated by passing as NT or being socially acceptable all the time, I'd be so overwhelmed being around people and worn down by every interaction. I also wouldnt be able to advocate for myself. But in the past few years I've become more and more openly weird and outspoken in my needs and true feelings, and I've recognized that the right people actually love me more when I do so and show up for me, and so being honest or even difficult to deal with is not really a threat.

This means I just don't experience much distress being honest or difficult to deal with anymore. I really can tolerate the discomfort of telling someone they're wrong or that I'm hurt without freaking out about being hurt or abandoned, because I've had a lot of good experiences with it and because I enjoy being unmasked so deeply that I just can't put my personality back in a bottle.

Masking lowers distress tolerance because it frays your nerves with stress and wears you out and bars you from ever getting to attend to and regulate your discomfort when there are signs of it happening. In order to increase your distress tolerance, you actually have to learn to better honor your discomfort early, and preventatively, so that you don't bubble over into a meltdown after days or weeks of ignoring your needs.

I think some people think distress tolerance is about becoming more tough, but it's quite the opposite. We become more resilient by getting better at recognizing and attending to our hurts.

[heeseung-min]

Hey so i saw that one post of yours where the reader is oblivious ot maybe dumb and she isn't scared of her stalker jungwon. If you are free please do more like this for maybe hee or sunghoon and i really love all your works muah muah muah

love you too anon mwahh😘😆, hope you enjoy this

[07:23]

You were walking to go home. However, you noticed that someone was following you from behind. At first, you thought it was just imagination but then when you took out your phone to take a selfie, you noticed the man started to turn around instead of keep walking like normal people.

You started to fasten your steps but the guy also didn't give up and quicken his steps also to catch up with you. When you finally reached the front door, your hands were shaking so bad while pressing on the numbers to unlock the door.

When you finally got inside, the door got kicked from outside. You screamed for help while pressing on the door to close it but the man was too strong and he pushed the door with strong force and made you fell down to the floor.

"Please, don't hurt me. I'm begging you."

"Awh baby, I just want to have a little 'fun' with you. Come to daddy, babygirl."

"Sorry but you are too old for my taste."

Congratulation. You successfully made the older man furious. He took out a knife from his pocket. You backed away from him and started throwing things towards him.

"Bitch like you should die. That way I can enjoy your body better."

You closed your eyes waiting for the impact but you didn't feel anything. However, you opened your eyes back when you heard a loud scream and saw the man who wanted to attack you were laying down on the floor while bleeding on his head. You looked at your side and this time it was another man but it was hard for you to determine his face since he was wearing a mask.

"Go to your room. I will handle this.", he said that without looking at you. Quickly, you stood up and ran to your room. You covered your ears to prevent yourself from hearing the old man screams. You didn't know how long you were in that position but you finally saw the man who saved you from the old man crouching in front of you.

"Are you okay, sweet?", he asked with genuine concern on his face. You don't know why but your tears started to fall down making the man in front of you panicked.

"Oh my- what what why are you crying? Is it because of me? I'm sorry I had to do that cause I don't want him to hurt you. I- I will go okay."

When he wanted to stand up, you hold him tightly. He sat down in front of you and waited until you finally calmed down. He smiled at the way your hand was still tightly hold his.

"Thank you for saving me."

"It's my pleasure, sweet."

You didn't know what got into you but you really made the man in front of you shocked when you leaned closer to take his mask off his face. You gasped at the familiar sight of your coworker.

"Sung..hoon?"

Sunghoon felt dumb and embarrassed at the same time. He couldn't say anything so he just looked down on his lap where both of your hands still holding to each other.

"I'm sorry if you hate me right now but I don't have any bad intention to you-"

"Why are you absent?"

For once again, you made the man speechless. He expected you to scream or being mad at him for stalking you but instead you innocently asked his whereabouts.

"I- I had a fever but then I was bored cause I can't see you so I decided to break into your house just to see you for awhile and then this happened."

Sunghoon nervously answered while looking at your reaction. You didn't seem afraid or mad but full of curiousity.

"Are you still sick then?"

What? Why are you not scared? Sunghoon felt weird. He thought you were deaf for seconds cause you seem so okay after he confessed being your stalker.

"You heard right that I break into your home? I stalk you everyday since the first day you started to work at the office. Are yoy okay with that?"

"Yep, you never hurt me so why should I be scared? Plus, you just saved me from that man. Who knows what will happen if you are not here?"

My goodness. If your parents heard this, they will slap their forehead for having dumb child like you.

"Have you eat? I can make clam porridge! My mother always make me that when I'm sick. It's like a magic cause it literally cure me."

You said excitedly while holding him to stand up. You brought him to the dining table and sat him down. Your house looked neat than before when the old man came in. There was no stain on the floor at all.

"Where is the old man?"

"I got rid of him, sweet. No need to be worry."

You smiled and continue cooking. Sunghoon felt peace. It looks like what he had imagined. Doing something domestic with you. He wanted to feel like this everyday. He went to your back and slipped his hands on you while you were cutting the ingredients.

"You should fold your fingers to avoid getting cut. Like this."

Now you are the one who suddenly went speechless. Both of you were in that position for several minutes after Sunghoon finally let you go to prepare something else.

The dinner went smoothly and Sunghoon was still curious why you felt okay about him being your stalker. He sat on the couch after the meal while staring at you.

"How can you be okay with this?"

"Hmm?"

He caressed your cheek gently. Your eyes are the most attractive thing he ever see.

"I stalk you y/n. I have so many pictures of you and I even know everything about you. Even your favourite meal to buy at convenience store. I'm obsessed with you so bad that I can kill anyone for you. Are you really okay with that?"

"You did that cause you love me, right? So, why would I be afraid? I would be so grateful to have you in my life, Sunghoon."

That day, Sunghoon stopped stalking you cause he doesn't need to when he finally got to live with you. Every single day, both of you will go and back home together. Doing domestic things and sharing affections with each other. At times, Sunghoon show his posessive side when guys couldn't take a hint but at the end you guys still happy with each other.

My goodness, this is so soft HAHHAHAHAHAHAH i really hope you guys enjoy this

Taglist: @stacey-stonem @duolingofanaccount @huggyuvita @obsessed1with1straykids

#yandere enhypen #yandere kpop #kpop yandere #enha x reader #lee heeseung #park jongseong #park sunghoon #jake sim #kim sunoo #yang jungwon #nishimura riki #yandere au #yandere sunghoon #yandere drabble #enha scenarios #yandere enha #enhypen scenarios #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon x reader

[thedirtybeanlife]

Random Task Force 141 Headcannons That I Need to Get Out of My Head

-Ghost-

has the biggest heart ever and refuses to show it to 99.9999% of the population

sleeps with a nightlight because he's scared of the dark

has a strict routine after missions are over, and he gets irritated if it's interrupted

prefers savory over sweet

enjoys beans on toast and eats it nearly every morning

listens to so much Queen and old classic rock

hates noisy environments

thinks a hot dog is a sandwich

likes dogs; bigger the better

^^ wants a st. bernard and plans on rescuing one when he retires

always carries a lighter and a single slightly bent cigarette on him

he doesn't smoke it, but he takes it out and looks at it every so often. nobody knows why

(it's his moms)

occasionally, if the times line up right, he stays with Price when they're both on leave.

they usually just grill and talk on the back patio sharing a bottle of the best whiskey they could find on short notice having the most random conversations

makes soap sew parts of his mask back together because he can never thread the string through the needle and Soap has steady hands

refuses to eat seafood

wears fake designer colognes that smell exactly like the real thing and lies about it

has never used mens 3-in-1 and brags about it

-Soap-

the worst case of adhd to ever exist

expert at cleaning guns

loves puzzles with complicated pictures

tired to learn how to play guitar and gave up on the first day

it still sits against the dresser in his room

skydives with practicing trainees when he gets bored

listens to the weirdest mix of music

i.e. Black Sabbath to Childish Gambino

(Gaz influences a lot of his music taste)

always has hidden candy somewhere

broke his wrist once and didn't realize until almost a week later

when he brushes his teeth he practically showers in toothpaste from how violent he does it

spends a lot of his time drawing whatever comes to mind in a small notepad he keeps in his pocket

gordon ramsey level chef over here

the entire task force begs him to cook for them when they have free time

has a shitty stick n poke tattoo on his ankle he did when he was 16 with pen ink and an earring

it's an uneven, wobbly smiley face with x's as eyes

is either really calm or really chaotic

no in between

-Gaz-

loud, contrary to popular belief

at least when he's not out in the field or working

avid video gamer

loves calm games like Stardew and Minecraft

the best music taste to ever exist

can also cook pretty well

soap and him often team up and play their own version of Chopped when they're bored on base

has a golden retriever named Max that stays with his sister when he's deployed

he got Max before he enlisted

hates beans on toast

beans make him gag

Ghost bullies him for it

likes working on the military vehicles and learning about how they work

even with his young age, he struggles more with technology than most of his superiors

doesn't like drinking or being intoxicated in any way

complains he's hot but proceeds to sit under five different blankets

will eat an entire pack of Oreo's in one sitting if you let him

please don't let him

he gets sick and complains that his stomach hurts all day

-Price-

big morning person

always awake by 5:00am

prefers his coffee overly sweet rather than bitter and black

has a small office in his house where he keeps his fancy cigars, liquors, and whiskey glasses

collects cool lighters

the team buys him a new one every year for Christmas

reads every morning when he drinks his daily morning coffee and every night before he goes to sleep

he's supposed to wear glasses but he doesn't like the way he looks in them so he only wears them when he absolutely can not see

cat person all the way

like Ghost, he's waiting to retire until he gets a new furry companion

he's not the best chef in the world, but he can cook a decently good meal

likes to help soap and gaz sometimes, especially if they let him grill something

gets stressed really easily, which makes his job so much harder

this poor man deserves a year long vacation istg

winter is his favorite season

root beer barrels are his favorite candy

always has some stashed somewhere on his person no matter where he is

absolutely has a dollar shave club subscription and uses the code from a survival YouTuber he watches

#fanfiction #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #fanfic #mw2022 #simon riley x reader #xreader #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #cod fic

[akixxsstuff]

Dating L would be like...

Death Note L Lawliet x gender neutral reader

(I'm aware that the picture says girlfriend but the gender of the reader is not specified in the fic. The pictures were also edited by me).

Fluff // One shot

Summary: L was more like a machine than a human, he was cold, calculated and a "no fun and games" type of person aside from the occasional sarcastic or dry humored comment. L never lost his composure and would repress any emotion he had has a intimidation tactic. He was blunt and wouldn't allow anything or anyone to dethrone him.

However around you, L wasn't quite that...

The task force had suspected you and L were a couple, but whenever anyone asked about it, L would quickly shut down the conversation and went back to his work, saying that it wasn't any of their business. You and L were a couple but he just wanted to keep things secretive and professional since doing otherwise made him feel vulnerable.

He couldn't let his suspect Light know how much you meant to him just in case he used it against him, plus it was just in L's nature to be serective.

However as soon the doors were closed and the task force was gone, he would be nuzzling into your shoulder, whining for attention. He would never stop clinging onto you until he got he's way because in his own words, "I'm also childish and don't like to lose".

Like today for instance:

"Not now Lolly, I've got an appointment to book", you said sighing while L continued kissing your neck and nibbling your ear from behind. "I love you but I do not appreciate your lack of cooperation" L then grumbled.

Lolly was your main pet name for L since it sounded like it was short for lollipop, (and we all know how much L loves those) and sounded similar to his real name, Lawliet. Panda was also another common one since he reminded you of one with his dark eyes and pale skin.

He then kneeled in between your legs with his head resting on your thigh, looking up at you in annoyance in an attempt to guilt trip you, (however he couldn't mask he's pleading eyes). "Lolly I already told you I'm busy, just 10 more minutes okay my love?" you cooed while stroking his cheek. But L didn't care, he picked you up bridal style from your chair and tossed you onto the bed. "Lawliet, you should know of all people how important it is to not have any distractions from your work" you said rasing an eyebrow. "You make a fair point" L says with his thumb on his lip, "But I'm not feeling very empathetic tonight" then he proceeded to smother you with kisses.

Your dates were either cafe hopping, picnics in the park, or L trying to teach you tennis. You would always try to get him to wear shoes but he would refuse, saying "I don't like how they feel". "I know but I don't want you to step on a piece of glass and hurt yourself" you would say while kissing his forehead. "I'm sure I'll live" L would say while kissing you back. You would then sigh and take off your shoes, "Fine. If that's how you want to play" and you both would walk around barefoot.

Another thing L wouldn't budge on is removing all the cameras and wiring taps from your room, if someone broke in and tired to hurt you he needed to know immediately who was responsible so he could toss them in jail forever. He valued your life way more than his, afterall, he did challenge Kira to kill him live on broadcast.

L absolutely loved when you taunted his number one suspect Light, in fact it was his love language.

"I'm not Kira!" Light would yell.

"You're not a very convincing actor Light, but hey! Maybe they'll give you an academy award in prison just for trying. Light Yagami! Mass murderer tries playing innocent victim!".

As a detective, L would always be analysising people's behaviour and you were no expectation.

"How was your day darling?" L cooed.

"Fine. I'm going to my room".

You say that you're fine Y/N yet you're tone and lack of physical affection would indicate otherwise. Could you be trying to deprive me of your attention as an indirect punishment? What could have I done?

However, you did mention how your work load has increased because of the lack of empyoees, were you stressed from that and simply avoided me to avoid talking about it? Did you just want to forget the stresses of your day? I should confront you instead of making any assumptions, it could make matters worse because you might believe that I am deliberately ignoring you.

"Love, I believe I have done something to upset you, please tell me what it is was so I can correct my behaviour. Will you accept this piece of cake as a initial peace offering? If I'm not to blame then please tell me who's bothering you so I can potentially sue them".

#death note #fluff #fanfic #x reader #l lawliet #y/n #one shot #gender neutral y/n

[gerrystamour]

i could be honest, i could be human [Chapters 4, 5 & 6]

Rated E | Steddie

[ FIRST PART ] [ PREVIOUS PART ] [ NEXT PART ]

No summary to save space since this is a meaty update. SOME CONTENT WARNINGS THOUGH!! There is some vaguely described homophobia and a brief mention of a homophobic hate crime. Nothing is explicitly described.

Chapter Four: November 1984

It had been a few days since Billy Hargrove had beat the shit out of Steve and his ears were still ringing. Nancy wanted him to go to the doctor about it, saying something about his brain swelling and how that was bad. He figured he was fine. If his brain was going to crush itself on the inside of his skull, it would’ve done it already, right?

Regardless, going to the doctor would mean telling someone even a fraction of the events that happened, and he was in too much pain to keep his story straight.

Everything hurt at that point. His whole head pounded, and his jaw clicked at the hinge when he yawned or chewed any food, his nose was broken, and a bunch of Steve’s teeth were worryingly loose, shifting painfully in his swollen gums. To top it all off, he had a nasty gash on the side of his head from the plate Billy broke over it that definitely needed stitches because it kept reopening. But his head would have to be shaved to get stitches, and that was not an option.

He survived, and it wasn’t like it bled that much when the wound reopened. It was fine.

It also didn’t help that his breathing was also a little fucked up. The air inside the tunnels was definitely toxic, and their stupid little makeshift masks were a pathetic attempt at protecting themselves. He could still taste the tunnels sometimes when he managed to take a deep enough breath. Steve imagined that was what rotting meat would taste like, which was not helpful in the least.

Steve had been calling himself out of class, both because he was too messed up for the faculty to just ignore and because being in that bright, noisy, and crowded building while he felt so shitty was probably what Hell would feel like.

At that moment, he was shuffling through the aisles of Melvald’s—wearing sunglasses inside like a douchebag—to grab painkillers since he already used up his supply at home. The cashier gawked at him as he paid for the medication, and he didn’t even tell her off. Steve knew how bad he looked and he was just relieved that she wasn’t Ms. Byers.

Steve headed out into the sunlight with a groan, flinching as the bright light blinded him through his dark sunglasses. He didn’t even notice that he stepped out of the store and right into someone’s path as they passed until their shoulder caught his.

Normally, a bump like that would have made Steve stumble a step at most. This time, while his equilibrium was on vacation and he could barely even stand without holding onto something, he went down hard. Steve barely got his hands out in front of him to save what was left of his busted face from another traumatic injury.

Now, he had road rash on the heels of his palms, one of his wrists hurt, and the fall triggered a wave of dizzy nausea that actually made him dry-heave a bit before he regained some of his composure. To top that all off, his sunglasses had fallen off his face and from the sound of it, they had skittered directly under someone’s foot with a resounding crack.

“Fuck,” Steve managed to groan, and distantly he knew someone was talking to him, but it was difficult to hear them over the whooshing in his ears.

The person sounded alarmed, understandably so, and Steve managed to say, “Sorry, I promise I won’t puke.”

“Bummer, I was kinda hoping you would,” the person said, their voice finally coming in clearer as the whooshing subsided. “It would really make my day.”

Eddie Munson. Of course it was Eddie, there to witness another very low point in Steve’s life.

“On second thought, maybe I will,” Steve said, shakily pushing himself up onto his knees.

“Have you been drinking, Harrington?” Eddie asked, his voice getting closer as he crouched next to Steve on the sidewalk.

“I wish that’s what this was, Munson,” Steve replied with a wry laugh, hissing when cool fingers suddenly grabbed his chin and turned his face toward him.

“What the fuck, Harrington? Who the fuck did this?”

If Steve didn’t know better, he’d think that Eddie was actually concerned. Upset even. Like he actually cared that Steve was beaten up and concussed and on his knees in the middle of the sidewalk on a Thursday morning. Even if Steve could have opened his eyes against the bright sunlight, he wouldn’t have. He wanted to avoid seeing the grin that Eddie was undoubtedly wearing, didn’t want to ruin the illusion that someone else outside of the party cared that he was hurt. 

With a hiss, Steve lifted a hand to the side of his head where he felt warmth trickling through his hair and sure enough his fingertips felt something wet. He laughed bitterly as he pulled his hand away.

Like Eddie said on Halloween—it was only funny if Steve was bleeding, right?

“Shit, Harrington, you’re bleeding,” Eddie said, and his voice was all wrong. There was no banter, no laughter, only what Steve would describe as panic if it was anyone else talking to him.

“Yeah, that happens. I’ll be fine, I just need—fuck, why is it so bright out here?” Steve croaked, trying to open his eyes but without his sunglasses, it just felt like hot icepicks were being driven through both eyeballs.

Steve could hear Melvald’s door open with a jingle, and the tense voice of the cashier said, “he can’t stay out here like that.”

“You’re actually fucking joking, right?” Eddie snapped, his tone so full of venom that Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

“I don’t want any trouble, and both of you are scaring people—”

Eddie cut her off with a mean laugh. “He’s on the ground bleeding, and you care about, what exactly?”

“Munson, stop,” Steve murmured, trying to get to his feet again but failing miserably.

“Either you both leave or I’m calling the cops,” she snapped, her tone closed off. Panic flashed through Steve about Hopper seeing him laid out on the sidewalk like he was and he shook his head.

“Oh, I fucking dare you to, lady—” Eddie started to taunt her again, but Steve smacked his leg blindly.

“Stop, Munson, seriously,” Steve insisted before addressing the employee. “We’ll leave, okay? I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Eddie scoffed at his apology, but the employee thanked him and the door shut as she presumably went inside.

“Okay, can you help me to my car? I parked it down the street—” Steve started.

“Like hell am I taking you to your car, Harrington!” Eddie interrupted, his voice almost shrill with his outrage.

“Well I can’t stay here, so unless you have a better idea…” Steve trailed off, his head throbbing with a new flash of agony.

Eddie was silent for several moments before the various chains he wore jingled with movement. “I’m going to take you to my van, okay?” Eddie said, his voice now coming from above Steve rather than next to him. Eddie didn’t even wait for him to respond before he grabbed Steve and easily hauled him to his feet.

Steve was surprised at Eddie’s strength, not quite expecting it from the way Eddie looked and behaved. Not only was he strong enough to lift Steve, but he was controlled enough with that strength to do it without jostling him unpleasantly. When Eddie settled Steve against his side with an arm tucked firmly around his waist, that embarrassed fluttering filled Steve’s gut again for some reason.

Maybe Nancy was right and his brain was starting to swell.

That thought was reaffirmed when they reached Eddie’s van and he had zero recollection of moving. Eddie was muttering in his ear, and after a moment of concentration he managed to understand some of the words.

“—Idiot pretty-boys passing out and bleeding all over my new fucking battle vest—”

“You regularly haul around bleeding pretty-boys, plural, Munson?” Steve groaned as Eddie startled at his voice. The other man propped Steve against the bumper of his van and carefully let him go.

“Nah, Harrington, only you get the royal treatment,” Eddie admitted with a chuckle. “Can you get yourself into the van, or do you need my help?”

Steve considered the question carefully, his eyes shut and head hanging. He could probably tough out the pain enough to get himself into the van. He had toughed out the pain and dizziness to run around tunnels made of writhing vines and crawling with Demo-dogs. Crawling into a van was nothing.

And yet…

“Okay, I’m helping before you pass out on me again,” Eddie grunted as he scrambled up into the van and knelt behind him. With a huff, Eddie weaved his arms beneath Steve’s and around his chest, his own chest pressing against Steve’s back. Curly hair tickled against Steve’s cheek and hot breath puffed across his throat. “Okay, big boy, you’ve gotta help a little bit.”

Heat burst across Steve’s cheeks, that terrible fluttering feeling running rampant in his gut, but all he did was nod and hum his agreement.

“On three, okay?” Eddie said, and once he counted them in, Steve pushed up on his tip-toes at the same time Eddie lifted him. Once he was partly inside the van, Steve was able to hook his heel on the bumper and help push himself the rest of the way while Eddie pulled.

Once inside, Steve laid on a pile of blankets on top of a mattress that was probably shitty, but at the moment was the best damn thing he’d ever had the pleasure of laying on. Distantly, he heard the van doors close, as well as some fabric shifting, and blessedly the world became a lot less bright through his eyelids. Steve found himself marveling at how Eddie’s van… did not smell bad, not even that much like pot. It did smell like pot, it definitely did, but it wasn’t awful like other vehicles he had the displeasure of sitting in after a hotboxing session.

At that thought, Steve realized he had no idea if Eddie actually did any of the drugs he sold. He could have just been selling, right? And yeah, on Halloween he offered to share a joint with Steve, but that didn’t actually mean Eddie smoked pot regularly. Steve always lied about hating the chicken nuggets at school so Jonathan would actually take them from his tray when he offered. 

Suddenly, Steve felt bad about all of his assumptions about Eddie all over again.

“M’sorry,” Steve mumbled before he could stop himself, and Eddie laughed, still moving around the van.

“What are you apologizing for now, St—Harrington?”

“What I’m always sorry for,” he sighed, reaching up to cover his face gingerly. “Being an asshole.”

Eddie was quiet for a long time, or maybe it was a short time, but it felt really long because there was a script to these moments. Steve called himself an asshole, Eddie agreed, and they moved on. Eddie wasn’t agreeing, so Steve wasn’t sure how to move on.

When Eddie spoke again, he still sounded weird, almost sad. “You wanna give opening your eyes a try, Harrington?”

With a nervous sigh, Steve slowly opened his eyes and glanced around the van. It looked old and a bit rundown, like the outside suggested, but it was clean. There was a curtain between them in the far back and the middle bench, which looked like Eddie installed himself. There was also some fabric covering the rear windows, giving the space they were laying in a dimmer, gentler light. It was light enough that Steve could see, but not so bright that it hurt him.

“That’s a lot better,” Steve sighed, and finally he looked up at Eddie’s face.

Eddie was sitting next to Steve, his back leaning against the side wall of the van with his knees bent and his arms resting loosely on top of them. He looked kind of angry, and Steve was at a loss for why he would be. He remembered the muttered complaint about blood on his vest and when he looked at it properly, sure enough, there were dark red drops and smears on the shoulder.

“Sorry about your vest. I’ll pay to have it cleaned,” he promised, and when Eddie’s stare didn’t soften, he looked away nervously.

“Seriously, Harrington, who the fuck hurt you?” Eddie asked again, as if he was about to fight for Steve’s honour or something, and Steve laughed.

“Billy Hargrove,” he said as he looked back over at Eddie, and just as he expected, the other man deflated a bit, his anger turning into something closer to fear. “It was pretty fucking stupid on my part.”

“Why were you fighting Hargrove?” Eddie asked and Steve mulled over the best way to answer.

“I was babysitting—”

“Oh, fuck off, no you weren’t,” Eddie scoffed, and Steve frowned over at him.

“Yes, I was. I’m a damn good babysitter, too,” Steve said defensively. 

He was really trying not to take Eddie’s skepticism too personally; he knew how weird that concept sounded from the outside. Hell, a year ago even Steve would have scoffed at what he was saying. Still, it was really starting to suck having everything he said and did doubted because of who he was a year ago.

“Okay, and why would you be babysitting? What’s in it for you?” Eddie asked, eying him closely.

“I was helping Ms. Byers out,” Steve replied as if that answered everything, before he continued, “anyway, his step-sister was hanging out with us, and then Billy showed up, she was scared of him, so I tried to get him to leave.”

“Looks like it hurt a lot,” Eddie said quietly, cringing sympathetically.

Steve shrugged, which was a bit awkward while laying down. “Honestly, I was out cold for most of it. Didn’t feel much after the first couple hits,” he laughed, but Eddie didn’t join in.

“That’s not a fight, Harrington. That’s a beating,” Eddie replied, his voice deeper than Steve was used to hearing and lacking any of its usual lightness.

“Yeah, I guess so. Better me than her,” Steve replied with a flippant shrug; he was no stranger to being hit, even if the only other time he took a beating to the face was his fight with Jonathan the year before. Then he added before he could stop himself, “she was afraid he was going to kill her, so I tried to get him to leave. Then he threatened to kill one of the other kids, Lucas Sinclair?”

Steve looked over at Eddie and watched him as he visibly sifted through his knowledge of the people in Hawkins. Recognition sparked behind Eddie’s eyes and his expression darkened.

“I know the Sinclairs. Nice people,” Eddie said after a bit, scowling.

Steve nodded. “He’s a good kid, too, not that I’d say that to his face. It’d go straight to his head,” he said, smirking when Eddie chuckled. With a heavy sigh, Steve said, “He threatened to kill Lucas, so I hit him and then…”

He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his face.

Eddie was still staring at Steve when he looked back, and he started to squirm a bit under the intense gaze. “You’re just a regular knight in shining armour, aren’t you?” Eddie asked after a bit and Steve laughed, especially at how angry Eddie still looked and how begrudging he sounded.

“Yeah, totally. And you know what they say,” Steve hummed sarcastically, looking up at the ceiling. “No good deed goes unpunished and all that.”

“Maybe you should start avoiding the Byers?” Eddie suggested and Steve barked out a laugh that hurt his head and made him wince.

“Christ, maybe,” he admitted, running his tongue along his loose teeth. “Starting to think I should just get the hell out of this town,” he muttered, surprising even himself.

“Shit, the King is going to abandon his kingdom?”

Steve looked back at Eddie and met his wide, dark eyes. His expression was searching and his smirk was back, the nicer one. The weird fluttering feeling in Steve’s chest and stomach had returned in full-force, and he floundered for an explanation. He wasn’t embarrassed, for sure this time.

“I don’t know,” Steve replied after a minute, sighing heavily. “Probably not. Where would I even go?”

“Aren’t you gonna go to some fancy college somewhere?” Eddie asked with a snort.

Steve grimaced and glared up at the ceiling again. “I guess,” he said hollowly.

He missed early admission between the whole dinner with Barb’s parents and the break-up with Nancy, plus luring D’art, plus getting beat up by Billy. Well, he deliberately missed it at first because he decided to take a gap year to stay close to Nancy. Because they were in love.

Steve scoffed out loud. “Yeah, totally,” he added sadly.

“Wait, Harrington, are you… not going to college?” Eddie asked and Steve groaned.

“Yeah, Steve Harrington isn’t going to fucking college,” he declared with a listless laugh. “Decided to be all romantic and take a gap year, propose to Nancy after she graduated, go to college together. Or I would work for my dad and pay for Nancy’s school or something. Not that she would need my help, she’s so smart she’ll probably land a full-ride wherever she wants.”

When he was done with his rant, the van was silent for several moments until Eddie asked, “What’s wrong with that plan, lover boy?”

Steve nearly snapped at Eddie, nearly told him that he knew exactly what was wrong with that plan. He caught himself, though, remembering that he never actually told Eddie why he was crying on Halloween.

“She, uh, dumped me,” Steve replied, glancing away from Eddie. “At Tina’s party.”

“Shit,” Eddie said, and Steve nearly laughed at the little cringe on his face. “I’m sure you’ll get her back, right? Don’t people like you always get back together?”

Steve frowned at Eddie, not sure what he meant by that last bit. “Not this time. No fairytale ending here,” Steve eventually said, sighing. “She’s with Jonathan now.”

Eddie made a noise. “Halloween was only a week ago,” he said flatly.

“Glad you have a grasp on the passage of time, Munson,” Steve chuckled.

“No, the timing—”

“I know how it looks. It’s not like that,” Steve interrupted firmly. “She—Nancy wouldn’t do that. It’s more complicated than that.”

“Doesn’t look that complicated from where I’m sitting, Harrington,” Eddie challenged, and he looked properly angry again when Steve looked over at him.

“Well, it is. Ever consider that you might not actually know everything?” Steve spat, a bit meaner than he liked, before continuing, “Nancy is amazing and I was fucking it up the whole time, because I’m an idiot and a douchebag. She wasn’t cheating on me. She wouldn’t do that to anyone, even me. She’s not like that, okay?”

Eddie frowned at him, and Steve could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he mulled over what Steve had said. “I can’t decide if your steadfast faith in her is admirable or pathetic,” he admitted after a few moments, dragging another startled laugh out of Steve.

“Probably the second one,” Steve replied through a grimace of pain. “I think my head is still bleeding,” he complained, and sure enough when he touched the wound, his fingers came away wet and sticky.

“Jesus H. Christ, Harrington, why the fuck is your head still bleeding?”

Suddenly, Eddie was looming over him, straddling Steve’s midsection without putting any weight on him, turning Steve’s head so he could try to see the cut through Steve’s hair.

“It’s fine,” Steve said, heat rushing to his face.

“Dude, this needs stitches or something. You need to go to a doctor—”

“No!” Steve immediately said, shaking his head and grabbing Eddie’s thigh. “I don’t want to see a doctor, or go to the hospital.”

“Why the fuck not, Harrington? You’re bleeding, this cut is really bad, and—” Eddie stopped short, and Steve blushed when his eyes narrowed suspiciously down at him. “You don’t want them to shave your head.”

Steve blushed even darker and Eddie laughed, the mocking one that Steve had expected at the start of all this. It was actually a bit comforting at that point.

“Christ, I guess I shouldn’t be shocked that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington would walk around with an open fucking head wound before he’d get fucking stitches,” Eddie grumbled as he went back to inspecting the cut.

Steve idly began to slide his thumb back and forth where it rested on Eddie’s thigh. He barely realized he had been doing it at all, the sensation of denim against the pad of his thumb soothing. He was snapped out of his stupor with a wince when Eddie prodded a bit too hard on his tender scalp.

“Knock it off,” Eddie snapped, his hand swatting Steve’s away from his leg. “That’s distracting.”

“What are you even doing?” Steve asked grumpily, feeling pinned even though Eddie was hovering above him.

“Trying to decide if it’s worth waking my uncle up to get your stupid jock head fixed,” he replied before sitting back on his heels to glower down at him thoughtfully. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve registered the way Eddie’s weight settled on his midsection, and that fluttering in his gut turned to a swooping sensation.

“Is your… uncle a doctor?” Steve asked nervously, still afraid for the fate of his hair.

“No, but he was a field medic in Vietnam and he keeps some supplies around. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but I’m a Klutz with a capital K,” Eddie replied, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at Steve.

“And he won’t shave my head?” Steve pushed and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“I can’t promise that, Harrington, but I can vouch for your pathological vanity and we’ll see what he can manage. But this will keep bleeding and probably get infected,” Eddie warned, and Steve made a face up at him.

“Stop making sense,” he complained and squirmed under Eddie’s weight.

Eddie froze above Steve, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, for several moments. With a strangled little noise, Eddie scrambled off of Steve and back to his spot against the wall of the van.

“Okay! So, do you think you can manage sitting up front or are you going to lay back here?” Eddie asked, pulling a curly lock of hair in front of his face and fidgeting with it nervously.. 

The motion was so endearing it almost pained Steve to see it. He’d seen so many girls do that exact move when they were being shy or playful with him, and it always drove Steve mad. He wished Eddie was a girl so he could reach over and tuck his hair out of his face, pull him down for a kiss—

Those thoughts came to a screeching halt as he tried to figure out where that came from. Steve’s brain was definitely swelling, that was the only explanation for the direction those thoughts went. Maybe he should go to the hospital…

“Dude, stop spacing out on me, you’re freaking me out,” Eddie said frantically, snapping his fingers in Steve’s face.

“What?” Steve asked, unsure of what conversation they were having now.

“I’m taking you to my uncle, remember? Which means I have to drive. Are you going to hang out back here, or sit up front with me?” Eddie repeated curtly.

Steve frowned. “Do you have sunglasses I can borrow?” he asked, and when Eddie shook his head, Steve gestured around him. “Then it looks like I’m getting the real royal treatment, huh?”

“I’ll take the corners super fast so it doesn’t go to your head,” Eddie promised with a wink before he said, “Shield your eyes, Your Majesty.”

Steve chuckled and covered his eyes as Eddie scrambled over the middle bench through the seam in the curtain.

Despite his comment, the drive was actually uneventful, the gentle movement of the van actually lulling Steve to a light doze. He jolted awake when the van shut off, and a moment later Eddie poked his head through the curtains to meet Steve’s eyes upside-down.

“We have arrived, Your Highness, and we’re in luck. My uncle is already awake,” he said with a bright grin.

Steve was suddenly very unsure. “Would it’ve been a problem if he wasn’t?”

“What? No, of course not,” Eddie said with a frown, shaking his head quickly before he disappeared. Steve heard Eddie get out of the van and decided to start getting himself sat up again.

“Hey Uncle Wayne, do you have sunglasses?” he heard Eddie call, and then the quiet response from someone. He couldn’t hear the words, but it didn’t sound like a yes.

“I need your help with something,” Eddie said and Steve could hear a long-suffering sigh and the sound of footsteps coming toward the van.

“What’d you get yourself into now, kid?” The tone was so affectionate that Steve couldn’t help the small smile that came to his face.

“I didn’t get myself into shit—”

“Watch your language. Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“Just listen a minute, okay? Someone from school got a little hurt and he needs stitches—”

“Then he should be going to a doctor, Eddie. What’re you doing bringing him here?”

“Uhm, this sounded better in my head but now that I’m saying it out loud with you looking at me like that, I’m realizing it sounds kind of dumb, but he doesn’t… want his head shaved.”

Steve grimaced because… yeah, now that it was being said out loud to an actual adult, it sounded beyond dumb. It was completely childish.

“Eddie—”

“Okay, Uncle Wayne, I know. It sounds really stupid, believe me, but it’s also really important to him, and I kind of get it because I wouldn’t want my head shaved either.”

There was a long silence before a heavy sigh. “I’ll look at your classmate, and I will do my best to save his hair, but I ain’t making any promises.”

“Right! I already told him that! Thank you, Uncle Wayne! One last thing…”

“For the love of Pete, kid…”

There was quiet murmuring, too quiet for Steve to eavesdrop on from inside the van, but Mr. Munson did not sound happy about whatever other information Eddie delivered to him. After a few minutes of hushed back-and-forth, Eddie knocked lightly on the doors.

“Alright, Harrington, you decent?” Eddie called, and Steve snorted, closing his eyes.

“Ready to go when you are, Munson,” he replied and he heard the van doors open wide.

Eddie hauled him out carefully, and guided Steve up a set of stairs into what Steve assumed was his house. When Steve opened his eyes, he was met with the cramped interior of a trailer, with shelves of mugs on the walls. Where there weren’t mugs, there were baseball caps.

“Huh, nice place,” Steve said, and he meant it. It was small, a little worn out, but it was cozier than his house by several hundred degrees. It actually felt like a home, like it was lived in. Like there was love there.

“Don’t be an asshole, Harrington, you’re skating on thin ice as it is,” Eddie warned in a low voice and Steve flinched.

“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—Sorry,” he muttered, and refused to meet Eddie’s eyes when he was deposited into one of the chairs at the tiny kitchen table. He couldn’t really blame Eddie for his assumption, but still… Just like the comment Eddie made about him babysitting, it sucked.

When Mr. Munson stepped out of the bathroom with a first-aid kit, he pulled up short upon seeing Steve, his expression dark.

“This is a little more hurt than ‘kinda’, Eddie,” Mr. Munson said in a low voice, pulling up a chair to sit in front of Steve. “You get into a tussle with a bear, kid?”

“No, sir. Another classmate,” Steve replied quickly.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Apple rarely falls far from the tree,” Mr. Munson muttered, almost under his breath, and with sudden clarity Steve understood that Mr. Munson was talking about his father, that there was history there.

Steve knew about his father’s reputation; the man bragged about his glory days in high school and college. Steve often heard about it the most during the worst of his lectures and punishments growing up. Richard Harrington never let anyone forget who was in charge, and he ruled over the halls of Hawkins High and then later Harvard with his fists. Richard Harrington didn’t even have to be challenged before he asserted himself, Richard Harrington never gave anyone the chance to take his crown.

Most people seemed impressed by Steve’s father, they would call him a “man’s man” and strong. So many people described him as a provider, a protector even. A man that strong, that intelligent, that wealthy? He had to be doing something right.

And then there were people like Wayne Munson, the people who did real work and lived out of run-down trailers on the outskirts of Hawkins, and their disdain for people like Richard Harrington was palpable. Had Mr. Munson ever personally been targeted by Steve’s father? Maybe. Or maybe someone Mr. Munson knew had been.

The nauseating shame that filled Steve’s gut at that had him diverting his gaze to his lap. Part of him wanted to say he wasn’t like his father, to insist that he was his father’s greatest disappointment and how he didn’t care about trying to change that anymore.

The very thought of saying any of that out loud in front of anyone, let alone Eddie and his uncle, was mortifying, though.

“Where’s this cut you need stitched up, kid?”

Steve heard the question but it didn’t sink in right away, didn’t reach through his fog of concussion and shame until Eddie snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“Hey man, you okay?” Eddie asked when Steve looked up at him.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” Steve said, swallowing thickly against the nausea roiling in his core. “Thank you for offering to help, and thank you Mr. Munson, but maybe I should go. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, Harrington. Jesus, you haven’t done anything wrong,” Eddie said pointedly, and Mr. Munson frowned a bit at that. “Just show Wayne your head,” Eddie added firmly, crossing his arms.

Steve just nodded and turned his head, cringing as Mr. Munson began moving his hair out of the way to see the injury. “Jesus, kid, what the hell happened?” he asked, and his tone demanded an answer. Mr. Munson got up to collect a bowl of warm water and a washcloth, which he used to start cleaning some of the blood off of the skin around the wound.

“He broke a plate over my head,” Steve answered immediately, and Eddie made a disgusted noise. “I don’t remember much after that.”

“Knew that piece of shit wouldn’t fight fair,” Eddie grumbled.

“Was the rest of your busted face before or after the plate?” Mr. Munson asked, and Steve gave a weak shrug. “Don’t give me that, boy. Answer the question.”

“After,” Steve answered.

Mr. Munson’s hands pulled away from Steve’s head to start preparing the needle and thread. “Sounds to me like the cops should be involved,” he said shortly.

“Hopper knows,” Steve replied tensely. “I’m not pressing charges.”

“Of course you’re not,” Eddie muttered, and Steve could hear the eye-roll.

“Time for both of you to shut up now. He can’t be yapping while I’m doing this,” Mr. Munson said, which effectively shut both of them up.

Steve tried to think of other things while Mr. Munson worked quietly, and part of him was glad he was just generally in pain everywhere. He barely felt the needle. The worst part was when Mr. Munson would tug his hair just a bit too much while trying to keep it out of the way. Eventually, he huffed after a few minutes of fighting with Steve’s hair and the needle.

“That’s it—” he started and ice-cold fear lanced through Steve’s gut.

“Please don’t shave it,” he begged, and he hated how pitiful he sounded. He was struck again with just how stupid his concern was, as if his goddamn hair was actually important.

It was just one of the few things he still had going for him. Even if he no longer had the popularity, or Nancy Wheeler, or a future his father might be proud of, he still had his stupid hair.

Mr. Munson sighed, his eyes softening at the plea. “I’m not gonna shave it, kid. I promise. Eddie, get over here and make yourself useful,” he said over his shoulder, and Eddie jumped forward. “I need you to gently hold his hair away from the cut, got it? Don’t pull so hard you’re reopening it or yanking the stitches, just enough that it stays out of my way.”

Eddie nodded and stepped behind Steve’s chair to frame the cut with his hands. With hands smoothing his hair out of the way and holding him so firmly, Steve sighed and relaxed into the chair.

“That good, Wayne?”

“It’ll do.”

Steve winced when Mr. Munson got back to work, and one of Eddie’s thumbs started moving in soothing little strokes behind his ear. The effect was immediate, his body relaxing as much as it could at that moment while actively keeping his head up. Behind him, Eddie chuckled and stepped closer so Steve could rest his head back against him. The thumb kept sliding back and forth behind Steve’s ear, lulling him into a quieter state of mind for the first time in a while.

Steve startled when Mr. Munson pulled away and Eddie’s hands disappeared.

“That should do’er,” Mr. Munson sighed as he started to clean everything up. “Come back in a few days and I’ll remove them.”

Sitting up on his own, Steve asked, “Can I remove them on my own?”

Mr. Munson looked at him flatly, before looking at Eddie above Steve’s head. When he met Steve’s gaze again, his expression brooked no argument. “Come back in a few days and I’ll remove them,” he repeated and Steve nodded carefully.

“Of course, sir,” Steve muttered, looking around. “I should probably go home.”

“I’ll give you a ride,” Eddie said quickly, and when Steve looked up at him, he caught the tail-end of a wordless conversation between uncle and nephew. Eddie was shaking his head sharply before he turned a strained smile down at Steve, and Mr. Munson was rolling his eyes tiredly. “C’mon, Harrington, your chariot awaits.”

When Steve stood up, he was a lot less dizzy, which was a relief. He knew the vehicle would still be hell, but it was a necessary evil. This time, he decided he would ride up front with Eddie instead of laying in the back like an invalid.

The sun was still painfully bright, but even that was getting manageable. Once inside the van, he leaned back and shut his eyes tightly.

“You good, Harrington?” Eddie asked as he started the van.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just relaxing my head,” Steve replied, swallowing thickly. “Didn’t wanna say this in front of your uncle, but can you just drop me off downtown? My car’s still—”

“Harrington, if you think I’m going to knowingly let you drive like this for even a second, you must really have one hell of a concussion,” Eddie interrupted sharply. “I’m taking you home.”

“Not even taking me to dinner first?” Steve teased before he could stop himself.

Eddie barked out a laugh and didn’t respond.

“Seriously, Munson, my car—”

“Can’t someone else pick it up for you? You can give me your keys and I can give them to anyone you want,” Eddie suggested and Steve’s brow furrowed as he turned his face toward him, eyes still shut.

“This is ridiculous, I’m perfectly capable of driving,” he insisted and Eddie scoffed.

“Sure you are, just open your eyes,” Eddie challenged and Steve grimaced.

“Fuck you, man,” he sighed without any heat to it and Eddie laughed again.

“Seriously, though, give me your keys once we get to your house I’ll make sure your car gets back to you,” Eddie promised.

“Even if I told you to take my keys to Chief Hopper?” Steve challenged and Eddie barked out another laugh.

“Bold of you to assume me and Hopper don’t like each other,” Eddie teased and Steve actually opened his eyes just a bit to look at him.

“Seriously?” Steve asked and Eddie just chuckled and shrugged.

“I mean, the guy’s had plenty of opportunities to make my life hell, but he hasn’t,” he said evasively, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “Figure that has to count for something.”

Steve just shrugged and closed his eyes again. “Maybe. Fine, then take my keys to Hopper,” he decided, if only because it would be less out of Hopper’s way to bring his car to him than literally anyone else.

Steve wasn’t sure how much time passed, but he was startled again as the van stopped.

“We have arrived at Castle Harrington,” Eddie proclaimed as he turned the van off, and he was smirking when Steve opened his eyes again to look at him. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Sure,” Steve said, and he felt his cheeks heat with a blush. Confused at that reaction, Steve got out of the van as quickly as he safely could, careful not to trigger another dizzy spell.

When he unlocked his front door, he paused to look back at Eddie, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet. “Did you want to come in?” he offered, his words a bit stilted.

“No,” Eddie laughed, looking up at the huge house. “I’ll pass, Harrington. Plus, I have an errand to run for you.”

“Right, uh, here you are,” Steve replied, handing his key chain to Eddie. “Thanks. For everything. I really appreciate it, Munson.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it, Harrington,” Eddie replied, and Steve watched as a blush rose to Eddie’s cheeks. He looked Eddie over again and remembered the blood on his vest. 

“Shit, your vest. Let me get it cleaned for you,” Steve insisted, pointing at the spots.

Glancing down at his vest, Eddie shook his head quickly. “No way, Harrington. I’ll handle it. Plus,” he started, grinning broadly as he leaned into Steve’s space. “It’s kinda metal, don’t you think?”

Steve stared at Eddie, a dazed little smile rising to his lips. “I have no idea what that means, Munson,” he admitted, and he felt a little proud at the loud laugh that got.

“Oh, Harrington, when you say shit like that, it makes me wanna corrupt you,” Eddie sighed, tilting his head as he took a step back. Steve rolled his eyes at that, the tips of his ears feeling hot.

“I’ll see you around,” Steve said, stepping backward into his house and Eddie nodded with a little wave before bounding down the walk back to his van.

Steve watched from his doorway while Eddie sat in his van and appeared to begin scolding himself. The man was always very animated, his gestures huge and typically very clear to read—the way he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, or the light smacks to his forehead, or the way he seemed to lean back and plead skyward. It was hilarious to watch if a bit baffling.

Eddie glanced back at the house and visibly jumped at seeing Steve still standing there. He couldn’t see from that distance, but Steve was positive that the nervous shake of Eddie’s head was paired with a blush. With another shake of his head and a laugh, Eddie leaned over to the passenger side of the bench and rolled the window down.

“The hell are you still standing out here for, Harrington? Get the fuck inside!” he shouted at Steve, his grin huge.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve called back, waving at Eddie before he finally turned and shut the door.

After an afternoon being tucked into the back of Eddie’s van and then inside Eddie’s trailer with his uncle, the big Harrington house felt cavernous. His parents weren’t even in town anymore. They left again for business around the time Steve was on the train tracks with Dustin setting the trap for D’art. When he had finally gotten home after that entire ordeal, he had been relieved to have the house to himself.

There was a smaller part of him that had ached for someone to be there and care that he was hurt, to take care of his bruised face and call him in sick to school. There he was, almost eighteen and wanting his mom like a child. That ache was there again, but with an angrier edge to it that he was too sore and too tired to unravel.

With a huff, Steve went upstairs to wash up as best as he could and get changed. Belatedly, he realized that he had lost the bottle of painkillers he bought, making his entire excursion earlier pointless.‘Not completely pointless,’ Steve corrected himself as he fussed with his hair gently, a reluctant smile coming to his face as he thought about the overall afternoon.

Chapter Five: B-Side

Steve groaned at the booming cop-knocking at his front door as he shuffled toward it. He had been dozing on the couch and his equilibrium was slow to reacquaint with itself upon waking up. It was a lot better than earlier, at least.

“I’m coming, Jesus, relax!” Steve shouted as he got to the front door, opening it with a bit too much gusto and losing his balance.

Hopper was quick to catch him before he toppled over, one big hand on his shoulder and the other around his elbow.

“Jesus, kid, you somehow look worse,” Hopper grumbled, stepping inside without letting go of him.

“Thanks, Chief,” Steve said with a self-deprecating laugh, and he didn’t fight when Hopper sat him down on the stairs.

“Your folks still not home?” Hopper asked as he looked around, his eyes landing on the note that was on the side table at the door from Steve’s parents. Picking it up, he read it with a frown.

“You got a warrant for that?” Steve grumbled, tipping his head back to stare at the high ceiling instead of the subtle, sad tilt of Hopper’s frown.

“I’m off-duty, kid. I’m checking on you,” Hopper said, and Steve could hear him crumpling up the note. “This says you’re on your own for Thanksgiving?”

“Does it?” Steve asked, and genuinely he hadn’t even read it. His father’s handwriting was hard enough to read at the best of times, and the head injury didn’t help with that.

“You’re coming to Thanksgiving with me and the Byers,” Hopper said firmly, and when Steve looked at him again, his expression brooked zero argument. “And if you argue, I’m telling Joyce you’re home alone with a head injury, you got it?”

Steve glowered weakly up at Hopper before shrugging. “Okay. Should I bring something?” he asked, rolling his eyes at Hopper’s smug smile.

“I’ll get back to you on that,” he replied before leaning back against the front door, his expression stern. “What’re you doing with Munson?”

Steve frowned up at Hopper. “We ran into each other when I was out earlier and he helped me out,” he replied after a bit, shrugging. “I’m not doing drugs if that’s what you're asking.”

“That wasn’t what I was asking, Harrington,” Hopper sighed, but the uncomfortable way he glanced away said differently. “I’m keeping your car at the station until Wayne removes your stitches at least—”

“C’mon, Chief,” Steve protested, his mouth hanging open in shock. “You can’t be serious!”

“You heard me! I’ve half a mind to ticket you for driving earlier on principle!” Hopper shouted over him, just loud enough to shut Steve up. “As I was saying, I’m keeping your car at the station. I’ll bring you to Wayne’s place to get your stitches removed since you refuse to see a doctor. Then I’ll decide if you’re good to have your car back. Do you understand?”

“This is ridiculous,” Steve grumbled.

“I asked you a question, Harrington,” Hopper pressed, stepping forward to loom over him.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” Steve agreed, glancing away from him.

“Glad to hear it. Munson also gave me this. You apparently left it in his van,” Hopper said, pulling a bottle of painkillers out of his pocket and handing it to Steve.

Steve blinked at it before accepting it, smiling down at it a bit. He wondered if Eddie had been removing the blankets he bled on and that was when he found the bottle. “Uh, thanks, I thought I lost this,” he said, nodding up at Hopper.

Hopper stared down at Steve for a long while, frowning thoughtfully in that way that scrunched up his whole face. Then he sighed through his nose. “You’re a good kid, Harrington. I thought you were a snotty little prick like your old man—”

“Wow, thanks—?”

“But I was wrong. Munson’s a good kid, too, but he’s on a track that doesn’t look great. People in this town will talk,” Hopper said very deliberately. “You should be ready to deal with that if you’re gonna be running around with him.”

Steve stared at him, and he knew Hopper was right. What if word somehow got back to his parents that he had been in the local drug dealer’s van and trailer, and that drug dealer was at their house? Was that a fight he wanted to deal with while he was still firmly under his parents’ thumbs? He thought back to the argument Eddie got into with the cashier at Melvald’s and cringed. He’d be lucky if he didn’t get a “concerned” phone call from his mother within the week.

“I’m not running around with him, Chief. He was just helping me out today, okay? We go to school together, so we’re friendly,” Steve said, shrugging under Hopper’s hard stare.

“Good talk,” Hopper said before glancing around one more time. “Put your shoes on and grab a coat. You’re coming to dinner with me and El.”

“I’m not really up to going to a restaurant,” Steve declined, making a face up at Hopper.

“You need a proper meal, and I already told El you were coming,” Hopper replied, shrugging at Steve’s puzzled look.

“I don’t even—why would that matter to me?” Steve asked, even though he already felt his resolve to say no waning. He had a soft-spot for all of the kids, but especially the quieter ones like Will and Eleven. It was baffling though that him not going would possibly disappoint her. “Why would that matter to her? I’ve only really been around her like, three times, and I don’t think I’ve spoken to her once.”

“Listen, I make it a point to avoid understanding what teenage girls think about, kid,” Hopper sighed tiredly. “I told her I had to come by your place and make sure you weren’t dying on our way to dinner, and she asked if you were coming.”

“And you just told her yes?” Steve asked incredulously, even as he stood up to collect his shoes and coat.

“Of course I did,” Hopper replied, snorting. “I mean, it wasn’t like it was that hard to convince you anyway.”

“Where are we even going? Is it okay for her to be out?” Steve pushed, frowning.

For the first time since the conversation started, Hopper faltered and Steve glared. “We aren’t going to a restaurant,” Hopper admitted after a moment. “We’re going to the Byers’ house for dinner.”

Steve groaned, imagining his evening sitting at dinner with a cop, a girl with psychic powers, a boy they just barely saved from possession, his ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend, and Joyce Byers. Who would take one look at him and freak out completely. After everything that had happened and between them all splitting up, Joyce hadn’t actually seen Steve after all was said and done. Come to think of it, neither had Jonathan. Nancy only knew how messed up he was because she came to his house after school on Monday when he didn’t show up.

“You said if I agreed—” Steve started to argue and Hopper shook his head sharply.

“I said I wouldn’t tell Joyce you’re home alone with a head injury,” Hopper replied, crossing his arms. “And I won’t tell her.”

“She’ll figure it out, though. She’s not stupid,” Steve snapped, and Hopper just shrugged at that.

“I didn’t say I would hide that you’re home alone with a head injury either,” he stated flatly and Steve groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll go,” he finally conceded. He knew he was resigning himself to weeks of being fussed over by Joyce, but he was too tired to keep arguing in circles and he was getting hungry.

Steve pointedly ignored the way a very small part of himself that ached constantly went quiet for once.

Chapter Six: Bonus Track

Hopper groaned when the phone on his desk rang, spiking his headache to an entirely new level. He was exhausted, still recovering from everything that happened over the weekend, particularly the way he very nearly died in the tunnels.

“Yes, Flo?” he greeted as pleasantly as he could manage as he picked up the receiver.

“Incoming, Chief.”

“Wha—?” Hopper started to ask just as his office door slammed open and in came Eddie Munson like a force of nature.

“Heya, Chief,” Eddie greeted loudly with a grin when Hopper flinched at the volume. He threw himself into the chair opposite Hopper and threw his feet up on the desk. “How’s it going?”

“What do you want, Munson?” Hopper asked flatly, eying the dirty shoes on top of his desk with disdain.

“Can’t a guy catch up with his favourite cop?” Eddie asked, batting his eyes innocently at Hopper as he fished out a cigarette and lit it.

“Cut the crap, Munson. Give me one of those if you’re going to sit here wasting my time,” Hopper demanded, and Eddie tossed him the pack. With a huff, Hopper took one of the three remaining cigarettes then pocketed the carton.

“Is it so hard to believe I just wanted to say hi?” Eddie pouted before taking a drag from his cigarette, and the effort it took for Hopper to not roll his eyes was tremendous.

Hopper lit his cigarette and willed the nicotine to calm his steadily fraying nerves. “Why would a drug dealer—”

“Alleged drug dealer,” Eddie interrupted pointedly. “Never been caught and convicted, and you know how it is, innocent until—”

“I will search you right here and now, Munson,” Hopper threatened half-heartedly and Eddie got a mischievous look on his face.

“Hop, I’m annoying, not stupid. You wouldn’t find a damn thing on me or in my van,” he said with a teasing tilt to his head and Hopper took a deep breath in through his nose and held it for five seconds. Releasing that breath, he took a drag off of his cigarette on the next one.

He would not let Eddie Munson get under his skin when his day was so close to being over. He only had to make it through two more hours until he could go home and pick El up for dinner at the Byers’.

“How. Can I. Help you. Munson?” Hopper asked slowly and deliberately before reaching over to shove Eddie’s feet off his desk.

Eddie had apparently been supporting most of his weight that way and yelped as he nearly fell out of his chair completely. Hopper couldn’t deny how much that alone raised his spirits.

“Shit, Hopper, you made me drop my smoke,” Eddie complained, picking the cigarette up and tossing it into the ashtray on the desk to burn out.

“Munson, either get to the point of your visit or leave,” Hopper pushed, and maybe something in his tone finally got through to the kid. Eddie righted himself in his chair properly before reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket. After a moment, he frowned and stood up to dig in his other pockets.

Hopper studied the kid a bit now that he was distracted, and his eyes focused on the dark stains on his shoulder. “Munson, is that blood?” he asked, alarm overtaking his annoyance as he stood up and came around the desk to look closer.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie said as he glanced down at his denim vest, shrugging. “Yeah, it is. Not mine though.”

Hopper stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. Eddie just continued digging in his pockets until he pulled out two sets of car keys and sat back down. Blinking up at Hopper, Eddie asked, “What?”

“Whose blood is on your vest, Munson?” Hopper said in a low voice, and for the first time since Eddie entered the room, he looked a bit less cocky.

“Steve Harrington’s,” Eddie replied, and Hopper stared at him for several long seconds, again waiting for him to elaborate. Eddie just raised his eyebrows up at Hopper before the corner of his mouth quirked upward into a little smirk.

“Edward Munson, you have five seconds—”

“I ran into him on the street, he ate shit, and had a massive bleeding wound where Billy Hargrove broke a plate over his head, so I took him to my uncle,” Eddie said in a tight tone, and Hopper realized that the kid was angry now. More than that, the kid was angry at him for some reason. Was he pissed the whole time and Hopper was only just figuring that out?

“Christ, Munson,” Hopper grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose as his headache throbbed behind his eyes. How did Wayne live with this kid and his moods?

“Steve claims you know about the fight,” Eddie said, and it was said like a statement, but it was clearly more of a question, like he didn’t quite buy Steve’s story.

“Yes, I do. He declined pressing charges,” Hopper replied, crossing his arms and leaning back against the desk.

“Did you know about his head?” Eddie asked, and Hopper sucked his teeth. Steve had, predictably, played down his injuries when Hopper got back from the lab with El, and all of that hair of his helped hide the alleged open wound.

“Where is Harrington now?” Hopper asked instead of answering Eddie’s question, looking around for his truck keys and hat.

Eddie huffed. “Don’t worry, I made sure he got home alright. He asked me to give you these,” he said, holding up the keys for Steve’s Beemer. “It’s parked in the alley around the corner from Melvald’s.”

Hopper took the keys, a flash of anger spiking through him that the kid was stupid enough to drive with a concussion at all. When he glanced down at Eddie, he could see he was still pissed off. “What, Munson?”

“What are you going to do about Hargrove?” Eddie asked, his tone low. “Steve said he was going to kill the kids he was supposedly babysitting.”

“He was babysitting,” Hopper said, almost defensively, on Steve’s behalf and Eddie reared back.

“That’s the part of my sentence you focus on?” he asked and Hopper held a hand up.

“First of all, I will remind you that Steve declined pressing charges—”

“Why does that matter?” Eddie interjected angrily. “Does attempted murder need the victim to press charges?”

Hopper dropped what was left of his cigarette into the ashtray as he pushed off the desk to go shut the door of his office. Once he was back at the desk, half sitting on it and looming over Eddie, he said slowly, “There were extenuating circumstances surrounding the bullshit with Hargrove that you are not, and cannot be privy to, Munson. So yes, while I would love to do something about that little shit, I can’t about this incident because Steve. Is not. Pressing charges.”

Eddie glared up at him, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting his chin out defiantly. Hopper immediately thought of the day he met Eddie, and despite his generalized annoyance with the kid, he felt a sad sort of fondness.

“Why do you even care this much about it, Munson?” Hopper asked, trying to return his focus to their conversation. But when Eddie immediately looked away nervously, his face turning pink under Hopper’s stare, Hopper heaved a huge sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face.

It was about a week after Hopper returned to Hawkins to take up his post as chief of police when he met Eddie. The kid’s hair was a lot shorter, still growing out an unfortunate buzz cut, and he was skinny in a way that spoke of the neglect he dealt with before the system dropped him onto his uncle’s doorstep. Hopper had been driving around, reacquainting himself with his hometown after years away, when he happened upon a group of young men jumping Eddie. The cowards had bolted before Hopper’s truck came to a complete stop.

He could still remember the conversation they had while Hopper took the kid’s statement at the hospital.

“What started the fight?”

“I’m a faggot.” Tone sharp, full of venom.

“Is that what they said?”

“Yeah, that’s what they said, but they’re right.” Conviction, even as his eyes were full of tears, that defiant tilt of his wobbling chin. Waiting for Hopper to hit him, too. “I am a faggot.”

Hopper tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Eddie,” he sighed and Eddie huffed.

“You can’t say shit to me I haven’t already said to myself, Chief,” Eddie grumbled miserably, his crossed arms squeezing himself tighter as he folded in on himself.

“Harrington, though?” Hopper asked him, trying to keep his tone light, teasing almost. “Of all the boys to be all… hormonal and mushy about, it had to be a Harrington?”

“Again, Chief, I’ve already said all of that to myself. Repeatedly,” Eddie said with a shrug. “And Uncle Wayne said it all in even more colourful terms.”

Hopper heaved another sigh. “He wants you to be careful, stay safe. Hell, that’s what I want too,” he said.

“Yeah, whatever,” Eddie replied, and he slouched in his chair. “Steve’s a lot nicer now.”

“That’s true,” Hopper agreed flatly as he crouched to better meet Eddie’s eyes. Heaving a big sigh, he added, “you should still remember who his father is, and that Steve might still follow in his footsteps.”

Hopper went to high school with Richard Harrington, had been on the receiving end of his fists more times than he could count, and he knew how Richard felt about gay people. He knew how much more brutal his fists could get if he thought someone was queer. Hopper did not want Richard Harrington to find out about Eddie at all, which would be easier if the kid stayed away from Steve.

Eddie sighed and looked away from Hopper, spinning the rings on his fingers around nervously. “Yeah, I know,” he agreed reluctantly.

“Okay, good talk,” Hopper said, standing back up and returning to his chair. “Now get out of my office.”

“That’s it? You’re not going to try and tell me to stay away from him?” Eddie asked skeptically.

“I’m not your parent, Munson. Be careful, though,” Hopper replied, shrugging. “Even if Steve isn’t a problem, he’s still living with his parents.”

“We’re not even friends, Chief. You don’t have to worry about that shit,” Eddie said as he stood up and started for the door.

Hopper nodded and then he asked, “were Steve’s parents’ home when you dropped him off?”

Eddie looked back at him from the door and shook his head. “The house seemed empty. And I mean, he had to get his own—oh yeah!” he said excitedly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of painkillers. “He forgot this in my van. Can you get it to him?”

Hopper took the bottle of pills and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll get it to him, kid. Now fuck off,” he barked and Eddie snorted as he left his office with just as much noise as he arrived.

“Hey, Callahan! Love what you’re trying with the mustache, man, really distracts the eye from just… the rest of your face. Yeugh.”

Hopper snorted, allowing himself one moment to be amused by Eddie Munson’s nonsense.

[ NEXT ]

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#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #stranger things fic #gerry writes #i could be human fic

[dyns33]

The Mand'alor

HAPPY PEDRO DAY !!!

I wanted to do a tiny bit dark Mand'alor Din Djarin x reader, but the sweet part in me is really bad at this.

The whole galaxy had heard of the Mandalorians and their leader, the terrible Mand'alor, with his shining armor and his darksaber. A group of mercenaries, weapons fanatics, relentless killers.

They had fought against the Empire, they didn't like the Republic very much, and no one really dared to force them to follow the new rules. They had a code of honor, but also a lot of pride and temperament.

Y/N had never seen a Mandalorian. There wasn't much action on her little planet, even during the war. Few people stopped there, unless they had to, to find resources, rest, or hide for a while.

When the little green thing grabbed her leg in the street, she jumped. She almost kicked to get away, but her eyes met the child's, full of fear and hope, and Y/N stopped to lean closer to him.

He didn't speak, either because he was too young or because he used another language, but she couldn't get anything out of him by asking his name or what he was doing here. What was certain was that he was bleeding slightly from his right ear, and that he needed help.

Those who were running after the little one didn't take long to find them, following Y/N to her place. Luckily for her, they were also being followed.

She had never seen a Mandalorian, but she had heard the legends, and she watched this tall, armored man kill the attackers one by one without the slightest difficulty.

As soon as he finished, he approached her, who was holding the child in her arms, ready to defend him against this new threat.

“You’re alright ?” he asked with a calm voice, extending his hand towards the child who fidgeted, wanting to reach him.

"I won't let you hurt him."

"Oh, little me'suum'ika. I would never harm my ad. My son. These cowards pretended to be warriors to come in and kidnap him. Without you… Vor'e, mesh'la ! Thank you. You have all my gratitude. I want to show you all my gratitude, will you come with us ?"

There would have been several reasons to refuse to follow the stranger, clearly dangerous and masked, but the kid seemed to trust him completely, jumping on him as soon as Y/N let go of him a little.

The Mandalorian claimed to be his father, and he acted like one, patting his little head and whispering reassuring words, along with apologies for not having properly protected him.

His invitation was not an obligation, Y/N felt that he would not insist if she refused, but there was nothing very important on her planet, she had no family for a long time, and she never left this place. A little adventure would be fun.

The trip shouldn't last very long, just to please her as a thank you, before moving on.

There were some things she didn't know at the time.

First thing, a Mandalorian never forgot. Mando'ad draar digu. He would never move on.

Second thing, the leader of the Mandalorian forgot even less. Din Djarin, as he entrusted his name to her as an immense privilege, adored his son more than anything in the world. So he held Y/N in high regard for defending him when she didn't know the child and wasn't a fighter.

In addition, little Grogu seemed to have become very attached to her.

The last thing was whispered to her, even though it had been several weeks since she arrived on Mandalore, where she was treated like a true princess. Shyly, she asked when she would return home.

“Aren’t you happy here ?” asked Bo-Katan, the captain of the guard. "A simple word and our Mand'alor will do anything for your pleasure."

"Everything is perfect. I don't want to intrude too long by abusing your hospitality, that's all."

“Has anyone made a comment to you ?”

"No not at all." Y/N replied nervously.

No one said anything, but it was strange to be the only person not wearing armor all the time.

In the interest of fairness, the Mand'alor had allowed those who wished to remove their helmet, but he himself did not remove it in front of anyone, maintaining an old, almost fanatical belief.

However, he had not asked Y/N to convert, drawing the attention of his people to this new woman. They said nothing, but she felt their eyes on her.

“He will kill the first person who dares to criticize you.” Bo-Katan said before speaking lower. "It must be said… There is a werde in him. The sword is heavy to carry."

"I do not know this word."

"Just know that you are important to him. You help him a lot. Stay as long as you want."

It took her a bit longer to understand that she was more or less a prisoner. Free to roam the palace and the city, but not to leave Mandalore. Din Djarin wanted to keep her here.

The looks turned towards her were not full of hatred, but on the contrary of pity, mixed with a certain hope.

Since inheriting the darksaber, their leader was no longer the same. He hadn't completely lost his mind thanks to his son, but he had some moments of extreme, uncontrollable violence.

These attacks had calmed down a bit since Y/N’s arrival. No doubt Din didn't want to scare her or lower her esteem. There were rumors that she was his ori'copaad, which didn't entirely seem like a good thing.

“Uur !” he growled as the Armorer came to see him to talk politics. “I don’t care at all about the Republic.”

"Me too, Mand'alor, but we should receive them. They might try to harm us."

"They can try, they will fail. I have no chaab, none."

"Really, Mand'alor ?"

At that moment, Din turned his head towards Y/N, who was discreetly listening to them from the garden, Grogu snickering in her lap. He remained silent for a moment, before sighing.

"Fine. Contact them."

“Your aliit will be proud of this decision.”

More than not being able to leave, Y/N found this habit they had of going from basic to a language that she didn't understand quite painful. As if they were doing it on purpose.

The Mand'alor was the only one who made an effort with her, translating most of the unknown words. He only kept what seemed like nicknames a mystery.

“What does “mesh’la” mean ?”

“That means you, kar’ta.”

"And that ? What does that mean ?"

“Cyare, you ask a lot of questions.”

“And you don’t give many answers.”

“Mir’sheb.” he sneered, handing hier Grogu. She was the only one to whom he entrusted his son like this. "Your buir is a mir'sheb, like you. Give her a mureyca."

The child's hug, plus all of Din's attention, almost made her want to forgive him. Aside from the fact that she knew she wasn't allowed to leave, nothing made her want to leave.

But Y/N didn’t think she belonged here. She wasn't a Mandalorian, and as a leader, equivalent to a king, Din had no time to waste on her. Maybe she had saved his son, but she wasn't anything special.

Whenever he could escape his responsibilities, he would come with Grogu to watch her play with the child and talk about her.

He had to see that she had nothing interesting to offer.

This was why she tried to flee, by taking a ship. Her father had shown her how to fly before he died, it had been a long time. She therefore had to be discreet to have a maximum head start, to have a chance that they would lose her tracks.

Unfortunately Bo-Kanta had been very serious in telling her that she was important to Din. Her surveillance was as important as it was for Grogu. Her absence was quickly noticed, and reported to the Mand'alor.

Being the best tracker, he personally set out in pursuit, without having to yell at the others not to shoot at the stolen ship. They all knew what they were risking if Y/N got hurt.

"Dank farrik, cyare ! Y/N ! Stop !" She could hear him shouting into the communicator, what sounded like sadness in his voice. "Why are you leaving ? Vhey vencuyot… Cyare… Talk to me, tell me what's going on !"

It was very dangerous but she managed to lose him by passing through an asteroid field. Since it would be too obvious that she was going to return to her planet, she headed to a small system, landing on Tatooine.

Yet she had heard the legends. You couldn't escape the Mandalorians, and even less the Mand'alor.

This time, when a hand grabbed her arm, she didn't hold her foot. But beskar was a hard metal, and she probably did more harm to herself than to Din, who let go of her all the same, surprised by her reaction.

He didn't attempt to touch her again, simply following her as she ran through the alleys, begging her to listen to him.

Her run ended in a dead end, and that didn't seem to surprise the Mandalorian. He obviously knew this planet.

"Cyare… Why are you running from me ? Grogu misses you a lot. You… My commander told me that you can ignore what you really represent, but I don't dare believe that."

"I don't understand."

"Oh, mesh'la… As soon as I saw you with my son, I knew that my heart was yours, that I couldn't live without knowing that you were happy and safe. The missing part of my clan, of my life. Nor ceta, Y/N. I thought my intentions were clear. Will you forgive me ? Will you accept… Come home with me, gedet'ye. I beg you."

After everything he had done, she wasn't sure he would take no for an answer. But Din had never hurt her since they met. He had always been gentle and patient. If she could have seen his face, it would probably have been more obvious that he was looking at her with complete devotion.

Seeing that she didn't say no, he approached slowly, until his helmet touched her forehead. She then heard him sigh in relief.

Y/N had seen some Mandalorians do this. Bo-Katan had explained that it was a mirshmure'cya, a keldabe kiss. A very important form of privacy for those of them who did not remove their full armor.

She wondered if she would ever see him if she stayed. For a while she had imagined his face, until he told her that Grogu had been adopted. It would be a terrible offense to ask him for this sacrifice. But he asked him to stay locked up in his palace.

"I would like to see you." she whispered, trying not to tremble.

"See me ?"

"Yes. I mean, I like you a lot. I like Grogu. But I would like to know what you look like."

“Will that change anything ?”

"… No." Y/N said honestly. “I’m just curious.” To see his face, but also if he would do this for her, he who said he would do anything.

There was a moment of silence, of hesitation. Then Din nodded, reaching for his helmet to remove it. Immediately, Y/N placed her hands on his to stop him.

"But… Your vows…"

"Cyare. My sweet cyare. I have the right to remove my helmet in front of my aliit. You have been part of my clan since the moment our paths crossed."

“But you’ve never done this before.”

"I didn't dare… I didn't want to disappoint you and… I wanted to wait for our riduurok. I haven't properly wooed you for that yet."

"If you are… If you are sure, show me."

“Anything for you, cyare.”

He was younger than she had imagined. More handsome too, with his black eyes and his little intimidated, almost frightened pout. Din let her look at him without moving, displaying an expression of complete satisfaction when she touched his cheek.

He only stopped her when she tried to kiss him.

"Not here."

"Why not ?"

"I wouldn't be able to control myself. And I'd rather we were at home than in a dark alley for that."

The entire galaxy heard of the Mand'alor's marriage to the woman who had saved his son. The only two people who didn't risk his fury, who had some control over him, and for whom he was ready to burn everything if anything happened to them.

Some madmen tried to approach his clan, as they had tried to take Grogu. Rumors of what had happened to them were enough to stop all further attempts.

Even after Y/N managed to convince Din to bring her with him to the few extra-planetary missions he carried out, because she could no longer stand the life of a stay-at-home queen.

"No."

"Please."

"No."

“He’ll bang on the glass until you do.”

“Pato.” Grogu confirmed, fidgeting in his mother's arms.

"… Fine. But this is the last time."

“Of course, riduur.”

“Cyare.” Din purred, a hand settling on her leg, as he activated hyperspace to please their child.

#the mandolarian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin fanfiction #I tried to put a lot of mando'a but not sure they're all correct #pedro day #happy birthday to pedro pascal

[juiles]

Overwhelmed

Summary: y/n, Scarlett’s autistic adult daughter has an overwhelming weekend which leads into a meltdown.

Triggers: autistic meltdown

Type: hurt/comfort

A/N: in no way do I know how all autistic people struggle but i wrote this based on my experience and how i feel while overstimulated.

Masterlist here!

Requests here!

———————————————————————

This had been the worst 3 days ever in existence. Well maybe not ever but for me it’s been really rough. I had meeting after meeting on saturday with different people for work. Sunday I had a family thing, being in a church for 2 hours then interacting with said family for a 3 hour dinner. Today I had to run errands for my mum which meant more people.

I don’t do well with people, being in groups is really hard for me and keeping my mask up for the long hours is exhausting. My mom is pretty good at keeping up with me and knowing when i need to stop but she was really busy this week and being an adult it meant i had to do all this on my own. She also had to deal with the kids this weekend on her own since Colin had to film.

After doing some chores around the house I finally closed myself off in my bedroom, locking the door, turning my lights off, unplugging everything and wrapping myself up in my weighted blanket in my sensory swing with my airpods on playing very soft white noise. I sat there for what i thought was only an hour or so however when I finally felt a little calmer and I emerged from my room, mom and both kids were back and instantly could feel my senses overloading again.

I flinched when Rose collided with my legs screaming. I covered my ears quickly and shut my eyes but my hands were quickly pulled off and my mom was talking to me.

“Y/n. Go deal with Cosmo and dinner for me? You’ve been cooped up in your room all day for no reason.”

I went to open my mouth to talk to her but she cut me off immediately. “No i said go.”

I instantly shut down, nodding my head and running downstairs to do as asked. I pulled Cosmo into my arms and he slowly settled down as I stirred up the dinner before placing it in the oven. Colin shoved the door open creating a loud bang making me flinch again. Cosmo started crying again and buried into me. Mom came back down with a babbling Rose who she instantly handed over to me. I went into the living room and placed them both down and they instantly started playing with their toys. My hand twitched, my tics starting up.

“Mom…” I murmured towards my moth who sat down beside me. I covered my ears with my hands again and started to rock myself slightly. “Mama…”

I felt a hand touch my arm and before I could even think about it, my body flinched back and a scream ripped from my throat as I pulled myself away. “No!!” Tears welled up and my hands started curling around my hair pulling slightly. My chest felt restricted and suddenly the clothes i was wearing felt like fire on my skin, the couch was too rough, my socks weren’t on right and my hair was rubbing in my face to much.

The lights in the living room were still to bright behind my shut eyes, the noises of my moms voice and the kids crying were way to much. My moms hand on my shoulder felt like a weight pulling me down and my body felt like it wanted to fight nothing.

It was like my whole world went dark all of a sudden and I couldn’t breath.

Scarlett’s pov

Placing my hand on my daughters shoulder then hearing her scream scared the shit out of me but seeing her curl up into a ball screaming no scared me even more. I haven’t seen her have a full meltdown like this in years. I took a second to think about what could have caused it then I realized her weekend. It was full of people and meetings. She had even tried to warn me before but I was too sidetracked to hear her.

“Colin, take the littles upstairs and put a movie on in our room. Grab her weighted blanket, airpods and phone from her room and bring them down before going back to the kids.” I quickly barked out making Colin snap into action and he snatched the two little ones before running upstairs.

I turned to my eldest and despite her screams to not touch her I pulled her hair up into a messy bun and pulled the sweater she had around her shoulders off throwing it off to the side. I felt her stuff be put on my lap and I quickly pulled her blanket around her tightly before placing her airpods in her ears playing the white noise. I quickly unplugged everything in the room and turned off the lights. I pulled the blackout curtains down and closed the door to the living room.

I sat back against the coffee table, within arms reach of her but not touching her. She slowly stopped screaming and quickly it was only small sobs leaving her mouth.

Y/N pov

I could feel my hair being pulled back and despite my best efforts the hands wouldn’t go away. The sweater that made me want to rip my skin off is taken off of me. A weight was placed on my shoulders and my ears had a pressure on them before i could hear the white noise. I could hear someone shuffling around before silence as i felt my body start to settle. The only thing I was missing was more pressure. I needed more pressure on my body.

My hands reached out forward hoping someone was near and to my luck my favourite pair of hands grabbed on to mine softly and squeezed them gently. I shuffled around with my ears pulling my airpods out but kept my eyes squeezed shut.

“My love. I’m going to ask you a few yes or no questions. One squeeze is yes two is no. Do you hear me?” I could hear the tears in my moms voice and i squeezed her hands once. “Ok baby. Are you breathing normally?” I squeezed once. “Okay. Is it to loud in here?” I paused for a moment and listened around before squeezing twice. “Is it too bright?” I opened my eyes slowly and blinked looking around the dark room before meeting with matching green eyes. I squeeze twice and she nods softly. “Do you need more pressure?” Quickly I squeezed once and before i could do anything my mom wrapped her arms around me and pulled me down to her lap where she squeezed me tight. “I’ve got you princess.”

After a while my heart finally settled and I could breath normally again so I pulled back and looked at my mom. She sent me a soft smile and reached her hand out pausing before i nodded and she cupped my cheek with her hand softly. “I’m sorry. I know how overwhelming this weekend was for you and I put you into a very stimulating place. I have a few more questions okay?”

I nodded shyly and started snapping the elastic on my wrist before mom replaced it with a fidget toys. “Are you verbal?” I shook my head quickly and hit my lip. “That’s okay sweetheart. Are you hungry?” The idea of eating made me super nauseous so I shook my head quickly. “Okay. Thirsty?” I nodded before even thinking about it and let a small smile out. “You are so cute baby. Okay two last questions for now. Do you want some music on or (insert comfort show here) on in the background?” I pulled my hands away for a moment before signing TV for my mom. “Colin wants to check in you. He already took the kids to grandmas. Do you want him in here or not?” I signed dad and she smiled softly. “Okay princess.”

I saw her grab her phone and my head buried into her neck as I took a deep breath.

Scarlett’s pov

I pulled her closer as I sent a text off to Colin to come home and bring her favourite snacks for later and drinks. I slipped my phone on to the coffee table and grabbed the remote before turning the tv on and putting her comfort show on.

“I love you y/n.” I muttered into her hair as her head turned slightly to look at the tv. 10 minutes later we heard Colin’s car pull up and as quietly as possible he made his way into the living room.

“Hi princess.” He murmured as he settled down beside y/n but not close enough to be touching her as sometimes she can’t handle the contact with other people. “I brought some strawberry lemonade.” He handed it to her gently and before he could pull his arm away she attached to it and pulled him closer indicating she wants him to hold her as well.

The grin on his face made me smile brightly and cover her head in kisses drawing out her quiet giggle which made my heart flutter. I placed my head on hers and smiled softly as the three of us watched the tv.

#marvel imagine #avengers imagine #mcu imagine #scarlett johansson x kid!reader #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson x platonic!reader #scarlett johansson x teen!reader #scarlett johansson x child!reader #scarlett johansson fluff #scarlett johansson x autistic!reader #scarlett johansson x daughter!reader

[samwinchestersister]

Drugs and Money - Billy Loomis x Prescott!Reader

PART ONE

SUMMARY: You were Sydney's twin sister, and you and Billy have an unusual, psychotic relationship. You discover the other side of him and decide to help out in your mother's murder. OR a bit of heteroerotic fun while covered in blood. WARNINGS: Gore + Blood, Organs and Violence, Minor character death A/N: Yall please ignore any mistakes this is my first real story on tumblr! I also don't know much about gutting humans but I did like 5 minutes of research on this 😭😭

WORD COUNT: 2067 ______________________________________________________________

Someone taught Billy to play chess a long time ago.

That someone had been his mother, twice as cunning as his father. Speed chess had been his favourite — a timer running down, a taste of adrenaline to get his brain thinking, scrambling to find his plan. That’s nothing compared to the rush of Stu’s hunting knife in his fingers. It’s light and thin, just like he likes it. This is enough to get the job done.

Blood is rushing in his ears, mouth is sour. He can feel his heartbeat in his head, fingers tightening and bracing for impact around the handle.

The fabric is pulled taut over his skin, a black drape which will keep his body concealed without interfering too much with his movement. You're wearing a costume just like this one, waiting for the moment he gives the signal.

There’s enough tension in the air to cut through with his knife.

Nancy Loomis was a bitch. But she'd also taught him the importance of strategy, of thinking ahead. Thankfully, Maureen Prescott wouldn’t be sober enough to keep up with her opponents.

He thumbs at the dial of his voice changer, crouched beneath a set of bushes at the far end of the Prescott household. You would know your mother’s house the best, meaning that you would run in first, Billy following her lead. You'd already done her part earlier that day, slipping in a cheap dose of crushed Doxylamine into the bottles of wine.

He would be waiting for Maurine in the back. Tomorrow, what’s left of her rotting corpse would be flashed on news channels across the state. “I'm Ready, You?”

He can hear you take a deep breath over the phone. Finally, you sigh. “Born ready.”

“Good.” He seals the shitty mask over his face, fastening the strap under his hair. He intends to enjoy this.

-

Motive is bullshit.

Every horror movie follows a script: some big-tit chick running away from a murderer turns into the world's fastest whodunnit. But the legendary ones -- the ones immortalized in the movies -- don't need a motive. Just ask Michael Myers, Freddy Kruger, or Jason Voorhees. Billy’s seen every horror flick there is to see, even the technically-illegal snuff films that are hard to find and even harder to stomach.

Maureen Prescott cries, begs, and pleads for her life as she dies. It’s a lot more than he expected from a bitch like her, and it’s a fun surprise that she’s aware enough to understand what’s going to happen to her. She was a fighter, which makes it all the more hilarious when he drags her outside by the arms.

He hears the thud as her head slams down with each step, small traces of blood leaking from where you had hit her with the wine bottle. There are no lights out here, no neighbours to hear her for a mile in each direction. A piece of glass glints up from her forehead, lodged in the skin deep enough to hurt. She’s conscious — just barely.

Her eyes drop before flickering back up, pupils darting around wildly, like prey. He's surprisingly still on his feet. It had taken the two of you to pin her down, and she managed to get in a good hit near his jaw during a scuffle in the kitchen. Fucking whore. He’ll make her regret it.

“Asshole!” Maureen yells through her drugged haze. There are tears in her eyes. She’s been keeping up her little screams for nearly ten minutes, crying for her daughters.

Like you would save her. He grins a little, amused. A foot in her ribs oughta shut her up. She makes a wheezing noise, gasping, “Where’s my daughter, you fucking bastard?”

He leans down. He found it a little funny at first, but she’s becoming a bit annoying. And he can’t leave her like that, can he? He swipes a small strand of hair from her forehead, dark brown decorated with reddish blood. The gloves are necessary, but he wishes he could feel her underneath his hands.

“Your daughter isn’t here to save you, Ms Prescott,” he whispers. She looks up at him, brown eyes blown wide. She looks almost exactly like you. “Now, Maureen, be good, and I’ll let her live.”

She doesn’t make a single noise after that.

You take care of the ropes, nimbly following the steps that Stu had taught you a week prior. Up, over, down, knot. You sling two of the hand-made restraints over the lowest branch of an oak tree, just a couple feet off the ground. It’s a makeshift cross, a perfect place to put up your mom on display.

Billy does most of the grunt work, shoving Maureen’s body up till her wrists are in the restraints, a heavy boulder carrying her weight. God, what a fucking sight. He can’t wait to carve her the fuck open. Poetic justice for what Maureen did to his family. She'd die screaming for her sins.

He takes off the mask, relishing the look on dear old Prescott’s face when you do the same. She doesn’t quite grasp it yet, maybe trying to reel from the shock, as she takes in the sight of her you. Nothing could’ve prepared her for this. This is fucking hilarious.

He remembers the day he realized his mother was leaving, the day she had the argument with Hank Loomis about the other woman. He wonders if his face looked similar to hers right now.

You get to finish her off.

You shove the tip of the knife against the column of your mother’s throat, watching as it moves up and down. Maureen doesn’t dare to breathe. Billy has to crack a grin at that — it’s pathetic watching her squirm. Your grip is determined. You steady it in your fingers, before sweeping it over the jugular in a wide arc.

One thing they don’t show you in the movies is the gore. No matter how much they show you on screen, you’ll never quite understand how much blood a human body can have until you see it right in front of you. It doesn’t just drip, it fucking fountains. There’s less than a minute to react before it soaks them completely, landing on the grass, their costumes, and their faces.

Drops of it decorate his tongue, and he swallows the bitter taste of iron down. There’s some of it on his eyelids, his face, his arms. You're gonna get away with this, scott-fucking-free. He nearly fucking kisses you there, right and then, with Maureen Prescott’s blood in their mouths.

Your mother’s corpse hangs like Jesus on a fucking cross, body distended from her head. Her spine and muscle keep her body attached, the oesophagus and thyroid peeking through. You cut clean through the first three main arteries, leaving the right side of her body mostly intact.

Well, not for long.

As soon as he’s wiped out the fluid from his eyes, he grabs the knife and shoves it straight into her groin. In the movies, the knife passes through muscle like it’s butter. In real life, it takes almost all of his strength to get it in there. It catches on layers of skin and muscle, and it might’ve been a little rougher than nescessary, but it’s not deep enough to damage organs. Next comes the hard part. Billy’s a natural with a knife, but it takes a certain type of willpower to gut something — or someone. He aims the knife upwards and moves up to the sternum, tearing away at clothes and careful not to touch the abdominal lining.

Everything is so red inside of her.

How many men has she fucked? How many people have she let in, and how many families had Maureen torn apart? He jerks back in disgust.

He finds the windpipe, clutching it between two fingers and sawing it open with a little bit of difficulty. It’s so heavy, heavier than he’d expected. You catches your mom's intestines in her fingers, slippery and long, between her arms, looking as disgusted as Billy felt. Serves that cocksucking whore right. It needed to be done.

Just one less piece of shit in Woodsboro.

-

“Strip, babe,” Billy groans, sweeping off his own tee shirt in one quick go. His socks and shoes were the first to go, nestled in the kitchen skink, where the blood was being washed off. You climbed out of your tank top, leaving only a bra and tiny shorts. Your skin was perfect, streaks of red peppering your entire body.

God, he wonders what you taste like underneath all of that. He’ll have to wait to find out till another day. He climbs out of his jeans quickly, leaving himself only in blood-stained boxers.

They’d really fucking done that.

Once you finished cleaning yourselves up, you would call the police, and give them a couple minutes' head start. You would stay home, and Billy would return to the Loomis household before midnight.

Stu would take care of the alibi: You and Billy would’ve come over to the Macher household for a movie night. Thankfully, Stu’s household was mostly empty at all times, which meant no witnesses. Nick Prescott would be out of town by eight, and around ten, Billy would drive you home before getting himself back to the Loomis house. You would come home to find your mother’s dead body hanging from a tree, and you would immediately call 911 in a panic. Sydney, who was sleeping over at Tatum's would be driven to the Prescott house by Dewey.

He never expected this plan to flow so smoothly.

The two of you step into the upstairs shower together, hands pulling at what they could reach. Something fills up his chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe. He grabs you as quickly as possible, spinning you around in the bathroom until your back hit the tiled wall.

"Someone's handsy," you grin, slow and relaxed. You feel too good to be in a rush. "Assault's a crime, y'know."

"You gonna arrest me?" Billy asks, low and suave. Something simmers in his stomach. He's fucked around with girls before -- Christina, Sydney, and a handful of others he doesn't remember. But it's never felt this way with anyone but you.

Your eyes rake him down. "In your dreams.

You were so close. A couple of centimetres would close the gap. Your eyes are blown wide, a splatter of drying blood trailing across your nose. Your hair cascades down your shoulders. Steam from the hot shower beads against your skin. Billy wants to drag his tongue across it, taste you on his teeth. Water covers you both, clouding his vision.

He leans down, hair flapping down to his eyes. Maybe it's reflex that causes you to swipe it away, fingers rolling over his warm skin. Your fingers clasp his cheeks, pulling him close enough for your noses to touch.

His eyes are wide open. His mouth is parted in a little gasp. You close your eyes and plunge in, lips fitting around his like you were made for each other. He doesn’t move, frozen in shock, before he starts kissing you back in earnest. It’s a weird angle, his lips are dry, and you're inexperienced at best. And yet, everything feels so fucking perfect that you can't bring yourself to care.

His hands are in your hair, on your throat, against your collarbone. He explores what he can, you do the same — cheeks, jaw, base of his neck. His fingers find your jugular, the place where you slit open Maureen. He could dig his fingers in there right now, feel the veins shift and tremble underneath the pressure. Let it break open. Feel as the blood pulses through his fingers.

You look up at him. It’s always been like this between the two of you — not needing words. He already knows what you mean.

"Billy," you whisper. "Fuck."

"Fuck," he agrees, before he tangles his hands back in your hair and forces his lips against yours.

#ghostface #billy loomis #loomis legacy #scream #scream 1996 #stu macher #stu matcher #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #sister!reader #billy loomis fic #billy loomis scream #randy meeks #billy loomis headcanons

[averagewriter777]

Ghost and Doc (Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader)

Masterlist

(Part Four)

Gaz and Soap thankfully hadn’t needed much patching up. Just some hydrogen peroxide on some open wounds, then bandages. Nothing was thankfully broken, all was just bruised.

“Uh… why exactly do I have a Hello Kitty bandaid?” Soap pointed to his face when Gaz laughed and told him what was on it. He was pouting at you while also looking annoyed.

To be honest, you hadn’t been paying attention. Kennedy must have gotten hold of my supplies and switched the bandaids out. Clever girl. “Must’ve been my daughter. That’s her favorite thing right now.” When she was over at your house, you and her watched old reruns of the Hello Kitty and Friends show. She would recite what the characters would say- she loved it. “I can find regular bandaids if you want, Soap. I wasn’t paying attention to the design when I was patching you up.”

Soap raised his hands and shook his head. “No no, it’s okay! I was just wondering if it was intentional or not.” You shrugged and scratched the back of your head. “What’s your girl’s name?”

You dug into the pocket of your jacket and pulled out a photo, your thumb making sure Shawn wasn’t in the photo. “Kennedy is the little (h/c) haired girl in the photo. This photo was taken for her fourth birthday…” You smiled and sniffed, taking a long look at your daughter in the photo.

“She looks just like ya,” Soap admitted. He wouldn’t tell you he could see the other man in the picture, because it seemed like a sore subject. “When we go out on missions, keep that photo here. The enemies will use anything to get what they want, trust me.” He got up from the medical bed. “Hey, we’re getting drinks at the local bar as well as dinner there. You’re invited. Be ready by 1700.”

Damn. You didn’t bring anything seemingly nice to wear over here. Guess you’d be dressing like them, in some cargo pants and a t-shirt. That’s all of the ‘civilian’ clothes you brought. 

“Doc, you open?” You jumped in surprise, turning to see Ghost standing in the doorway. His hand was holding a place under his ear, where you’d punched him. You gestured to the medical bed for him to sit. “Where you punched, under my ear… that was good. However, it hurts like hell now. Got any medicine I can take for it?”

You looked at him, then to where his hand was. “I don’t suppose you’d let me look at your neck first, where I hit, would you?” Ghost lowered his hand and put his hands together. “Is that a yes or a no? Because that requires lifting your mask, and I’m not--”

Ghost made a ‘maybe’ motion with his head. “I’m lifting it, you cannot lift it more than I do, understand?” You nodded and moved your chair forward more so that you could be in a position to look at the spot. You noticed Ghost gulp, but say nothing as he lifted the left side of his mask, stopping when his neck and ear were now exposed. “Alright, let’s see… please remain still.”

The skin was bruised darkly around and under his ear. With your gloved hand, you grazed over it, Ghost inhaled sharply but did nothing more. “Shouldn’t be too much to worry about. Just some loss of hearing and a bit of air pressure. I’d refrain from training with guns for a little bit until that hearing returns.” You knew that’s not what he wanted to hear- but that’s how it had to be. “Sorry for punching you like that.”

His mask lowered back as he shrugged. “Don’t apologize, it was a damn good fight. The fight’s not the same with Soap anymore- just by that one with you.” You couldn’t tell whether or not he was smiling, and that was something you didn’t like. “No apologizing for a good fight.”

You decided to take that as a compliment- because it was. “It was a good fight,” you mumbled while Ghost stood up from his position. He eyed the photo that was on the table next to the bed but said nothing. “You drinking in an hour too?” 

Ghost nodded. “You a lightweight?” You shook your head. Back in the day- when you were in your twenties, you drank people under the table, but you wouldn’t say that. “Good. We drink a lot when times like these come…” He left the room at that.

Huh. You pocketed the picture you’d shown Soap and exited the room after throwing away your medical gloves and trash. While you got ready for the night, you decided to call your daughter and Shawn again- making sure everything was okay. Kiara answered the phone, annoyed that you were calling, but let you talk to your daughter.

About thirty minutes later, Price knocked on your door and came into the room. You raised a hand at him, signaling that you were finishing up the call. He waited inside anyway. “Alright, sunshine. Mommy has to go.”

“Awww… okay. I love you, mommy!” Kennedy shouted into the phone, and you pictured her smiling in front of you.

You smiled as if it was real. “Love you too, be good for daddy and Kiara.” The phone was handed over, thankfully, to Shawn. “I’ll call when I can, thanks for letting me talk to her.” Shawn gave an ‘Of course!’ and then wished you well before hanging up. You looked at your captain with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Captain. This will probably happen often…”

Price shrugged. “You realize it’s dangerous to have that out on missions though, correct?” You nodded sheepishly, scratching the back of your head. “I know it’s different in third group, but here… the smallest thing the enemies will use against us. Just letting you know.” Seeming as he just killed the mood of the room, he gestured out the door. “We’re waiting on you, you ready for a night out?”

You looked down at your outfit, then at your captain. “Yes, sir.” You hated that you’d be going out as a civilian in a pair of cargo pants, a tan t-shirt, and your dog tags hung around your neck. “Do I call you ‘sir’ and ‘captain’ while out in the world too?” It wasn’t the same back home, so God forbid it to be the same here with your new team.

“Nope,” Price shook his head as you walked together out of the building. “You can call me Price, to not confuse me and Soap. With the others, you can ask them.”

When you both reached the car, he got into the driver’s seat. Gaz was in the passenger’s seat, while Soap and Ghost seemed to be waiting on you. You sat in the middle.

(Part Five)

#mwii #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #ghost x female reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain price #alejandro vargas

[nicoforlifetrue]

I need to get the gangs designs out of my head like, right now so here we go! Au characters first then cannon guys spoilers below

Anyone the color crew considers a friend gets a matching jacket that green made with something representing them embroidered onto the old jackets, chosen has one and has it tied around his waist most of the time, everyone else wears it near 24/7

Victim: gray dead anime mom hair, scene kid from Spencer's in the 12s looking clothes, long sleeves striped under shirt with a t shirt on top, ripped up skinny jeans, has broken shackles around his wrists that act like the lasso tool but he doesn't use very often, a fire fox icon often sleeping on his shoulders he has three that act as attack dogs, soft rainy day blue eyes that are normally kept in that same dead anime mom half lidded state, he looks calm and approachable and loving after all that's how he gets you.

Chosen: black hair to his shoulders that he keeps in a bun, dyes red streaks into it, combat jacket three sizes too big, ripped up t shirt and jeans he never bothers to fix, wears a face mask when hiding his identity because his mouth is abnormally long and it freaks people out, has a locket with a family picture in it (it's a picture of Alan's face and cupped hands, the hollows are in his hands waving at the camera, Alan took his picture made it the computer background then took a screenshot of the boys, it was Alan's phone screen lock picture) everything he owns is burned at the hems because of his anger issues triggering his powers. Eyes glow red and are set into a permanent scowl, he has worry lines.

Dark: wild red hair he's never brushed in his life, he dyes black streaks in it, has one of those slutty leotard things that show the hips? You know what I mean, and combat pants, he has five virabands one of each limb, he made the first one just to give chosen a challenge but after seconds powers awakened he made more for when the kid has nightmares and needs to be held down so he doesn't hurt himself or anyone else with his powers going haywire, it only really works because the powers not concentrated, also has a locket with the family picture, he says it's for chosens sake but he stays up at night sometimes staring at it. Has black eyes but his pupils glow such a bright red their mistaken for red, all the hollows have sharp teeth but darks are especially sharp and he keeps them in a lazy grin, he has pronounced crows feet.

Second: orange wavy hair in a low short pony with it down it only reach's his shoulders, basic orange hoodie and well he does have his own clothes he more often then not is wearing some eclectic mess of stolen goods from his brothers, he likes Vic's shirts and darks pants the most and will try to get away with chosens jacket at any given opportunity, chosen trades his hair bands to get it back. Eyes glow a radioactive green, his lip is always busted from him chewing it, as are his cuticles from picking at them, is always a little wide eyed and sad looking even if he's over joyed just because his face has kind of settled like that, real case of "resting depression face"

Cannons turn!

Cannon second! Same hair as au, wearing the groups jacket and has is closed most of the time because he gets cold easy but takes it off to sleep, wears paint pants and shirt near always and there always covered in new color splash each day, convinced chosen to perce his ears and has a industrial one that he puts a spare pencil tool in after the box episode so he's never really disarmed, the other side has a little curser on a chain because he felt bad that Alan couldn't get a jacket. His eyes are still nuke green but they don't glow and his hands have calusus but he doesn't pick them like au infact he has them painted, heavy eye bags because he actually has to get up in the morning when the crew decides to have late night party's.

Red: fluffy red mop that he just cuts when ever it gets into his eyes, has the fellow headband to keep it off his scalp when exercising, cat ears, no really he has actual working cat ears and not normal ones, his jacket is hanging on for dear life and Is always at least a little off his shoulders even keeps it on when he sleeps, gym clothes even in the snow, bandages and gaze patches everywhere, his jacket hides the fact that he's fucking ripped because after the "blue punching obsidian" incident he got competitive and started working harder, he's up to diamond now. Eyes are whiskey colored have slits like a cats and he's sensitive to air changes just like cats are.

Blue: ties the group jacket like a cardigan around their neck when working in their garden or making potions so it doesn't get ruined, overalls are a farmers best friend, has the longest hair out of everyone reaching his knees, ties it into a bun for fights, braids it for potion making and sleep, and puts it in a ponytail the rest of the time, keeps it down when they plan on just hanging out with the guys. Has excessive nerve damage from the lava and can't feel if they've been cut or injured below their chest. Eyes are a very rich mahogany that gained purple flecks after a while of messing with potions, red asked Herobrine about it and it turns out to just be his body gaining immunity to most of the bad side affects potion making gives you (turns out his neather wart addiction is actually fairly common among potion makers because it helps build and keep those immunities which are important when experimenting)

Yellow: blond typical trans boy hair cut, meaning under shave with a quiff, has the jackets sleeves perpetually shrugged up his arms, only closes it when working on a more advanced machine, under shirt is stained red and he doesn't own a single pair of clean cargo jeans all of them have at least one mend in them. The bridge of his nose is stained red from rubbing there when he had redstone on his fingers, his fingers themselves are also permanently red, where's glasses near identical to Alan's, his eyes are a washed out pinkish rose, almost gray.

Green: for the longest time had an an uncontrolled frizzy mess of hair I'm talking untamable never seen coconut oil 3c, but after they sticks where introduced to dj, he managed to wrangle them into locks, DJ helps him braid them best he can if he ever wants to clean up but it's either dreads or spending hours everyday calming them. Only one who wares the crew jacket like a normal person, also the only one with a normal clean and sensible wardrobe in general, likes skirts but considering it's a bitch to fight in them only wears them when going out and knowing the others won't start a group bonding brawl, always has both head phones and earbuds on his person and is the only one too keep his phone intact and not broken. Eyes are hazel mixing green and gold with flecks of blue around the center, has audio processing issues and it helps him understand people if there's a background noise of some sort also fights better with a beat. Also has really bad tinnitus and always has, it's been made worse by recent fights though.

Purple: curly hair more of a 3b or 3a, keeps it in a single braid so it's easier to keep track of and care for, mango helps them with it in the mornings, the most recent one to get a jacket after the king stuff went down. Likes fancy and just nicer clothes like button ups and poets shirts and leggings, has bird wings because there mother was made for a stick flight animation test, but there weak and they can't fly like there mom can, they can hover and glide but they need an elytra to act as basically a sort of brace if they want to propel them selves, and even then they can't get to high speeds without rockets. Has orangy red autumn colored eyes like there mother.

#plot swap au #avm #ava #animation vs animator #animation vs minecraft

[ptergwen]

OK OK IK IM GETTING BACK TO YOU LIKE AN HOUR LATER, AND THIS IS GONNA SOUND SO CLIQUE- but a songfic based on all i wanted by paramore. i’m talking reader and peter being really close friends until he starts straying from reader and hanging out with mj more. maybe they get into a fight one day where reader goes to the tower for a mission briefing and sees that mj is there (superheros aren’t allowed to reveal identities at all, and peter never let reader in on anything, reader found out he’s spiderman on her own) AND THEN THEY ARGUE RIGHT? both say really hurtful stuff THEN THEN READER TAKES MATTERS INTO HER OWN HANDS. GOES ON THE MISSION ALONE. THE WORST HAPPENS AND THEY BARLEY FIND HER. you can choose whether she makes it out or not 🤷🏻‍♀️ BUT YEAH THATS WHAT I GOT

like her, love you

gif by random-fandom-whump

ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist

w/c: 1,005

warnings: angst, mentions of injuries

a/n: bestie you have done it again! i can always count on you for some good old angst mwahaha it has kind of a happy ending but i think the people will appreciate that <3 also i just posted a sleepover so make sure to check that out y’all! happy reading

“talk to me, y/n. say something, anything.”

when you open your mouth to speak, you start to cough. you cough up dirt and dust, choke on it. you lie in the grass, where you’d landed. peter is kneeling on the grass in front of you. he has an arm behind your head for support, his free hand finding yours. he holds your intertwined hands against your chest.

the jet you had taken for your mission ran out of fuel mid-air. you never even made it there. you crashed, and it was only because of the tracker in your suit that peter was able to find you. he was supposed to go with you, but you two had gotten into a fight before you left. you decided to do the mission alone. you were heated and distracted coming off your argument, so you’d forgotten to refill the jet tank.

“peter? i… i…”

you try to sit up, resulting in another coughing fit, clutching at peter’s hand with both of yours. peter squeezes your hand in his back even tighter.

“just breathe, okay? just breathe. you can do it, y/n/n. deep breaths.”

peter inhales a breath and nods repeatedly, encouraging you to follow his lead. you wheeze at first, struggling to get air into your lungs. with peter’s help, your breathing eventually begins to even out.

“there you go. just like that.”

you let your head fall back on peter’s arm as you catch your breath. peter strokes your cheek with his gloved fingers, eyes staying fixed on you.

he’ll never let you out of his sight again.

he touches his index finger to his ear piece that he uses to communicate with the rest of the avengers.

“mr. stark? i found her. yeah, she’s alright. do you have the coordinates? okay. how long until you get here? okay, thank you.”

“tony’s coming?”

you lift your head up, but peter eases you back down.

“the whole team. they were really worried when they didn’t hear from you. we all care about you, so much.”

“do you?”

“how could you even ask that? you’re my best friend.”

“what about mj?”

“can i not have other friends?”

“i never said that.”

“no, but you implied it.”

you scoff and prop yourself up on your elbows.

“look, peter. i don’t care that you’re friends with mj. she’s cool. i care that you broke the rules, and you broke them for her.”

“i don’t know what you think you saw-“

“not think. i saw it.”

this is the same argument you’d had earlier.

when you arrived to avengers tower for your mission, mj was there. she was talking to peter, but not peter peter. spider-man peter. he was suited up, mask off, identity revealed.

tony has a strict policy about peter keeping his identity a secret. he’s experienced firsthand how much damage it does when your double lives overlap into one, and he doesn’t want his protege have to go through what he did. hence, the reason why peter wears the mask in the first place.

what’s the point if he’s exposing himself to mj? how could he even trust her?

you’re both friendly with mj in school, and she seems chill, but you don’t know much about her. her and peter are just getting close. he recently began hanging out with her outside of school, and apparently in the tower. you’ve been friends with peter and spider-man for years, and you had to figure out they were the same person on your own. he never told you.

but he told mj.

“please just give me a chance to explain.”

“i’m not interested in hearing it.”

you push yourself up to your feet, stumbling as you trek through the grass. you’re still a bit disoriented from your crash landing.

“where are you going?”

“back to the jet. don’t follow me.”

“it’s not gonna fly, you know. it’s out of fuel.”

you ignore peter and your dizziness and keep walking. peter’s fingers catch your wrist, forcing you to turn back and face him.

“the others will be here soon. just stay with me until they come. hear me out.”

your pride tells you no, but your love for him tells you yes. no matter how angry at him you are, he’s still your best friend.

you look down at your wrist in peter’s grasp, then up into his pleading eyes. you give in with a sigh. he lets go of you. you take a seat in the grass, sitting cross-legged. peter mirrors your actions.

“mj wasn’t supposed to find out. it was an accident.”

“what do you mean?”

“i was showing her around the tower, because you know my cover story, how i ‘intern’ there. thought it would be cool. mj sorta just put two and two together. she’s, like, really smart.”

“you never showed me around the tower.”

“why would i? you’re an avenger.”

“yeah, but i didn’t know you were… until i did.”

tears prick your eyes.

“how come you never told me? i’ve been friends with you way longer than mj, and she found out before i did. did you not think i could handle it?”

the tears escape. peter frowns and shifts closer to you.

“i knew you could.”

he dabs at the corners of your eyes with his thumbs, palms pressed to your cheeks.

“but that’s not the point.”

“then what is?”

“i didn’t tell you because i thought i was keeping you safe. i wanted to protect you. knowing my identity puts you in danger.”

you sniffle, more tears wetting your cheeks. your watery eyes meet peter’s.

“we’re best friends, y/n. nothing and no one could change that. i like mj, but i love you.”

you throw your arms around peter’s neck, hiding your face in his curls. a sob passes through your lips. peter hugs you back, making sure to be gentle because you’re still recovering from the crash. he kisses the side of your head and holds you in his arms, never once letting go.

tags: @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @jenoslov @crvshnburnn@starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @ellebutnotwoods@magicalxdaydream @tayyx @parkerdadda @valluvsu @ronweasleysslut @peterficrecs​ @Winchestersgirl222

#peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker writing #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x avenger!reader #mcu #marvel #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland angst #tom holland writing

[westc0astt]

ULTRAVIOLENCE

Navi! miles quaritch x reader fem *:･ﾟ

tw: psychological abuse

smut

mention of death

words: 1842

As I opened my eyes I felt the light hit any sense in me hard, my head throbbing making everything visible blurry. Another light appeared, a circle and a hand with the light pushed it away and then brought it closer.

"Pupils respond correctly."

The new sound made me sit up suddenly and look at the expanse of my legs, long and blue. I looked at the other blue men who seemed to be in the same condition and in one of those I saw him hold one of them which was larger with a cut too familiar for my liking.

I recognized him, I knew who he was and who he is, I stood up and grunted feeling the euphoria inside me before speeding up the pace towards the blue soldier.

Inside I felt scared seeing so many people with syringes but without thinking I pounced on top of the man who was being held by a woman and a bald man.

My nails and fangs embedded themselves in his neck and arms, and I only heard his scream as he writhed from side to side, but it was useless. The other blue men were also stalking me but before they could pin me down too, the recombinant I was hurting managed to get his arms released and grabbed me by the neck to throw me against a glass with all his strength, I felt a familiar sensation of dying as I hit the ground when all my senses ceased to serve.

I woke up again in the same place but this time I was the only giant in the room, now calmer they did some tests and took me to a room to give me some clothes to wear.

I began to be struck by memories of what my life was like before I died.

I was a scientist hired by the RDA as well as Dr. Grace, very young to die, although at that time all the other avatars were just killing machines, I felt captivated and grateful to return to what I studied and respected so much before abandoning my being in the human body.

But it wasn't all good, that man.

"Miles quaritch" I whispered as I lay back on my bed, I don't know what is more uncomfortable than having to look at the man who ended my life, it's pure resentment. How consumed by ending Pandora to the point of killing his "mate". He is nothing of mine now, I will never see him as my Colonel, nor do I have any respect for him or live with any of these sickos.

"Lyle why don't you better speak what you have to say to leave this uncomfortable atmosphere" I hissed as I ran my fingers through my hair. "They need you, you must come with me" I almost shrieked in desperation as I arranged the pearl necklace which I felt was suffocating me as I took more steps.

When I reached the place where I was requested I saw the commander shouting at a boy with dreadlocks and blue lines while he was on a machine which makes it possible to visualize the thoughts of the little guy.

My ears shifted to the presence of someone unpleasant to me, and I sighed feeling his large figure land behind me.

"Tell him to let him go" I said quietly to Quaritch listening to the boy's screams, they are inhuman, as a few seconds passed the man reacted and asked to be let go.

"He is not your son" Said the commander to Quaritch, I just felt how my ears lowered and my pupils became too small. Socorro, the pilot with whom Miles had once betrayed me, that day I heard the rumor of her pregnancy , my cup runneth over and I decided to help Jake Sully, the reason they took my life, escape. Memories flood me from the moment I woke up again, I can only think of the sensation that flowed from my chest when I felt the shot, and the blood that flowed from my mouth when I fell on my knees in front of the feet of that monster.

The commander explained to me what I already knew 'you must collaborate to calm the hostiles and teach them to survive in Pandora" and more things that do not interest me, but she also forced me to go and try to reason with the boy.

I walked around taking a breath of air from the mask as I reached the cell and swiped the access card on the door. The size of the doorway was up to my navel forcing me to lower my head only to see Miles talking to the human.

"Why would they send an insensitive idiot to talk to a child?" I sneered at the larger avatar's face for his poor practice of the Navi language and the smaller one got a smirk on his face mocking Quaritch.

"What are you doing here sweetie" "I came to keep Spider company" I wrinkled my nose at the over name, I wonder if he doesn't remember who he is talking to or has no dignity.

Quaritch has been apologizing to me every night without anyone seeing him, he doesn't want to damage his reputation as a bad man, but I don't care what he does anymore.

I talked a little, not to say a lot with Spider, in what I have had of life with this body I had not had an interesting conversation until today, he is a very interesting boy and most of our talk was in the Navi language for better comfort as Quaritch was there so he did not understand most of our words.

I left the cell as I shook out my skirt with a grin from ear to ear, but as I reached my room I couldn't help but have a slump, this place is extremely depressing why did I have to come back, deep inside I would have rather rested in death than be here, being forced to watch them destroy everything in their path, like the animals they are. I lay on the giant bed as I curled up feeling tears pooling in my eyes and slipping leaving my face wet in their wake.I try to make excuses as to why being here is dire and torture, but I know it's because of him, my inner child from before, the one who let herself be treated like a rag doll doing whatever Miles said, no matter how many times he insulted me or hurt me, it felt like true love, but seeing his empty stare as he pulled the trigger chemically affected my brain.

I fell asleep crying and woke up rubbing my eyes when I heard knocking at the door and looked at the time and it read one in the morning.

'Not again' I thought as I grabbed the pillow and grabbed my ears feeling the feeling of tears and nausea return.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me just listen to me" I closed my eyes tightly as I felt my breathing hitch and I started to shake.

"please go away" I whimpered leaning back against the back of the bed and hugged my legs.

Everything went silent making me think he was gone like all the other nights since it wasn't the first time, but I heard the door switch as it was unlocked and my throat went dry as the door opened revealing a hesitant Quaritch with a key card in hand.

I was in shock and just started crying like a little girl, silently. He wordlessly sat down next to me and forced my head to lay on his shoulder as he hugged me and combed my hair.

"Easy my girl" he spoke as I felt his tears mingle with mine as he gave me a warm kiss, completely blinding my opinion of everything he did to me.

"I'm not that man anymore, but the one thing I do hold firm is my love for you and you know it my porcelain doll."

I just looked at him silently as I felt his fingers brush the straps of my shirt.

"Don't see me as the human Colonel Quaritch, see me as Miles, the man who will love you in this life and the next" "Forgive me please."

His words were camouflaged with lies but I wanted to believe it was different.

We didn't unite is a kiss which was at first delicate and fleeting, but he made it strong and wild, all that love mixed with other intentions.

I hated him, hated his magical touch and how I pathetically surrendered to him, how I felt his hands throwing my shirt off me.

His hands kneaded my breasts drawing little moans from me as I sought his touch more desperately.

He ignited the flame that he would one day extinguish.

His hands kneaded my breasts drawing small moans from me as I sought more of his touch desperately.

"Look at you dirty whimsical little girl" he laid me down on the bed climbing on top of me placing his knee very close to my center as he tended to my two nubs on my chest, brushing his thigh on my clothed sex making me rub more and squeal as I felt him bite my nipple and with his other hand he pinched the skin of my other breast. "Touch me please" I whispered before he shushed me and pulled down my underwear only leaving me with my skirt. He gave my bud a few good ones earning sloppy moans from my mouth. He stopped attending to my intimacy and looked at me with the eyes of a cat towards his little mouse.

He made me lie on my stomach lifting my ass towards him as I listened to him unzip his pants and pull out his cock, I turned my face away trying to see and my tail wagged from here and there from excitement.

I was wet enough for his cock to enter me easily, filling me completely, it hurt but I knew he was enjoying it so I kept quiet feeling tears welling up in the corner of my eyes, but all that pain turned to pleasure with his hard stagnant sloppy thrusts.

I wasn't just full, I was with him and for me it was more than intimate this, his body and my body.

I whimpered as I reached orgasm, I cried as I was overstimulated, he smacked my ass cheeks leaving a mark, and he also showered me with praise, such is love or our love, pain and passion.

After that night I was blinded, thinking it was love, going back to being a puppet and I liked it, I had a sense of life again and it always was, just him.

Despite whatever promises he made to me he didn't keep them, his hatred of life on Pandora and Jake was always stronger than loving me and that day on that boat he simply let me die.

But this time I would never have the chance to see his eyes again.

#miles quaritch x reader #colonel quaritch x reader #miles quaritch smut #avatar

[nightttoon]

Not my boy

Yunobo x reader

Warnings! Mention of drugs? (Like... Marbled Rock Roast), Yunobo wearing mask, a little rude Yuno, totk spoilers

I think that's all! Enjoy!

You ran home as fast as you could, wanting to snuggle up to your goron boyfriend as soon as possible. You've missed Yunobo incredibly, your kind, gentle goron.

You've been gone for a long time. The journey to your native village to your family took longer then you thought it would and when you came back you didn't understand anything. You got that something was wrong when, in the middle of the day, during working hours, one of the gorons was sitting on the ground. His eyes are red, and he keeps himself sitting only with help of the wall behind him. He didn't respond to your attempts to talk to him, so you decided to run to the city and call for help.

Goron City didn't look good either. Everyone is tired-lookig, and Bludo you met on the way only got worse with his back.

Old Goron just explained what happened. He told about new version of Rock Roast, about how the behavior of the Gorons has changed and about what happened to Yunobo.

Yunobo is the kindest and most sympathetic goron you've ever known. Your dear boyfriend. But the way Bludo described him doesn't look like him at all... rude, loud, boorish... This is not your Yunobo. Bludo also mentioned something about a mask...

"Try to talk to him. Maybe he'll listen to you..."

The old goron said with a heavy sigh.

And you immediately went to him, to the mine where he is now. Where he takes Marbled Rock Roast.

He was there. But it's not your Yunobo. Not the Goron you fell in love with.

"Hey! I told no one but me to come in here!" The young goron shouted at the whole mine, heading towards you with fast pace.

You crossed your arms, waiting for him at the exit with a frown on your face.

The president didn't keep you waiting long, stopping right in front of you with a smirk. His eyes seem to burn red under that damn mask.

"Welcome back, Goro! Oh? What's with the face? Aren't you happy to see me?" Said goron taking you by the chin.

You couldn't believe it was him. That the one who stands in front of you is your once gentle goron, who was afraid to hurt you and did not touch you that confidently.

"What's going on, Yuno? What's with the city? Why are the Gorons in such state?" You said, removing his hand from your face. His hands seemed unbearably hard for you right now.

Yunobo frowned.

"The Gorons are in perfectly fine. But there's something wrong with you"

You look at his displeased grin. His eyes shine with a dangerous flame, not the soft fire that you are used to.

"You're not Yunobo..." you said through your teeth.

Your boyfriend's face is twisted with anger.

"And what do you mean by that, huh?"

"That there's something wrong with you! Take your mask off!"

You reached for the mask, but he grabbed your wrist, squeezing it tightly.

"Don't touch... pf... Something wrong with me, Goro? With me?! You've been in your village for longer than you promised! It's not my fault that you missed all the changes! And now it's my fault?!" The young goron shouted angrily.

The skin on your wrist started to turn red from the way he squeezed your hand, forcing you to close your eyes.

"Stop, it hurts!"

Tears rolled from your eyes. Your gentle goron would never do that. He's not the one you love so much... Not your boy...

"Oh no, honey, that's not how things are done"

He sounded annoyed. Pulling you by the hand, he put you between him and the wall. One of the hands slid down on your thigh, squeezing tightly so that you would not have the opportunity to leave. He leaned forward, trapping you between his muscular body and the mine wall. The other hand stopped on the wall next to your head. A sneaky grin spread across his face. He leaned forward, whispering in your ear. His warm breath burns the skin of your neck, and no amount of Fireproof Elixir will help.

"We have to catch up on everything you missed during your absence, don't you agree, dear?"

Ah well... Requests are open.

#legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #botw #breath of the wild #loz totk #totk #loz #gorons #yunobo #yunobo x reader #president yunobo #x reader #x reader fic #sage #sage of fire #sage yunobo

[fucktheark]

(some) creepypasta/marble hornets music hcs :)

these are mostly from my own playlist they aren't accurate at all this is just 4 funsies lololol

also i highly doubt anyone will even see this post but if u do drop a song rec plz im struggling finding new music </3

tim (specifically him cs masky is too busy going apeshit 4 music)

old man music but like cool old man music (this is just what my father listens to LOL)

thinks he's got peak taste and snickers at everybody else's song choices

breathe - pink floyd

pet sematary - ramones

the chain - fleetwood mac

aerials - soad

lover, you should've come over - jeff buckley

hoodie

i pulled this out of my ass tbh but imagine 80s fan brian

kinda likes lil peep but would never tell a soul cs he thinks he's too old for it

doesn't rly share his music with anyone bcs he's afraid they're not gonna clown him for it

she's in parties - bauhaus

the brightside - lil peep

the ghost in you - psychedelic furs

messages - a flock of seagulls

hotel california - the eagles (cz y not)

jane

i never rly obsessed over her so this is js based on the vibes i get from the art i've seen of her (so pretty bruh)

echolalia - faetooth

nine while nine - sisters of mercy

closet - fleshwater

engine no. 9 - deftones

frigid and spellbound - spectral wound

nina

no way totally unexpected music

i think eventually she grew out of screamo and scene but never rly let emo go entirely

acid - ghost town

get away with murder - jeffree star (yikes)

what you need - bmth

freaxx - brokencyde (she's been in love with this album since it came out)

vampires will never hurt you - mcr

jeff

i like think that after what he did to his family he just kinda checked out from earth and stopped keeping up with most pop culture, so he's still listening to the same music he did back then.

peak edgy middle schooler vibes

never tires of his playlist

every now and again he comes across something new and gets obsessed with it immediately and probably forever

yen - slipknot

makedamnsure - taking back sunday

don't go - bmth

tourniquet - marilyn manson

crewcabanger - chelsea grin

toby

I-C-P FOREVER WITH THE JUGGALOSSSSSS

still enjoys twiztid even after the beef but secretly because it makes him feel like a poser

also likes jeff buckley but feels kinda cringe for it

the stalker - icp

house of mirrors - icp

my 1st time - dark lotus

2nd hand smoke - twiztid

grace - jeff buckley

liu

same reasoning as jane i know like nothing about this dude and even less about sully so i'm not even gonna attempt .

i fw his vibe tho

eye - smashing pumpkins

the man who sold the world - nirvana

heaven - talking heads

the sickness - imminence (he's gotta be a lil emo come on)

siamese twins - the cure

eyeless jack

this one is kinda hard tbh but considering his hypersensitivity to sound, i feel like he wouldn't enjoy anything too noisy

likes songs with a lot of bass because he can feel the bass reverberating through his body when he wears headphones

soft/airy vocals!!!! he hates screaming

doesn't rly stick with a specific genre just whatever makes his ears tingle lol

a forest - the cure

dark stone - holy fawn

hide and seek #1 - plastic tree

the thing - pixies

collabo - june freedom

BEN

bitch spends so much time on the internet he discovers new music every day

listens to everything but tries to flex the really obscure shit he finds in the depths of youtube (he wants to be cool but it's kind of pathetic.)

his playlist is MASSIVE and a mess, he usually has to skip through half of it before finding something he actually likes

i don't know why but he'd be into haunted mound

plays the majora's mask soundtrack when he can't think of anything to listen to

husqrider - turnabout

fentanylism - opiated devilsperm

starting over - lsd and the search for god

gou zin zan goku - deviloof

ugliest - $uicideboy$

laughing jack

he's old af and probably doesn't get modern music tbh

classical music it is

and opera

i'm not gonna make a whole playlist but he really loves erlkönig because of the story lol

#creepypasta #marble hornets #creepypasta headcanons #marble hornets headcanons #tim wright headcanons #eyeless jack headcanons #ticci toby headcanons #jeff the killer headcanons #nina the killer headcanons #jane the killer headcanons #ben drowned headcanons #laughing jack headcanons #hoodie headcanons #homicidal liu headcanons #i've fallen back into fandom activities oh no

[lexosaurus]

Emergency Contact - Part 1

I am late but my fic for @invisobang is finally being released! I used a Phic Phight prompt from @ecto-american for this fic, so thank you for the inspiration!

Also shoutout to the amazing artists for this fic @asyl-ym and @ravenatural-art

[check out this amazing art for the first chapter!]

read on: [ao3] [ffn]

Characters: Lancer & Phantom Tags: Hurt/Comfort, found family WC: 5086 Summary: When William Lancer answered the phone that day, little did he know that he would go from an average literature teacher and cat-dad to now the emergency foster parent of a very injured teenage ghost.

— — —

Lights swirled before his eyes, tipping his worldview into a sea of smeared colors and flashes of scenery that seemed to appear seconds too late. His ears rang, sounds fading in and out, and his thoughts tumbled against his brain. He forced himself to continue on, not knowing where he was going or how long it would take to get there. His core pulsed, acting as a GPS, and Danny knew that now he just needed to trust his instincts.

He tipped over, and he felt himself fall for a second too long before his adrenalin spiked and he righted himself again.

Just keep moving forward. Keep pushing on. Just a little farther…

He jerked forward, and pain blossomed in his side. He pressed a shaking hand to his chest, only to feel a sickening wet sensation slipping between his gloved fingers. 

Don’t think, don’t think.

He heard a shout below him, and his brain was too slow to realize what was happening until he’d already crashed onto the pavement. Hands invaded his body, pushing his shoulders, and turning him over so he stared into the tilting sky. He tried to look up, but the sun beamed down on him and it was too harsh, too bright. He squinted, and faces appeared in his vision, blocking the sun. But the world was still spinning and the faces were too foggy.

“Hos…hos…” he tried to tell the smudged faces, not quite sure what he wanted. 

The face above him spoke back, but Danny couldn’t understand what she said. He was too tired, anyway. 

He felt someone tap his cheek. He flinched, his eyes opening and squinting up at the woman standing above him.

She spoke again, but Danny wasn’t listening. His eyes had focused just enough for him to notice the scrubs she was wearing. Relief washed over him, and he felt his body relax.

It was okay. He’d made it. He was going to be okay.

“…Phantom…” the woman said, pressing her hand against his chest.

Danny couldn’t make out the rest of the sentence. He shook his head, raising a now-green glove to grip her arm. 

She spoke again, but the words sounded like they were coming through a bad phone reception, and Danny couldn’t even start to piece together what they all meant. “...okay?” she asked.

Danny gurgled in response.

There were more faces around him now, more hands touching him, more voices clouding the air, more faces in scrubs and masks, more blue gloves flittering around.

He felt his body being hoisted up onto a bed, and then he was propelled forward, or backward, he couldn’t tell. The mattress was too inviting, and the world around him was growing softer, and softer.

His shoulders relaxed, and his eyes finally shut.

— — —

William Lancer had been a teacher for twenty years. He considered himself as someone who had “seen it all,” so to speak. Teenage pregnancies, drugs, fights, ghost attacks—there really wasn’t anything that could surprise him at this point.

Except, apparently, he hadn’t seen it all.

“Phantom?” William asked into the receiver, his voice tinged with surprise. 

“That’s correct, he requested you specifically as his emergency contact,” the nurse on the other line said.

Every so often, William wondered if it were possible that he had taught Phantom at one point before he died. But then, Phantom was awfully young. Wouldn’t William have heard about a child so young passing away? Especially if it were one of his students?

So it was unlikely that Phantom had been one of William’s students then. At least, that’s what he always told himself. But perhaps that vague reassurance was just a lie he said to avoid admitting that one of his students slipped through the cracks.

“If you’re unavailable, we can ask for someone else.”

“No, no.” William hurried out of his chair, grabbing his coat. “That’s no problem at all. I apologize, I just wasn’t expecting this phone call. Amity Park General, you said?”

“That’s right. There’s a parking garage next to the main entrance.”

“Alright, thank you. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Sounds good, William. We’ll see you soon.”

“Goodbye.” William hung up his phone and shoved it in his back pocket. He threw his coat over his shoulders, grabbed his keys, and paused.

Was he really about to hurry over to the hospital for a ghost?

What did a ghost even need a hospital for in the first place?

And once again, why him? Why did Phantom choose him? Surely the ghost child had friends he could contact in Amity Park? Heavens knows he’d been here long enough to meet a few people.

So why did he request the one adult that William was sure that he’d never had a conversation with?

Regardless, it was too late to ask questions now. He already agreed to be Phantom’s emergency contact, so now he had to fulfill those duties.

Resolved in what he had to do next, he snapped himself out of his funk and walked out of his office door.

Fortunately, traffic was light, giving him only limited time to overanalyze the absurdity of the situation. In the end, a young teenager was in a situation where they needed an adult. Dead, alive, he was just a teenager.

He turned on the radio, needing to distract himself with anything else. The quiet hum of the anchors was soothing, and he felt himself relax, if just slightly.

“...an explosion today at the Fentonworks residence…”

William chuckled under his breath. It must have been a slow news day if they were reporting on one of Jack Fenton’s many shenanigans.

He zoned out, letting the drone of the voices blend in with his thoughts. Before he knew it, he was pulling into the parking garage next to the hospital.

He walked through the front doors of the hospital, blinking as people bustled on by him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a child clutching her swollen arm, her tears streaked with red as her mother gently wrapped her hand around the child’s shoulder.

Quirking a lip at that gentle, parental affection, William approached the receptionist's desk where a tired woman with poofy hair was hanging up her phone.

“How can I help you?” the receptionist asked.

“I’m here for a…uh…” William hesitated, not knowing how under-the-table Phantom’s stay was. “I mean, I’m William Lancer? I’m here to visit…”

The receptionist’s eyes doubled in size, and she surveyed him over, clearly looking for any sort of connection between him and the ghost currently residing in their building.

William wished he could tell her just how confused he was too.

“Of—of course,” she squeaked, fumbling with the phone as she grabbed it again. It clattered against the desk, and pink dusted her cheeks. “One second, let me just—go take a seat, someone will be with you shortly.”

William nodded graciously and turned to the waiting area. But moments after he sat down, the receptionist was calling his name once more. He stood, turning to see a tall, thin man with neatly cut black hair standing in the door, his white coat and blue scrubs an instant tell as to what his position was. Next to the doctor was a shorter woman in a lavender blouse and blue pants.

“Doctor Adu,” the doctor said, sticking his hand out.

William met him halfway, unsurprised by the man’s firm grip. “Hello, I’m William Lancer.”

“And I’m Melissa Peters, the social worker,” the woman said giving him a handshake as well.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“I assume you were informed of the situation?”

“I was told which patient has requested my presence. But otherwise, I do not know any details.”

Dr. Adu nodded, his face unreadable. “Why don’t we go talk somewhere else.”

William followed the two through a wide set of double doors and up an elevator. They weaved the hallways until the colors of the walls changed from teal to red. Just as William was about to pipe up, Dr. Adu stopped before a door.

“We can speak freely here.” He pulled open the door and flipped on the light switch. 

William stepped through, half expecting to find Phantom laid out on a bed, but to his surprise, all he saw was a plain-looking consulting room with a few chairs and a green plastic bed against the wall.

Dr. Adu and Melissa each pulled over a chair to sit on, and they gestured for William to do the same. Once the three were sitting, Dr. Adu clasped his hands. “Well, I think we can cut to the chase. I have to say, in my fifteen years working in this hospital, this is a first for me. I’ve treated many different patients from all walks of life, but a ghost is new.”

Melissa leaned forward, regarding William in earnest. “I have to ask, what is your connection to Phantom? Familial?”

“No,” William said. “I honestly have hardly had a conversation with him. The only connection is that I’m a high school teacher at Caspar High. I could have once been his teacher, but I don’t know if I buy that. I’ve had a few students who have died young, but none matched Phantom’s description and none were named Danny. Though it’s plausible that Danny is an alias, and he’s changed his appearance as a ghost to make him unrecognizable. With the white hair, I assume it would be possible.”

“And you don’t remember any relatives who died young? Cousins, nephews?”

“No, none that I’ve ever met at least.”

“Interesting.” Melissa leaned back in her chair. “The fact that he requested you specifically is fascinating. I know the topic of what ghosts can retain from their human lives is highly debated within the ectosciences, but this is a clear indication that he must have remembered you as someone he could trust.”

William would have been touched if it weren’t for the stakes at play. “But no family or relatives…”

“It would explain a lot about his attention-seeking personality,” Melissa said. “Many children from unstable homes struggle with this as well.”

“Regardless, this is all a legal gray area for the hospital. Having spent the past year watching Phantom protect our city, we feel that it would be morally wrong for us to turn him away. We would prefer to keep him here, but this isn’t entirely a black-and-white situation. Technically, we have to report him to the US Ghost Investigation Ward, as ghosts caught on US soil are a violation of the Anti-Ecto Control Act. So legally, we have to report this.” 

“I’m also in a bit of a legal gray area,” Melissa said. “Technically, Phantom isn’t within my legal jurisdiction since he’s not a human. Social services and CPS don’t apply to him.”

“You are not a known relative, so technically you have no responsibility over Phantom. If you wish to leave, you may do so. Otherwise, we will put you as the adult responsible for Phantom in the short term. Since you would be acting as the child’s medical advocate, we could possibly delay turning him over.”

“And if I leave?” William asked, his mouth drying. “If I leave, what happens to him?”

Dr. Adu didn’t break eye contact. “Honestly? If you take responsibility for Phantom right now, we can just report it as a regular ecto-related injury and keep his anonymity as related to the emergency treatment. We get so many ecto-related injuries a week, that the likelihood of the GIW showing up is null. Unfortunately, when he’s healed, we will have to officially report him as being an ecto-entity himself or I risk losing my license. But if you leave today, we’ll have no choice, he’ll be turned over to the government.”

William swallowed, but that did little to wet his parched throat. This was what he was afraid of. He may have not been completely knowledgable of all things ecto like the Fentons, but with the federal government as loud and split as it was, even he knew what would happen to Phantom if the Ghost Investigation Ward got their hands on him. 

So this was it then. William was between a rock and a hard place.

On one hand, helping children was in his blood. It was his entire bread and butter, his purpose in life. But on the other hand, Phantom was a ghost. He was a stranger, he was powerful, he had a foreign psyche and different rules and laws he followed. It was a risk, a massive risk.

“This is a huge ask,” Dr. Adu said. “So far, only a select few people have even seen Phantom since he arrived, and it is only people that I personally have hand-picked. The goal is to keep this away from the federal government for as long as possible. If we are caught, the hospital could be under serious fines. If they find out that you are keeping Phantom under your direct supervision, you will be targeted as well. We need to be extremely explicit with you about this.”

He always pictured himself living a quiet life in a small house, reading books with his cat nestled beside him. He always pictured himself going to work in a normal classroom and going home to his normal house.

But then, nothing in Amity Park was normal.

And if he were being honest with himself, William already knew what his answer would be from the moment he picked up that phone.

“I understand,” he said. “I will act as the adult contact for Phantom.”

“You’re sure about this?” Dr. Adu said, looking at William through his raised brows. 

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright,” Melissa clasped her hands together. “In that case, I actually have a case meeting elsewhere in the hospital that I’m running late for. William, I will catch up with you after and we can go over the paperwork. Dr. Adu, you as well.”

William stood and shook her hand. “Of course, thank you.”

“William.” Dr. Adu opened the door for the three of them. “I will bring you Phantom’s room where the PA assigned to Phantom’s case will fill you in. His injuries were incredibly peculiar, which is a large part of why we felt it was necessary to hold him here. She’ll go over that with you.”

— — —

“Cut open?” William felt faint. “What do you mean he was cut open?”

“That’s what it appears to be,” the blonde physician’s assistant, Burgess, said. “There are actually several injuries we can’t explain that are too inconsistent to have been the typical ghost fight. It doesn’t line up. We’re not entirely sure what happened to him, but whatever it was, it nearly ended him.”

“But he’s a ghost,” William insisted. “Ghosts can’t exactly die, can they?”

“Maybe not the way you and I can, but they can certainly…cease.” 

The duo turned a corner. This wing of the hospital was removed from the rest, only filled with quiet, private rooms. Supposedly, it was typically used for celebrities and politicians, or people wealthy enough to afford it, but Phantom was famous enough to count.

Burgess opened the door. “He woke up a bit ago.”

William stepped forward, holding his breath. The room was bright and sterile, with white tiles and white walls contrasted by a soft, blue curtain framing the large window in the room. Inside, Phantom lay down in his bed hooked to an IV drip. William’s first reaction was that given Phantom’s injuries, his bed looked unreasonably bare, but without human functions like a heartbeat and a pulse, there was simply no need for much of the machinery. 

It hit him in the gut that this was a ghost laying on the bed, not a human. Which said ghost had perked up as soon as William had stepped in the room and was currently giving him a goofy wave, one that William was sure he’d seen before, but couldn’t quite place.

But through the smile, William noticed how his lips trembled, the bags under his eyes, how his skin looked so pale it was nearly translucent.

“Heya, teach! Wassup?” 

“We have him on some strong painkillers,” the PA explained.

Phantom grinned and gave them a clumsy thumbs up. “Yeah, you gotta try this stuff. It’s insane. Like listen, I’ve been hurt loads of times and I’ve never been able to sleep after getting mauled or anything before!”

“You were mauled?” William asked, his voice a little more than panicked.

“I don’t know!” Phantom giggled, and then his face fell. 

William couldn’t help but notice the bandages wrapped around his torso and arm. The PA’s words from earlier echoed in his brain, that he was cut open with clean incisions. His bones were broken as if they had been cut by a bone-saw rather than broken by blunt trauma. His skin had markings that someone had drawn on with a sharpie. 

This wasn’t a mauling, this was torture. 

Phantom, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice William’s internal struggle and began babbling about a ghost dog that he knew who could change sizes.

And William took the time to study him. Really study him.

William had seen him plenty of times on TV, but never up close like this. Under the soft glow encasing the ghost, he could see every skin detail, every pore on Phantom’s face. He could see his white eyelashes lazily flutter as his eyelids drooped, the green tinge to his cheeks, and—to William’s mild surprise—the freckles that dotted his skin.

Even injured, William could tell instinctively that Phantom was a powerful ghost. The aura around him was dim compared to how William remembered it looking, but the chill that hovered close to Phantom was still just as biting as ever. 

But above all, he couldn’t help but notice how young Phantom was. The child’s voice was high, cracking every so often like a teenager just beginning the throes of puberty. His cheeks were round with the hallmarks of baby fat, and his eyes, though dazed, still were wide with that childhood innocence. Though a quip from his enemies and journalists alike, William couldn’t help but agree with the “ghost child” nickname that Phantom had acquired. 

He truly was just a kid.

And in this bed with a fluffy pillow under him, William felt the pang in his chest as he was reminded that ultimately, Phantom was not just a kid, but a dead one. Someone who never got the chance to grow up. Someone who had taken way too much responsibility at too young of an age.

William wondered what events lead to this kid spending his time playing superhero rather than playing with the other child children and teens that he sadly presumed were also in the Ghost Zone. Why was Phantom here? Why did he cross over? 

Why was he so alone?

“Phantom,” he said, curiosity burning at his fingertips. “I’m glad you called me and I’m more than happy to assist you, but do you not have any living relatives that are available as well?”

Phantom’s eyes darkened as his aura dimmed before he blinked and his aura sparkled once again. He cocked his head, grinning. “I have a sister!”

“Oh, wonderful,” William said. “Would you like me to call her?”

The wispy aura evaporated once again. “No! No, don’t do that! You can’t!”

Phantom looked a little too panicked, and once again William wondered just what the hell happened to this kid. 

He raised his hands in a universal surrender. “Okay, I won’t call. Can you tell me why I can’t call her though?”

“Can’t call who?”

“Your sister.”

“Why do you wanna call my sister?” 

“So she can come here to assist you while you recover.”

Phantom’s eyebrows furrowed. “But you can’t call her.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Phantom’s voice trailed off as he began fiddling with the sheets. 

When it was clear that Phantom either had no intention of continuing or had simply forgotten about the conversation entirely, William sighed. “Well, I will be your guardian for the time being.”

Phantom nodded, his gaze unfocused. “The time being, huh.”

“Well, yes.”

“Mm,” Phantom nodded. “Until the Guys in White pick me up.”

William’s eyebrows knit together. “I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” Phantom sighed, looking back down at his lap. “I don’t have any living family, by the way. Oh! Except I think Frostbite thinks he’s adopted me. Well not really, he’s a ghost. He lives on an island. Have you heard of him?”

William had taught teenagers long enough to know when they were lying, but he didn’t press on the living family matter further.

At the very least, he wanted to assure Phantom that he wouldn’t let the government take him, but he was just an English teacher. If the government wanted him, what could William do?

It was all just a race of time.

Phantom’s head bobbed and once again that goofy smile pulled at his lips. 

Even though his eyes looked blank.

“Lighten up, teach,” he said. “It’s all good. Everything’s fine.”

William didn’t believe him, but he was inclined to let the ghost have his way regardless.

Phantom’s attention turned to the door, and a second later William heard the crescendo of muffled voices slowly unmask from the hallway.

“...he eats?” the first voice said.

A raspier, accented voice snapped back. “Eh? He’s dead! Why would the dead need to eat?”

“I saw a Tiktok—”

“You can’t believe everything you see online!”

Phantom’s grin turned impish. “I eat!” he called out.

The voices halted in the hall. “Did he…?”

“I eat food!”

The door swung open. 

“That was you?” the older, Asian woman said.

Phantom’s aura brightened. “Yup!”

“I told you!” the younger, blonde nurse said. “I told you I’d seen a video before.”

“Whatever,” the older nurse waved her off. “You eat regular food? No special dietary requirement?”

“Sometimes I put ectoplasm in my food. The best is tater tots dipped in hot ectoplasm, which I usually don’t eat that hot but sometimes it’s nice. It’s almost like Ranch but like…a doppelganger of Ranch. Actually, it doesn’t taste anything like Ranch, I don’t know why I said that. It just sort of came over me, I’m sorry.”

The nurses openly stared.

Phantom blinked, seemingly coming back to reality. “I eat human food too.”

“Thank goodness.”

— — —

William watched Phantom sleep. The boy’s chest moved up and down like he was breathing. Though, William knew that it was likely just an innate reflex from when the boy was alive. Not for the first time, he couldn’t help but consider the possibility that Phantom had died recently.

“The new stitches are holding for now,” Dr. Adu explained. “But this set phases out of his skin again, there’s really not much we can do. We don’t have the facilities to treat an ecto-entity here.”

William nodded passively. He had seen the photographs of the boy’s chest at this point, and even the mere thought of those injuries made him feel faint.

There was a laceration—shaped like a Y—on his chest, reminiscent of a cadaver. His ribs had been sliced clean through, muscles and skin on his arm split open with an object far too smooth for William’s liking, and electrical scarring danced around his body, some old and some new.

It was, without a doubt, the most nauseating set of injuries that William Lancer had ever seen outside of a TV show.

But the TV was fake. This was real.

“I don’t understand how this could happen to him,” William said. “Who could have done this?”

“He had a lot of enemies.” Dr. Adu turned the boy’s arm over in his hand, checking the wrappings. 

“But to this degree?”

Dr. Adu sighed, putting down the arm. “I’m just a surgeon, not an ecto-behavioral psychologist. I don’t know who could have done this or why, I can only treat what’s in front of me.”

“Someone was toying with him, though,” William continued. “Like…like he was some sort of sick experiment.”

“It would be unethical of me to jump to conclusions.”

William heard the undertone in his voice. “But you believe it too, don’t you?”

“It…” Dr. Adu’s voice trailed off, and he frowned at the boy before him. “It would appear that way.”

Despite his typically calm demeanor, he felt hot anger flash through him. His stomach turned. How could someone do this to an innocent child? Even if he was a ghost, how could anyone look him in the eyes while they…while they…

William shook his head, unwilling to even entertain the thought.

“We gave him some more pain medication since he seems to respond to it nearly compatible with humans.”

“Nearly?”

“Well, it would appear that his metabolism burns through the pain medication faster than our typical patients. But since he’s not technically our patient nor is he actually here, I was able to bend the rules slightly. Not as much as he might have liked, but just a bit.”

William got the undertones of his wording a second delayed. He blinked, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “Is that not dangerous? He is just a child, after all.”

Dr. Adu shrugged. “He’s a ghost.”

“But he’s still a kid.”

“Sure, a kid who’s a ghost. Semantics aside, his body doesn’t function the same as ours. And besides,” Dr. Adu’s passive face pulled into a frown as he stared down at the glowing figure below him. “I may as well give him as much comfort as I can while he can still enjoy it.”

“Comfort? What?”

The surgeon turned away from the bed. “The hospital is going to have to file a report of our patient tomorrow.”

“I thought you were only going to file for ecto-contamination?”

“I was.”

William rose from his chair. “Then why change it now? What changed?”

“The admins weren’t happy. They had a meeting this morning and informed me that I had until Phantom was stable before they would inform the federal government of our visitor. And if these sutures stay in, at the rate of his body’s natural healing ability, I think he’ll be stable enough to leave in the next day or so.”

William’s eyes flickered over to the sleeping boy, looking for even a flicker of a sign that he was awake, but the boy’s chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm. “So what, his body starts to heal, and then we just hand him over to the government to die?”

“According to the law, he’s the government’s property.”

“That’s barbaric. Surely there’s something that can be done.”

“My hands are tied.”

“It’s not right.” William felt frustration bubble up in his chest. “He’s just a child.”

Dr. Adu gave him a curious look.

“What?” William asked, failing to keep the hopeless irritation from his tone.

“I can see why Phantom chose you. Your empathy is admirable.”

“Well,” William said. “I am a teacher.”

“Still. Phantom is quite lucky to have you here for him.”

William scoffed. “I doubt he’ll share your sentiment when he’s whisked off to his imprisonment with the Ghost Investigation Ward, but I appreciate your words nonetheless. Perhaps the administration can take a leaf out of my book if they’d be so interested in listening to me.”

Dr. Adu sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“That’s all I ask.”

— — —

William was there when Phantom finally reawakened, though this time far more subdued than before. He didn’t know if it was the pain medication wearing off, if Phantom just didn’t have the energy to keep on the mask any longer, or a mixture of both, but Phantom seemed far too complacent to sit there dutifully staring off into the walls with a glazed expression.

Thankfully for William, he had thought to bring a file of essays that needed to be graded anyway. 

So the duo sat there in silence as the television prattled on in the background. Every so often, William would see Phantom’s eyes twitch over to him for a brief moment before settling either on the wall or the screen before him, but the ghost made no attempt to converse.

And William didn’t pressure him. 

After all, he’d worked with enough troubled teens to know that the best way to get them to talk was to create an environment where they felt comfortable enough to speak freely.

Step one of that was just being there.

Fortunately for William, it didn’t take too long before Phantom finally cracked.

“You know,” he said, his voice cracking from disuse. “You shouldn’t worry about me.”

William halted his movements, and his pen hovered above the essay. “Of course I worry about you. I worry about all my students. Just because you’re a ghost doesn’t absolve you from this.”

“Yeah but…I mean, you don’t have to worry about what’s gonna happen next. You know, with the GIW.”

William set his pen down on his paper. 

“I don’t know what they’ve told you, but I’m not exactly going to hang around here much longer. I’ll be gone long before the Guys in White get me.”

“You know I can’t encourage you to hatch any sort of escape plan. Your body is still in an incredibly fragile state. Attempting anything would surely rip your stitches out, and then we’d be right back where we started.”

Phantom broke eye contact and scoffed. “You’re talking as if I have a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” William said softly.

“What, to become their pet plaything? Their own personal experimental cadaver?” Phantom raised his bandaged arm. “I’ve already been through that once, thanks.”

William’s stomach leaped to his throat. If nothing else, this was a confirmation of his increasingly rising suspicions. “You need to be smart about this.”

“I don’t know what you don’t understand about I don’t have a fucking choice, ” Phantom snapped, his aura flaring. He flinched, his face knitting in pain, and his aura pulled back in. “Sorry, I’m just frustrated.”

“I understand, and you have every right to be angry about your situation. It’s…it’s not right.” William felt his professional demeanor crack. “It’s not right what happened to you, and what is facing you once more, but I implore you to wait just a little longer.”

“Why, you planning on smuggling me out or something? Gonna set me up in your guest bedroom?”

A metaphorical lightbulb flickered above William’s head.

At the lack of response, Phantom’s anger melted into shock. “Wait, really?”

— — —

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#danny phantom #emergency contact #my writing #phicc #invisobang 2022 #lancer #aka a self indulgent fic where lancer adopts phantom #ur welcome