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littlewinter1917 · 2 years

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The Familiar

Part One - The Familiar and the Unfamiliar

Series Masterlist

Words: 10.6k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Witch!Reader

Summary: You live in a little cottage in the depths of the woods, where you can practice your witchy ways to your heart’s delight. Things are peaceful and quiet, until your familiar decides to bring home a stray man she’s found in the forest. He’s hurt, scared, and in dire need of help. So, at her insistence, you take him in begrudgingly. But things get complicated when the ghosts of the past come back to haunt you both, and tensions and feelings keep rising as an unexpected bond between you and Eddie grows ever closer and tighter.

Or: Your cat and familiar tries her paws at playing matchmaker and actually succeeds by picking out the most pathetic guy (affectionate), she could find in the woods.

Warnings: A lot of hurt/comfort and fluff! Minor mentions of injuries and being sick, but nothing explicit. Talks about nightmares, past deaths, trauma and multiple witch hunts. Swearing, witchcraft and a talking pet/monster. Some tensions, mutual pinning, secret longing and major slow burn. There’s a small fight and a little bit of angst (with a happy ending though!) Mentions of guilt & grief - but above all healing! It’s implied that the reader isn’t quite human, and that they lost all of their family in a tragic way. This Story does contain spoilers for Season 4.

A/N: I Got the idea for this story after listening to Familiar by Agnes Obel, and Widowspeak’s cover of Wicked Game.

The story is also written with a gender neutral reader in mind, so that anyone who wants to can hopefully enjoy this little story! 🎃

Read the story on AO3 here.

My blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI 🔞 Don't reposed my work anywhere.

Eddie cannot believe his eyes.

He must be hallucinating, he thinks.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or the fact that the consistent cold creeping into his bones is making him feel slightly out of it.

Either way, he has to do a double take when he sees a small, black cat peeking through a line of trees, before strutting right towards him.

The discovery wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary in the small town of Hawkins, but he’s currently somewhere in the deep, dark parts of the local woods instead.

And he hasn’t witnessed a single sign of life for a while now - apart from a few fleeting birds and the occasional rustle of branches, indicating some startled rodent that’s scared off by his arrival.

And Eddie can’t blame them; not when he looks like he’s been through hell and back.

Feels like it too, if he’s honest, and in some way he kind of has.

He couldn’t have predicted that Jason and his gang would catch up to his hide-out that quickly.

Couldn’t have predicted that he would be running and stumbling through the woods for a couple of hours at the very least; if the golden rays of the afternoon sun are anything to go by.

He’s most definitely lost and slightly hurt, but that’s still significantly better than being dead or locked into prison for a crime he didn’t even commit.

But alas, he has to make do with what he’s got, which is admittedly, very little.

It’s been raining non-stop for the better half of the day, and he’s soaked through to the bone. His left foot has also been a pain in the ass ever since he slipped and twisted his ankle earlier; and the last proper meal he had – if two handful of cereal even count as such – was in the waking hours of this morning, because he couldn’t sleep, again.

Go figure.

That was hours before he noticed a foreign car approaching.

Jason’s car, to be exact.

And from there on out he’s been on the run ever since, only starting to slow down a little while ago, because his foot is really not having it, and he’s been feeling so dizzy lately, that parts of the forest start swaying right in front of his eyes every now and then, but always with an increasing intensity.

So, when a regular black housecat starts to suddenly appear in front of him, it’s only natural for Eddie to think that he might be seriously losing it for good now.

Why his mind would conjure up a black cat out of all things, though, is not something he has an answer to either.

It’s only when the cat starts walking little loops around his feet, occasionally bumping it’s head softly against his leg, that Eddie gets pulled out of his racing thoughts. Because this cat, to his surprise, seems very much real.

At least, he thinks it is if his sensory experiences are still somewhat reliable.

He finds himself crouching down slightly, holding out his hand carefully in an attempt not to scare the small animal off. Surprisingly, the cat lets itself be pet, purring lightly and bumping its head against his hand in a playful manner, whenever he pauses his movement for a moment.

“Where did you come from, buddy?” Eddie whispers, still trying to figure out why a black housecat cat would show up in the middle of a forest.

“Please don’t tell me you’re part of the local police force,” he mumbles after a small pause, and for a split second he thinks that the cat almost looks a little offended at his joke, before it’s bumbling his hand again, the small body almost vibrating with a deep purr.

“Are you lost too, little friend?” He inquires, his touch still gentle, and an understanding smile on his lips.

You and me both, buddy, he thinks.

With the cat almost in his lap, he’s able to get a better look at it too. The cat seems to be female, if Eddie isn’t completely mistaken, and she’s blessed with piercing green eyes.

She’s been nibbling softly on one of his fingers, as he continues to pet her, when suddenly, out of nowhere, she decides to jumps up, seemingly running off, before stopping a few feet away from him.

“Where are you going, kitty?” Eddie inquires, surprise etched on his features, and, as much as he hates to admit it, his heart sinks a little at the idea of being all alone again, too.

But instead of vanishing into the sheer endless line of trees, the cat stays where she’s standing, looking back at Eddie expectantly and letting out an impatient meow.

It's almost as if the cat is waiting for him to follow her lead, Eddie thinks, before shaking his head. He really is losing it now.

Still, he finds himself walking up to the animal slowly. But as soon as he’s almost by her side, the cat is rushing a few steps forward again, before looking back at him once more, waiting for him to catch up, before the same thing repeats itself.

Again.

And again.

And again, again.

Eddie himself cannot quite explain why he feels the urge to follow the cat, despite having no idea where she’s going, or what exactly is going on.

This could be the start of a horror movie, for all he knows.

Except he’s already kind of trapped in a real-life horror movie anyway, so how much worse can it get, really?

Eddie doesn’t want to jinx it, but he’s pretty sure that his day cannot get any worse, because there’s hardly any room for growth on the ‘this day was really shit’ scale.

He’s not sure how long he’s been following the cat, but he’s exhausted either way.

It doesn’t help that his surroundings looks all the same to him. Just an endless sea of trees.

He could have been walking in circles and he didn’t know.

Still wouldn’t.

But he’s also convinced that he’s officially lost it, because he swears that the cat has been slowing down a little, trying to match her pace to his, and sometimes he even thinks she’s giving him an encouraging meow.

He’s not sure how much longer he can wander around like that, though.

When he tells the cat about his need for a break, the only answer he gets is another soft meow, before she’s tugging on one of his shoelaces lightly, trying to get him to move forward, and that’s that.

The cat has decided that the journey continues, Eddie thinks with a subtle shake of his head.

Maybe this is all some kind of fever dream, and Eddie should probably brace himself for the unsuspected twist where it turns into a nightmare again, because all his dreams lately are; if he manages to fall asleep, that is.

He thinks that maybe he should let the cat know that he knows now that none of this is real; it can’t be, not with the way the black feline shook her head earlier, when he asked it if this was a secret ploy to get him to turn into some cat food.

It’s like she actually understands him, but that’s impossible.

Next thing he knows, she’ll start talking too. Eddie can’t help but laugh a little at that idea.

Talking cats.

Somehow, on a scale of disbelieving things concerning everything in the cursed town of Hawkins, that isn’t even the craziest thing he can think of.

He’s about to tell the cat about it, when suddenly he sees it.

It’s a big shape between a line of trees in the distance, and it takes him a second to realize what exactly he’s looking at, but once he does, he shakes his head with much more vigor.

“No!” He states, determined while taking a few stumbling steps back.

The cat just looks at him with questioning eyes, before tugging on his jeans softly, trying to get him to move towards the object again.

“Oh, absolutely not!”

Because the unusual shape in the woods is nothing but a small little cottage.

And an abandoned shed would have been just fine with Eddie, but there’s warm light seeping through some of the windows, which means that somebody lives there.

Either that, or it’s haunted by ghosts with an insatiable hunger for coziness even in death.

He’s not sure what’s worse.

The cat tugs on his jeans again, and this time Eddie decides to crouch down, hoping that an eye-to-eye conversation with her will erase any lingering misunderstandings.

“Listen, I cannot go there, okay? I appreciate you trying to help me, but you obviously don’t know who I am! The whole town is looking for me, and whoever lives inside this cottage might know about it too. They’ll just call the cops and then that’s it!”

The cat contemplates him for a second, head slightly tilted, before going back to tugging on his jeans once more.

And then, without another word, she’s quickly turning around, sprinting off into the direction of the cottage, and Eddie sighs.

He can’t believe he’s even considering it, but he decides to get just a little bit closer to the house, so he can see who lives there, maybe.

He’s surrounded by so many trees, that there are more than plenty of options to hide behind, and the slowly growing darkness of the impending night is also nothing but an added benefit for him.

He watches as the cat struts through the tiny garden, before jumping up the steps to the poach of the cottage.

It’s a nice little house, he has to admit, as he peaks past the tree he’s leaning on, trying to get a better look without being seen.

He’s not sure who exactly he expects to live in such a place, but when the door opens up and he sees the figure of a person stepping out, he truly thinks he’s lost his mind.

You feel your familiar’s presence before she’s even on the steps of the poach.

Weirdly enough, she’s been lingering around the house for a while now, you notice, but you don’t pay it too much mind, as you’re still occupied with the finishing touches for both your and your cat’s dinner.

It’s a nice, fresh stew that’s been brewing for the better half of the day, and your familiar is right on time for it too.

She usually is, though.

Noticing her presence approaching, you make your way towards the door with quick strides.

You know she can get into the house just fine by herself, but you like to surprise her every now and then, too. Although she can also feel your presence lingering around, just like you can pick up on hers, so the sudden opening of the door shouldn’t really come as an unsuspected revelation.

“There you are, Reaper. You’re just on time for dinner, as always.” You greet your familiar, after opening the door with a playful curtsey.

“Do come in, my beloved friend.”

Opening the door wider, you even add a small bow, the way you imagine a fancy butler would, but to your surprise your familiar just stays seated on her spot on the wooden boards of the poach.

“Reaps, what’s the matter this time?” You ask when she glances back into the forest, as if she’s looking for someone, or waiting, maybe.

And then you see it, and your heart drops down deep to the wooden floors.

Eddie cannot believe his eyes – something that unfortunately seems like a rather regular occurrence these days.

He tried imagining a few people, who might open the door of that little cottage and reveal themselves as the owner, but never in his wildest dreams did he think it would be someone looking like an angel.

You cannot be significantly older than he is, he guesses, but you still look ethereal, dressed in simple, white gown with sparkly gold detailing that catches the surrounding light in a captivating matter.

The warm glow behind you, that continues to spill out into the growing night of the forest, illuminates not just the poach, but your frame as well.

You look like the drawing of a saint, or some other holly figure, and Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat.

Yeah, he’s definitely dreaming.

You feel the presence a split second before you see it; it’s a shadow peeking through behind one of the nearby trees, and you look at your familiar with confusion and a tinge of disapproval.

“Reaper, what’s this about?” You whisper, as you try to make out what the hell is hiding behind the tree.

But your companion is barely giving you an answer before she’s jumping down the steps of the poach again, making her way down to the figure.

You can’t even call out any warning words, as she’s already vanishing behind the tree, and you hear a hushed voice whisper exasperated, “Hey, no! You’re going to give my hiding-spot away, kitty.”

“Already happened.” You state, crossing your arms in front of your chest defensively as you step forward on the poach, making your way towards the figure.

“Who are you, and what are you doing in my parts of the forest?”

The tone of your voice is icy and accusatory, and Eddie feels himself shiver at the sound.

He comes out behind the tree with his hands held up in a docile gesture.

“Uh, hi.”

Eddie hopes that he doesn’t look quite as pathetic as he feels, but who is he kidding.

He’s soaked like a poodle in a puddle, looks like one too, he supposes, and he can’t stop himself from shivering and trembling lightly.

To top it all off, he’s growing increasingly unsteady on his feet.

He doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t know where he should go, doesn’t know anything, really. And he’s pretty sure that makes him the very personification of pathetic right now.

“You’re human?” You whisper, almost a bit shocked when you take in his quivering frame.

“Seriously, what is this?” You ask the cat, but all Eddie hears is a small meow as an answer.

“Oh, absolutely not!” You answer her little quip, eyes hardening instantly.

He watches with furrowed brows as the conversation seemingly goes back and forth between you two. The cat meows and you bite something back just as quickly.

Great, Eddie thinks. You’re a whole other level of crazy, having full fletched discussions with your cat in front of a total stranger.

What the hell is even happening anymore?

“Reaper, I told you no!” You whisper yell, and Eddie’s eyes suddenly light up a bit at the revelation.

“Your cat’s name is Reaper?” He can’t help the hushed question from slipping out. “That’s pretty metal!”

Now it’s your turn to furrow your brows at the shivering figure standing only a few feet away from you.

What the hell is this guy even taking about?

But then, before you can even confront him about it, you notice in horror that the man suddenly starts swaying slightly.

He’s going to faint, you think, small alarm bells going off in your head. And if he isn’t careful, which most people fainting usually aren’t, he’s going to fall right into your little patch of mandrake.

“Oh, for fucks sake.” You whisper, as you try to get to the guy and catch him before he can create any collateral damage to himself or your plants.

“Hey, easy there.” You mumble while your hands come up in a steadying grip around the man’s waist.

Good gods, he’s freezing, you think, as your fingers come in contact with his wet clothes. But the stranger only gives you his best attempt at a small, dopey smile.

“Hi,” he whispers again, before his eyes widen in realization and panic.

“Please don’t tell ‘em, that I-“

But before he can even finish the sentence, his eyes flutter shut in exhaustion, while he almost folds in on himself, slumping down, and you curse the gods and your familiar.

“Reaper!” You call out, a little distressed, as you try your best to keep the stranger upright.

“You got us into this dilemma, so you might as well help me carry him inside.”

“So, he’s staying?” Her deep voice inquires, and you don’t need to see her face to know there’s a smug smile playing on her inhumane features.

“Well, you know I’m not that kind of a monster.” You mumble, annoyance still etched in your voice.

“He can stay until he wakes up again, but not a minute longer.”

You’re lying and you both know it.

This guy needs a lot more than just a quick rest on a couch by the mere looks of it, and even you don’t have the heart to leave a hurt stranger out in the cold woods like that.

Not when he looks like a lost poodle washed up to the shore of your little cottage.

“You and your god damn strays.” You mutter, but Reaper barely acknowledges it.

“He’s human.” She simply states. “I haven’t had a human in a long while.”

“Yes,” you whisper quietly, “and there’s a fucking reason for that.”

Getting the stranger situated on the cozy, green couch in your little living room is a lot easier with the helping claws of your familiar.

“He’s hurt,” Reaper whispers, with a small nod towards his feet, and you let out a huff while arranging the pillows behind the stranger’s back.

“I know.”

“You could heal him.” She quietly observes, and this time, you look up from her task, shooting daggers at your companion.

“Well, I won’t.” You state, voice dripping with venom and hurt. “I’d rather die a thousand deaths than help a mortal human like that again, and you know damn well why.”

Reaper shakes her heads, defeated, a crushed little sigh leaving one of her many mouths.

“Your call, at the end of the day. I am merely observing.”

You decide to simply ignore her last words, as you take in the form of the strange man on your couch.

“He’s dripping all over my velvet canapé.” You remark with a frown.

“He sure is, but I suppose pneumonia looks on humans as daunting as mud stains on your 19th hundred furniture. So, maybe we should get him out of these wet clothes.”

You hate to admit that Reaper has a point as you consider her words.

“Or you could just do a quick drying spell?” She proposes, a sly smile etched upon her features.

“I already told you; I’m not using magic on a human.”

“But it wouldn’t be to heal him.”

“It doesn’t matter. No magic, end of the discussion.”

“He’s not even conscious, you could-“

“Reaper! Enough!” You bite through clenched teeth.

“This is not a topic that’s up for debate. I’ll help him, but not like that. Never like that. Not after what happened last time.” You whisper, and Reaper’s gaze turns slightly apologetic.

“Besides, you still haven’t told me what the fuck you were thinking, leading a human to our cabin.”

“He was hurt and obviously in need of help.”

“And you’ve decided to become a Samaritan when?”

Reaper huffs in fake disbelief. “What? So now it’s my fault for caring and trying to safe a poor human soul?”

“I don’t know what kind of a game you think you’re playing, Reaps, but I know you’re up to something.”

“Me? I’m innocent incarnate. Always was, always have been. Besides, you didn’t see him stumbling through the forest. He looked like he was running from the devil and hell itself.”

“Oh, come on! You know she’s not that bad on a good day.”

Reaper shrugs her shoulders. “I’m just saying he was running from something, and he seemed genuinely scared.”

“People in these parts of the wood usually are.”

“I didn’t pick him up in these parts of the woods.”

“Reaper!” You chide with a gasp, because she knows she’s not supposed to stray around anywhere near the edge of Hawkins.

“Relax, no one saw me. And even if they did, they’re hardly going to be suspicious of a small, black cat.”

Reaper blinks for a moment, before tilting her heads in slight amusement.

“Wait, that didn’t come out quite right, let me rephrase it. They’re not going to be suspicious of me for the right reasons. So, don’t worry, I was just a little curious, is all.”

“Curious or not, you know we cannot risk that kind of exposure. Not without a lot of safety measurements put in place first. And besides, do you even know who you’ve let take shelter in our fucking home?”

Your gaze wanders back to the dark-haired man still lying motionless on your couch.

“Ah, it’s fine, if he ends up being annoying I can always just eat him.” Reaper jokes, before turning a bit more stoic again.

“Seriously, don’t worry, whatever he’s been running from, he’s not another convicted mass-murderer, if that’s what you’re scared of.”

“And how would you know that exactly?” You question, eyebrows raised, and a stern look on your face.

Your familiar starts to grow a little bit shy underneath your persistent gaze, as she drags her clawed feet over the thick, fluffy carpet sheepishly.

“I might have nibbled on his soul a little, a-and he’s a pure one.”

“Reaper!” You exclaim, throwing one of the spare pillows at the monster, who’s quick to defend herself.

“I didn’t take anything, I swear! Just wanted to make sure he’s not-“

“Another serial killer. Yeah, yeah, your taste in man is worse than mine.”

“Uh, that all a thing of perspective, as my philosophy professor used to say.”

“Uh-huh, well from where I’m standing, my perspective is pretty clear, and I say you have a shit taste in men.”

“Considering that I tend to eat them afterwards, I disagree.”

“God, you’re unbelievable,” you huff with a roll of your eyes, but there’s a small smile playing on the edge of your lips, and Reaper beams brightly, in a way only she can light up with her many faces and facets.

“Come on, I’ll help you get him out of these clothes, and even do the laundry, if you’re so adamant about not using magic.” She offers with the gentle pat of one of her clawed hands on your shoulder, and who are you to disagree; You hate doing laundry the human way.

Getting the stranger out of his wet clothes should not be that much of a hassle; still, you find yourself feeling a bit uneasy about it.

You’re doing this for the sake of your antique furniture and his health, you remind yourself, but it hardly makes you feel any better.

You decidedly put his dark leather jacket on the edge of the couch, so you can pat it dry in a minute, and hang it up near the fireplace, while Reaper decides to study the back of the man’s dirty jean vest.

“Dio.” She quietly spells out, claws tracing the three letters. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“It’s a band, I think,” you mumble, while your gaze rests once again on the unconscious man.

He’s still wearing a shirt with the words ‘Hellfire’ etched upon it, something that even you don’t know the meaning of.

“A devil’s fan club, maybe?” Reaper offers, before stating, “Though, I think she would be somewhat offended, if she saw herself drawn as that.”

Your friend points at the monstrous face painted in red right in the middle of the fabric, and you’re quick to brush her sharp fingers away.

“Careful, I think that’s hand drawn.” You mutter, and Reaper’s eyes widen.

“Really? Huh, wouldn’t have guessed that. Certainly creative, I’ll give him that.”

“Yeah, well, less talking, more helping would be nice.”

“On it, boss.” She chirps, multiple hands coming up to her heads in salutation.

“You think we should get him out of his shirt too?” You inquire, and Reaper gives you a strange look.

“Uh, unless you really want to risk a lung infection, yeah, I’d say so. You know that you could just solve this issue if you-“

“Not happening. Don’t start this discussion, again.”

“I’m just saying that if you’re so concerned about his modesty, there is a way around it.”

“I’m not going to use magic. We’re going to wash and dry his clothes like normal people, and I’ll treat his injured foot with human remedies. No. Magic.”

“Jeez Louise, alright. How about you take care of his shoes, while I take care of his shirt then, if you’re so freaked out about seeing human skin.”

“It’s not that,” you mumble, “Imaging waking up in a stranger’s cottage stripped to your underwear – you’d be mortified too.”

“Not when I eat all the witnesses afterwards.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think that’s an option for him.”

“Right, poor pure soul and all.”

Reaper and you end up managing to get him out of the rest of his clothes just fine. He’s still wearing his boxers, of course, and you’ve engulfed him in a pile of various blankets, in the hopes of keeping him warm and comfortable.

And while Reaper went outside to take care of the laundry, you slipped back into the open kitchen, reheating the stew you kind of forgot about earlier. It’s still dinner time, after all.

You’re almost done setting the table for three, and Reaper has just made herself comfortable near the open fireplace again, when you hear a stirring motion coming from the couch.

A stirring motion that is followed quickly by a slight gasp, and you’re by the side of the couch in seconds.

The man in front of you looks at you wide-eyed and with a heaving chest.

“Where am I?” He whispers, voice rougher than you remember, and this time it’s your turn to hold up your hands in a docile gesture.

“You’re in my cottage.” You explain, though you doubt that that information is particularly of the helpful kind.

“You fainted earlier in my garden.” You add, hoping to refresh that stranger’s memory.

“I’m not dead?” He questions, eyes still wide as saucers as he gazes up at you.

“Dead?” You inquire, confusion etched on your face. “And what would this then be, hell or heaven?”

There’s a faint blush traveling up the man’s cheeks, as he averts his eyes from you.

Is it his fault that you look like an angel to him? But he refrains from saying that. Instead, the contours of his face take on a mortified expression.

“Where are my clothes?” He asks, voice slightly shaky, and you try your best to calm his nerves again.

“They were completely soaked through when you arrived here, so we took the liberty to take them off and wash them. They’re now drying over there by the fireplace, see?”

To emphasize your words, you point towards the crackling fireside, and the various items of clothing arranged around it.

“We?” The stranger inquires, eyes darting through the room, but he doesn’t really see anyone other than you. Glancing over to Reaper, you explain:

“Me, and my… cat, I mean.”

“Right.” The stranger states, as he tightens his grip around the blanket still wrapped around his chest, before parts of his features seem to relax slightly, and his nose twitches, kind of like that of a rabbit.

“What’s this smell?” His voice is hushed, and while he continues to be apprehensive about meeting your eyes, you can still guess what he’s thinking.

“I made a pumpkin beef stew, with freshly baked bread and garlic butter.”

You haven’t even finished naming the first dish, when you see the blatant hopefulness light up in his eyes.

He doesn’t say anything; doesn’t quite dare to ask for a portion, but you can still see his quiet longing for a freshly cooked meal.

“I’ve made enough for three, so you’re more than welcome to have some too.”

It’s a half-truth, half-lie.

You’ve actually only made enough for you, and an almost insatiable monstrous familiar.

But since Reaper is the one responsible for this whole mess, you’ve decided that she’ll simply have to share her portion. That way it will hopefully teach her a lesson too, you think.

You know, of course, that you could conjure up more with a simple spell, but that’s not the point. It’s about Reaper learning that there are consequences to her actions, as well as your overall apprehensions when it comes to practicing magic around humans.

The stranger looks a little helpless at your offer, and you quickly notice two things.

Firstly, you still don’t know the name of the man sitting half naked on your velvet couch.

And secondly, maybe you should migrate dinner from your big, wooden dining table to the small one next to the couch instead, so the guy doesn’t have to join you at your fancy Victorian dining table clad only in his underwear.

“Wait, keep yourself seated.” You tell the man when he tries to lift himself up. “I’ll fetch the food for you.”

You watch him sink back down into your couch with a little sigh, as you quickly go to work in the open kitchen behind him.

“You haven’t even told me your name yet.” You observe, while reaching for a little foldable table stored on top of your kitchen cabins.

Despite having your back turned towards him, you can feel him tense up a bit.

For a moment you suspect that the stranger might know about the power that the knowledge of a true name beholds, and you almost expect him to give you a fake one.

But when you turn back around to face him, he seems to be speaking the truth.

“My name is Eddie.” He says while watching your face carefully for any kind of reaction, and when he sees no recognition light up in your face whatsoever, he adds, “Eddie Munson.”

“Eddie Munson,” you whisper, the name doesn’t ring a bell, but you didn’t really expect it to.

“Well, this is my cat Reaper and I’m-“

You contemplate lying for a second, but if he trusts you enough with his own name, it’s only fair for you to trust him with yours, too.

Besides, he doesn’t really look like he’s with the faerie folk.

Your own name feels foreign in your mouth before it falls from your lips like a quiet curse, but Eddie doesn’t seem to recognize it either, and your shoulders relax slightly when you realize that he has no idea who you are.

Good.

Reaper decides to be part of the conversation, too, now, as she hopes up onto the couch, seeking out Eddie’s company quickly.

“Hi Reaper,” he mumbles, voice light, like he’s talking to a child, and your familiar keens at the softness.

“Reaper; A pretty name for a pretty cat,” Eddie observes, while scratching her back.

And Reaper beams.

Of course, she does; she’s easy like that.

There’s a fond smile toying on your lips as you watch their exchange before you go back to the last of your preparations.

But when you carry your cauldron over to the coffee table with kitchen mittens, which you haven’t used in forever, you watch in horror as Reaper tries to nibble on Eddie’s finger again.

“Reaper! No!” You chide, but Eddie gives you an easy smile.

“It’s really not a problem.”

See, you’re familiar’s facial expression seems to say, when you give her a stern look. He’s fine.

“Well, I think it is a problem and she really should know better. Besides, she has enough toys that she can chew up to her hearts delight. So, no reason to pester our visitor.”

“It feels quite funny.” Eddie observes.

Yeah, I bet it does, you think, but you bite your tongue.

Instead, you just throw one more warning look Reaper’s way, who tries to look as innocent as she can muster, which in her kittycat form really isn’t that difficult.

“Alright, here you go!”

Since your cottage is rather small, your kitchen, living- and dining room are a 3 in 1 kind-of-situation, which comes in handy because you don’t have to walk through a great deal of rooms and halls to get from your couch to your kitchen stove.

It’s only a few steps away, really.

“Careful, it’s still hot.” You warn, when you put the small fold-up tablet down near Eddie’s lap, who’s been sitting upright for a while now, watching you quietly in between his pets towards your cat.

There’s a big bowl of steaming stew on his little makeshift table, joined by a few slices of fluffy bread and a little pot with butter; and Eddie feels his soul already transcend into heaven, because good god, this smells amazing.

Still, he waits until you are seated by the coffee table, too. Your own bowl of stew etched upon it, and even Reaper gets a little pot, which Eddie finds kind of adorable.

When the three of you start eating, Eddie can’t help the small moan slip past his lips. This is delicious, almost indescribably so, and though he tries hard to savor it, he can’t help but wolf most of it down, because he’s just been so. fucking. hungry.

You watch him with something akin to fond eyes, as he wiggles slightly in his seat, while dipping the fresh bread into the homemade garlic butter.

“Oh god, you could kill someone for this.” He mumbles in between some bites, and the smile on your face widens.

“You can have second portion if you’d like.” You offer, and Eddie’s eyes widen.

“Oh, I don’t-“

“It’s fine, really. There’s enough for one more bowl, and I’m sure neither Reaper nor I mind sharing, right Reaps?”

Your cat is mentally throwing daggers at you, but you just give her a sickly-sweet smile.

“That’s what I thought. Good kitty.”

You pat her head in a patronizing way, before standing up, serving Eddie the last remains from your cauldron.

“That’s kind of a cool pot.” Eddie suddenly blurs out, “Looks kind of witchy.”

You feel yourself freeze for a second, before letting out an awkward laugh.

“Yeah, uh, well, I’m kind of into … witchy things. You know, crystals, herbs, Fleetwood Mac.”

“Sure!” Eddie says between another bite from his bread.

“Bet you have a crystal ball and some tarot decks hidden somewhere too. You’re certainly seem committed to the aesthetics. Black cat and all.”

You look at the man, trying to blink your confusion away, before handing him his steaming bowl of stew back over.

“Sharing is caring, Reaps.” You state once you notice Reaper’s unamused face.

But as it turns out, your cat has quite the opinion about sharing too. And she’s not shy of voicing those either.

“Don’t mind her, she’s always throwing tantrums at the end of the day.” You explain to Eddie with an apologetic smile, when she tries clawing her way up one of his blankets, hissing, and you have to entangle the little beast from the fabric.

She’s still snarling curses, but you decidedly play dumb.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t speak cat.”

For a moment, you think that Reaper might successfully poke your eyes out at your condescending comment, but her little paws can hardly reach your face, as she tries to throw little punches in your grasp.

Cute.

Half an hour later, Reaper is still sulking on a blanket near the fireplace, the kitchen’s almost done, because without magic cleaning up takes a lot longer than you’re used to, and Eddie is trying his hardest to fight of the repeating call of pure exhaustion, because he has a lot of questions and undoubtedly so do you.

As you make your way back over towards the strange man, you have to admit that your questions can probably wait a few more hours till morning rise. Because the poor guy really does look like he’s been through it, and it’s now really catching up to him.

You’ve already learned that he can be rather stubborn. After all, shooting down his offer to help you with the clean-up had been kind of difficult, but with his foot still being injured, you don’t want him hopping around in your kitchen space.

“I should probably still take a look at your foot.” You propose, as you sit down at the edge of the couch, looking over at Eddie, who’s still trying to fight off the inherent sleepiness that’s hitting him hard in increasingly bigger waves.

“I don’t want to-“ he mumbles, words pulled apart by a big yawn, “be a bother.”

“You’re not, but your foot might be, if you leave it unattended.”

Eddie still looks a little bit unconvinced, like he doesn’t quite trust your kindness yet, or maybe, he just doesn’t think he deserves it.

“Listen,” you state, after gazing at the flickering flames in your fireplace for a brief moment; their warm hue illuminating the otherwise darkened room with golden light, and you can feel traces of the heat lingering on your skin.

“I understand that you must have a lot of questions for me. After all, you have no idea who I am, and I have no idea who you are, but I don’t think that talking things out right now is a good idea.

Not when every second word falling from your lips ends up being a yawn, and I truthfully wouldn’t mind some good-night’s sleep either. So, how about we pin this discussion down for tomorrow morning instead?”

Eddie is about to disagree, but when all that leaves his mouth is another yawn, he has to admit you might have a point.

“Okay,” he mumbles, the sound of his rustling blankets filling the quietness of the room, while he shifts on the couch.

“Do you want me to still take a look at your foot?”

“If you really don’t mind.” He whispers, and you scoff.

“Of course not.”

You might not be a fan of humans, but you never enjoyed seeing anyone in pain, human or non-human alike.

It’s a quick thing to pull the blanket covering his feet up half-way, and you watch him wince slightly when your fingers brush against a part of his ankle. It looks a bit bruised and swollen, but not terribly so.

With as much tenderness as you can muster, you move his foot lightly, and while Eddie tries hard not to let the jolt of pain show, you can still see it clearly.

“T-that movement really hurt.” He mutters, cheeks flushed.

“I’m sorry.” Comes your hushed reply. “The ankle is probably strained, but the good news is, at least it isn’t broken.”

Eddie nods his head slowly, eyelids still heavy.

“What are you going to do now?”

“It’s easy, Reaps, get-“ biting your tongue quickly, you stop the words that almost slipped out of your mouth. “Reaps, get out of my way.”

You lightly shush the cat to the side while you stand up.

“I’ll be back in a flash, don’t go anywhere.”

Eddie just scoffs with a laugh.

“Where would I be going?” He mumbles.

“Where would I even be going?”

Eddie watches intently, or with as much intent as he can muster, as you spread some kind of salve on the bruised parts of his foot.

You’ve told him what’s in it before; arnica, chamomile, and witch hazel, he thinks he remembers, but he’s not entirely sure. You also told him what’s good for what, but he wouldn’t be able to recall any of those things if his life depended on it.

Still, he finds himself slightly in awe. The way your fingers quickly go to work, applying another tincture before reaching for the bandage makes him think you’ve done this before more than once.

“You really are quite the witch, huh.” He whispers, while trying to read the labels on some of the potions you’ve pulled out of a leathery bag.

“Hardly,” you brush him off as you tighten the bandage around his foot lightly, but despite your dismissal you feel your cheeks heat up under his admiring gaze.

“Alright, all set and done.” You state after another quiet pause, setting aside the little tape, and putting down his foot gently.

“You should try not to move around too much while you sleep, but otherwise you should be set for the night. Are you still sure you don’t want any painkillers?”

“It’s fine,” Eddie huffs, trying to get comfortable again, while you arrange the blanket around his legs back in a way that tugs him kind of in.

“Alright. If you need anything, just call my name, okay? My bedroom is just right up those stairs and I’m a light sleeper, so I should be able to help, no matter what arises.”

Eddie nods his head, another yawn contouring his face.

“Reaps, come on! You’re sleeping with me tonight.”

There’s a little disappointed frown that Eddie tries to cover up quickly, before he asks, voice timid, “She can’t stay here for company?”

He’s not looking at you, twirling around one of his many rings instead, and for a second you seriously consider it, before shaking your head softly.

“Sorry, no. Reaper gets tempted with her toys sometimes, and uh, I don’t want you to wake up to the noise of her tearing through one of her squeaky chickens.”

“I understand.” Eddie nods his head again, as you make your way towards the staircase; Reaper nestled in your arms.

“And you’re really not going to tell anyone I’m here?” Eddie questions one last time, voice incredibly soft and exhausted.

“I already told you Eddie, I won��t tell a single soul. Not until we’ve had our talk in the morning.”

“Okay.” He still seems somewhat wary, before he adds a quick and hushed, “Good night, then.”

“Good night, Eddie.” You whisper back with a small sigh.

You wish you could give him more than the pile of blankets, and the last faint glimmers flickering away in your fireplace.

But there’s hardly anything you can do for the boy right now, other than let him have a few hours of hopefully restful sleep.

And who knows what will come with the rising sun tomorrow.

You’re already with one hand on the banister of your stairs, when you hear Eddie call out your name faintly.

“Yeah?” You question, turning back around to the man you’ve only been introduced a couple of hours ago, but you still feel some kind of softness towards.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, cheeks stained a hint of cheery-red. “A-and sleep well.”

“You too, Eddie.” You hush just as quietly. “You too.”

“You like him.” Reaper singsongs teasingly as she lifts up part of your blanket to slip underneath.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

She’s back in her true from, and there are little giggles coming from her, as she cuddles up next to you until only the very end of her tail is poking out slightly from beneath the covers, and she’s quick to tug that in too.

“At least admit that he’s kind of your type.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but you do. You’re not half as stand-offish as you were in the beginning.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is! I mean, you must really like if you decided to give him my portions of the meal.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, you’ve still had more than enough. Besides, that whole thing was more of a punishment for you than an incentive to him.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that, since you already seem to believe it.”

You roll your eyes as you pull part of the shared blanket back towards yourself, before stating, “I guess, he’s not as bad as I thought he would be. And you have to admit that there’s just something about him that seems kind of tortured.”

“Right, and I’m the one with the weird taste in man, okay.”

You shove Reaper playfully, before curling up more next to her.

“Shut up and let me sleep.”

“I wonder who’ll you dream about.”

“Oh my god, don’t make this weirder than it already is, and stop fumbling around.”

“I would, if you’d stop hogging the fucking blanket, which we only have to share, might I remind you, because you decided to give all the other ones to the goddamn stranger sleeping downstairs who you supposedly don’t care about.”

“A stranger you brought here in the first place.”

“Oh hush, you can thank me for it later.”

“Like hell I will and-oh my god, get your hairy feet away from my legs.”

“But they’re cold.” Reaper whines, and you stifle the urge to throw another pillow.

There’s a quiet tug and pull fight going on between you two for a bit, as you both struggle to get comfortable underneath the shared fluffy fabric.

“Fuck,” Reaper suddenly whispers, after being unusually quiet for a moment.

“If you’re cuddled up here, and I’m cuddled up here, who’s going to turn off the lights?”

You both groan in unison, before another bickering fight starts breaking out.

You wake up again to a piercing scream that makes your blood run cold and the hairs on your body stand up straight.

It takes you a heartbeat or two, to figure out whether it was a dream or not; but at the memories of the previous events this evening, your thoughts immediately go to Eddie.

Reaper’s still lying beside you, wide awake too, and concern etched deep into her faces, as she watches you get up quickly.

“Stay here.” You instruct, while stumbling past the bed. “I’ll call you if I need help.”

When you rush down the stairs into the living room, everything is eerily quiet, something that definitely doesn’t help ease your pounding heart.

The fire has completely burned out by now, limiting your vision as well. But luckily there’s are some soft rays of moonlight slipping past your window curtains, so you can kind of make out a trembling figure sitting upright on your couch.

Eddie.

You whisper his name with a tenderness, that only the nighttime ever bears witness to, but despite your efforts, Eddie still flinches at the sound of your voice and your steps.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me.” You try to soothe, hoping it might calm him down a little, but he just looks at you, wide-eyed and shoulders shaking slightly.

Your heart sinks at the sight, tugging on something deeply hidden within of you, and the feeling only intensifies once you realize that he’s been crying, cheeks tear-stained and red.

“Eddie what’s wrong?” You whisper, worried that he might be seriously hurt, or at the very least more hurt than he’d initially led on.

But he only shakes his head, eyes averted, and chest heaving with quick strokes.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, voice rough, and tinted with embarrassment.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence before he mumbles a quick, “It was just another nightmare.”

“Oh,” You whispers, unsure of what else to say.

For a brief moment, Eddie’s eyes hesitantly meet yours, and it’s like he’s trying to scope out your reaction.

You’re not sure what he expected; anger maybe, or amusement.

But there’s nothing but soft sorrow reflected in your eyes.

“Nightmares can be the worst.” You mumble.

You would know. You still have them too, even centuries later.

“Listen, Eddie, whatever you’ve dreamed about, your safe now. You’re safe.”

You crouch down a little, gently taking one of his shaking hands in yours.

“You’re safe.”

Relief washes over Eddie’s features, and as it floods his eyes, he has to avert his gaze quickly again.

“Why are you so nice to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Eddie doesn’t have an answer to that, and while silence fills the space between you two, you try to think of something that might help him.

“Do you maybe wanna talk about it?” You carefully offer. “Sometimes it helps to name the ghosts that haunt you.”

Eddie looks at you with questioning eyes.

“A-are you sure?” He sniffles.

“What? That it’s going to help? Well, I wouldn’t put a pledge on it but-“

“No.” Eddie interrupts you quietly, “Are you sure you want to listen to all that?”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse.” Eddie states with a bitter laugh, before growing a bit antsy again.

“Alright, scoot over then.” You state, and Eddie complies after a heartbeat of wonder as he watches you sit down next to him.

The man with the unruly hair and the tired eyes keeps playing with some loose strands from one of your blankets, before saying, “I just keep seeing her die, over and over again.”

“Who?” You whisper.

“A friend. I watched her die and now it’s all I see whenever I close my eyes.”

There’s something inside of you that grows stiff at his words, as they truly sink in.

“You watched your friend die?”

Your eyes travel back to Eddie as he squirms slightly.

“Yes.” He states, voice emotional. “Four days ago.”

“How a-and who?!”

“You wouldn’t believe me if you tried.”

“Is that why you’re on the run?” You question. “Because the murderers saw you, and now they’re after you too?”

Eddie scoffs, shaking his head.

“No,” dejection clear in his voice, he asserts, “They think that I did it.”

You feel like you’ve been hit by lightning.

“Eddie,” you murmur, heartbeat racing in your chest now, “tell me everything that happened.”

And Eddie does; but not without his apprehensions at first.

Still, you find out about Chrissy and the horrors of her death.

You find out about his hide-out at an acquaintance’s place, about his friend Dustin, and the theory of the upside down.

You find out about how he’s the number one suspect to the police, and how one of his classmates started a vigilant group against him, completely convinced that he’s in some kind of deal with the devil.

Recounting a lot of those parts has Eddie back in an emotional turmoil; and you’re not sure who started hugging whom first, but now he’s currently hiding away in your embrace, face pressed against the nape of your neck as he murmurs.

“Please don’t tell them where I am. Please don’t let them get to me. It’s like a fucking witch-hunt, and I’m not sure what they’ll do once they’ll have me.”

It's these words that end up haunting you the most that night.

It’s these words that stir something deep down inside of you.

A memory, and a curse, and an experience you don’t want anyone to go through ever again.

Not if you can help it.

Not if there’s something you can do about it.

“Eddie, it’s okay.” You whisper. “It’s going to be okay, and I’m not going to tell anyone, you hear me?”

You feel Eddie nod his head against your skin, as your fingers come up to his hair, brushing through his curls carefully.

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. You’re safe here, and you can stay as long as you need. You said that you have nowhere to go, but you can just stay here, until Hawkins has found the actual killer, and you can go back home again.”

You feel Eddie pause for a moment, his quiet sniffles coming to a halt.

“You would let me stay?” He whispers. “You would let me hide here? But you don’t even know how long this manhunt will go. It might take months before they’ll might clean off my name. And maybe even that won’t happen. Maybe I’ll always-“

“Hey, hey, easy there, Eddie. You’re going to drive yourself insane with those what-if’s. Listen, I don’t know what exactly the future will hold, but I won’t let you succumb to the fate of a witchhunt.”

A fate so similar to your own.

A fate that cut you so deeply, you still carry the scars on your heart, centuries later.

A fate simply nobody deserves to live through – not even a human like Eddie.

Eddie cannot believe his ears; cannot believe that you’d offer to help him, without really knowing who he is, without really knowing whether or not he’s been telling the truth.

Still, you’re adamant about your words and their meaning, and he struggles to comprehend how you could be that kind.

“Why would you help me like that?” He whispers, voice hushed and so confused.

Because people once thought that I killed someone too, when all I did was try to help. And my family had to pay the price for it, every single one of them, except for me; and they would have killed me too, if they’d found me, you think.

But you don’t say that.

Couldn’t let your lips form these words, even if you wanted to.

It’s one of those kind of secrets that’s been buried for so long; even just whispering the name of the tragedy would be like asking for trouble.

Instead, you say, “Because if what you told me is true, you deserve shelter more than anyone. I’ve seen something similar like this play out before and I’ll be damned if I’ll let it happen again.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie mumbles with a slight tilt of his head, and you bite your tongue in a silent curse.

“I, uh, I just heard about a case similar to this, and it was all really horrifying.” You quickly try to cover up, praying to the gods above that your words are convincing enough.

You seem to have succeeded, or at the very least, Eddie is too tired to ask any complex follow-up questions to your supposed story.

For a brief moment, you simply stay like this; your arms wrapped around Eddie’s waist, while he folds right into. He’s still exhausted, and if you’re honest with the onslaught of new revelations, so are you.

“You should try get some more sleep, Eddie.” You murmur against his shoulder, all while trying your hardest not to notice how foreign this whole situation feels.

Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought that this would be how your night ends. Not today and not for the next couple of centuries at the very least.

Nevertheless, here you are, comforting a human about a fate drawn in such a familiar shape to yours.

Except he still has a shot at a happy ending.

The happy ending you’ve never got to witness.

Eddie hums at your recommendation, but it’s quickly followed by a timid question.

“Would you mind staying just a little while longer? I don’t want to be all alone and watch her die again.”

Unfortunately, there’s no such thing as an herbal remedy for nightmares, at least none that’s bulletproof, and since you’re still very much not into the idea of practicing any kind of magic in the presence of a human, there’s little you can do about them.

So, if Eddie thinks you’re your lingering company might help, well, where’s the harm in that?

It’s only going to be for a little while; till he’s drifted off, maybe, you tell yourself.

“I’ll stay for a bit, Eddie.” You whisper, and the man lowly hums at that.

“Thank you.” Comes a muffled reply, and you know he’s not just talking about your company.

“It’s really not a problem.” You whisper back.

You’re not just talking about staying here until he’s fallen asleep, either.

You wake up the next morning to hairs in your face and they’re not the ones of your cat.

You know that because Reaper is sitting right on the coffee table next to you, a bright expression on her face.

“Morning.” She chirps, a knowing look in her eyes as she regards you and Eddie.

It takes you a heartbeat to realize where you are exactly, and what is going on.

You must have fallen asleep last night on the couch too, instead of wandering back to your own bed.

You feel flustered at the revelation, and Reaper’s teasing looks certainly don’t help either. But trying to get out of Eddie’s grip, even though he’s still fast asleep, isn’t as easy as you had hoped.

And you just know that Reaper is going to have a field day with this, bringing it up and rubbing it in your face for the next few centuries.

“Well, well, well. At least you were able to share more than one blanket.” Reaper observes, before jumping off the table and strutting away with a swing in her step. “But sure, you don’t care about him.”

You let your head fall back into your pillow with a small groan.

You hate how Reaper might have the tiniest, littlest point; and it doesn’t help that Eddie looks completely angelic and peaceful in your arms.

God, you’re fucked, and you haven’t even known him for a full 24 hours yet.

In the end, you do manage to entangle yourself from Eddie without waking him up.

You need to talk to Reaps about the revelations of the night, but your usual chats in the kitchen are rather difficult to have with Eddie sleeping only a few feet away.

So, you do the only sensible thing you can think of, stepping outside into the surrounding woods and your little garden for some privacy instead.

“Be honest,” you confront Reaper with a gentle bump of your shoulder against hers, “did you eavesdrop on Eddie and me last night?”

“Me? No! Should I have?”

You roll your eyes slightly.

“No, of course not, but if you did, this conversation would at least be unnecessary.”

“Well, I didn’t. So, tell me what mister puffy hair had in his defense after screaming the house down like that.”

“This isn’t funny, Reaps. He really is traumatized.” You explain with a chiding look on your face, before slowly recalling the events of last night.

“He had a nightmare? Aw man, I thought he just stubbed his toe or something.” Reaper states, and you give her another slight bump with your shoulder.

But even she grows unusually quiet after you bring up the witch-hunt aspect and the reasons for his distraught.

“So, what do you want to do now?”

“The right thing, of course.”

“And that is what exactly, you moral witch?”

“He’s going to stay, until his name gets cleared, and it’s safe for him to go home again.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I am?”

“I’m sorry, but are you forgetting that I’m pretty much tied to my damn cat costume around that boy, because mortals have a bit of a tendency to turn mad, or to stone upon seeing my true form?

Do I have to remind you that you said you wouldn’t do any magic around another human, and now one is staying here for an indefinite amount of time? How do you think all of that’s going to work out, huh?”

“Well, we’re going to make it work. Besides. what are a few days without magic in the grand scheme of thing?.”

“Days? Do you think this kind of issue is going to be solved in the matter of a few days?! You must have a lot of faith in the human police force if you think they’ll figure this out that quickly. This could end up taking weeks, months, or worse, his name never gets cleared at all! What then, huh? What then?”

Reaper has a point; she usually has, you suppose, but you just tell her the same thing you told Eddie.

“We don’t know how the future will play out, so there’s not much use driving yourself crazy over it. Besides, it not going to be for forever. Eddie will want to go back to his friends and family eventually, even if his name ends up not being cleared the way he deserves.”

Reaper still looks unconvinced, but she’s not the only one who’s mastered the skill of making puppy-eyes.

“Come on, Reaps, it’s not going to be that bad. We can make this work, we always do.”

“Sure, but you usually have your magic, unless of course-“

“Oh, no! Forget it! I’m still with my promise to never practice magic around a human again. And that promise continues to stand. End of that discussion.”

“But that’s going to make things so much more difficult.” Reaper whines, throwing her heads back in annoyance, and you can’t help but laugh a little at her dramatic antics.

“You’re going to regret this decision.”

“I will be just fine, thank you.”

Once you two are back in the house, you start with your preparations for breakfast, while Eddie is still sleeping peacefully.

He needs it, you think, and after everything he’s been through, he deserves it too.

By the time he wakes up, the bread you’ve baked is ready, and you’re in the midst of carrying it to the coffee table together with some homemade jams, and a big jug of hot cocoa.

Reaper still isn’t particularly satisfied with your plan, but you ignore her ramblings as you pass out the plates.

You try your best to focus on Eddie instead, who’s just woken up.

He’s a little disoriented at first, but once the memories of last night come back, there’s a faint blush on his cheeks as his eyes dart over to you, and you two try to make soft small talk to the best of your abilities.

The breakfast still ends up being a little awkward, as you reassure him that him staying in your cottage for the foreseeable future really is fine; that you didn’t mind him waking you up, and that it really is no bother at all.

Reaper sighs, but with her being an adorable cat again, it comes out more like a kind of sneeze.

“Bless you.” Eddie coos, and you have to stifle a laughter when his words have Reaper arching her back, hissing.

“She’s not to fond of Christian traditions, even the ones who have lost their meanings a bit.” You mumble, and Eddie laughs lightly.

The shy smiles you two keep exchanging over breakfast feel foreign, especially with how genuine they are.

You reiterate your offer, that he can stay and take shelter here, but Eddie is adamant about making some kind of pact.

“If I get to stay here, at least let me help you too. I don’t want to be confined to the couch endlessly, and I’m sure there are some tasks I could do, that don’t involve the usage of my foot.”

You appreciate that he wants to be useful in some kind of way, and considering that you’ll have to forgo your magic ways, another pair of helping hands could certainly come in handy.

“Alright, deal.” You promise, hand stretched out towards Eddie’s.

“Deal.” He states, beaming brightly, the previous bags under his eyes only faint traces of their former selves.

He’s going to get better, and he’s going to be okay, you tell yourself.

And above all, he’s not going to be cursed with the same fate you had to endure a long time ago.

You just won’t let that happen.

It’s a promise you silently plead to him, to yourself and the stars that night, as you step out to clear your head with fresh forest air and the twinkling lights of the universe, peaking through the branches of trees above.

And just like all your other promises, you intend to keep that one too.

You couldn’t keep your last one, but this time things will be different; they simply have to be.

____________

And that's it! I'll try to have the next part out soon, but I have a couple more Halloween-themed stories planed, so we'll see if I'll manage to post them all in time 😵‍💫.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction

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devinetheory-2 · 11 months

Text

Toxic Love

I guess I could try again....

But if I die again

that's my ninth life, my friend

No fight quite like life

in the dark

No Night light

knife in the heart

Third eye sight watch

For flying cyanide darts

No cost like love lost

to tear life apart

Bright, smart but

Unbearably scarred

Yeah,

....Kind of like my art

Her eyes are terribly

unfairly starved

Wishing upon air

As we stare at the Stars

Leaving the past in the past

So we don't dare to compare

Cuz we really dont care about ours.

Crash smash slash guitars

Live fast die young

Were back at the bar

She said she likes to ride

in fast cars

And I'm an Intergalactic Nascar

190 on the dash as we pass Mars

Hand on her ass as her back arch

Her nails scratch deep into my back

Distressed this will be the 1st of many scars

Devil in a dress exposed

Nightmares plague her soul

Still I can't let go

She needs someone

to hold her close

thru all the bad parts.

Attracted like

magnetic magic

Tender tragic

November addicts

I'll eat you alive

With Animalistic

Uncensored passion

Bringing an end to your madness

And savage wrath

Her laughter my active path

That ass a venomous trap

A snack bar

taking our passion past far

Making it last past tomorrow

sprinting endlessly through my mind

Like a Mount Olympian track star...

And I made her the air I breathe

How dare I

she's unaware I see

Between the lines

constructing the fear

that I let paralyze me

And I don't dare compare

I let the paradigm speak

Like a trap

How she put it back there on me

Now just a stare flares my heat

And I don't need anyone

to take care of my needs

Baby just don't tear my sheets

Now she's not there

And I don't want to share my grief

But I gave love a chance

Just so it would terrorize me

Unprepared as she would

Hear my scream

Then do everything she can

To take away the air I breathe

In this nightmare

Where I'm now afraid to love

And have awaken to a place

That I'm scared to sleep

Where I can no longer care about me

Constantly plagued by

these terrible dreams

Haunted by unbearable things

- Devine Theory

#writerscreed #13cupsofteareblog #twcpoetry #spilled words #spilled poetry #bad love #poetry

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quohotos · 11 months

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Favorite underland chronicles character?

Shoot, that's a tough question.

The short answer is Ares. He's the best boy.

The long answer is that Hamnet does so much for the series. His introduction really marks this point of no return where both Gregor and the series as a whole has matured. He dispels all of the notions that have been built up by this point and reality checks everything that's happening. He confronts all the violence and war for the horrible crime that it is, he confronts the evil of the regalians that Vikus is sickened by but ultimately enables. He also is the only god damn person down here who treats Gregor like the child he is. He's the only one that acknowledges that Gregor shouldn't be here doing this, that he's just a little guy.

The fact that war finds him anyways, that he dies fighting is just so tragic. He's not vindicated by the narrative, war is terrible but even he couldn't escape it. Sometimes war just happens to you, and you never get a choice in it. War takes good people from us, and we so rarely get a say in that.

Ares is also a person who never got a say in it all, and it's so tragic they never got to meet. Ares was picked my a real piece of shit to be his bond simply because he was bigger and stronger than his peers. He never really felt at home in Luxa's friend group, he was really just being used, but he adapted and made the best of a bad situation. He wasn't really in a position to turn Henry down, and by being his bond he was lifted into proximity to royalty and wealth. All he had to do was grin and bare it, and learn to have some fun along the way.

But Henry was bad. He treated him like a subservient animal. Ares was *Henry's* bat. Something about that just resonates deeply with me on a personal level. It's so compelling. Being trapped in this scenario where someone close to you is a peice of shit but you can't do anything about it because you owe everything to this person. I mean, the fact that Henry didn't even tell Ares about their plans shows how little he thought their bond was mutual.

So Ares does the right thing, he saves Gregor instead... But it haunts him. Henry betrayed him first, but he still gets tired for treason because at the end of the day there's a hierarchy and a human matters more than a flyer. He's at peace with that, he doesn't want to live... And then Gregor saves him. God, all the confusing feelings that must have invoked.

Gregor really wasn't the best bond to him. He was gone so often, Ares was just alone and struggling and even though Gregor wouldn't always be there for Ares you bet your ass Ares would be there for Gregor.

I have a really soft spot for characters that just take a beating from the world and keep on going, keep on choosing to be better for everyone else's sake. Seeing him and Gregor come together and be a team makes me feel things, man. I know Mareth gets to have the official role of "I wish you could have been my older brother" but damn, Ares should have gotten that. He was Gregor's big bat brother and he learned to love that kid.

Except for curse of the warm bloods, Ares was there for all of it. He went on every quest with the warrior, and he had to confront all the same horrors. I think back to the whole sequence in the labyrinth, how he also struggled with what to do when they found the bane, how he also felt somber retracing their old steps to find Ripred.

I always feel drawn to the second fiddle characters in media (don't even get me started on Norm Spellman from Avatar). So Ares is my favorite, hands down... Him being an adorable yet deadly bat is also a factor let's be honest.

Hamnet is the most *interesting* character, but Ares is my favorite.

#Tuc #the underland chonicles #Ares tuc #Tuc Ares #gregor the overlander #No shade to the Ripred enjoyers. He's great but we already have pages and pages of Ripred appreciation. Give Ares some time in the front

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darth-caillic · 9 months

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scream

John is my gay tragic moment

Bit of warning; what I'm talking about here does fall into the bury your gays trope a bit, so if it makes you uncomfortable feel free to skip this one <3

so you have the whole John Smith's life was a lie, and he was doomed to die from the beginning. Like I've never really written a doomed-by-the-narrative kind of thing before, but I feel like I could do something really heartbreaking with this. Like it was heartbreaking in the original show, but I wanna make it so much ✨worse✨

I don't just want him to be the persona the Doctor left behind, I want this mother fucker to haunt the narrative.

If there was one thing that would negatively stick from Sam's adventures, it would be that night during FOB. Sam has a million good/wonderful memories with the Doctor that he'd be more than willing to recount, but John will always be something deep in his mind that he'll never be able to process and forgive himself for.

Also quick side note: Fuck the canon John Smith. The latter parts of Family of Blood are great, and David Tenant plays it so well, but if you think about John's character too hard, he kinda sucks lol. But we're not talking about the canon John Smith, we talking about my John Smith.

He's a broke, pansexual 30-something with little to no self-preservation (dude could have killed himself from falling off a bookshelf if Sam wasn't there to catch him), and can't talk to a man he's crushing on without becoming a stuttering mess. But he's also so kind and gets so excited about the things he finds interesting.

And Sam doesn't even realise he's fallen in love with this goof until it's very much too late. I feel like a monster just thinking about this.

And like it could just end with the Family of Blood, but then I have the Swap AU where John and Sam do get to live a (fairly) normal life together. The thing is in that parallel universe, John is a lot more beaten down by the world. Like I imagine he has the same desire to help people as the Doctor does, but the thing is, he doesn't have the power to do anything. He has no tardis or sonic, no 100s of years of knowledge, he's just John Smith. And it subconsciously depresses him a lot.

So you have this older guy who's just done with the world and resigned himself to be being a closed-off ass, but then there's Sam, who just this bright light, who's seen the universe, and just thinks it's the most beautiful thing ever.

John and Sam built a life where they're just people and they don't guilt themselves into thinking that the whole world is on their shoulders. The world isn't perfect, but then they're together, it's pretty good.

thank you for coming to my scream talk

#and thank you for letting me scream keke #sam umaru #John Smith from FoB and the Role Swap John Smith are basically the same person but the latter didn't have to die to bring the doctor back #johnsam #doctor maisie au #askcj

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hearteiji · 2 years

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hi sorry if this is overstepping but i really needed to tell you how much i appreciate that response you just posted (to that ask about if death was a better option for ash). i, like you, am nineteen and have some sexual trauma that really haunts me, and banana fish really kicked me up the ass and made me acknowledge a lot of it. i debate on whether it was a good thing or not, because it was definitely at a time when i wasnt ready but im also the kind of person who needs a tough shove in the right direction otherwise i simply would Never Address Anything, but the fact remains the same that coming into the fandom and seeing people so shamelessly debate trauma i very much saw myself in, asking things like 'is it even worth living after experiencing that?' when i was sat there relating to it - it wasn't pleasant. the fandom has a habit of doing that in what is just casual discussions between users but to victims of sexual trauma is so triggering, because like you said they're talking from a place of privilege (and im so glad you worded it that way because i never thought of that!). like discussions on if ash will ever enjoy simply being touched again or if he's 'ruined forever' etc etc, it's all so inadvertently insensitive and it's so nice to just find people who feel as i do, even if it is awful that we even feel like that at all. like actually we aren't ruined or bad or dirty and we do deserve the time and energy of a happy ending instead of a cheap death in the last ten minutes. so just yeah. thank you so so much for being brave enough to share your experience and putting it all in such a kind way. i hope things get better for you and im so proud of the progress you've made so far.

(again sorry if this is weird or too personal you dont have to answer this i totally get it)

This isn’t overstepping at all—thank you for sending me this. Im smiling while reading it and although we don’t know each other there is an inherent brother/sisterhood in our experiences. You get it. You see me.

There is such a privilege in viewing media like banana fish as something purely fictional. The fandom definitely has a habit of taking real life experiences and turning them into angst fueled or hurt comfort scenarios—seeing Ash as something beautifully tragic and a romantically star-crossed queer—rather just some teenager who experienced a nightmarish amount of pain and who deserves to spend the rest of his life healing. Just like us. We arent ruined or incapable of intimacy or broken, we are just people. We can have happy lives, and we will.

Thank you for this ask my sweet love! Im proud of you too. Healing from this is just as difficult as it is possible (both are guaranteed but worth it)

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emchant3d · 2 years

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Can I have more thots on Maroon being a Steddie song pls?

I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED ACTUALLY

So first of all to get the angstiest part out of the way: "And I wake with your memory over me / That's a real fucking legacy to leave" is, to me, Steve about Eddie in canon after his death. Pining after a man who he could have had a connection with, a man who deserved better and never deserved the mess he became tangled up with, Steve being one of the only people who knows the truth about Eddie Munson - that he was a good man, a sweet kind funny weird man who never wanted to hurt anybody, who loved fiercely and ended tragically because he believed he had to prove himself when he never did. Steve is haunted by this, the memory of Eddie, feeling as if he has to hold onto these thoughts and feelings because so few people know this truth and it's Steve's job to preserve it even at the cost of his own heart, realizing just how much of an almost Eddie truly was for him. He almost knew him. He almost had his friendship. And maybe, someday, if they'd had the time, he would have almost had his heart - and that's the legacy Eddie leaves for Steve.

And on a canon-divergent note, if Eddie HAD lived, if Steve HAD been able to reach that level of care and love with Eddie that he was so so close to having, to me Maroon tells the story of two people who clung to one another after saving the world. Living in a world that doesn't know how close it came to ending and latching on to the few people who know the truth, building these trauma bonds together that accelerate their relationships, that land Steve and Eddie in a messy, tangled, intense relationship where they fall hard and deep and feel as if they've always known one another - "When the morning came, we were cleaning incense off your / Vinyl shelf 'cause we lost track of time again / Laughing with my feet in your lap / Like you were my closest friend" showing the happy beginning of it, ""How'd we end up on the floor, anyway?" you say / Your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that's how / I see you every day now" being together constantly, maybe even moving in with one another to escape the bad memories and becoming way too codependent.

They're so, so happy together that they let the relationship carry them in a way they shouldn't - they allow the relationship to become their focus, lose themselves to it and push aside the things about themselves that they do need to work on because they're clinging so hard to one another. It keeps them from growing and moving on. Everything is fine because they have one another, but that's not realistic. It's not healthy, and that's how we land at "When the silence came, we were shaking, blind and hazy / How the hell did we lose sight of us again? / Sobbing with your head in your hands / Ain't that the way shit always ends?" and at "You were standing hollow-eyed in the hallway / Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us". Eventually, things fall apart because love, as important as it is, just isn't enough when there's such a shaky foundation beneath it.

They love each other, desperately and intensely, but their trauma leads to them fighting and lashing out and not communicating, and eventually, it all comes crumbling down, resentment builds and they don't even know how they got here, arguing all the time, angry at one another, the distance that feels entirely uncrossable between them - "The mark they saw on my collarbone / The rust that grew between telephones / The lips I used to call home / So scarlet, it was maroon."

It leads to a painful, messy, but necessary breakup, forces them to confront their own demons, and makes Steve deal with his tendency to throw love at the people he cares about in the desperate hope that they'll accept it and love him back and makes Eddie deal with his urge to run or turn away from the difficult conversations and tough problems he hates to face.

They end up growing within themselves in a way that is vitally necessary for them personally, and then eventually, somehow, someway - they work back to one another, to the loves of their lives, and they become SteveandEddie again.

sorry for the essay about them I just have a lot of feelings about them hopefully this makes ANY SENSE AT ALL

#steddie

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beaubambabey · 2 months

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I played a little of my Stella file in BG3 the other day and I had a major realization (buckle up)

For those of you who don't know (because the post got buried and it's been months since I touched upon her) Captain Stella Maris DuPont, renowned art thief and airship captain, is my D&D character from the last full-on 5e game my group had. I remade her for my Tactician Mode run and am playing her as if she was isekai'd from the Eberron setting into Faerûn.

She was my second character for the campaign since my first one, like all joke characters you make, died tragically and left everyone so grief-stricken we had to have a mini funeral after the session ended. Captain Maris, Stella to their friends, was more integrated into the campaign and was introduced as a respected member of the criminal syndicate the party had to become a part of. She was one of the favorite lovers of the leader of the gang, Red Penny, and had an intense case of I Can Fix Her. Surprise Surprise, Penny only saw her as expendable and made Stella take the fall for crimes she was not a part of to further her ambitions! All the while doing everything she could to survive her family curse and obsess over her dead childhood friend who she was one-sidedly in love with.

In the end, after Stella finally got some sense knocked into her just in time for the campaign finale, she found Penny and took her out while Penny's guards took Stella out. They died tragically, together. When Stella's soul made it to the Hells they were like "Hey you didn't fall for the made up bullshit that was being fed to you. Want a sick ass devil job up in here?" And Stella was like "Oi mate sounds excellent, oive got me a good 'ead for problem solvin' on me shoulders and think Oi can do somethin' good to fix this right mess".

When I remade her in BG3, I thought "Shadowheart's totally her type, this'll be a Shadowheart romance run" where I also make Penny her guardian but like. More fucked up and like a specter haunting her. Dark hair, smudged eyeliner, and eyes that can see into the darkest reaches of your soul. I fully intend on letting Stella get closure by boning the Guardian. Started out the game, got approval with Shadowheart, things are cute, right?

Well, I had a realization somewhere in there. A revelation, if you will.

Stella is projecting Penny onto Shadowheart, or at least the woman she thought she could make Penny into by loving her and indulging her dark desires. Nobody’s perfect and Stella's no saint, so whats a little devil or evil goddess worship, am I right? But that would just mean that Stella is falling back into the very cycle that brought her ruin before. You know who would work for Stella romantically and bring out the best in her without her falling into old habits?

Karlach.

Karlach is someone who persists in spite of every force trying to keep her down. Karlach is the exact opposite of the kind of woman Stella would have laid everything on the line for in her past life. Karlach knows she's dying, and lives every day to the fullest.

I'm thinking about how Karlach's ending would go for Stella. How Stella would happily join Karlach in the Hells and fight to give her back her heart. Because she's been to the Hells for the woman she loved once, and this time she knows it's worth it, because the woman she loves also loves her back.

#i gotta see how it goes but I'm so excited #my brainworms are dancing hella hard #bam! we're gaming #playing: bg3 #bg3 spoilers /// kind of

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milfjensenackles · 7 months

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new chapter of my wip is up !!

the haunting of castiel novak

read it on ao3 | chapter 3/?

“Do you always talk like that?” Dean says while he slips his shoes off in the doorway.

“Like what?” Castiel asks, tipping his head to the side.

Dean rolls his eyes. “‘Hello, Dean’ in that deep ass voice. We just met. No ‘hey, nice to meet you?’”

“I apologize that my introduction left much to be desired. Let’s start over. My name is Castiel Novak. That was Jack. The cat’s name is Oliver,” Cas reaches his hand out, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Dean leans over to watch Jack play with the cat. A pink feather flies six feet through the air followed by a large orange blur and a thud. He couldn’t help but smile before turning back to collect Castiel’s palm in his for a perfunctory handshake. “That’s more like it. I’m Dean Winchester. Novak, huh?”

“Yes. My family is originally from Poland,” Castiel releases Dean’s hand and ushers him inside while he talks. “Can I get you anything? Some water, a beer? I appreciate you coming out here on such short notice.”

“It’s not like I had a choice,” Dean says with a smirk.

Castiel looks away sheepishly, busying himself in the kitchen with glasses to avoid Dean’s eyes. “Perhaps I took things a little too far. But you still showed up.”

“Yeah. I did.”

Dean wanders toward the living area of the house. It was small, but comfortable and well-loved. A white-tiled fireplace took center stage with photos of Castiel and Jack lining the mantle, some more recent and some from when Jack was much younger. He seemed like a happy little boy. One of the photos includes a young woman who held a baby Jack in her arms. She had long blonde hair and a pink ribbon pinning it back behind her head. Castiel’s wife?

“Ah, that’s my sister. Meg,” Dean jumps at the sudden presence of a figure right next to him.

“Does Jack have a mom?” Dean asks, still looking over the photos.

Castiel squints. “Of course he does. How else would he be here?”

Dean rolls his eyes. This was going to be a long evening. “I don’t need the full birds and bees story, dude. I was asking if she’s still in the picture.”

“Oh,” Castiel says quietly, “She passed away giving birth to Jack. Jack isn’t mine, in the biologic sense. I adopted him. His mom, Kelly, was a very good friend of mine. I have some photos of her around the house, but it’s still hard.”

Oh shit. One second, you’re messaging a stranger online about ghosts, and the next you’re learning their tragic backstory next to a crayon drawing of a dragon. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Castiel nods. “It’s okay. Jack is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, even though he came to me at a cost.”

Jack chooses that moment to wrap himself around his father’s calf and squeal something about Oliver swallowing the pink feather toy they were playing with just a minute before. Castiel rolls his eyes and picks Jack up before walking over to the cat and quickly pulling the obstruction out of his throat. “Sorry. It’s kind of chaotic around here.”

“I love chaos,” Dean says.

Castiel gives him a small smile and a wink. Dean grins back.

“So where have most of these incidents been happening, Novak?” Dean asks. He’s writing in a small notebook, trying to look more impressive and well-versed in these kinds of things than he feels right now. Without Sam at his side, he feels vulnerable. Scared, almost.

Castiel gestures widely. “Any and everywhere within these walls. The worst offender is the kitchen, but the cat has been thrown around, glasses have been smashed, and windows and doors will slam throughout the night. I just can’t take it anymore.”

“How are you sure it’s a ghost?”

Castiel looks exasperated. “Well, I tried mouse traps and calling the police, and they just laughed in my face. The mice, too.”

Dean holds his hands up in surrender. “Alright, dude. Got it,” Dean taps the end of his pen against his upper lip. “Have you recently gone on a trip and taken anything weird home with you? Any history of murder? Just to cover our bases.”

“Do you really think I’d be asking for help from a stranger on the internet if I had murdered someone?” Castiel asks with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dean barks out a laugh. “To be honest, with your track history, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Dean stands up and turns his back on an offended Castiel. He wanders into the kitchen, looking for any signs of disturbance. The back windows are locked tight, with a rope connecting the handles for good measure. A cabinet is open, with a small assortment of mugs sitting inside. Dean could tell it wasn’t the original number that lived there. One of the mugs had been secured to the floor of the cabinet with duct tape. It was handmade, with ‘I love my dad’ carved into the side in a child’s handwriting. Jack’s work, Dean assumes.

Dean looks outside from the kitchen window. The leaves are trying to change color with urgency, even though September had only just begun. A small playset lives in the middle of the sparse green lawn, tracks of dead grass littering the space around the slide and the swings. The combination of the mug and the backyard and the photos are almost too much for Dean, and it knocks the wind out of him.

BANG!

The backyard view immediately turns into that of a pale white kitchen ceiling. Dean can feel a hard floor beneath him, but he doesn’t know how he got there. He can hear someone saying something but doesn’t understand what it is. Novak, he thinks lazily. The last thing he’s aware of is a strong hand on his shoulder.

Dean wakes up on a couch that isn’t his own.

He jumps up, immediately on red alert.

“Hey, whoa. Take it easy.” Castiel says, coming closer to him with a concerned look on his face. He sits next to Dean and presses him back down into the pillows under his head. “You took a hard fall. I think the kitchen windows got you pretty good.”

“The kitchen windows? You mean the ones that were hog tied shut?”

Castiel nods. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Nothing stops it. At this point, I’ve just gotten really good at dodging. Jack’s short enough that most things just swipe right over him, thankfully.”

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but he realizes that his head is cold. He grabs at his hairline. An ice pack. Castiel must have put it on him after he knocked out.

Castiel shrugs. “You had a nice bump on your temple. Figured it couldn’t hurt.”

No one’s ever taken care of him after an attack like this. Usually, he was the one stitching wounds closed and making sure Sammy was okay.

“What time is it?” Dean asks groggily.

Castiel checks his watch. “10:07 PM.”

Fuck. Ava was going to kill him. He checks his phone.

100+ new messages. The notification lights up the screen. Castiel purses his lips. “Can I give you a ride home?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, no. I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”

Castiel looks at him in a way that was hard for Dean to describe. Sympathy? Concern? Dean didn’t really want to stick around to find out. He stands up and hands the ice to Castiel before reaching for his jacket and tugging it on. Suddenly, though, Jack comes shooting out from the dining room and shoves a piece of paper into Dean’s hands. It’s a drawing, colored in haphazardly with bright colors that don’t come close to staying inside the lines. It’s a drawing of himself, he realizes. He’s lying on the blue couch with his dirty blue jeans and black t-shirt and a plastic ice block on his forehead. Castiel and Jack stand over him.

Dean squats down to get on Jack’s level and pats him on the shoulder. “Did you draw this? It’s amazing.”

Jack nods vigorously. “Thank you for helping us, Mister Dean.”

Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I haven’t done anything yet, Jack. But I’m sure gonna try.”

He stands up and turns back to Castiel. “I’m going to go home and do some research. On this house, on the area. We’ll see if anything interesting turns up. For now, I want you to put salt around the perimeter of the house. Doorways, windowsills. Let’s see if that calms things down for a little while so we can figure this out.”

Castiel looks down at the drawing in Dean’s hands and smiles. “Jack likes you. He doesn’t like everyone.”

Dean chuckles. “He’s a good kid.”

He and Castiel make eye contact for a moment. It’s a second too long for Dean’s comfort, and he breaks it to shove his shoes back on. “Well. Thanks for fixing my head. I’ll reach out if I find anything. I’ve gotta get going or it’s my head.” Dean gestures absently to his phone.

“Significant other?” Castiel asks.

“Girlfriend, yeah.”

“Ah,” Castiel replies.

Dean stomps out the front door into the autumn night. Stars fill the sky above him. There are never any stars where he and Ava live. Too many streetlights. He’s always wanted a quiet house further away from the city, but Ava wanted to live in a luxury complex with all these boring houses that looked exactly the same. As Dean sat down in the Impala, mentally preparing himself for the rampage awaiting him the second he set foot in his home, he realizes that he feels… excited. He hasn’t felt that way in a long time, not since the last case Sam had gone on with him.

With that realization pushing him forward, he puts the car in gear and drives home.

#destiel #deancas #supernatural #destiel fic #deancas fic #lauren writes

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firelord-frowny · 2 years

Text

youtube

i fucking love this lmao.

lil knucklehead ass thought he was gonna roll up and commit an armed robbery and leave with a bag full of smart phones and cash but instead everyone runs out of the store and the manager LOCKS HIS ASS INSIIIIIIIIIDE LMFAOOOOOO NOW LOOK HOW DUMB YOU LOOK, SIR!!!! LOOKIN MAAAAAAAAAD STUPID OVER HERE!!! BEGGING TO BE LET OUT OF THE STORE YOU PLANNED TO ROB BY THE PEOPLE YOU WERE THREATENING! DUMBASS!!!

and just, the frantic panicking, "I'm going to jail"

THAT'S RIGHT MOTHERFUCKER! You know what you shouldn't do if you don't want to go to jail? COMMIT ARMED ROBBERIES!!!

I mean to be wholly honest, I'm VERY sympathetic to the circumstances that can lead to a person committing this kind of crime. But like, once you're actually in the process of threatening people's safety, my sympathy kinda comes to a breakneck halt. Like, I felt bad for you right up until the instant you enacted a plan that could wind up with another person or yourself being seriously hurt or killed. You should rather go door to door BEGGING for a job or even just begging for charity before you let yourself believe it's a good idea to commit an armed robbery.

Shoplifting food? Okay. You have to eat. There are better ways to get food than to do something that could land you in jail, but still, there's hella low risk of anyone getting hurt because you shoplifted.

I could even have sympathy for somebody who, out of desperation, cons somebody out of a few hundred bucks.

I can have sympathy for someone who breaks into a building they know is unoccupied so they can try to steal something they can pawn so they can get their car out of impound or whatever. It's still a shitty thing to do, and they should be held accountable for that, but my point is that I'm aware of the fact that people's lives can be so difficult through no fault of their own that it can seem like they have no other way to solve an urgent problem than to steal.

But you roll up somewhere with a gun and start threatening people?

i am TRULY sorry your life has brought you to this moment, and I am TRULY sorry that the justice system could give a fuck less about doing anything to mitigate the circumstances that lead to the kind of crime you've committed, and i'm EXTRA TRULY sorry that there's a high likelihood that you're gonna spend a tragically disproportionately long period of your life in prison just because you got desperate one day, but there are 0 things that justify you putting the lives of other people in immediate danger. 0 things to justify your willingness to hurt someone to solve your financial woes.

Not to mention, you need to love YOURSELF and care about your OWN wellbeing enough that you would never ever ever ever put yourself in a position where you could 1) land yourself in prison and doom yourself to having a criminal record that will haunt you for the rest of your life, 2) seriously hurt or kill someone, or 3) cause someone to have to seriously hurt or kill YOU in self defense. You deserve a better life than that.

But nope. Now you're going to prison.

You did it to yourself, bro. Play stupid games, get stupid prizes! I will ALWAYS delight in appropriate justice being carried out on people who intend to hurt other people.

That said, I do hope he didn't have to waste away in prison for years on end, and I do hope he was able to turn his life around.

#also it's refreshing to see a black guy who ACTUALLY IS armed and in the process of committing a crime #be taken into custody without some trigger happy racist ass cops shooting him in the back #or choking him to death on the ground #like just arrest the motherfucker and go!!!#Youtube

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dawnagustd · 2 years

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no rest for the wicked || jjk

➼ title: no rest for the wicked

➼ pairing: camp counselor!jungkook x camp director!female reader

➼ summary: Camp Crystal Lake is under new management. You’ve come back to your old hometown to gather some work experience before graduation. You know the dark history surrounding these grounds, but the real challenge is going to be hot guy standing in your kitchen, the same guy that made you leave in the first place.

➼ word count: 7k

➼ rating: 18+

➼ a/n: hi! so I wanted to do something based on one of my favorite horror films, Friday the 13th. This story is not horror and the horror/gore listed above is only mentioned. However, I recommend googling what the movie is about before reading if you haven’t heard of it because I based my backstory off of it. This story is more suspenseful and humorous if you ask me and mainly focuses on the pairing’s relationship instead of the actual Jason Vorhees story. Anyway, I hope you like it. Also, I know this is unedited and rushed but this was a last minute idea. I’ll edit it and make it better in the future.

masterlist | permanent taglist

Welcome to Camp Crystal Lake

The freshly painted sign lets you know that you’ve finally arrived at your destination. You’ve traveled over 800 miles and hiked through a slightly dense wooded area in order to reach your home for the summer. This all will be cleared by next week by the time camp officially opens for the children. For now, it’ll just be you and ten camp counselors that you’ll be supervising during your time here.

You accepted this job knowing the history of this place, and the tragedies that have occurred. But out-of-state school costs are expensive, and it’s been over 40 years since the original owners shut down the camp. After all this time, their children would like to bring innocence back to this place, and burn the horrific events that earned it the name Camp Blood.

People started calling it that in the 70s, after the grounds were terrorized by a vengeful masked murderer that sought after camp counselors he deemed unfit. The story says that it was all the wrath of a man whose son’s life was tragically lost due to the negligence of the employees.

There are some rumors that say his spirit still haunts the camp grounds every thirteenth Friday, symbolizing his son’s age at passing and the day of the week that it fell on—lurking for young adults who sneak off to fuck around in the woods instead of doing their job and monitoring the kids.

As if you weren’t already on edge walking the eerie grounds, tomorrow’s Friday and the calendar says May 13th.

You sigh as the glimmering lake and renovated cabins come into view. At least you’ll have a proper place to lay your head tonight. Initially the property owners told you that the cabins probably wouldn’t be ready in time of your arrival, and that you’d have to set up a tent most likely. But you got a call last night saying that everything was taken care of and you could bring your things into the employee living quarters.

You find it quite easily since it’s the largest building on the property. Inside is the kitchen, two bathrooms, and bedrooms for the staff. It also houses your office, and you can’t wait to get in there and customize your space. Your hopes are to make it so comfortable and fit for you that you forget about the memories that plagued you when you passed through your old hometown earlier. Everyone should have moved on by now; it’s been three years, but to be safe you made sure your job was away from the city limits—and the people you once called friends.

Those people have been left in the past, especially him. You shiver every time you think of his name, and you quickly bury it in the back of your mind so you can forget once again. This is a step towards your future, and you plan to use these credentials on your resume. The director who brought life back to Camp Crystal Lake will open a lot of doors for you. You have all sorts of activities planned for the children. You just have to see what you’re working with first.

The hiring stage was conducted by the owners so you have no idea who will be working under you this summer. Their information is supposed to be sitting on your desk, so you’ll dive in as soon as you settle. You’re very excited to meet new people that love children as much as you do, and you’re sure whoever they’ve selected will be great employees.

In fact, one of them is here a day early, and you’re relieved you won’t be spending the night on a deserted camp alone. The biggest smile adorned your face when you parked next to the black pick up truck in the lot, and it is still present as you step across the cabin’s threshold, positivity and optimism coursing through your veins while you look around the empty room.

“Hello! Anyone here?” you call out, but get no response.

Shrugging, you set your bags by the door and venture further into the mostly open floor plan. There’s a hallway towards the back that leads to multiple rooms, so you opt for heading in that direction. The wooden floor creaks beneath your feet every time you take a step, and you know it’s something you’ll have to get used to. There’s also some noises coming from two doors to the right, so you shout once again to announce your presence.

“Hey, it’s me, the new director. Are you decent?” Nervous laughter leaves your lips because you don’t want to literally catch someone with their pants down, or even worse, interrupt an active burglary or something. You can’t be certain that the car belonged to a camp counselor or ground’s keeper. “Hello?”

However, after one peek around the doorframe, you notice that there’s no intruder—just a guy jamming to music through his air pods while making himself a sandwich. You’re impressed by his moves, wishing you had half of his coordination. He seems to be around your age, but his back is facing you, and the only thing you can make out is his brown hair and muscular frame underneath his large clothing.

Tattoos crawl up his right arm and disappear under the sleeve of his shirt. Your mind is already wondering where the trail stops. You’ve always admired body art and you even have a few tattoos yourself—but only in places that are easy to cover. Unfortunately, they aren’t really favored in your career path.

The man seems to be enjoying his alone time, but you figure you’ll at least tell him you’re here so he’s not alarmed when he eventually hears another pair of footsteps walking around.

You tap his shoulder, and try to introduce yourself one final time.

“Hey there, I’m—”

“What the fuck?! You scared the shit out of…me.”

You both stare at each other in total disbelief, but after a few seconds you realize that you aren’t dreaming, and that you’re actually standing face to face. Your shocked expressions transform into scowls of disgust. You’re the first to speak while he grabs his phone to pause his music.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Jungkook?”

Never in a million years did you think you’d use that name again. It produces bile in your throat each time you pronounce just a syllable of it. He isn’t pleased to see you either, and his scornful eyes vividly display such feelings. They burn holes into your skull, but you imagine yours hold the same impact as you glare back at him. His hair may be shorter and his skin may now be littered with tattoos and piercings but those lips, those dark eyes—they haven’t changed one bit.

“I’m working, isn’t it obvious?” he finally scoffs out, resting his weight on the counter and grabbing his sandwich. He takes a bite before pointing at you, speaking throughout random gulps to swallow down his food. “Don’t tell me they hired your prude ass to watch children.”

Your weight shifts to one leg and you fold your arms. Offended by his tasteless insult, you decide to take a jab of your own.

“Worse,” you smirk while watching him take a sip of his milk, brows lifting with curiosity over the rim of the glass. “They hired me to look after you, asshole.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his drink. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Deadass,” you gloat.

He turns away from you and looks towards the ceiling, pinching the bridge of his nose. If you weren’t about to be under the same roof as him for three months, you’d laugh at how flustered he’s become. “This has got to be a joke man.”

“It isn’t, and if I were you I’d watch what I say to me because let's not forget who’s in charge of terminations from today forward.”

Jungkook’s arms fall to his sides when he hears those words. You find satisfaction in watching his tongue poke at his lip ring because you know you’ve struck a nerve. He turns in your direction again and he shakes his head.

“I see you haven’t changed one bit,” he notes.

“And what do you mean by that, Jungkook?...because you haven’t changed so much yourself, you know? You’re still a jerk, and an annoying pain in my ass.”

He starts walking towards you, and suddenly you recall the last thing he’s ever said to you. “This isn’t over, bitch. You’ll get yours.” You have no idea what those words meant, but they still give you chills—and for good reason.

You ratted him out to the principal. You had no choice; he was going to prank you again, but this time the results would have been really bad for you. For two weeks prior, you’d been receiving anonymous gifts at school. You suspected Jungkook from the moment you saw the handwriting on a note someone slipped in your locker. The admirer told you to meet them behind the gym during sixth period. Since you were a senior, fifth period was your last class.

Imagine your surprise when you showed up early and found Jungkook standing in the meeting spot, waiting for you to arrive—a cigarette in one hand and a bundle of red roses in the other. You went directly to the principal’s office and he was escorted off campus shortly after. Jungkook was expelled only a few months before graduation and the entire school hated you for snitching, but what were you supposed to do? He was going to attack you.

“I’ll tell you what it means,” he says, stepping directly in front of you. He peers down at you through his lashes, asserting his dominance by using his larger stature.

However, you don’t plan on backing down, no matter how much his aura intoxicates you. You focus on your anger towards him, the built up hatred you developed due to all the horrible pranks he’s orchestrated to embarrass you during high school. It’s all you need to remember what kind of jerk he is, picking on girls in front of his friends, but dodging them when he’s alone. He’s a coward, and you won’t bow down at his command.

“It means you’re still an evil ass kissing bitch, but I’m about to dry your cunt up real quick, sweetheart.” He gives you a lopsided grin before he continues.

“You may be in charge, but this is my uncle’s property, and if anyone has to go, it’s going to be the girl who got his nephew expelled from high school. So if I were you…I’d watch what I said to me,” he chuckles coldly.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach following his words, but you ignore it and stand your ground. “All I did was tell the truth,” you whisper and Jungkook throws his head back in laughter.

“Are you delusional? You hearing yourself, right now?”

He shakes his head and grabs his phone, abandoning his lunch as he prepares to leave.

“You know what? Fuck it. Talking to you is like trying to get a brick wall to move. Just stay the hell away from me and we won’t have problems. I’ll sleep in my damn truck tonight.”

Jungkook brushes past you and exits the kitchen, leaving you alone to bask in bad memories you tried so hard to forget. You hated each other then and you hate each other now. However, the resentment comes from something much deeper than teenage rivalry. You know the tension between you is bound to come to a head at some point, and you just hope it isn’t here.

It could ruin everything, and it’d be one more tally for Jungkook when it comes to embarrassing you. For now, you’ll try to step on egg shells when it comes to him. You’ll play nice and only communicate with him when necessary because this job is too valuable for you to lose it over someone like him. You begin cleaning up the mess he left behind with a heavy heart. “Ugh…Why me?”

May 13th, 2022

Well, it’s Friday evening and you haven’t heard a word from Jungkook since he stormed out of the cabin yesterday. He eventually came inside this morning to shower and eat, but has spent the majority of his time in his room. None of the others have arrived yet, but they aren’t on schedule until tomorrow. You still wish there was someone else here to distract you from the ominous feeling you get at night.

It’s always so quiet; even the wildlife isn’t active when the sun goes down. It’s like they know something is lurking—something dark and sinister. You didn’t get any sleep last night. You felt so isolated, so exposed in the middle of it all. If it wasn’t Jungkook invading your mind every time you close your eyes, it was the stories of this place told to you by your parents.

All night you expected a man in a hockey mask to appear out of nowhere, and butcher you like he did previous counselors. There were some survivors, the employees who weren’t at the camp to fuck and party. You keep telling yourself that if his vengeful spirit were to return, or if someone followed in his footsteps—you’d be safe. But survivor’s guilt is real, and violence is never the answer.

You don’t wish such a horrible death on anyone, not even Jungkook. So, of course, you were a bit worried about him being out there alone last night. Hopefully, tonight he’ll consider staying in here—for his sake and yours.

There isn’t much to do right now, so you’re lying on your bunk bed, looking through your phone. Your head lolls to the left and what you see makes your blood run cold.

“Oh my god!”

You jolt out of bed and slip on your sneakers when you see the dark colored creature slither across the floor. It retreats under the neighboring bunks and hides in the darkness, waiting for something to venture near so he can strike. You run out of your room faster than the speed of light, calling for Jungkook to come and help remove it.

“Why the fuck are you screaming?”

His voice is rough and he’s obviously in a bad mood. You assume he was sleeping because he’s only wearing his sweats, not a shirt in sight. You almost forget the reason for calling him, but he snaps his fingers and you’re quickly brought back to reality.

You point towards your room and give him a nervous side-eye. Your voice trembles when you speak. “Under the bed. It’s a snake…a big one.”

His face shows nothing but annoyance.

“Are you sure it isn’t just a sock?”

Your eyes expand, offended by his lack of urgency and seriousness for the matter.

“That thing moved!...Fuck it, I’m not sleeping here.” You try to leave, but his arm wraps around your waist before you can get by him.

“Alright, just hold on. I’ll go check it out,” he sighs.

When he withdraws you cannot ignore the way your body reacts to the loss of warmth, and you want to slap yourself for actually seeking after his touch. You’ll blame it on your lack of human interaction since you’ve been here.

Jungkook steps into your room, but turns to you before he goes any further. “Can I use your phone? I need a flashlight.”

You nod and quickly pull it out of your cardigan’s pocket, placing it in his hand and allowing him to turn it on himself. Jungkook taps the flashlight icon on the lockscreen and approaches the center of the room. “It’s under the bed to your right. Please be careful. I don’t know what kind it is.”

He doesn’t say a word as he gets on his hands and knees, keeping a safe distance while he aims the light into the dark crevice. He squints his eyes and curses after only a few seconds of searching.

“Oh, shit. That’s not good at all.” Jungkook gets on his feet and you immediately take notice of his flushed face.

“Is it that bad?” you gulp, and to your worst fears Jungkook nods.

“The pupils are like diamonds; it most definitely is.”

He leaves the room, but doesn’t take his eyes off the snake’s hiding place.

“What kind is it?”

He blows out a puff of air before he responds. His eyes are wide and in utter disbelief. “It looks like a moccasin, but I’m not a hundred percent sure. I just know it has to go.”

“Well, what do we do? I can call my dad but—”

“There’s some shit in the storage closet; I’ll get it,” he states calmly, placing your phone in your hand. “Make sure you keep an eye on the floor, and if it comes out, just stay away from it. I’ll be right back.”

Jungkook is gone before you can get a word out, leaving you alone once again. Your mind can’t help but think about what would have happened if you’d put your feet down at the wrong time. You probably wouldn’t be standing here talking about it right now. What if you were alone? Help is miles away, and by the time anyone got to you, it’d be too late.

That’s why you requested that someone with trained medical experience be here at all times, and according to his paperwork, he should be here tomorrow morning at 8 am sharp. You’d sure appreciate it if he were here now, however. This isn’t safe by any means, and neither of you are professionally trained for this task.

“Has he moved?”

Jungkook returns with a bucket in one hand and what looks like snake tongs in the other. You make a mental note to go over the importance of safety when it comes to the local wildlife with everyone, especially the kids. A bite from a snake like this can be fatal to an adult, and a small child would have even less of a chance.

“No, it hasn’t moved. But Jungkook, I think we should call someone. This isn't safe,” you suggest.

“Your dad’s a cop. He’s never shown you how to grab a snake?”

“Yeah but…”

Jungkook laughs. “If you’re scared of snakes just say it. I’m not one to judge.”

“No! I’m just…kind of worried? Today is…you know.”

“Well, try not to be so superstitious,” he tells you before entering the room for a second time. “I’m gonna close the door so it can’t get out, okay?”

You want to protest, and your mouth opens to do just that, but he gives you a look and you instantly change your mind. “Okay.”

“See you in a bit,” he winks, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

About ten minutes later, the door opens again and Jungkook holds up the bucket in triumph. “Would you like to kiss your prince before he departs?”

You roll your eyes.

“So what are you going to do with it now?”

He shrugs. “I guess I’ll put it on the porch. He should be fine overnight. I’ll wake up before dawn and take him on the other side of the lake where there’s more wilderness. I’ve been wanting to catch the sunrise anyway, so this works.”

“How do I know you won’t just go over there and kill it?” you jest, but Jungkook doesn’t think it’s funny. The second his expression changes, you realize that the joke should have never left your mouth. You quickly try to apologize. “Sorry, I—”

“Keep it.”

“Jungkook, I didn’t mean it like that,” you try to convince him.

“I don’t care. That’s your fucking problem; you never think before you open your damn mouth.”

You opened your mouth to apologize again, but instead you ended up giving him a piece of your mind.

“Excuse me? At least I’m not a coward. You used to be cocky when you were with your little clique. Now you can’t even look me in the eye whenever I bring up what you’ve done.”

“I’m the coward?” He shakes his head and laughs. “Then what are you?...I called you, texted you, and you ignored me. You didn’t have to accept my apology, but you could have at least listened to what I had to say after you found out why I was really waiting for you that day.”

“Jungkook, I’m not going to believe your lies. You know damn well what you were doing back there and you’re just pissed that it backfired on you.,” you argue, and Jungkook scoffs.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“I will actually because it’s the truth.”

Jungkook prepares to walk away, but then suddenly pauses. His back is turned, so he looks at you over his shoulder.

“You act like everything’s been all bad between us, like all I’ve done was harass you. You’ve forgotten who’s saved your ass with homework you forgot to finish or who’s given you rides home when it rained even though it was on the other side of town. I brought any of that to anyone’s attention because I didn’t do it to hold it over your head. I did it because that’s just the kind of person I am, especially for someone I care about. But if you want me to be something else…you got that.”

He starts walking down the hall without another word to you, and a part of you wants to go after him, but what he said doesn’t justify his actions. You don’t trust him, and he has himself to blame for that. So you stay silent, because if he really cared, he wouldn’t have so much animosity towards you when you did nothing wrong. It’s not your fault you couldn’t put the pieces together; you were too busy looking over your shoulder for his next prank, and even though it’s been years since he threatened you with his words—you look around every corner before you make a turn.

One thing you’ve already learned to appreciate in your short time here is the shower. The water reaches the perfect temperature, so you can’t help but stay in there a little bit longer than you should. You have to enjoy it while you can because after tonight you’ll have to share, cutting your time in the bathroom in half.

Since you’re alone in the cabin, you take your time and detangle your curls. Jungkook isn’t here so you don’t bother rushing to get your clothes on. A towel is the only thing that covers your body. Your skin is still damp and too hot to throw on a t-shirt so you opt to stay this way until you air dry and cool down.

Once you leave the bathroom, you turn off the lights and go straight to your room. You hadn’t realized you left the window open earlier, and you shiver as the gentle summer’s breeze flows through your bedroom. You throw your phone on the bed and quickly walk over to the window so you can shut it. However, a sudden uneasiness forms in your gut, an instinct you have when something just doesn’t feel right.

You gnaw at your bottom lip trying to piece together what could be happening and eventually, you brush it off as just your paranoia getting to you. Before you close and lock your bedroom window, you glance at the moon and stars, noting how beautiful they are away from the city and how you’d like to get some pictures before you leave. But that’ll have to wait because right now all you want to do is lie down and at least try to get some sleep—if only your mind allows it.

While pushing down the glass, you notice something out of place on the outskirts of the woods. You have a small view of the lake from where you are, and the only thing preventing you from seeing it entirely is the trees. However, there’s something blocking the small opening that allows you to see Crystal Lake from your room, or maybe…someone?

You lower your head to eliminate the glare in the window, and that’s when you see it. Barely, but you’re able to make out a white orb in the distance.

“What the fuck is that?”

You don’t have long to figure it out either. Suddenly, the object begins to move and within seconds you realize that it definitely is a person, and they’re coming straight towards your cabin. When they’re about 30 feet away you can clearly see their dark clothing and the infamous white hockey mask the guy that committed those murders were said to have worn. Fight or flight sets in, and your first reaction is to get the hell out of there before he can catch up to you with his long strides.

You rush out of the cabin wearing nothing but a towel and Pokémon slippers—no phone, no keys, only a bit of hope that Jungkook is alive and near or at least sleeping in his truck so he can drive you both to safety. Once your feet touch the soil, you channel every ounce of determination and drive you possess. Speed will be your only asset against a figure that appears to be twice your size. But unfortunately, even all of that isn’t enough.

“Let me go!”

A pair of arms grab you before you can even reach the path that leads to the parking lot. You kick, you thrash, and you scream like your life depends on it—because it does, and you use every tactic your father taught you to try and break free.

Your efforts pay off with an elbow to their stomach. A pained laugh escapes the person, and when you jab them again they finally agree to release you. You’re surprised at how familiar their voice sounds.

“Alright, alright. I’ll put you down, but chill. It’s just me,” he chuckles, placing your feet back on the ground. You try to make another run for it, but he grabs your hand and takes off his mask. “Don’t go running off into the woods. It’s just a joke. Calm down.”

“Jungkook?...Wha—”

“I was just fucking with you,” he laughs, doubling over and clutching his side. “You should have seen your face. And then you really almost crushed my ribs, damn girl.”

You feel anything but amusement right now, and you head straight for the cabin to start packing your things.

“Should’ve been your balls,” you say as you’re passing him.

Fuck this camp. Jungkook and everyone else can have it. You knew you shouldn’t have come back here; it was very foolish of you to think you could actually be in the same space with Jungkook and his old ways wouldn’t resurface. You’ll just find another way; something else will come up. But you can’t stay here any longer, not with him.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

You kick off your slippers because they’re just slowing you down. Jungkook is on your tail and when he grabs your arm you immediately pull away. “Get away from me. I’m leaving!”

“Leaving?...What are you just gonna quit?” he quizzes. You spin around and walk up to him, fueled by nothing but rage and resentment.

“That’s what you want, right? Well, you got it. I’m out…you’ve won, Jungkook.” His smug smile fades slowly and his brows furrow as he processes your words.

“Ahh, here you go again. How does someone survive under same roof as you?...I’m nice, there’s a problem. I’m a jerk, you’re ready to leave. It makes no sense.”

“You call setting me up to be humiliated nice?”

Jungkook’s hands run over his face in frustration. “I thought we established that I was doing nothing wrong that time.”

“If you weren’t doing anything wrong…which is obviously a lie because you were smoking. Why were you the person waiting for me to turn the corner?...With roses! I’m allergic to roses. You lured me there to hurt me and humiliate me.”

“First of all, I had no idea about the roses and I tried to apologize, remember? I wasn’t trying to be mean to you. I told you I just wanted to smooth things over and—”

“Then why write them Jungkook? Why make me believe someone actually liked me?” you question, cutting him off.

Jungkook steps closer, but once again you do not back down. You don’t care about how angry he is because you’re pissed ten times more. He’s gone too far this time.

“Maybe because I was building up the courage to tell the girl I’ve liked since third grade that I liked her? Ask her to prom? Apologize for being an asshole because she didn’t deserve any of that stuff I did...I don’t know, maybe it was all of those things. I was just doing what the guys told me to do. I wanted your attention, and I was finally trying to get it the correct way,” he argues, anger radiating from his body. He stares you down with so much hatred that if you weren’t feeling the same way, you’d crumble.

“So what if I had one cigarette to calm my nerves? I was fucking shaking, and I put it out after the first hit because I didn’t like it. But the only motive I had for being back there was to get the girl I liked alone so I could apologize and ask her out, but she got me expelled before I could do that.”

His words seem genuine and sincere, but they’re driven by fury. He’s still upset with you and you cannot understand why. You didn’t know, and if you did you still wouldn’t have known how to respond. It’s his fault for traumatizing you so much that you didn’t see all the signs. You feel like shit for it, but you can’t go back and change things. You’re trying to move forward, but each time you take a step, you’re always knocked back two.

“Then you just get to move on and forget it ever happened?” he continues. Your brows furrow when you see the gloss covering his eyes.

As if you weren’t already feeling terrible for not being able to read between the lines, Jungkook was right earlier; he helped you out just as much as he joked around.

You didn’t even give him a chance after the day he left school, but how could you when you were dealing with the aftermath of his expulsion? “You come here with your head all high like you own the place, like you haven’t flipped my life upside down. It’s not fair.”

“Jungkook, I had to move on. You think you’re the only one who suffered? Everyone hated me for getting you kicked out of school. And don’t act so beaten down, your dad got you out of it. Or did you think I didn’t hear about that?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yeah, because everyone knew I liked you…everyone but you. And my dad paid a load of money to make sure I could at least get into a good school. Why the hell do you think I’m here? He calls and I run, until I’m done paying him back.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know! But what am I supposed to do about it now? I can apologize a million times, but I can’t change the past. I’m tired Jungkook, so either we end this tonight or I’m leaving because I can’t live like this. Do your worst if it makes you feel better, prank me the whole fucking summer, embarrass me in front of the kids and the staff.”

He lowers his head and shakes it as he speaks. “That’s not enough. It’s never been enough.”

“Then what is, Jungkook?...Tell me what makes it right? I’ll fix it.”

Jungkook looks at you then, softer than before, but his expression still holds a bit of frustration.

“You just don’t get it,” he whispers.

“Then help me understand. Show me if you can’t tell me. You want revenge? Take it. Or if there’s something else you want, you can take that too. Just go for it because this may be the last chance you get.”

His fingers reach up and touch your arm, and he runs them delicately over your skin. “How do I know if what I want is something you’re offering?”

“Everything’s on the table. You have me alone until tomorrow morning. Do whatever you want, I’m all yours,” you assure.

“Anything?”

“Everything.”

“Well, come here then.” Jungkook pulls you close to his body and leans in. You expected him to kiss you, but you didn’t expect it to feel this way. His touch is more rough and aggressive than you imagined it would be since he was so timid previously. It still feels amazing despite his lack of tenderness and affection.

He grabs your face and guides you to the nearest wall, never breaking away from the heated moment you’re sharing as he does so. You can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that all of your hatred for him is being released, you can enjoy every inch of his sculpted figure.

You try to reach for his shirt, but he grabs your wrist and pins it against the wall, smiling when he hears you whine. His tongue slips into your mouth and explores as deep as its length will allow.

“Is that all?” you ask him when your lips ultimately part for air. His eyes linger on your mouth as if he’s missing the warmth already, and you can’t stop yourself from smirking in response.

“That’s not even half of it.” Jungkook’s hand still holds onto your face and neck, but you’re too drunk off his touch to feel any discomfort.

When he finally allows you to touch his chest and biceps, you try to coax him into spilling all of those hidden emotions buried beneath the surface; it seems to work after a moment. You purr each syllable when you speak, and Jungkook lingers onto every one of them as if they were the answer to all of his prayers. “Then what are you waiting for?...Clock’s ticking.”

“Stop talking like that.”

“Or what?...What’s going to happen if I don’t?” Your challenge makes him tighten his grip. You wince, but nothing tops the satisfaction you get from pissing him off. “What are you gonna do?”

Jungkook growls, and the sound makes you shudder. “You wouldn’t even be able to walk in the morning. Don’t ever try me like that, sweetheart.”

“Do it. I fucking dare you.”

Jungkook chuckles while kissing his way up to your ear. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“Well, enlighten me–Oh fuck!” He uses his knee to force open your legs and flexes his thick thigh against your bare cunt. The contact makes you gasp out a desperate moan.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Jungkook’s grin widens when he feels your thighs try to rub together for more friction.

“Fuck, yes.”

He drags you across the room and he all but tosses you on the couch.

“Strip, then turn around,” he commands.

You take off your towel and throw it at him. Jungkook twirls his finger in a circle, so you turn and bend over the sofa’s armrest. “Shit, you have tats, a nice ass, and you’re fucking soaking…the hell am I going to do with you?” he asks while leaning over you to speak into your ear.

“Hopefully, you’ll fuck me…and soon–ahh, shit.”

Jungkook slaps your ass and gives it a squeeze. You whimper under his touch, trying not to moan, but then his finger teases your entrance, and you have no choice but to let it out.

“You’re not in the position to give me demands…not while your cunt’s trying to suck in my fingers, sweetheart. Play nice, and I’ll feed you well,” he says with a smirk.

You groan, and he slaps your ass again; your backtalk then ceases for a while.

Jungkook spreads your folds and spits into your entrance, chuckling when you clench in response. “The quiet ones are always freaky,” he comments.

“Shit, I need to grab a condom. I’ll be right back—”

“Here.” You reach into the couch and pull out one of the condoms you secretly stashed there. You can imagine the shock on Jungkook’s face when you reach back and hand it to him. “None of us are saints, Jungkook. Don’t think about it too much.”

And he doesn’t. He quickly pulls down his pants and rolls it on. Your anticipation heightens when you feel his blunt tip come in contact with your heat, and you turn your head to watch his face contort when he slides in.

“Fuck,” he sighs when he finally feels your warmth molding around his length. His moaning makes butterflies erupt in the pit of your stomach, and you don’t even give him a second to get used to the snug fit. You bounce on his cock and watch as he looks on in awe, taking off his shirt and throwing somewhere across the room.

Jungkook grips your waist and takes control; you grab onto the couch when he starts fucking you back, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he concentrates on pleasuring you. You both set a steady pace, but you feel like he’s holding back so you purposely taunt him into giving you more. “You fuck like you’re scared or something. Afraid you’ll drown?”

He reaches forward and tugs your hair. “Nope. I was just going easy on you, but if you insist…”

You scream his name when his thrusts quicken, and he uses his grip to pull you back on his dick. He digs into you deeper and harder, and the pressure in your abdomen begins to build after a few calculated motions. Jungkook’s hand continues to come down on your ass randomly, and each blow leaves your pussy gushing with arousal. He pulls you up and holds you close to him once he’s left you behind red and sore to the touch. “You feel so fucking good. Damn, I wish you were mine,” he moans into your neck.

Your hand reaches behind you to play in his brown strands while he bites and leaves marks on your neck. “Is that what you want?”

He lifts his head and looks you in the eyes, slowing down but still digging into your cervix.

“Damn right,” he replies, teasing your sensitive clit. “Gonna come for me?”

“Mmhm, please don’t stop doing that.”

Your nails dig into his arm while he ruts into you. You come with his name flowing from your lips, and he follows soon after. His body trembles as he spills his seed into the condom, and he sighs when he’s finally released all the pressure he’s had inside of him.

Your body almost slumps over when he pulls out and tries to withdraw, so he’s forced to keep you close to him so you don’t hurt yourself. “Can you even walk to your bed?” he laughs, giving you a glimpse of his cute boyish smile.

“Probably not.”

He sighs and scoops you up. “Alright, let’s go to bed, lightweight.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, slapping his chest.

He stops near the kitchen door and tosses the used condom in the trash before taking you to your room and placing you on the bed gently. “Night,” Jungkook says quickly before turning to leave.

“Wait.” You grab his hand to get his attention, and he pauses. “I don’t usually ask these questions, but…did you mean that stuff or were you just fucking around?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that unless I meant it. I still like you, but I know it’s too late,” he says before he looks at you. He stares for a few seconds and responds with an exhale. “Please don’t leave, though. I really miss you.”

You pat beside you. “Come lay with me?”

Jungkook nods and takes off his shoes before he climbs in your bed. “I only ask because…well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, for everything. Especially tonight, I never want you to see you that upset again,” he admits.

He doesn’t say anything when you touch his face and trace over his features. “Can I come with you when you take the boat out tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course.”

You yawn, and Jungkook wraps his arms around you, caressing your sore behind to help you relax.

“We’ll talk then, okay? It’ll be all romantic and shit,” you tell him and he only scoffs. “Seriously, it’ll be like those movies, and then we'll kiss—”

“And then we’ll try to fuck without rocking the boat too much?” he suggests. You roll your eyes and turn away from him, suppressing your giggles as best as you can. “Did I ruin it?”

“It was ruined before I started talking.”

“True.”

When it’s quiet again, your mind begins to wonder and one question resurfaces in your brain that you forgot to ask Jungkook. “Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“How did you make it to the front of the cabin so fast earlier? You were literally like 10 feet away from my bedroom and then right on me when I ran out,” you point out, making him lift his head.

“I wasn’t back there. I was getting ready to come through the front door and scare you, but you just ran out. I figured you thought you saw another snake or something.”

Your breathing pauses. “Dude, I saw you.”

“No…you didn’t see me.”

Well, if it wasn’t him, then who?

Your heart rate speeds up, body working in autopilot as you try to usher Jungkook out of the bed. “We gotta get out of here. We have to run, there’s—”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. That was my friend Tommy. Please don’t be mad at him, I begged him to help me,” he confesses and you narrow your eyes at him. “Don’t get mad, babe,” he pouts.

“Oh, I’m not going to get mad, Jungkook.” You crawl over his body, straddling him and kissing his lips before you continue. He thinks he’s off the hook, but you’re about to show him what you’re capable of.

“...I’m going to get even.”

#jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts angst #btsdreamcourt #bangtanbathhouse #bangtansorciere #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #bts imagine #bts x you #jungkook fluff #sugakookitty

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hadesisqueer · 3 years

Text

Volume 8 is coming to an end so here's a summary.

Everyone clowning about a romantic Bumbleby goodbye before they separated.

“If you were one of my men I would have you shot” well there it is.

Tube Weiss and all the memes about it.

SNAKE WITH A MOUSTACHE (Robyn really getting better and better with nicknames).

Fiona, May and Joanna just being amazing.

“Grimm talked” “What?” “GRIMM TALKED”

All the theories and memes about Summer being the Hound that turned out to be half true.

Freezerburn divorce memes.

Pspspspsps.

Nora no-

Lots of Nuts and Dolts moments.

Neath Oum's ominous tweets.

More Robyn Hill nicknames.

“YOU CHEATED YOUR WAY INTO BEACON”

Jaune becoming the most mentally stable person in the whole group after volumes of him being self-destructive? It's more likely than you think.

My entire dash being everyone losing their fucking minds over “Yeah, Ruby”

GIRLS NIGHT OUT.

Rematch between Cinder and Penny. Spoiler: Cinder loses... Again.

Neo deciding to fight against Maria, an old lady.

Neo getting her ass kicked by the old lady.

Everyone losing their fucking minds over the broadcast and the old faces.

MAYA GLYNDA.

The fucking hack. Everyone crying.

The fucking river.

Duct tape Winter looking as hot and as mentally unstable as ever.

More Neath Oum's ominous tweets.

More pspspsps are ya defecting son.

Cinder's backstory and a wave of people writing fics of her being adopted by Qrow or Tai or something guilty here

Oscar and Ozpin deciding to try and spread the seed of doubt.

“I lost my Penny in the tundra” “Harriet there's people that are dying” memes.

Ren's semblance evolution.

Ren calling out everyone.

“You care about your teammates. You're angry. This one doesn't want to be here. This one wants to go home too. You're all full of shit”

Emercury separation.

Canon Trans May Marigold! (it was already canon but it was great to see her talk about it and seeing it be treated in such a natural way).

Whitley :)

Cliff-hanger.

Seven weeks of hiatus. I legit have erased from my memory whatever the fuck happened there.

“This was the tame half” NO SHIT.

The Haunting of Bly Schnee Manor. Same amount of trauma and gayness.

Whitley :) I love this boy so much.

The Schnees are all just too cool.

Ruby and Blake! Having a meaningful conversation!

Oh there's a person inside that thing.

Everyone just going inside a whale.

WHY IS TEAM FNKI THERE.

The return of the sexy genie.

Yang punched Salem. On the boob.

“Her again?” Okay why are you so satisfied.

Me and a good bunch of the fandom crying over Hazel.

PSPSPSPS WORKED EVERYONE EMERALD FINALLY DEFECTED AFTER AROUND SEVEN VOLUMES ROOTING FOR HER.

Bye Whale you will be missed.

Harriet don't snitch.

Watts dissing Cinder even if his tragic backstory was losing the science fair.

Neo being a little shit and everyone laughing about it.

Everyone screaming about the Beeunion.

“But Blake hasn't screamed yet” Shut the fuck up fandom.

“I am the very model of a genocidal general🎶”

PSPSPSPS WORKED AGAIN MARROW DEFECTED AND WINTER SAVED HIS LIFE.

Holy shit Jaune identified a romantic moment.

Ren booped Nora and everyone liked that.

Ruby and Yang being the adorable traumatized sisters they are.

Tsundere Emerald.

Everyone agreeing that Emerald and Oscar are now siblings.

Everyone agreeing that Robyn and Qrow saw Marrow and Winter in the elevator.

Where the fuck is Raven part 183828329

More Neath Oum's ominous tweets.

Everyone making ominous tweets actually.

Everybody going fucking crazy about the thumbnails.

“Blake hasn't screamed yet” Shut the fuck up.

The fight against Ironwood being just pure serotonin compared to the pain we were waiting for.

Winter suddenly becoming an Action Hero.

Penny :)

You know what's better than a sexy genie? Two sexy genies.

EVERYBODY GOES TO VACUO.

Cinder learned the power of friendship and used it for evil. No one expected that.

JACQUES SCHNEE IS DEAD... in the most anticlimatic yet fitting way possible.

Harriet what the fuck are you doing part 183828392

“Do not fall” and Yang took that personally.

BLAKE SCREAMED ARE YOU GUYS HAPPY NOW.

FERAL BLAKE.

All the memes that came after that.

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Note

Nat😫😫😫 I'm just reading your naoya posts and I cant😫😫😫 why do I love this arrogant man😫 is it possible to write something of a connected fic to your arrangement story about how he feels jealous over a similarly docile reader (doesnt have to be connected if you dont want tho!!). like he hears about how the reader has been getting marriage proposals from other men since naoya hasnt given an affirmative to your family,,,, and now the reader is forced to consider other candidates (although she still cant atop thinking about our favourite princely asshole) and naoya cant handle this thought lol he deserves to know what angst and the pain of yearning tastes like😌 I hope this wasn't too confusing aaaa😭😭 I love your writing, and im glad youre in this jjk brain rot too🤧

patience - naoya x fem!reader (1.5k)

arrangement // patience // my jjk masterlist

warnings: naoya remains an asshole. submissive reader, arranged marriages, mentions of murder, talk of adultery. pining/angst. not sfw, minors dni!

naoya hates that he can’t stop thinking about you.

Naoya hates that he can’t stop thinking about you.

Oh, he’d meant it when he’d spat ‘pathetic’ and ‘useless’ and ‘worthless’ at you – your bloodline was unimpressive, your lack of cursed technique tragic, your clan elders absolutely idiotic for sending a nobody like you to tempt him. But . . . something about the look in your eyes, the meek little bow of your head, the way you’d listened to every one of his orders with a soft little gasp and a desire to follow them to the latter . . .

He hasn’t told your family that he’s not interested in you, but word gets around the jujutsu community when someone is looking for a spouse. After all, they’re determined to retain blood purity, to keep techniques in the bloodline – your family soon hear that Naoya is still considering all of his options. That other pretty young daughters from other bloodlines have been to see him.

(Naoya rejects them all, for frivolous reasons that he doesn’t want to admit are frivolous. He hadn’t liked the look in that one’s eyes. He didn’t want his children to inherit the colour of that one’s hair. That one had walked two steps behind him, not three--).

You haunt his thoughts. You and the bow of your head, the bite of your lip, the way you’d looked with tears brimming in your eyes. The suggestive curve of you beneath your kimono.

Ugh.

He hears, too, that your family have been exploring their other options. They’d seemed thrilled, at first, that Naoya hadn’t utterly swept you off the table – but six months have passed, and they want their daughter married and out of the house and fulfilling her duties.

He hears about your marriage proposals through that same grapevine. He hears that other men say you are pretty and quiet and obedient, that you will make a fine wife, that you will listen to commands and give soft smiles and raise children like you ought to--

And once, he smashes a glass from gripping it too hard as some nobody in the Kamo clan mentions that he’s going to ask your family for your hand in marriage.

You say no. He hears, too, that your elders are growing frustrated with your dismissals of proposals. They have left behind the thought of marrying you into the Zenin clan, but clearly you’re still clinging to the idea that Naoya might want you despite what he’d said.

He doesn’t, he tells himself, when he wraps his fist around his cock and pumps it and thinks about your look of surprise as his come splatters across your face.

He doesn’t, he tells himself, when he compares a young lady sent to entice him with you. When she looks him in the eye and he thinks that you would never do that, that you would keep your head bowed, that you’d be deferential as he needs you to be.

He doesn’t, he tells himself, as a servant cleans up the shards of glass that he shatters and he asks the Kamo clan member if perhaps he would like to spar, and he hits him just a little bit too hard so he ends up wheezing and doubled over on the training mats as Naoya stalks out of the room.

It’s not his style to pine. He has the pick of every eligible young lady in jujutsu society; he should not be hung up on such a worthless, pathetic little thing.

He hears of another proposal. This one, apparently, hasn’t been rejected straight-out – this one, you seem to be considering. Other members of the Zenin clan don’t understand why his jaw sets at the news.

“You didn’t want her, did you?” He asks. “You didn’t seem keen after the meeting.”

One of his other distant cousins, an upstart too big for his boots, grins.

“That was before she was hot property, though,” he leers at Naoya. “Our golden boy doesn’t like the idea of people coveting his trash--”

Naoya has struck him before he can think and stalked out of that room, too. Something about you has truly opened the can of worms that is Naoya’s violence, and he refuses to admit to himself that it’s because he wants you.

It’s not because you’re hot property – though, certainly, the way other men talk and laugh about you and the knowledge that you’re wanted serves to set a fire within him. It’s because he can’t stop thinking about you.

He tries courtesans. He chooses pretty, well-mannered ones who look a little like you – but their eyes when they look at him are glassy. They’re not the same as yours, brimming with life and want and confusion at the position you’ve found yourself in and the way your body responds to Naoya.

He doesn’t admit to his mistakes. He doesn’t think ‘I should have accepted the proposal, I should have joined the clans’ – instead, he thinks ‘I should have fucked them then and there. I should have made them scream my name until their reputation was ruined and everybody knew they came apart on my cock. It’s their fault that I can’t get them out of my brain.’

He walks with fists and teeth clenched and snaps at every servant who dare looks his way. Naoya has always been unpleasant, but he’s downright impossible with his spine in knots and his eyes narrowed.

He’s going to have to do it. He’s going to have to contact your family, ask for another audience, if only to get your fucking face out of his mind--

He’s not expecting to come across you before he’s even made the call, standing in one of the gardens of the Zenin estate. You’re wearing the same kimono you had first visited him in, and he hates that the sight of it makes a throb low in his belly as he remembers seeing it crumpled on his bedroom floor. He swallows as he stalks towards you and you turn, your pretty eyes widening – he sees the flash of memory, the flash of desire. He wonders if anybody would dare speak to him if he took you right here, in the garden--

An older man opens a door behind you.

Naoya recognises him only vaguely. The Zenin estate is swarming with various, less important Zenins; this one’s a great-uncle, perhaps? Or a cousin thrice removed? He’s someone unimportant in the grand scheme of things, save for the way that he walks up to you and wraps an arm around your waist.

“Ah,” the man with his hands on Naoya’s property says. “I see you’ve met my betrothed.”

His heart stops cold. He’s nobody. Unimportant. Nothing.

He’d called you the same thing; an ‘act of charity’. So why does the sight of an arm around you attached to a man too old and not powerful enough to be a threat make Naoya feel like he’s chewing rocks? Naoya manages to spit out a;

“Congratulations.”

“Yes,” the old man (great cousin? Naoya doesn’t make a habit to remember people he can’t use later on) says, pulling you closer, groping at your hip through the kimono as you keep a sedate, smile on your face without looking directly into Naoya’s eyes. “You’ll be seeing her around a lot. I hope she didn’t bother you.” A squeeze to your ass, this time, shameless. “Say hello to the future leader of the clan, sweetheart.”

(At least this man’s on Naoya’s side, he tries to console himself, but it doesn’t work.)

“H-hello, sir,” you say, and your voice is as tremulous as he remembers it. His cock stirs. He hates this.

“Sorry to bother you,” he inclines his head politely and tugs on your arm, pulling you away, leaving Naoya kissing his teeth and trying to not simply slit the man’s throat with the knife in his hakama and take you for his own.

What had the scum said? ‘You’ll be seeing her around a lot’. He supposes, then, that you’ll be sequestered in one of the other chambers in the Zenin estate--

A slow smile spreads across his face.

You wouldn’t say ‘no’ to your clan leader, would you? And . . . your future husband is old. Any Zenin is a Zenin, is it not? Even if a son is born with Naoya’s features, Naoya’s technique . . . nobody would say anything to him about it. And you’re in reach. Close to him.

He only needs to get you alone before the wedding to make sure he gets to take your maidenhead. He hates the thought of another man’s filthy hands on you, but accidents happen all of the time--

And then you’ll be a widow. You won’t be expected to marry for a while. And if you’ve already borne fruit and proved yourself – perhaps Naoya will even play the chivalrous leader and lower himself to take you for his own.

Yes. Just a little patience.

This is an arrangement he can get behind.

#naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya smut #naoya zenin smut #not sfw #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #writing #afab reader #fem pronouns #arranged marriage for ts #misogyny for ts #Anonymous

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poptartmochi · 2 years

Note

ok I wanna say dmc for the glub shitto ask game bc I love the way you talk about it sm even tho idk anything of it

if u already got dmc or don't feel up to it I guess jojo is my alternative to u^^

ahh, Luna thank you! <3 😁 i'm on desktop rn so i cannaur send my beloved blue hug emoji, but know i would put it here if i could! also apologies for the late reply- i'm trying to rebuild my mom's desk! 😄 my rambling aside- ouuuuugh Thee dmc!!!! I shall try to give some context for the characters as I answer, hopefully it sheds some more light on them.. if not, thank you for reading my rambles despite not knowing them!! :') i appreciate it 🥺💙

P.S.: I just finished writing this and dear GOD it is LONG!! D: i started writing and then I blacked out, and when I came to i was looking at like 3.5 paragraphs of hate towards DmC Vergil 😨😨😨💧 the spirit of the infodump possessed me...... I put this all under a readmore- if you don't want to get hit with a genuine wall of text, please take care not to open it... i don't even want to think about how long it'd take to scroll through it on mobile 😳💀💀💀💀💀

prompt ( i prommy i won't go off the rails like i did w this one! 🙈)

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most):

is it any question... Vergil, man of all time 😔🆘🆘 if you listen to bury the light on 24hr repeat for like 2 months straight, you contract vergil blorbo disease </3 but so! vergil! speedrun lore, vergil is the son of ✨ Sparda ✨, a demon who split the human and demon worlds in two after a Very Long Time of demons hunting humans for sport 😳;;. Vergil's also the twin brother of Dante, the series' leading protagonist! ^^ anyhow, at some point after the two were born, Sparda disappears and from what I can tell, they're just raised by their human mom, Eva? In any case, since the two have The Blood of Sparda™, the demons that slip through into the human world want them Dead. Thus, when they're like 8 or 9, the demons descend upon their house and light it aflame, killing Eva and presumably Dante in the process. Vergil's the only survivor, and girl............... we need not discuss the psychological impact of this 😳🆘 After this, Vergil adopts this ideology that power is the most important thing, and his pursuit of power sends him on a very tragic path. 😔 to make a long story short, he basically shows up in the 3rd game because he's trying to open the gate between the human + demon worlds, which he succeeds at in spite Dante's efforts to stop him. Immediately after getting to hell he gets curbstomped by the king of hell </3, stripped of his will, and turned into the guy's little demon minion for like a decade. :( He then shows up in the 1st game as a Mysterious Enemy that you fight a few times on your journey to stop the aforementioned king of hell, and it's only towards the very end that it's revealed the really cool very strong mysterious guy is in fact... YOUR BROTHER :( But what can ye do except curbstomp his ass, since he's still in the throes of the king of hell 😔 So curbstomp him you do, and he basically gets mario washing machine'd to god knows where, where he takes Continual Losses. at this point, he's come back into his own consciousness and psyche, and he's like 😐😡 but also he's dying 🥺 Despite this, he is haunted by the many losses he's been dealt at his brother's hand and resolves to do one final thing before he dies: Kill Dante ⚔ ...... unable to do this in his current dying form, he goes back to his childhood home and uses his fucked up demon sword to split himself into two- the human and the demon. The plot of the fifth game all stems from his human side realizing What the Fuck He's Done, not just right now but in general, and he's like ohhhh dear.. girlies we gotta fix this 😳;;

hmm what else about vergil... oh yes he has a book of William Blake's poetry that he got shortly before everything went to hell as a child, and he like.. carved?? drew?? his initial into it because, despite vergil being the Evil Twin in the games, dante was THEE evil twin when they were younger... dante the instigator the brawler the manipulator.. tbh i'm obsessed with it. Anyhow, despite all the madness and mania he goes through throughout his life, he's somehow kept that book the entire time and his human side is Always Cryptically Quoting It :')

so. yes that is blorbo,,, the parasite that haunts my brain so...

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped):

Nero!!!! :D nero is vergil's mystery son, and the protagonist of the fourth game! 😁😁 He grew up as an orphan on an isolated island called Fortuna, where they actually worship Sparda in a cult-like manner 😳 Before I go off the deep end, I just must quickly say.. nero literally is SO SHAPED. DMC4 came out in like 2008/9 and my sister and I are in agreement that if I'd played as Nero as a kid, i would be a trans guy today. it is uncontested.. his design is SO fucking gender

but so nero! In canon nobody knows where the fuck Nero came from, much less that he has any connection to Sparda. he was raised in an orphanage before being taken in by the super cool parents of Credo and Kyrie (who took him in because he has the ✨ Same Silver Hair as Sparda ✨😮 but.. it's fine @w@;;). At some point they die, and so then it's just Nero, Credo, and Kyrie- the three must be incredibly tight because Nero looks up to Credo and joined the Order of the Sword, which is Fortuna's like.. demon-hunting church military/police kind of organization?? you know how it goes 😀😀😀;; Anyhow, Nero joins them because of his deep respect for Credo. And then Kyrie.. they end up dating which cannaur lie makes me uncomfortable given their upbringing but we pretend we do not see it 😳

set-up aside! Nero's game is basically about how The Pope™ wants to lure out Dante in an attempt to absorb him into the core of like.. a marble Sparda-shaped evangelion basically 🙈 Nero is really just a henchman following Credo's orders until it is revealed that he too, somehow, has demonic power... then things begin to shift, and the pope and co. are basically luring Nero into the belly of the beast by kidnapping Kyrie, so on and so forth 🤪🥴 They succeed in this and Nero's unwillingly drawn in as the aformentioned Sparda eva's power source, so the game then switches to Dante POV and you have to take it down! It finishes out with Dante beating the shit out of it but not really being able to stop it, so then you have to take it, and the Pope, down from the inside as Nero......... it's a whole thing 🙈

anyhow.. nero is truly scrunkly man, like the above description to a T. DMC4 was very rushed and suffered many things, but they still managed to put a ton of work into Nero's animation and expressions. he does a lot of small things with his face in the cutscenes that are 🥺🌋🌋 That, combined with the fucking insane voice acting of Johnny Young Bosch, makes Nero a really 🥺🤲🏼 *holds him* character for me <3

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave):

literally banging on my chest like a gorilla because CREDO, MAN..... i say vergil is the man of all time, but credo is like.. the MAN of ALL TIME 🥺🥺🥺 In the overall scope of the franchise, Credo is a Minor character- he only shows up in one game, you only fight him once, etc etc. but dude holy fuck credo lives in my MIND.... let me explain his white man sauce...

so, as I loosely explained above, Credo is the older brother of Kyrie and their parents took in Nero when he was young before they died under mysterious circumstances. WELL... the circumstances are not so mysterious to credo.. I mentioned before that Credo was in the Order of the Sword- expanding on this, he was also in some type of high position at a young-ish age? Which means he was privy to the truth behind his parents' death, which is that they participated in a ritual to imbue them with the power of demons and fucking died :(

this is classified information, so Credo never gets to tell his little sister the truth of what happened to their parents. so not only is he dealing with this truth, but Also. without his parents, he has to raise Kyrie (and nero????) all on his own 🥺 he does a stellar job with this because Kyrie is basically widely regarded as a fucking saint- for me this would be impressive on its own, but! He also manages to be such a fucking chad that everyone is Fortuna loves him- this combined with his insane fighting skills nets him the position of supreme general of the order, which imo is the second-in-command after the pope

Knowing the plot of the fourth game, this is incredibly heeeeehee 😳😨😱 Credo enacts the pope's will because he believes in the false vision of the future that the pope's been spouting forever, yk how it is with cults... However, he throws all that aside when he learns the pope has gone behind his back and pulled Kyrie, who is his sister but Also a Civilian 😡, into everything... in the end, his defense of Kyrie costs him his fucking life and it's 🥺🥴🥺🥺🥺🥺😔😐🥺😭😭😭😭 why!!!! </3

oh my fucking god I forgot to mention that. while he's still under the pope's will he has the SICKEST boss fight as a demon (bc surprise he undergoes the same ritual that his parents did, and he survived!!! there isn't enough time or space in 4's narrative to dwell on this, but I Dwell On It 👁👁🥺)

so yes in conclusion... credo 🥴😍🥰🥰🥰❣❣❣

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week):

Lucia!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 lucia my fucking beloved aouuuuuugh!!!!!!!! Luna I know I've rambled so much but you are about to HEAR IT.. i cannot think of lucia or i will go insane!

SO. Lucia. Lucia is the second protagonist of the ill-fated Devil May Cry 2. the original DMC was directed by Hideki Kamiya, mr. bayonetta himself, and I'm not sure if the next part happened because his + the team's work on the original DMC was super promising pre-release or because DMC was met with such acclaim after its release, BUT. development on the second game began incredibly quickly, some people say before the original even shipped. In any case, Kamiya had no idea it existed until the original DMC was being localized into English. this is the second game's point of inception, right?

Development was. challenged. like super super fucking challenged. Accordingly, despite months (?) of development, the only concrete thing the team had was the animation for one attack. Capcom was disappointed in this and removed the sequel's original director, who has never been named and in my opinion is in witness protection. 😀;;; Then, they brought Hideaki Itsuno on as the director and basically gave him 4-5 months to make a game out of nothing. I think this is incredibly fucked up and they should have delayed the game, but some people say that Capcom needed to use/cash in on an expiring contract with the brand Diesel and that's why there was no expanded dev time.

SO. i don’t know how, but Itsuno somehow makes the game. Given the circumstances, it is rough and nobody really likes it and it is widely regarded as the Genuine black sheep of the franchise- 4 was rushed and had some issues but that is all a speck of dust compared to how troubled 2 was. :( Outside of some side material, the contents of 2 have yet to see the light of day.

this is why Lucia is the obscure fave </3 It breaks my heart because Lucia is such a good character. In short, she's basically an artificial demon created alongside many others by this CEO kind of guy in his pursuit of power etc etc. Unlike the other artificial demons, she's defective (I think because she had her own sense of will?) and so, she's basically thrown out to the trash. She gets taken in by this elderly woman who's basically the last demon hunter on this one island, Vie de Marli. The woman raises Lucia to carry on the torch, and Lucia is a very very human character as a result of this. (although, i think in being raised like this, she's also brought up to disregard her own life in the service of her people? it's been a while since i played 2 so i don't really remember, but I'll come back to this in a moment)

Anyhow, the plot of 2 basically follows Dante, who was called to the island by the aforementioned old lady, on his quest to thwart the CEO’s attempts to open the gates of Hell through this ritual, or something like that... To do so, the CEO has to collect these artifacts, and while Dante is the main one working against this guy, Lucia is in the background trying to collect the artifacts before the CEO can so that he can't do the ritual. As she's doing this, the CEO guy confronts her and is like "ohhh it's you! :o you're no devil hunter lol you're a literal devil! i made you!! and it's only a matter of time until your programming faults and you begin killing the humans you've been trying so hard to protect hehe >:3c"

This like. really fucks up Lucia and she has a whole existential crisis shutdown about it while Dante is fighting the guy. I don’t remember it well, but I think the guy succeeds in opening that portal to Hell + unleashes a fucked up demon that Dante has to go after. In any case, Lucia stops him and is like "You'll be stuck there and the world needs you but I'm expendable so let me do it" or something like that, which... 🥺🥺 I'm describing it very loosely here bc I have terrible memory but frfr that was such a heartbreaking moment and Also the precise moment I was like ok. i will kill and die for lucia okokok <3

I forget what Dante says to her but it's some lifechanging shit and she's like oh!!! 😮 i have self-worth now!! So she steps aside and lets him go into the portal. While he's gone, this fucked up version of the CEO guy returns and is Berating Her Yet Again :( but this time, she's able to stand on her own to fight (and beat 😚) this guy proper.

Her character arc roughly ends there, which is. the worst because she has SO much potential. Lucia is someone who was raised as a human, raised to love her fellow humans. I feel like you could really do something with the revelation that she's Not a Human, and even moreso!! there's tension and suspense from the line where she was told that some day, she'll break and turn on her fellow man!! like what!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺

but alas. That's basically the last we ever see of Lucia and I'm not sure how likely it is we'll ever see her again. :( She got a little section in the expository book for DMC5, but no mention in the actual game itself... if/when she does, know that i will be ripping my shirt off and banging my chest like a fucking gorilla!!!!!!! she's my girl!! 🥺🥺

ummm also very very quick honorable mention here for the Lady in Red, who is an NPC given a few seconds of screentime during the opening cutscene for Vergil's game mode in DMC4. She's just a random Fortunan with her face hidden beneath a hood, but she's the only one that notices Vergil walking through the crowd. It's implied and widely believed that she's Nero's mom, but she's never given importance beyond those few seconds in the cutscene so 🤪🤪🤪 Anyhow, the Lady in Red gets honorable mention here because the very existence of Nero drove me insane. I couldn't wrap my mind around Dante, part of Kiryu's swag virgin club, or Vergil, who imo is too laser-focused on power to have time for relations of any kind, having a kid. more than that, I couldn't imagine what kind of woman would be able to fall in step with them long enough to have a kid??? And then I spoiled myself on Who Nero's Father Is, and felt even more insane because your honor i truly cannot see vergil ever taking interest in someone In That Way. so the thought fermented in my mind, who WAS this woman??? what did she do to catch his attention??? and the more i thought about this, as a Joke, the more it began to seriously haunt me. Before I knew it, I'd gone and pulled a sergio again, making a whole ass character to bridge the gaps and expand on the spaces left in between the narrative 🤪😳;

anyhow. that's gioia. the lady in red gets to stay here despite gioia because i fucking lose it over any breadcrumbs we get about her. XD there first time I watched my sister play through DMC5, before I was familiar w the ins and outs of the franchise + didn't realize Nero was an orphan, there's a part where he phones home after learning Vergil's his dad + I was ready to pop bottles bc I thought he was calling his mom.................... naur... 🙈🙈🙈 in the same way as Lucia, I doubt we’ll see much, if anything, about Thee lady in red </3

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave):

So, you recall how during Vergil's section I mentioned he split himself in two, right? well, the human part of him is named V and holy shit holy fucking shit is this guy a poor little meow meow. holy shit. not in the evil sense, he is just Going Through It </3 The thing with Vergil splitting himself into two is that like,, all of his essence, his strength ig? went into his demonic side. V inherited Vergil's conscience and memory in the divorce, and that's It. V himself is kind of odd in that he's the human portion of vergil, but he's not.. human? per se? Not a concrete human anyways, so he's running off a very limited reserve of juice to keep himself going in the regular sense, but also in an existential sense. And the further the game goes on, the less he has to work with. 🥺🥺

V is also the meow meow of all time because he really is so fucking human oh my god. :') He reads Vergil's book of poetry and knows it so intimately that he can casually whip out lines to comment on the situations he finds himself in. Vergil's clothes go into the void of existence with him when he splits himself, so iirc V fr just walks around naked until he mugs a guy and takes his clothes- rings and belts and necklaces and fun strappy sandals included. He's hesitant to eat a burger because he doesn't want to deal with how messy it is, but then he just. eats a demon raw. (and then he eats it cooked on like skewers BUT. this is only AFTER he just fucking eats the raw meat. this haunts me to this DAY)

Also a huge portion of V's character that I forgot to mention is that he has demon familiars who're essentially formed from Vergil's memories of his coworkers when he was a puppet for the king of hell..... One of these familiars is named Griffon, and he's the only one that talks out loud. Griffon bullies V so much and V just takes it bc they're besties. :') it's meow meow behavior your honor. OH one final thing, when you’re fighting as him, he’ll call out commands for the familiars + one of his commands literally sounds identical to CGI Ganondorf saying “die”. it HAUNTS me 😭😭😭😭😭

another meow meow-type character for me is Kat from the DmC reboot! We Do Not Talk about the DmC reboot because it is godforsaken, goatforsaken, the list goes on. It's a badly-written insult to the franchise. HOWEVER, Kat is cool :') I won't explain everything that goes on w Kat bc then I'd have to explain the reboot and that's more effort than it's worth. </3 but Kat is worth explanation. 🥰 so!! she's essentially Vergil's right hand lass, and also his girlfriend?? maybe? but that's basically irrelevant. Anyhow, the two of them have been working together for god knows how long trying to overthrow the surveillance state the demons have mankind under. Kat is a medium, so she's able to exist in Limbo, which is the space between the human and demon worlds? or maybe where they overlap??? I dunno tbh 😳 but anyhow, Kat is able to traverse Limbo while her physical body gets left in the real world, and she uses this ability to be the smartest, most effective, most efficient person in the whole game. There is one point where she gets taken hostage and the king of hell is trying to use her to convince Vergil, who's an unknown variable in this universe, to bring him Dante, public enemy #1. While he’s beating the shit outta her and doing god knows what else (which is 🥺👿 because the game casually drops that she was assaulted, iirc sexually, as a child) to her, she slips into Limbo and basically scouts out the place where she’s being held hostage. Then, she concocts this entire plan, iirc all by herself!, to topple the demon’s power. The reveal that she was doing all of this blew my fucking socks off- when you first see her in this portion of the game, it's in a video where she's super out of it and I was Very Concerned about what she was going through.. meanwhile miss thing is out here masterminding her captor’s downfall... legend behavior. So yeah! of the reboot's cast, Kat is my favorite character 😚 but the reboot is wildly unpopular and held in similar regard to DMC2, with the exception that it's set in a different universe and thus even Easier To Ignore than DMC2. so i think that makes her an unpopular fave and thus a good fit for the meow meow category ^^

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason):

so I would say Dante because dante is like. the most batshit normie guy ever. like... Confirmed the strongest guy in the whole series, has taken down every Ted, Jim, and Sue from the demon world that's tried to grab for power... but also. Dante lives off of pizza, his favorite drink is tomato juice, and he loves strawberry milkshakes. he never has money because his besties are always running him dry </3 for at least a little while, he gets bossed around by his own version of the Ace Attorney Weird Little Girl. in every single game he gets impaled with a sword, and when nobody did it in 5, he did it to himself. Dante is easily the most tormentable character in the entire franchise, but ALSO.. he is the Most Tormented :( so I don't know if I could torment him, he's been through enough!!! 😭

so if I can't torment dante, then Nero it is. >3 a bit of context here- every time I see a city you can kiiind of explore in a game, ie Val Royeaux in Dragon Age: Inquisition, I get a hardcore itch to explore + play in it the same way you play through Kamurocho/Sotenbori in Yakuza. WELL... girl lemme tell you this itch is so fucking strong for Fortuna man!!! it's such a pretty city and you really don't get to see a lot of it! :( so for a long time now I have been juggling a Yakuza-esque spinoff game for Nero where you have to do a bunch of sidequests for the people of Fortuna.. in my mind all of them are as headscratch-worthy and bewildering as Yakuza's sidequests. however, Nero is a lot more affectable than Kiryu is, so I think he would be tormented by them a lot more than Kiryu would be. 🥴 it is my dream to get into the dmc board room and pitch this game one day 😤😤😤😤

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)

SO............. THE POPE, RIGHT >( I would say sanctus is the most bitchass character in the entire franchise, if only because he took Credo away from us 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬 BUT. sanctus has a lot of pussy power. he poisoned the previous pope for two years straight so he could take his job and then he strung Literally Everyone along while he was planning world domination for two entire decades. he's the worst but I'm kind of obsessed with him </3

SO.

INSTEAD. : - )

my vote goes to DmC Vergil. ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh i HATE DmC Vergil he is genuinely the fucking worst 🤬⚔ I think they started off with a good idea for his character, the son that got away, a mystery variable in a heavily-surveiled state. If I were in that position, with the bass boosted powers that Vergil gets from his parents (plural... his and Dante's mom is an angel in the reboot... girl 😐), I Too would build my own secret little organization to topple the demons in power. BUT. That's like the end of Vergil's good writing. Throughout the game, he's always in the back, always the one depending on Dante to do things for him. What was he doing before his group found Dante? They dangle the idea of him having sauce right before your very eyes, because they take a moment to establish that he still has his fuckt up crazy sword Yamato (which he pronounces as if it rhymes with tomato...) in this universe as well, which means he COULD be doing things. But no!! there's literally a mission where you have to come defend his ass while he's trying to back up servers or whatever. as if the original Vergil would ever need to be defended. There's another part in the game where you're trading Kat off for the king of hell's... lover? who is pregnant with his child? In any case, it is a very high stakes high tension moment in which neither party can really afford for things to go wrong....... so vergil decides to snipe the pregnant lady out! 😱🤯🤯 for literally No Reason!!!!!! and it endangers Kat and everything goes haywire and hsdhfjfjhgs...... the entire time I was like, you did this for what!! iirc correctly, he is Hardly Useful in the ending fight against the king of hell, whereas the original Vergil in a similar fight was instrumental to winning the battle.... like, girl!!! where is your sauce? what's going on!

it gets worse though... after Dante defeats the king of hell, there's a beat, right. the guy is dead, his surveillance state's been dismantled... damn, there's finally room to breathe! to hope! and then Vergil, who has made Dante do all the legwork, is like "Dante, the path is clear for us to rule over the humans now ^_^". When Dante is justifiably like what the fuck, they get into an argument about humans being fine/not fine on their own and Dante Correctly brings up that it would've been impossible for the two of them to achieve anything without Kat (who is in the bg watching this unfold like 👁_👁😨), and vergil essentially handwaves her!!!! 🤬🤬🤬🤬 this is the point where I went from begrudingly tolerating Vergil to really disliking his character 🙈 you fucked with the wrong kat stan !!!1! 😆

but then!! the worst part! as if what he'd already done wasn't enough! his boss fight begins, right. Vergil's boss fight. vergil. who has been useless and non-combative the whole game. HIS boss fight starts AND SOMEHOW??? HE HAS SAUCE?! INSANE SAUCE? that really cemented it for me. He'd had these abilities the whole time, you know! he never had a big coming of power moment, so he was just sitting on all these abilities The Whole Time! and it just bugged me- Vergil, in any instance, keeping a low profile is a rational thing. but the original vergil still took the time to have sauce and do batshit stuff like ricocheting the yamato off of walls and catching it at the last second, so on and so forth. With this newer Vergil, they nerf him only until he Has To be the final boss. I've rewritten this a few times and I still don't think I'm capturing what I'm really trying to say, but. god. I know they're two separate characters and you shouldn't compare them, but the reboot's Vergil just feels so incredibly disrespectful towards the original. and since vergil is The blorbo of dmc for me, this is a crime punishable by death /j

OH my god i forgot to mention. they gave him his own DLC where you get to play as him, right? they initially won me back over because they had him limping around and clutching where dante fucking stabbed him to death (i call it the garrett thief effect 🙈), BUT THEN.. the story of the DLC was just. so edgy and grrr Vergil fights his inner demons and he kills the ghosts of Kat, Dante, his mother, everyone who left him and haunts him grrrr... but it felt too disconnected from the Vergil we'd seen in the main game for it to be a cohesive addition imo.

dear god I cannot believe I went off about the reboot Vergil for this long,,,, I am so sorry </3 I tried to forget him but I guess he still vexes me deeply 🙈🙈🙈 in conclusion, DmC Vergil has been sentenced to an eternity in superhell for crimes against DMC Vergil and also because he is kin with the Elon Musk who Also had a fedora and katana. grrr

#long post #sriracha ask game #ty again for the ask luna!!! <3 getting to write this all out reminded me of what i love about the series so much #but also god west youw souw.... i can't believe i wrote so much 😳🙈#also.. how did i only mention lady and trish (''dante's besties'') in passing that is so criminal.. they are super fun and good characters #too!!!! capcom needs to do more with them! :(

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