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thingsnia · 2 days

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boss benefits — simon riley "ghost" 💀🏴‍☠️

─── ☆ attention: english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes, just clearing the web that I let accumulate; I missed writing, diving into something to get away from life, asks are open, and I write to all the men of cod (characters by Pedro Pascal & house of the dragon <3)

─── ☆ summary: What would you do to stand out? To take on a mission you always wanted to finally have new opportunities? Would you be willing to give everything? were you willing to sleep with your Lieutenant?

─── ☆ warings📣: +18, MDNI | Allusions to an unhappy marriage, Simon is a scoundrel here, a bit dark (since you have sex to get a job) , possessiveness, size kink, creampie, unprotected sex, sexual desire, sexual tension, Simon is jealous of his boyfriend (he doesn't admit it, but competes), infidelity, oral sex (m/f), mention of procreation, infidelity, abuse of power, hierarchical relationship, position advantage, extramarital relationship, both have relationships, mentions of lust, prosmic sex, high sexual attraction, big dick (I know, I know, Simon is a big boy), Simon makes fun of the reader's boyfriend a lot, Simon lives in a loveless relationship.

"Lieutenant?" You asked as you pushed open the door to his office, perhaps it was to ask for a new report or to explain the briefing for your newest mission.

But when you opened the door, you noticed Ghost's body leaning against the table, he was in uniform, the mask covering only his lips, his honey eyes looking at you, you couldn't help but smile softly while showing his teeth.

You can't help but see the rectangular photograph, the gold-colored frame on his desk, displaying the happy photo of him next to his wife, Lisa, Lana or Lenny, you don't even remember her name. "Do you really want that mission?" His bitter tone of voice, so drawn out and thick that it almost made you think you were negotiating with the devil himself.

The mission that you begged so much to be in your hands, you wanted, was a mission in an area that always interested you, come on, you even studied to perform such a role, but Simon said he would give you an answer, and you were grateful for himself for letting go of his laziness and coming to his office at night.

"Of course I do, Lieutenant." The way you seemed convinced you believed it would be the best for you, he couldn't help but laugh beneath the mask, a little thing like you saying you could take it all. You had fire in your eyes, and Simon wanted to taste that fire.

"Whatever you're willing to do, I say." He cleared his throat while crossing his arms over his chest, raising his body even higher. "Many other soldiers asked me for it, it's an important mission, to show your values and skills. Why do you think you deserve this mission?"

"I'm the most qualified, I'm tired of kissing babies or hugging people." The last mission, after saving a pile of hostages, you ended up becoming more popular in talking in front of the cameras — you were a kind, sweet woman and the photos of you holding a baby in your arms almost made everyone call you an 'angel' of the task force. You even got a five-day vacation to spend with your boyfriend, thanks to everything you saw, to all the scary things you saw while saving them. "That's not for me, Lieutenant."

"You still haven't answered me, little thing." The harsh tone, the way he leaned in, touching your chin with the same hand that had the gold ring on it, he was flirting with you, sending all codes of professional ethics to hell, the way he leaned in, without Don't even care about the photo on the table, the photo is his wedding. "What are you willing to give me... for this job to be yours alone."

You should run, escape, warn the HR people about his strange attitudes - no strange, he was harassing you, insinuating that you should give him something to get a job, this was against all regulations, using his own power to obtain sexual favors. But you knew, the army would never send him away, would never dismiss him, he was one of the most competent agents on the military installation.

Reporting him would ruin your career, it would throw all your efforts in the trash if you told anyone about it. Closing your own eyes while looking at him, why was he insinuating this? His wife was young, pretty, and you had a boyfriend - damn, why are you creating reasons not to have sex with him? "Simon, your wife doesn't deserve this, my boyfriend, Devon, doesn't deserve this."

"Don't be silly, little girl." The little flick he gave you on the nose, laughing as he noticed you dodge, trying to get away from him, were you creating reasons? Did you want it so much that you needed to create excuses to stay away? - "Look, don't see this as cheating, sex or whatever is in your head. See it as a business transition."

He laughed, you could almost see the wrinkles forming under his eyes, you could almost feel the way he was offering to have an affair with you. "We're not going to kiss, honey, I don't want you to kiss me, love me or leave your pathetic little boyfriend."

The silence that fell, your throat was dry, you seemed disappointed to know that there wouldn't be kisses? - the entire environment was silent, I could hear your mind pounding, I could hear the doubts, the uncertainty, and even the desire to have sex with your superior. Everything was silent for a few minutes, it seemed like an eternity, all the doubts, the uncertainties, the doubts, your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him.

"you'll never tell anyone this, right?" you should be ashamed to accept it, you should walk away — leave, not accept this damn job and simply deny it, be faithful to your boyfriend, don't cheat on another woman, don't let him cheat on his marriage with you, in a damn case.

The way he took off his mask, showing off his thin lips, his strong facial expressions, his Greek nose as he couldn't help but laugh as he walked towards the door. He looked at your body, noticing that you were probably close to going to bed when they told you that he wanted to talk to you, his attentive eyes analyzing you, your curves, the entire contour of your body. "It will be a shame to never tell anyone that I was with a woman just like you, sweet." The pet name almost made you tremble, he spoke as if he had honey between his teeth. "But I agree, we can't let others know. It would be bad for my marriage and your little boyfriend- he would finally have to learn how to fuck a real woman."

At first it was strange approaching him, your lips tilting slightly, you didn't know where to touch, you didn't know how he liked kisses or how he liked to be touched, he approached, forgetting that it was you who wouldn't kiss you, but he lied, and you were stupid to believe him. Your eyes connected to each other, slow and slow steps towards each other, as if you were reading the deepest secrets of each other's souls — reading the darkest secrets that could exist, almost creating your own rhythm, a speed of yours. two. Simon couldn't help but bite his lip, he would be lying if he said he never desired your lips.

At first the kiss was so calm, sensitive, your lips pressing against each other, in an absurd harmony they were having, he held your face while he deepened the kiss, prolonging it, asking for passage with his lips, and when you moaned into his mouth of him, pulling his hair, everything seemed to go dark, to darken, your breathing in tune, your chest rising and falling, you needed to breathe, you needed air, oxygen, you needed so many things, Simon's hoarse voice, the way he just He smiled when he noticed how confused, airy and so confused you were.

"I have one condition" you pulled away from his lips, as you tried your best to hold on to something, fuck, you always imagined the sweet com could be his lips - you always knew he was as hot as the devil himself.

He couldn't help but laugh, finding it so curious how you didn't push him away during the kiss, quite the opposite, he saw your eyes on his lips, he saw desire in you, lust, tension, so many things that were more than enough. just an arrangement, an agreement. "What's your condition, pretty."

"I want you to use a condom." It was your lifeline, of course you imagined the texture of Simon's fresh semen filling your pussy, you knew it was wrong, wishing another man would cum in you while forcing your own boyfriend to use a condom, it was so comical, the man who knew your parents couldn't cum, but Simon had the approval to do so?

"We have a little problem. I don't have a condom." He wasn't lying, tilting his gaze at you as he walked away, he didn't have condoms, since he always made his own wife take care of birth control a lot, he didn't want accidents, he didn't want an unwanted child, but with you, he didn't even At least he cared about his own regulations of only having sex when he was aware of birth control.

"I have a condom in my boyfriend's room, I can get it."

“don’t be stupid princess, do you think it fits me?” You wanted to hit him for being arrogant, he was just being self-centered by telling you that he had a huge dick, but before you could even argue that he was lying or making excuses, he took your hands in his, feeling the soft and smooth texture, so Sweet as an addictive drug, he fell into your trap.

He let you feel him, feeling the volume, but he made a point of undoing his belt, lowering the waistband of his pants, making you see his dick, the red bridge leaking, the thick outline, covered in bluish veins, you couldn't let it go and Closing his eyes, biting his lips, realizing how huge he is, Simon couldn't help but laugh when he noticed how surprised his eyes were, when he noticed that he had a huge cock. Simon knew he had a huge dick, fuck, he knew he should be proud to have all that stuff in his pants. "What's wrong, doesn't your boyfriend have a huge dick, kitten?"

You hated how cocky he seemed, how full of ego he seemed, surely getting so many compliments for having a huge dick that he probably got a big ego. "shut up. I want you to take it off before you cum."

"Yes ma'am."

And there you were again, crushing your lips against his, feeling the way your body shivered, he knew it was wrong - but he couldn't lie and say he was sorry about cheating on his wife, he didn't care, he didn't even care. The way he was devouring your neck, crushing his lips against your skin, giving bites, hickeys and even licks, loving the way it gave you goosebumps, how you squirmed in his arms. "You seem so needy, no man has ever touched you."

He was groping your body, crushing your breasts against his own hands, he could feel how round they were, even under a pile of clothes. Pulling at clothes, removing buttons and buttons, watching your skin be revealed, flesh soft and supple, he knew he shouldn't leave marks, that he shouldn't have the boldness, but he did, he marked you, bit your skin, kissed.

Simon couldn't help but moan when he felt your hands wrapped around his cock - starting to masturbate him, moving his fists around him, feeling his cock throbbing, the veins bulging, how hot it was, how luscious, fuck, he'd never had a man with such a strong reaction to simply touching. You stayed for a few minutes, teasing each other, Simon exploring your skin, discovering all the pieces, all the contours, trying to remember in his own memory what you were like, he would record this moment, because he didn't know when it would happen again.

And that would be his best secret, the image that would pass through his mind every moment he had, remembering how your body reacts to being touched, to being kissed, to being loved, he knew it was wrong to give you the role of a lover, an affair, how he hated not being able to love you with open doors, to reduce you to just that, an affair of a married man. When he saw you kneel, see you on your knees for him, he could almost cum, he could almost feel the air getting thin, you almost stopped breathing.

"how do you.. like being sucked?" He couldn't help but find it so captivating, did you want to please him? You wanted to know how he wanted you, you wanted to engrave yourself in his mind like gum.

"Just do what you do with your boyfriend, hmm?" That was a lie, he wanted it to be even better, for you to suck him with more love than you sucked your boyfriend, he wanted you to be even better with him but it was with that loser.

"If you talk about him, I'll get dressed and leave." You didn't want to remember that you were a damn traitor, that you were about to suck a man who wasn't your boyfriend, and to make matters worse, a man who was wearing a ring. When you opened your mouth, starting to suck the base of his cock — sliding your tongue along the slit, while holding his base so tightly, you loved how needy Simon seemed to feel your mouth against him.

When you started to suck him, sliding your mouth around his entire contour - the warm, wet mouth surrounding him, as you began to slide in and out, just wrapping the glans around your mouth, you couldn't help but smile when he wrapped it around you. his hand in your hair, fuck, you could feel his wedding ring against your head.

Simon couldn't help but smile when he saw you smiling, seeing the outline of your lips against his, seeing your eyes so big as you tried to relax your throat to take him, you've never taken a huge cock, while you felt the weight of his cock against your tongue. He waited for you to be ready, as he started to move his hips, hitting the back of your throat, he could see you fighting the urge to choke, there was saliva running down your chest, you were willing to take him whole, to please him , you knew that anyone could notice that you and Simon were missing.

You move your head back and forth, breathing through your nose as you move your tongue around him, trying your best to pleasure him, you didn't care about the pain in your throat, you would probably have to drink tea the next morning, and when you heard Simon's moans, you can't help but continue, now hungrier, taking him so deep in your throat, starting to choke around him, the disheveled sounds, Simon's moans and with him he seemed so excited to see you giving a blowjob sloppy, not caring about his appearance, he looked like a slut who would get paid a lot of money, but no, you were doing it willingly, trying to please him, trying to be good to him, sucking a married man.

Fuck, Simon imagined all the perverted things he could do, he could take a picture of himself like this, but he didn't want to be such a bad man. He was close to cumming, close to emptying down your throat and even though he wanted to see you swallow him — or cumming on your face, he couldn't wait, he wanted to hear you moan for him.

He used all the strength he had, placing you on the desk, laughing when he saw the photograph fall to the floor, his wedding photo shattered, and he didn't even care, stepping on the broken frame, crushing the happy image of his wedding, separating at your legs, taking off your panties, he almost salivated at the sight of your wet pussy, at the sight of how wet you were for him, patting your clit and just laughing when you moaned.

He wanted to make fun of you, laugh a little, but he just wanted to feel your pussy around him, smell your sweet and soft scent, he leaned over, not caring about his spine curved in a bad position, as he started rubbing your clit. with a circle of his tongue — like a kitten testing the water, and when it tastes sweet, damn, he can't help but growl, opening your legs even wider, using his own weight and arms to open you up. "Fuck, I can live under your legs. That wet pussy."

He purred as he went back to sucking you, playing with your clit, drinking in all your excitement, trying his best to make you wet, patting you to see how wet you were, spreading your legs, separating your legs, putting you on top of the shoulders. Damn, all those moans you let out as he attacked your pussy, moaning as if you had never received quality oral sex, if he was your boyfriend he would never leave your legs, he would leave with you hanging on his shoulders, lifting the head just to speak politely to people.

Noticing his wet mouth, feeling your scent stuck right under his nose, as you arched over the table, feet shaking, crushing your hands against his hair, you were close to pulling his hair, messing up his hairstyle, those straw hair stuck between your fists, you were close to cumming, close to messing up everything around you, moaning loudly, squirming.

As you arched your back, rising and leaning, you wanted to close your legs, but Simon couldn't help but fight you, using his arms as a kind of screwdriver to let you open. Tapping hard on your clit while rubbing two fingers against your entrance, making you take his fingers, feeling your cum soak his fingers, feeling how you were crushing his fingers. "Fuck, Simon!"

When he lifted himself up, you couldn't help but see his forehead covered in sweat, his lips stained with your juices, he couldn't help but smile at how confused you were, how high you were from your orgasm, as he pulled you in for more. close, he needed to stick it inside you before he came, the taste of your pussy, the taste against his tongue. Fuck, he was dripping like a beast, his dick so hard and throbbing he might have blue balls if he didn't come, when you pulled him closer, wrapping your legs around his hips, you were a demon, and he should have known from that.

"don't do that to a man baby.. it makes any man greedy." Seeing your eyes, how you were kissing him, how he was crushing his body against you. He felt his cock rubbing against your wet folds, and when you pushed in, he had to bite his lips, his jaw clenched, you were so tight, so wet, so welcoming that it took everything he had not to cum on the first thrust. . "You're a glove inside, as tight as a fucking virgin."

He was rambling, talking out loud, he never felt like this, he never needed to pull his dick out to relieve it, fuck, he didn't want to cum on the first thrust, he didn't want to disappoint you, he didn't know when he would have the chance again and I wanted to enjoy every second. You couldn't help but laugh, noticing how fucked he was, how he had hurt his own lips sinking his teeth in to hold himself back, he kept fucking himself, just pushing his head in and out, moaning as he felt the obscene sounds, the smell of sex in the entire office.

When he crushed his hands around your hips, using one of his arms to keep you from struggling before he fucked you into oblivion, before he fucked you like a beast. Feeling your hands against the back of his neck as you began to move, laughing as he moved in and out of you, seeing you roll your eyes and scratch at his shoulders, scratch at his back, he can feel you shaking against him, You can feel how deep you were, your pussy was wrapping around him so tightly.

You knew you shouldn't be moaning in another man's arms, you shouldn't be letting a man without a condom enter you, fuck, you could feel the cold, golden ring against your skin, throw your head back, feeling the sounds of sex, the creaking table, the obscene sounds your pussy was making as it clenched around him. Feeling him fuck him balls deep inside you, he knew there would be so many bruises, marks that were too difficult to explain to the people who were waiting for you at home, but damn, he didn't care.

The violent rhythm that your bodies intertwined, you were both sinning, you were both getting sick, he loved feeling the texture of your skin, how your pussy clenched around him, and when he buried himself deep inside, the way your eyes rolled back, the air that was trapped in his chest and his head thrown back, his nail scratched him as if his skin was a whiteboard ready to be painted, exposed and displayed as a beautiful work of art.

The heavy breathing, the sounds, the harsh and hot noises, Simon was growling, feeling your pussy to squeeze a huge amount of you, the smell of sex, all the items on the table hitting the floor, Simon didn't care about the mess, with all the papers, the cock buried, in and out the wet and lasives sounds, while the rhythm was so slow, he wanted to hear you moan — to hear you beg for his cock, beg for the mark, for the contour of his cock against your pussy . "Fuck, keep moaning for me, I want to remember how you can be so loving."

He noticed your bright eyes, the way you bit your own lip just to make him angry, and fuck, he started moving so slow, so slow, thrusting all the way in at a deadly pace, letting your clit rub against his His abdomen, just looking down Simon thought he was going to fill you up, the simple sight of almost burying his balls inside you drives him crazy, makes him so animalistic, lost in desire, bathing in lust.

His hips rock almost naturally, the sight of your lubrication gushing against his cock, the obscene sound of your pussy and how your moans sound so loud and needy, it was almost like another impulse to slide his fingers up to your clit, he wanted you Seeing you cum for him, seeing how your eyes rolled back, how your body would tremble against his, god, he was so wild.

Simon feels his charms completely over you, the way your belly twitched, he can feel the way you hugged him even tighter with your legs, almost forbidding him to leave, creating a limitation that made him almost merge. Your body rose from the table, your spine arching, your hair spread across the table, it was like a damn overdose, better than the adrenaline of being on the field. Your eyes were so dilated, your moans were confused, altered, the orgasm made you so needy, the way you looked at Simon, almost like a succubus ready to drain every drop of semen he had.

He knows he should have used the strength of his own body to pull away, to cum on his belly and even his thighs — the guilt was already gone, he didn't even remember his wife's name, Lisa, Lenny or anything, his mind was just I could think about you, your body, your pussy that seemed made for his dick, even the shock against your cervix. "I need you, Simon-"

His eyes were heavy, his hands were squeezing your flesh so tightly, as if he was stopping you from slipping between his fingers, he was so close to filling you, the way his name rolled across your tongue, as if it were a prayer, a song that you were the only singer who gave meaning to the musician. "Fuck, I'm going to fill you up..."

The devilish smile that played on those lips, now you know how Lucifer fell as he tried to dominate and rule heaven, the distorted pleasure before your eyes, the danger, the chance to father his child - the marks of the alliance against your skin If it's so wrong why did it feel so good in your mind?

Instead of pushing him away, yelling at him, telling him he's gone crazy, it was as if he had opened a box with all his darkest desires, fathering a married man's child, destroying a home, you should be ashamed, but all he felt was pleasure, desire, knowing that he was so immersed in this that he was willing to lose everything. Giving up everything he had for years, simply to fill you up.

The way Simon's hips seemed ready to give way, he was like a machine, rough like metal hitting you over and over again, and you were made of porcelain, fragile and struggling not to break, he was hitting you over and over again against your uterus, he was insatiable, it would only stop when it spilled, when all the semen was dripping from your pussy, he didn't even care how red, swollen and baked it would be. He could only think about the feeling, fucking you again, using his own cum as lubricant, imagining how your pussy would still accept him even after he had cum.

Knowing that you weren't letting your loser boyfriend do that, but you were letting him, a man who had his wife's photo on the table, the frame that was now broken — he didn't even know where it had fallen, if he was stepping on it or anything. thing, you pussy was his only focus, your body against his. The simple thought made him come, the firm, thick jets being spurted inside you, looking at you is seeing your eyes closed, your body trembling, he filled your pussy, and instead of pushing him away, you moaned, leaving another man marks you, another man kisses you, another man tastes and delights in your body.

Simon didn't want to leave, even though he heard the sound in the hallway, knowing that at any moment someone could open the door, but he didn't care about the danger, the suspension they would both receive, or the gossip spreading through the hallways. He just smiled, your breaths mixing, you didn't move a single centimeter, you knew your legs would give way - but you still did your best to lean over and sit down, the semen running down your leg, dirtying the carpet.

He was a knight, taking your panties that he had stolen minutes ago, cleaning your pussy, just rubbing the leaked semen and smiling as he smiled. "Never handled a big dick? If you want, I can walk you to your room."

"Don't feel cocky, you looked like a drooling dog tasting pussy for the first time" He couldn't help but laugh as he leaned in, giving you a soft kiss on your lips. "Unlike you, I assume my sins"

You gave him a light push, and he just smiled. "We are two sinners, the difference is that you will convince yourself that you have not sinned, and I-" he showed you semen-stained panties. "I like to remember my sins."

©thingsnia is the author and owner of the content, do not translate or post on another platform.

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bell4donn4 · 3 days

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“TOO SWEET” -Luke Castellan

Tags: lowkey loser!luke, Hades!reader, mention of drinking, not established relationships, reader’s mean and lonely, Luke likes to be used? Ig, kinda toxic dynamic between the two

life at camp was always so boring, so empty.

the only fun thing you could do was corrupt the forest’s satyrs to get a bottle of wine.

Truly, being at camp was exhausting, especially as you got older.

Everyone excepted the older kids to help the new. But that was none of your concern, you were more than convinced that maybe camp could’ve invested into a teacher or two instead of forcing children to take the lead on other children.

Chiron was barely around, and Mr. D was anything but a role model.

The only person at camp who seemed to enjoy being helpful was Luke Castellan.

Head counsoler of the Hermes’s cabin; he seemed to be the closest thing to a dad figure kids could have in that place.

He was always doing something, always busy giving a helping hand to whoever needed.

Camp’s golden boy for sure. Bright and nice, funny and sunny.

You didn’t believe any of the reassuring words that came out of his mouth.

There was absolutely no way he liked being used like that, forced to take responsibility for kids that were not his.

You remember vividly the one time, years back, when you stumbled upon a crying kid. Luke was kneeled infront of him, patting on his head as he comforted him. “Its going to be okay” — “don’t worry, okay? Everything is going to be fine”

He was barely 15 when that happened.

You wouldn’t know how to comfort anyone now, let alone at 15.

Somehow, you hated Luke for it. You hated the way he would simply let everything slide on him, the way he allowed everyone to abuse his niceness.

You would never let anyone do that to you. You hardly talked with anyone, actually; preferring to be on your own instead of hanging around the loudness of the other campers, which all seemed so happy to be there.

In fact, the only person who you would occasionally “talked” to was Luke. Many times he caught you breaking the rules, and many times he allowed you to go and redeem yourself instead of telling Chiron. And many other times he found you doing the same exact things, even tho you told him you’ll never do em again.

He was sugar-rotting sweet. Never telling on you.

You hated him for that as well. Why couldn’t he just report you instead of looking at you with his puppy like-eyes? Almost begging you to go sleep and make his job easier instead of getting drunk almost every night.

You wondered why he still covered you, even after years of this routine happening. But you just figured it was his nauseously king heart.

You wish he’d rebel for once, even to you. You wish he’d just tell you to fuck off and go to bed- but he never did.

“It’s not good for you y/n”

It surprised you he even knew your name.

“You know- getting constantly wasted. I feel like this is not the right way to cope” — “with whatever you’re dealing with”

“I’m dealing with shitty parents Luke, the same thing you’re dealing with”

Your sarcastic remarks often burned on his skin. He wish you’d just listen to him for once- instead of making it so hard for him.

“Oh”

Your infamous smirk would hit him hard as a brick, every single time.

This was an example of the nightly conversations you had.

Sometimes you would go as far as asking him if he wants a sip, other times you’d just tell him to piss off instead. Depending on how you felt.

During the day, you simply didn’t speak at all. Weird, anyone would find it, but when the sunlight was out you wouldn’t acknowledge his existence; even ignored him, perhaps.

He didn’t mind- not that he’d show it anyways, but it was pretty in character for you to do something like that.

The moody daughter of hades- what else could he expect from you?

Yet sometimes it’d hurt.

Maybe he did care more than he should’ve. But again, wasn’t that in character for him? To be overly good and kind and caring towards the unworthy?

Only very few times you’d spare him a words. Usually when someone needed him and you happened to be the one sent to call him.

Perhaps it was okay to him; he grew rough and unloved- he didn’t care if he wasn’t more than a secretive nightly swing to you.

As long as he could have you, he was willing to be used. Because that’s all he knew anyways.

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allforrafe · 2 days

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Rafe and reader who are friends get drunk on a live stream of reader end up fucking during it

Please write somethinh like that

okay ur gonna have to bear with me bc this is my first smut request so !!! (hope u like it aaaa)

also i made them already dating because it meant more of an intro but oh well

sub!reader & streamer!rafe

warnings: 18+ !!!!!, p in v sex, drinking, live-streaming sex, use of nicknames, idk

rafe did a lot throughout the day, but when he had time, he would livestream. usually, it would be playing silly little war games or talking with friends but this time, you two thought it would be fun to drink on stream, and so you did.

it was about a couple hours into the stream and you and rafe were a few drinks deep, the alcohol pursing through your veins.

"hey-" rafe says, passing you another glass of the drink you liked. you sip it, feeling the next round of alcohol hit the back of your throat. "thanks baby" you smile softly at him.

"god you're so beautiful" he says, leaning down to kiss you softly, his smooth lips grazing yours, "my beautiful girl".

he places his drink down and sits in the chair next to you. "c'mere", he gestures towards his lap.

"you sure? we're live-"

he nods, "im sure. what's the harm in showing everyone you're mine, hm?". you chuckle softly, climbing to straddle him, "see? perfectly fine baby"

you shuffle around in his lap briefly, in search for a more comfortable position. "shit baby don't do that to me", he chuckles softly, aroused quite clearly, considering his growing erection beneath you.

you giggle, looking down and back up to his face.

"you noticed that then, hm?" he asks, noticing you looking down. you nod.

the pair of you had completely forgotten about the camera livestreaming you two, and despite it being there, things between you two got more heated over the next 2 minutes.

the next thing you know, rafe has you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist. he places you down on his bed, slightly back from his desk, yet still in view of the now-intruding camera.

he begins to slip out of his shirt, and his pants, leaving his upright cock straining against the black material of his boxers. you lay there in awe, admiring every inch of him, his defined abs, his beautiful blue eyes and that sexy face he always made in times like this.

he slides your shirt over your head, leaning down to kiss you deeply, his dancing tongue filled with hunger and passion. before you know it, he's removed your skirt along with your bra.

next was nude.

he slips off his boxers, revealing his large, erect dick. the veins throbbing visibly, alike to how you were throbbing for him, "mm rafe" you whimper. as your pussy speaks for you, you beg him for attention before he finally gives it to you, practically ripping your laced panties off of your body.

he lines his cock up with your soaking entrance, looking down to your face, pausing for a moment. "you ready m'love?" he asks as you nod eagerly.

it takes him next to no time at all to slide his cock all the way in, abusing your cervix with the one thrust.

the unholy noises the pair of you begin making as he thrusts his hips back and forth should be illegal. the deep groans escaping rafes mouth just got you going even more.

your alcohol ridden brain couldn't hold you together for any longer, your body beginning to shake from the immense amount of pleasure.

you hear a notification pop up on the screen.

"shit! shit! rafe- the stream!" you say, an urgency to shut it off running through you.

he shakes his head, "don't worry pretty girl, just showing everyone you're mine."

continuing his actions, rafe begins to slam into your aching pussy yet again, his pace after and his attacks on your cervix even more brutal than before.

"rafe- daddy, i'm, i'm gonna-"

"i know baby, me too..." he whimpers back to you, shortly after, filling you to the brim with his white hot seed, your body shivering and releasing all over his sheets.

"shit..." he exhales, switching off the computer.

"rafe how many people saw that?" you look at him, eyes wide in fear.

he clears his throat, "thirty-six thousand..." he admits.

your eyes widen even more than before, you collapse back onto the bed, "fuck."

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coco-loco-nut · 3 days

Text

loml

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: a journey through your relationship with max

a/n: so for a little background... my ex (he wasn't an F1 fan, it was never gonna work, let's be real) broke up with me the night before this album was released, so writing this series has been very healing; however, this one was extremely difficult to write bc it's the only song i can't analytically listen to and find the deeper meanings yet, especially after losing your first love. sorry for the rant and making this short🙃

tw: emotional abuse, manipulation

masterlist ttpd masterlist

________

You and Max were fan favorites, it was evident to anyone with eyes who had eyes. But they say you never know what happens behind closed doors.

“She’s the love of my life,” Max would always say about you, looking at you like you held the universe in the palm of your hand. His fans could recite your love story by heart from how much he loved to talk about you. It only made sense that he could shatter that public opinion.

“Y/n and I have divorced, I would like to ask for privacy as we navigate the changes,” Max posted one day, his socials wiped of everything. Your accounts remained the same, your last post being from the fateful race months ago. You haven’t posted since. The fans should’ve realized when the WAGs and George unfollowed Max.

Your apartment was full of things that reminded you of Max, every time you walked in it reminded you of every memory. He was embroidered in everything. You look at a printed photo of when you first met him. Despite it being six months later, you couldn’t get rid of him.

~~~

All it took was locking eyes with him across the pier for you to fall in love on that breezy summer day. He walked up to you and asked you to join him, and you did. You kissed him at the top of the ferris wheel later that night, and you didn’t even know he was famous all you knew was that he made you feel safe. The breeze reminded you of the warm ocean breeze from that day, one you called the winds of fate.

Despite being young, you married him after a year of being together. Things weren’t perfect even then, he could be incredibly mean, but he was also a standup guy when it mattered. That erased any wrongdoing of his.

“You have made me a better man, you reformed me, the love of my life,” Max had said that fall evening, repeating the one line that brought you back to him every time.

You believed his words, his lies spun to make you believe the hell you were living in was actually heaven. When he takes his anger out at you, doesn’t defend you against his father, you start to second guess him but he calls you those four words.

“I’ll never leave you, Schatje,” Max holds you in his arms, your back against his chest as you both look at a tv in the Paddock. The fans loved that photo, calling your love legendary. They didn’t know about the growing hole in your heart.

Your marriage was looking like one of those black and white movies you and Max watch on snowy winter afternoons. You and Max had been talking about starting a family, but you couldn’t get pregnant and you were watching everything you loved slip away.

“God, Max, you are like a con-man. I feel like I’ve been sold a get-love-quick scheme. What happened to you?” you ask, voice laced with hurt, during an argument about it. Max just ignored you, pushing past to stream with some friend. He ignored the sobs coming from your bedroom. He told the chat that you are the love of his life when asked about you.

“Y/n, we need to talk,” some of the WAGs pulled you aside during a race. They told you how Max was shit talking you to other drivers, saying you were a waste of a wife for your inability to get pregnant, saying he should’ve never married you, pointing out every flaw he told you was beautiful when he was lying to your face. You stand up and leave, not saying a word even when the girls try to stop you. Max is confused but simply responds to your text saying you were sick with an okay.

You are laying in your bed sobbing when Max gets back from the race. You face the terrace, where you and Max would dance under the stars. You can see the ghosts of it through your tears, and you wished you could un-recall when you thought you had everything.

“Please get out of bed,” Max says, his concerned tone laced with venom. Maybe the ghosts of your relationship are embarrassed by the scene on the other side of the glass.

“No,” you cry, mourning the loss of your counterfeit relationship.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Max sighs leaving the room. You sent a text to the WAG group chat who helped you remove all your belongings from Max’s apartment into George’s apartment that he wasn’t using at the moment.

Your phone is flooded with messages from Max, so you turn it off unless you are talking to your lawyer. Max finds a divorce petition and your apartment key on the dining room table when he comes home from training a few days later. The relationship that had such a valiant roar ended with the blandest goodbye.

You sit in George’s apartment with Carmen and Lily drinking wine. You took over George’s lease after they insisted that you did.

“For someone who claims to be a lion, he sure is a manipulative coward,” Carmen says as the three of you comb through the years of lies he spun.

You took the dreams that you thought you and Max wanted and lit the match to destroy them with your divorce papers. Despite your somber eyes, you seem more at peace, even with the sadness you will carry with you until you die.

“He’s the loss of my life.”

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 grid #max verstappen #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #george russell

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void-of-unparalled-chaos · 2 days

Text

The Double-edged Blade of Chance

Not everyone gets to meet their soulmate. It was just a fact of life. There was always a chance, but chance was a double-edged blade.

Jason quite literally runs into his soulmate at the young age of eight.

“Sorry! I thought you were a ghost!”

"Why would I be a ghost?”

@deadonmayn Day 5: Soulmates | Pretend | Jason and Danny were childhood friends | "I never thought I'd see you again."

TW: Major Character Death, Child Neglect, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Drug Addiction, Depression

AO3 link

Not everyone gets to meet their soulmate. It was just a fact of life. There was always a chance, though. Maybe it was small, but it was a chance. For those born with black ink scrawled across their wrists, it was a hope. A perfect match who could understand you on every level straight down to your atoms was waiting, and maybe you would meet them today! Or tomorrow. Or a year from now. Or… never.

Sometimes, life is cruel. Sometimes, black letters burn and scar. Sometimes, your soulmate dies before you can ever meet them. Words on your wrist were a chance, but chance was a double-edged blade.

On average, most people didn't meet their soulmates until their twenties or thirties. Jason Todd was not most people.

Jason quite literally runs into his soulmate at the young age of eight. Lungs burning and legs shaking with adrenaline, he sprints with his singular pilfered apple. He's not being chased, but it's better to create distance between him and the scene of his crime. If the past six months as a street kid has taught him anything, it's that caution is a virtue. Caution keeps you alive.

He falls back into muscle memory, allowing his feet to carry him through familiar shortcuts. Jason rounds another corner into a dirty back alley only to ram into something face first. There's a startled yelp and before he knows it Jason is horizontal. The only thing separating him from the ground is a scrawny torso. Jason's about to throw himself away from the poor schmuck when there's a burst of pain in his back. He rolls and lands on the asphalt with a pained groan.

The other kid scrambles away from him with panicked, pale blue eyes. He looks the same age as Jason, skinny like a twig with a loose-fitting NASA shirt and unruly black hair. If Jason had seen him walking down the street, he would never have guessed he knew how to throw a punch.

The kid scans him up and down, suddenly embarrassed, “Sorry! I thought you were a ghost!”

Jason is so busy nursing his kidney that he doesn't register the significance of the words. Instead, he snaps back with incredulity, “Why would I be a ghost?”

The kid stares at Jason with wide eyes. His mouth opens and closes, gaping like a fish out of water. Whatever. Let him have his crisis, it's not Jason's problem. He dusts off his apple and stands to leave.

"Wait!"

Jason yanks his sleeve back out of the other kid's grip, "Don't touch me!"

"Sorry…" he shrinks back and the expression on his face is so heartbroken that Jason almost feels bad, "Please don't go!"

Jason ignores him. He has things to do and places to be. Winter will be coming soon, and his abandoned apartment has very little in terms of blankets or jackets. A cold street kid is a dead street kid.

“Just-” the kid cuts in front of him. Jason stops short. Twig kid rolls up his sleeve, holding his wrist so close to Jason’s face that he couldn’t look away if he tried, “Look!”

Jason freezes. His eyes scan over the words once, twice, and then a third time.

Why would I be a ghost?

Jason can feel the scowl evaporate from his face, replaced by a softness he doesn’t know what to do with. Gently, ever so gently, he brushes over the words with his thumb. He doesn’t need to look at his own wrist to verify. Now that his head isn’t so far up his ass, the words the other boy uttered finally click and he knows that this is his soulmate.

“My name is Danny!”

Jason lifts his eyes to meet his soulmate’s. Danny’s grin is brighter than the sun itself. Something unfurls when he sees that smile. His lips tick upwards.

“I’m Jason.”

And so begins a beautiful friendship.

Danny’s parents were… interesting to say the least. Jason had never met them himself, but he sure heard about them a lot. The two were self-proclaimed ghost hunters, and Mrs. Fenton was a trained martial artist. They had taught Danny from a young age to defend himself and instilled a fear of ghosts while they were at it, hence Jason being floored with a kidney punch.

Other than that, the Fentons were hands-off. They didn’t pay much attention to Danny or his older sister, Jazz, so the two were mostly left to their own devices. Jazz couldn’t entertain Danny all the time, so he had taken to slipping out of the apartment to explore.

Jason may have been young, but even so, he had an inkling that the Fenton parents could have been doing a better job… well… parenting. Then again, it wasn't as if Jason had room to talk. Willis’ form of parenting had been more fists than words, painting out the rules of the house with black and blue bruises. Catherine had been good to Jason, even living under the smog of Willis Todd’s anger. She had taught Jason to cook (recipes he still knew by heart) and would read to him late into the night, fingers skimming old pages (Jason still carried the old, battered copy of The Little Prince with him, one of the few belongings he grabbed before fleeing CPS). Even under the drug-induced haze, his mom had tried her best. When she became too ill to do much of anything, Jason paid it forward as best he could.

There were some benefits to all of this. With the Fentons paying so little attention to anything outside of work, Danny could sneak supplies to Jason no problem! Suddenly issues like food or clean water were no longer as pressing, and Jason had a lot more free time. Naturally, he spent it with Danny. Jason taught Danny how to slip in and out of Gotham’s shadows unnoticed, and Danny taught Jason all of the things he learned in school. Danny would tell Jason stories written in the stars such as Orpheus’ lyre and Orion the hunter. In return, Jason would read his battered copy of The Little Prince to him under the trees in the park.

Like all good things, it had to come to an end.

It happens a little over a year after their fateful meeting. Danny arrives at their spot dragging his feet, eyes watery. Jason abandons his book on the grass beside him in favor of rushing to meet his soulmate, who all but collapses sniffling into his arms. They sit in the shade of their tree, Jason running his hands through Danny’s hair as he cries into his dirty shirt.

“What happened?” Jason asks once the other boy has calmed some.

“We’re moving.”

“What?”

“Mom and Dad want to move someplace in Illinois. Something about ectoplasm readings. They said we’re moving out by the end of the month!”

It feels like the ground drops from underneath Jason, nothing but a yawning chasm beneath his feet. Moving? To Illinois?

The tears return to Danny’s eyes with a vengeance, “I don’t want to move! I don’t want to leave you!”

Jason sets his jaw, tugging Danny back into a hug. He swallows the lump in his throat with false bravado. “It’ll be okay, Danny. You wanna know why?”

Danny makes an inquisitive noise, wiping his face on his shirt as Jason pulls away.

Jason reaches for Danny’s hand, turning his palm up to the sky. He stretches his arm out next to Danny's, their soul marks brushing next to each other.

“We’re soulmates, Danny. The universe decided that we are two halves of a whole. Fate decreed that we are meant to be together,” Jason poured the conviction into his words, “We’re soulmates, and soulmates are magic. Even if you leave for weeks, months, or years, I know we will find each other again. We’ll be together someday.”

Danny gawked at him, wide eyes a pantomime of when they first met. He stared at Jason, and then-

“You read too many books, Jason.”

Jason rolled his eyes good-naturedly, shoving Danny into the grass. Danny giggled as Jason fell beside him with a huff. They stared up at the branches of the trees. The leaves swayed in the breeze. Jason follows them in captivating circles, his soulmate a soothing presence beside him.

“You really mean it though?” Danny asks.

“Mean what?”

“That we’ll be together again?”

“Of course,” Jason easily confirms.

It’s the most sure Jason has been of anything in his life.

With Danny gone, there is no steady supply of food or blankets. Jason quickly finds himself reacquainted with hunger and desperation. After the third consecutive night of dumpster diving with no reward, he decides something has to change. Armed with a tire iron, Jason makes money the only way he can.

Six months after Danny leaves, Jason steals the tires from the batmobile. Batman found this more amusing than aggravating, and the next thing Jason knows, he’s stepping into the role of Robin. Jason! As Robin! Who would have thought?

The new gig comes with some super awesome advanced tech. With all his work for Bruce, Jason figures it's only fair that he gets free reign with the batcomputer, or as Jason likes to call it, his best chance at finding Danny.

The batcomputer is one of the most advanced pieces of technology in the world. It's hooked up to satellites, has access to almost every database, and can run ID checks in seconds. Theoretically, there should be nothing stopping Jason from finding Danny. And yet…

It's like he’s disappeared.

All evidence of the Fenton family only dates to before their move. It doesn’t make any sense! There should be paper trails or social media posts or something! Anything! Jason searches for weeks but it’s as if Danny stopped existing as soon as he moved.

Jason doesn’t give up. There has to be something he’s missing, one little thread poking out of the seams. A single tug is all it takes. He just has to find it. He keeps looking.

He keeps looking for years.

He hangs on to hope.

Jason is fourteen when his hope shatters.

The night starts off normal. Jason dons the Robin suit and joins Bruce on patrol. They run through Gotham, stopping an arms deal and tying up a few muggers. Jason stops to take a breath, looking out over his city.

Jason loves this. He yearns for the whip of the wind in his face as he swings between gargoyles and fire escapes. He likes to help people, to defend others from the scumbags that think they rule the streets. Jason loves being Robin. Danny being here with him is the only thing that could make it better. That’s why Jason stays up high near the stars. It makes him feel closer to Danny, wherever he is.

Burning pain makes Jason stumble in his steps. He clutches his wrist with gasping breath, wondering what he’s been hit with and when. Quickly, he removes his glove, throwing it to the floor.

His stomach fills with icy cool dread.

“No…” Jason mutters, eyes wide as saucers as the black ink on his wrist begins to fade, “No no no no no-”

He digs his fingers hard into the words as if that will stop the color from leaching away.

“No! Don’t do this! Please, Danny, don’t-” his voice cracks with a sob as the black becomes a pale grey, “NO! You're stronger than this, you jerk! Don’t give up! Fight!”

Bruce lands on the roof with him. He says something, but Jason isn’t paying attention.

“Don’t… don’t leave me, Danny. Don’t leave me alone.”

Jason would normally never cry in front of Bruce, but he doesn’t care about Bruce right now.

“You can’t leave yet! I’m supposed to find you! Do you hear me, you asshole?! You're not allowed to leave!”

The words are nothing but pale scars. It’s over. It’s done. The burning fades to a numb nothingness. Jason throws his head into his forearm and screams.

Nothing will ever be the same.

Bruce takes Jason home. He refuses to speak, not even to Alfred when the butler greets him with the offering of a hug. Jason walks right past his open arms to the bathroom and takes off his suit. Jason doesn’t feel like Robin right now. Jason doesn’t feel like anything.

He showers just to be done with it, unfeeling of the ice-cold spray. Like a preprogrammed machine he runs through his routine. Water. Shampoo. Soap. Rinse. Dry. Jason heads straight to his room when he’s done, not even bothering to brush his teeth. Burying himself under his bed covers, he cries until he passes out from exhaustion.

It doesn’t get any easier.

Jason pushes the misery down and gets through the next day one step at a time. Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months. He goes to school, forcing himself to pay attention rather than sink into tempting numbness. Danny would have been so excited that Jason was in school. Danny would have wanted him to learn.

He comes home to Wayne Manor feeling, ironically, like a ghost. Alfred’s food tastes like chalk. Dick’s endeavors at movie nights and days out are about as tempting as swimming in the polluted harbor. He still joins Bruce as Robin, but he leaves the batcave feeling angry, hitting harder than he’s ever hit before. As if that will change anything. As if that will bring Danny back.

Sometimes, Jason draws over the scarred words on his wrist with a black marker. He pretends that Danny is still out there somewhere in bumfuck Illinois, waiting for him. It helps.

__________________

Danny Fenton was unlucky. The very first sign was his workaholic parents with their conditional attention and lack of safety precautions, leading to his eventual early demise (Also known as sign one hundred and twenty-six, not that Danny was counting). Then there was the whole Oh Shit I’m a Ghost revelation quickly followed by the Oh Shit My Parents Want to End Me realization. Danny could only assume that he pissed off some ancient deity in a past life.

So yes, Danny was extremely unlucky, but he did have one thing going for him: Jason.

How many people got to meet their soulmate so early in life? Perhaps all of his luck had been invested in Jason. Jason with his vibrant blue eyes and dirty hair. Jason with the soft voice he used for Danny alone. Jason with his stubborn hold on childlike wonder despite being faced with the worst Gotham had to offer.

Danny may be unlucky, but Jason made him feel like the luckiest guy on Earth.

He thought about Jason frequently. Idly tracing the words spread across his wrist, Danny would let his mind drift. Sometimes, he relived old memories. Other times he dreamed of their future together.

He imagined moving out of his parent's house and into one of his own. Jason would move in with him, warm and safe for once in his life. He’d be free to focus on learning like he so obviously wanted. Danny would go to work and Jason would go to school, but they would always come back together at the end of the day. Jason would pull out a book and Danny would curl against his side. Jason would get that adorable scowl on his face when something happened he didn’t like, and Danny would kiss it off of him with so much sweetness that Jason would forget what had annoyed him in the first place.

The honeyed kisses were a new addition to the fantasy, but not an unwelcome one.

Danny also thought about the present. He wondered what Jason was doing now. Was he still holed up in that awful abandoned apartment? Did he have warm enough clothes for the upcoming winter? Did he find enough food to last him the week? Did Jason feel Danny die? He must have been so scared…

Moving away from Jason was the worst thing to ever happen to Danny, including the portal accident. Four states away, there wasn’t much he could do to help his soulmate, and he had no way to contact him, no way to check on him. His parents barely left the lab let alone the house, so a family trip to Gotham was out of the question. He had thought about flying there himself after the whole dying and becoming a halfa thing, but between the ghosts coming through the portal and his parents, he couldn’t leave Amity Park unprotected.

Danny thought he had a solution to the issue when he met Clockwork. While they may have started off on the wrong foot, these days the two were on better terms. Danny would even go so far as to call him a friend. Perhaps Clockwork would be willing to help a guy out and pause time for a bit. Only for a few hours! Just enough time for Danny to return to Gotham, find Jason, and establish some form of contact. Surely that wasn’t too tall of an order!

Evidently, it was. Even after bargaining, pestering, and begging for what felt like hours (it could have been days or it could have been minutes, time was weird in Clockwork’s lair), Clockwork still refused.

Danny tried Nocturn next. It was more out of desperation than anything. His relationship with the ancient was still rocky, and he wasn’t expecting much to come from it. To his surprise, Nocturn agreed to help him but only once. Just one dream. Just one chance.

Danny is so excited he has trouble falling asleep. Eventually, he gives up and knocks back some melatonin. He’s willing to see the ceiling children if it means he also gets to see Jason. Danny closes his eyes.

When he opens them, he is standing in a library. It’s fancy, fancier than Gotham’s library. The shelves are decorative polished wood and filled with books in better condition than any Danny has seen in one before. One wall is bare of any books or shelves. A stone fireplace with glass doors resides against it, exuding a comforting heat that makes Danny’s eyes droop even while asleep. The couches and chairs near the pit are so plush and pristine that Danny is certain this is a private library. No way would any public seating be this clean.

It's all very nice, but not nearly as nice as the sight of the teenager residing on the furniture. The round baby fat that had shaped his face had begun to make way for a chiseled jaw. He's put on weight, no longer as gaunt as Danny remembers with more muscle. The skinny, starving kid Danny had known is no more.

He's older now, almost unrecognizable, but that furrow in his brow as he reads and the slightly crooked nose gives him away. This is Jason. Danny's Jason.

"Jay!"

Jason startles, dropping his book. He scrambles to his feet, tense as he stares uncomprehendingly at Danny. It hurts to not be recognized, but Danny understands. He looks different too.

"...Danny?"

Danny can't find the words to respond so he settles for a smile, opening his arms in invitation.

Jason catapults into them. They clutch onto one another. The embrace is familiar but different, arms lankier than they used to be. Jason shakes like he’s crying. Danny thinks he might be too.

Jason finally pulls away, hands running over Danny’s shoulders and arms, "This… this isn't real. I'm dreaming."

Danny laughs, "Well that depends on your definition of real. It may be a dream, but I'm still here."

Jason’s hands raise to cup Danny’s face, "You died.”

"Yeah,” Danny can’t help but lean into Jason’s palms, fingers rising to brush over his soulmate’s.

"I don't care if it isn't real, I-" Jason swallowed. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Danny’s, "Can we just… pretend it is?"

"Of course, Jay."

Jason plants a kiss on his forehead and drags him over to the couch. They collapse onto the cushions, Jason’s chest breaking Danny’s fall and strong arms wrapping around him.

"I missed you," Danny says into his shirt.

"Not as much as I missed you."

"You look better. You look like you've been taking care of yourself."

"Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

Jason laughs.

For the next hour or so, Jason tells him about his life as Batman’s sidekick, Robin. Life in Wayne Manor has been beneficial for him. His smile is fuller and more carefree as he talks about his latest patrol than it ever was when he was living in the apartment. He seems happy in a way that Danny rarely saw.

"I'm so proud of you, Jay."

Jason doesn't say anything in reply, but he doesn't have to. His wet eyes are response enough. He's quiet for so long that Danny's convinced he's broken him.

Then Jason leans in, slowly, oh so slowly. Danny's heart flutters. He closes his eyes, tilting his head forward. He prepares himself to feel the press of lips against his own and then-

His alarm goes off.

Danny's eyes fly open, surveying his room in frustration. He never got Jason's number. Fuck.

There’s nothing to be done except to continue on with life. Between school and ghost fights Danny still finds time to pester Clockwork. It’s the same song and dance each time but Danny is nothing if not persistent. Occasionally, his attempts are rewarded with glimpses into his soulmate's life. Just little everyday things like Jason doing his homework or cooking with an older man in a suit. This of course led to Danny pushing for more, something like an actual conversation or contact information, all of which Clockwork refused to provide. It didn’t stop Danny from asking.

If Clockwork truly wanted Danny to stop then he shouldn’t have rewarded his behavior in the first place.

It's not long after Nocturn’s favor that Danny finally wears the old cog down.

“Come on, Clockwork! Please?” Danny whines, tugging on the ancient’s cloak, “I just want to talk to my soulmate!”

Clockwork ignored him, peering through another screen.

“It’s not like we haven’t already met! How could there possibly be any harm in us talking?”

Clockwork stopped, considering. This had never happened before! Danny waited with bated breath.

“I’ll let you see him-”

Danny cheered, happily doing loop-de-loops in the air.

“I wasn’t finished,”

Danny stopped cheering.

“I’ll let you see him, but you can’t interfere.”

“Interfere? Interfere with what?”

Clockwork frowned, “Some things are destined to be. If I take you to him, you can’t stop what is about to happen. For better or worse. Are you sure this is what you want?”

Danny stilled, considering. This didn’t sound like he was going to talk to Jason. It seemed like this would be a mere passive observance. It wasn't much different from watching Jason through Clockworks’s portals. Whatever. Danny would take what he could get.

“I’m sure.” Anything to see Jason again.

“I foresaw as such.”

Danny barely has time (heh time) to register the sad look Clockwork shoots his way before he’s portaled out of the ghost’s lair. One blink he is staring at the gears and cogs in the walls, then next he is standing in a warehouse. Alone.

“Clockwork?”

There’s no response, so Danny investigates. It's hot. Hot enough that Danny feels like he is sweating despite his intangibility. The warehouse is filled with boxes upon boxes. As he wanders further in, he begins to hear signs of life. He peers between the crates.

A few musclemen are unloading more crates to the floor. Someone out of sight sounds like they’re laughing. No not laughing. Full-blown manic cackling. That’s a villain's laugh if Danny has ever heard one.

He peaks around the corner to get a better view and nearly reels back. That’s a clown. A fully dressed clown. Green hair, white face paint, and all.

Danny hates clowns.

“What? What’s going on here?”

Jason!

Danny looks over his shoulder in the direction of the footsteps.

“Just step over here and you’ll understand everything, Robin.”

A blonde woman rounds the corner, Robin, Jason, following close behind. They walk past Danny and right into the clown.

“What?!” Jason leaps between the woman and the gun lime-flavored Mr.Mime is aiming squarely at her chest, “But you said…”

“I lied.”

The woman is aiming a gun at Jason’s head. Danny growls, but it goes unheard.

“I can’t afford to have you stirring up trouble. I’ve been dipping into the medical funds myself. If you blow the whistle on the Joker, the investigation will certainly uncover my embezzling. Sorry about that, kid. Looks like you picked the wrong person to trust. ”

“Clockwork,” Danny asks the open air, “what is this?”

Jason is surrounded but his eyes are solely focused on the woman. He looks devastated.

“What should we do with him?” the woman asks the clown.

“Something I’ve wanted to do for years,” The clown lets out another one of those awful cackles.

Danny doesn’t think it would be possible to hate this guy more than he already does, but then he pistol whips his soulmate across the chest hard enough that he hits the ground.

Jason gets up again. He’s always been tenacious, Danny thinks as he watches him punch the clown in the gut. He feels a glimmer of satisfaction. Jason will be okay. He’s giving the newest additions to Danny’s shitlist a solid beat down, and Danny gets a front-row seat.

But then one of the gym bros knocks Jason to the floor again. He follows it up with a kick to the ribs. Jason lies there heaving, and suddenly Danny isn’t so certain anymore.

The clown approaches him, dragging a crowbar against the concrete with a harsh scraping sound.

“This is going to hurt you a lot more than it does me.”

Danny tries to rush forward. He wants to tear that crowbar out of the clown’s hand and hit him so hard that he loses his teeth. He wants to grab Jason by the collar of that stupid outfit and fly him far away to safety. Danny wants to, but he can’t. His feet are rooted to the ground. His arms refuse to lift from his sides. His head won’t swivel on his neck. Danny can’t even switch off his invisibility. All he can do is blink as the crowbar careens into Jason’s ribs.

“You can’t interfere, Daniel.”

“Clockwork,” Danny grits out, quiet and desperate, “Clockwork, please.”

He feels a hand squeeze his shoulder, “All is as it should be.”

No no no no no no no no no no no no no-

Danny isn’t sure how long he’s there, frozen uselessly in place as the maniac clown brings the crowbar down on Jason’s body over and over and over again. Eventually, he seems to get bored and decides to leave Jason to the mercy of a bomb. With a grand flourish to the ever-so-helpful timer, he leaves Jason bleeding on the floor. That woman is there too, but Danny doesn’t care about her.

Finally, Danny can move. He collapses next to Jason, cradling his beaten face in his hands and murmuring nonsensical platitudes. Jason’s breath wheezes shallowly, unseeing gaze fixed far away.

The clock ticks down.

Jason doesn’t make it to six minutes.

Danny chokes back a sob as the words on his wrist burn. With utmost care, he brushes Jason’s eyelids shut. Danny presses a kiss to his forehead. It still feels warm against his own ice-cold lips. Taking Jason’s limp hand in his own he leans back. He waits. He hopes.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Danny almost thinks that Jason’s- no, the body’s eyes have opened once more. The color gives him pause though. Vivid green eyes like his own blink open in place of blue. A pale, wispy figure sits up, legs remaining within the corpse as if superimposed. The domino mask that had covered his face has been replaced by what looks like permanent grease paint. The Robin uniform is a mess even in death. The holes and tears have carried over, but thankfully it's no longer bloodstained. Jason’s wounds are all but gone except for a single glowing ectoplasmic scar running from his hairline down to his cheek.

The newly formed ghost’s chest heaves in a mimicry of desperate breathing. Danny remembers it from when he first died. He had also panicked at the lack of oxygen in his lungs. It's hard to break such an ingrained instinct.

Danny feels his soul mark tingle, and though he doesn't look away from his soulmate he can see the green glow of the words in the corner of his eye.

“Jason?” Danny drops the corpse’s hand in favor of reaching for Jason’s.

Jason’s eyes whip around wildly, landing on Danny. His chest slows to a stop, “Danny?”

“Yeah, Jay,” Danny lets out a broken laugh, tears pooling in his eyes, “It’s me.”

“Danny!” Jason lunges for him wrapping his arms around his waist, “I never thought I’d see you again,” he choked out, voice watery with emotion.

Danny clutches him back, gloved fingers curling into the fabric of his cape, “I wish it were under better circumstances. I’m sorry, Jason,” Danny sniffs, tears soaking into the fabric of Jason’s shoulder, “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay! Well, not really,” They pull back to look at each other. Jason tucks a strand of hair behind Danny’s ear, fingers lingering to trace his jaw, “but I get to see your pretty face again so I can’t complain.”

Danny flushes green but still manages to level Jason with a look, “That’s stupid and you know it! You have every right to complain you just-”

Danny cuts himself off with a small, distressed noise. Danny has died before. He knows what it’s like. And now Jason has too. They both know. There are no words.

“Yeah…” Jason trails off, eyes lingering on his body, “Yeah. But you're here, right? You found me!"

Danny smiles, cupping his soulmate's face in both hands, “Always,” he presses a chaste kiss to Jason’s lips. Even after it ends their foreheads remain touching.

“I missed you,” the grin Jason gives him could only be described as dopey.

“Not as much as I missed you,” he teases back.

Jason pulls him into another hug. They hold one another until their tears finally dry up. It reminds Danny of the good old days, running rampant through Gotham’s streets and finding solace from everything awful in each other.

Suddenly Jason starts to giggle. Danny doesn’t know why but his joy is contagious and soon Danny is snickering alongside him.

“Why are you laughing?” Danny asks between unneeded breaths.

Jason slips his tattered glove off, displaying his soulmark with a wiry grin, “I just realized I’m a ghost!” Jason giggles again, “And so are you!”

“Why would I be a ghost?” Danny deadpans, which only causes Jason to laugh harder.

Danny glances at the clock. One minute. “We should leave.”

Jason nods, standing up before Danny can even move and offering his hand. Danny takes it, rising to his feet. Their fingers remain linked together as they phase through the wall of the warehouse. They turn to watch it blow with a sense of finality. The flames licking the sky feel like an end, but also a new beginning.

Danny turns away from the ruins and focuses. His fingers sharpen and tear through the fabric of reality, opening a swirling green portal into the Infinite Realms.

He holds the portal open with one hand, extending the other back out for Jason to take, “Together?”

“Together,” Jason’s fingers clasp his own.

This time, they don’t have to pretend.

#The ceiling children line is a reference to the video “What its REALLY Like to Take Melatonin” by DannyPhantom.exe #my dumbass accidentally posted the draft to ao3 when trying to edit the tags so your getting this a bit early #deadonmayn24 #my writing #dpxdc #dead on main #The Double-edged Blade of Chance #dom24d5

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lionlena · 2 days

Text

Unforgivable mistake (JoelMillerxreader) Part 12

Summary: Reader is much younger than Joel and is in love with him. One night, after arguing with Tess and getting drunk, Joel spends the night with a reader, but in the morning he breaks her heart… She runs away from Boston hoping that she will never meet this cold bastard again in her life. But almost six years later, she unexpectedly sees Joel in Jackson. She decides to hide herself and her little secret from this asshole.

Warnings: age gap (reader is about 28 years, Joel 58), strong language, swearing, past trauma, bullying, attempted rape, memories of sexual abuse, unprotect p in v, dom!Joel, Joel is asshole, ANGST, hurt, sadness and heartbreaking, sexual harassment, women abuse, violence, injury, sickness, misunderstanding, breakdown

A/N: So, these were your decisions:

However, for people who still do not want to read the sex scene, the text will be marked in red.

Part 12

You always liked Christmas. You liked the Christmas atmosphere and searching and making gifts. Your heart always swelled with joy as you decorated the Christmas tree with your little boy. You were happy when you visited Anna and Toby just before or a few days after Christmas and they greeted you with sweet treats. And now it seemed like the holidays were going to be even better after Joel and Ellie joined your family. Not to mention that the Christmas holidays also took on new colors for Teddy. You saw him whispering with Ellie and Joel and you suspected it was about a gift for you. It was so sweet.

You had also started exchanging other things for gifts a few weeks earlier because that's how it worked in Jackson. People traded things for other items or small services.

You managed to get new colorful books for Teddy, one of them presented different breeds of horses in a humorous way. You found a hunting knife for Ellie. You knew Joel wouldn't be happy about this, but in the end, what mattered was her happiness. You made a warm scarf for Claudia in her favorite color. And you found new leather gloves for Joel. You knew it was something he would definitely come in handy on patrols.

But before Christmas, you realized that maybe you would be able to give him one more gift… Something more intimate.

It was like an epiphany. The kids decorated the Christmas tree with Joel. Teddy was in a mischievous mood and started wrapping his dad in Christmas chains. Joel laughed and started joking about being immobilized. And you just stood in the doorway with your eyes wide open. It was a missing piece that suddenly fell into place.

"Honey, help, please!" Joel's voice broke you out of your trance and you joined in their fun with a smile, but the sight of Joel tied up did not disappear from your mind.

A few days later, on Christmas morning, everyone got their presents. You were happy to see the joy on the faces of your loved ones. You haven't been forgotten either. The kids gave you horse-shaped cookies and a colorful bracelet, and Joel gave you a necklace with a horseshoe pendant. You were touched by their efforts.

The whole day passed in a joyful atmosphere. You went for a walk with the kids and took part in a big snowball fight in the middle of the city. To your surprise, even Joel joined. And of course, he was targeting Tommy and Ellie. It was adorable because he suddenly looked 20 years younger and you knew you would remember this sight forever.

In the evening you ate a delicious dinner, and when Teddy went to bed and Ellie was busy reading a book in her room, you finally decided to give a special gift to Joel.

He was sitting on the couch with a steaming mug of tea with honey and bourbon. You sat down next to him, holding your mug and the rectangular box in your hand. Joel raised his eyebrows.

"What's that?"

You set your mug on the coffee table and placed the box on his lap.

"Gift."

Joel followed you and set his cup down as well.

"I already got a gift from you and I am very pleased with it."

"I know but… it's something different… something special and I don't know if you'll agree to it."

You waked his curiosity and he couldn't help himself anymore and he opened the box. The contents of the box surprised him. Inside was a rope, a wide dark ribbon, and a key. Joel looked at you with a surprised puppy face.

"Sorry, baby, but I don't really know what to do with this. It's… really… interesting but…"

His attempts not to offend you were amusing. You couldn't help but peck him on the cheek.

"I'm already explaining everything to you. I accidentally realized what could help me break through my trauma and make love with you."

Joel gasped and sat up straight. You had his full attention.

"Oh…"

"You know, I'm most afraid of losing control… being vulnerable again… I know you've changed and I believe you won't take advantage of it, but it's stronger than me."

Joel grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing your fingers.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I know I deserved this lack of trust… And I'm grateful to you for giving me a second chance."

He looked at the contents of the box again and slowly began to guess what you wanted to do.

"So, do you want to tie me up?"

When he said this, you couldn't help but blush.

"Only hands…"

"Okay. And this." He ran his fingers along the navy blue ribbon.

"To cover your eyes."

A smirk appeared on his face.

"This is getting interesting. And the key?"

"To an old house on the outskirts of town. I was borrowing it from Tommy. I told him we wanted to see the house because it was bigger and see if you could renovate it… But what I really wanted was for us to have a quiet place where we could hide out during the day "

Joel smiled widely and pulled you into his lap. You squealed in surprise but didn't mind. You sat up facing him and placed your hands on his strong shoulders.

"You have thought of everything, my Angel."

You smiled and felt his strong hands caress your hips.

"So you agree to this?" you asked shyly.

You weren't really sure if Joel would agree to give up his dominance. But looking at his satisfied face, you slowly gained hope.

"Of course, I agree. If it's something that will help you get over trauma, I agree with everything. It's something new for me but… I'm 100% for it."

You sighed in relief and leaned against his body. Joel kissed your temple and whispered:

"But remember, I don't want you to put pressure on yourself. I still stand by what I said. I love you whether we have sex or not."

His words filled you with peace. You leaned down and pressed your nose into his neck, inhaling his scent.

"I love you," you whispered and felt Joel hug you tighter.

Two days later, you and Joel agreed to meet at the old house at noon. Teddy was supposed to be with Claudia, Emily, and Rose until the evening, and Ellie would go about her business.

Joel had gone to the old house earlier, lit a fire in the living room, and spread blankets on the floor. He didn't want to tell you this so as not to upset you, but he felt as anxious as a teenager.

You were nervous too. Your heart was beating like crazy as you crossed the threshold and locked the door. You knew no one would disturb you there, but you wanted to be sure.

Joel immediately greeted you with a smile and walked over to you. He kissed your lips and helped you take off your jacket. He grabbed your hand and led you toward the fireplace.

You sat down on the blanket and took a deep breath.

"So, how do we start?"

Joel placed his large hand on your cheek.

"Slow down, Sweetheart. We have a few hours. Let's take our time."

Joel squeezed your hand comfortingly and murmured,

"I got the wine."

You smiled and nodded. You were glad that Joel was being responsible this time and he wasn't rushing to anything.

You sat next to each other on the floor, leaning on the couch. Joel handed you a glass of wine and kissed your temple.

"Is it warm enough?"

"Yes," you replied and took a sip of wine. The alcohol warmed you up even more.

The whole house was cold, but you were warm enough when you were this close to the fireplace.

After some time, you felt Joel's hand caressing your thigh. He did it gently and slowly and focused his full attention on your reaction.

Despite your initial tension, you slowly started to relax. Joel leaned down and started nibbling on your neck, and a soft sigh escaped your lips. Joel smiled and tightened his grip on your thigh.

"Is everything okay, Honey?"

You nodded even though you felt a little anxious and took a shaky breath. Joel sensed it immediately and moved his hand away.

"Do you want to tie my hands now?"

You were surprised by how willing he was to give you the power. You smiled and stroked his hair. You set your wine glasses aside.

"Can you lie on your back?"

Joel immediately obeyed your command as if you had some magical power over him.

You reached for the box that was still lying on the couch. Joel prepared everything. You pulled out the rope and Joel folded his hands over his chest.

He looked at you with excitement. He really liked your idea and that gave you confidence. You moved closer to him and tied his wrists together.

"Not too tight?" you asked with concern.

You didn't want your comfort to be discomfort for him. You believed that wasn't what love was about. You also didn't want to take revenge on him for what happened in Boston. This wasn't what your relationship was supposed to be built on.

"It's perfect, Darling," Joel replied with a smile to encourage you. "Continue…"

You smiled and started unbuttoning his shirt. You pulled the fabric up and kissed his belly. Joel growled quietly.

"God…"

You giggled quietly and did it again, deciding that it wouldn't hurt to tease him a little. Joel tensed his abdominal muscles and looked at you in awe.

His eyes were shining and for a moment you even regretted that you were going to cover them. You reached for a blindfold and wrapped it around his head.

You kissed his forehead and then whispered:

"Do you see anything?"

A shiver ran through his body as he felt your breath on his ear.

"Nothing…" He managed to croak out.

You smiled and looked at his pants, which already showed a bulge. Apparently, you've discovered some forgotten Joel’s fetish.

"All right." you purred and sat on his legs, then unzipped his fly and looked at his face. You grabbed his pants and the waistband of his boxers.

"Can I?"

Joel lifted his hips, giving you a clear signal to pull the fabric down.

"I beg you."

You giggled and with his help, you pulled down his pants and boxers.

Your eyes locked on his semi-hard cock. You swallowed and touched him, causing him to hiss softly.

You couldn't help yourself. You didn't really get a chance to look at him the first time.

Now you had plenty of time and full power, and that excited you. You felt yourself getting wet and you were filled with joy. Your plan worked. You felt no fear. You didn't panic. Joel was at your mercy and he liked it.

You supposed he could have freed his hands if he wanted to, but that was the point. Joel wanted your needs to be important, not his.

Before you could start touching him, you got up from his legs and took off your pants and panties.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"What do you think?"

"You're undressing… I heard the belt buckle… you know you have beautiful thighs…"

You rolled your eyes and you knelt by his hips. You grabbed his cock but he suddenly jumped.

"Wait!"

You looked at him in surprise and your heart skipped a beat. Has he changed his mind? He didn't want to give you control?

"You don't want to do this without preparation…"

You breathed a sigh of relief and your heart warmed with his concern.

"Don't worry… I'll get ready."

Joel groaned like a disgruntled puppy.

"Why should you do it alone when you have me…"

You frowned. Was Joel trying to change the rules of the game?

"Your hands are tied."

A deep chuckle escaped from his chest.

"But you didn't gag my mouth."

"What?"

If Joel wasn't wearing the blindfold, you'd see him looking at you with a look: Really?

"You don't mean to tell me that Steve has never eaten you."

At that moment, you were glad that Joel couldn't see your red face.

"He did, but never… in a position like this."

A sly smile appeared on his face.

"Then I'll do it even more willingly… come on, sweetie… don't be shy and sit on my face. You won't regret it."

His voice was dripping with lust and your breathing quickened. You felt that this way you would completely dominate him. It was too tempting not to take advantage of it.

Finally, you slowly knelt over his face with your knees on either side of his head. He placed his tied hands on your lower back and pushed you closer to him. You gasped at the moment his lips touched your slippery lips. His mouth immediately covered your pussy. His tongue began to circle your clit. You moaned softly and grabbed his hair. His stubble caused this burning, pleasant feeling on the inside of your thighs. Joel purred until you felt a vibration against your cunt. As his thick tongue pushed into you, you couldn't help but moan loudly. You began to move your hips, your clit rubbing against his curved nose that you had never been more grateful for. Joel devoured you like a hungry dog. Slurping sounds filled your ears.

"Ah… Joel… Joel!"

You arched your back, your thighs trembling, and your orgasm hit you with such force that you were afraid you were going to collapse all your weight on his face.

Joel smiled and slowly pulled his tongue out of you. He licked up your juices and kissed your thighs before helping you move aside.

You were so delighted that you leaned in and kissed him on the lips, tasting yourself. His hands tangled in your hair.

"Now… Now you're ready." he purred, not hiding the satisfaction in his voice.

It took you a moment to catch your breath, but you finally sat on his legs and wrapped your hand around his semi-hard, thick cock, and started stroking it, exploring every vein with your fingertips.

He squirmed and moaned. His cock was now standing proud and Joel hissed.

"Baby…" his voice was hoarse. "I don't want to spoil your fun, but if you don't stop… In a moment I won't be at your disposal anymore."

You giggled and hovered over him.

"I see. You've been waiting for this for a long time."

You slowly sat on his cock. You hissed, feeling that familiar burning sensation as he stretched you. You never forgot it… Although that memory was obviously negative. It was different now. Then in Boston, he was drunk and didn't care about your feelings or comfort. Now you were partners, two people with a strong bond.

Joel gasped and brushed his hands against your thighs.

"Ahhh… Baby… You're wonderful. You're the most wonderful woman in the whole damn world."

You smiled and placed your hands on his chest. Your hips moved up and down. You weren't in a hurry, you didn't have to. You were in complete control of everything and Joel didn't complain. You heard his deep growls and saw his breathing quicken. At that moment you felt something new… A new chapter in your relationship has opened. You trusted him.

When you felt yourself getting closer to your second orgasm, you moaned loudly and quickened your pace even more. Joel grabbed your thigh with his tied hands as much as he could. His grunts became even deeper. But at some point, he bit his lip, he was getting closer to coming, but he didn't want to do it before you… He couldn't.

But you didn't hold back. You reached between your legs with one hand and started rubbing your clit. Your moans became even louder.

"Ahhh! Ahhh… Honey!"

And so you reached your second climax. You collapsed onto his chest and Joel groaned softly.

"Y/n… Baby… I'm too close…"

Joel started moving his hips and you heeded his warning. The lack of condoms in the post-pandemic world sucked. You hadn't talked about this part of your relationship, but you both seemed to realize that it was too early to think about having a second child.

You slowly pulled out of him and laid down next to him. You decided to help him and grabbed his swollen, throbbing cock with your hand. Joel made an almost animalistic, primal sound. After fasting for so long, he didn't need much. Just a few movements of your hand was enough and he came, and gushing sperm covered his belly and reached his shirt.

While Joel was still breathing heavily, you couldn't help but start licking his skin.

"Jesus!"

His flaccid cock twitched even though there was no chance of it getting hard again.

You giggled and pulled away, once you had licked most of the semen off you looked at him with affection and started to untie his hands.

When his hands were finally free, Joel immediately removed the blindfold. His eyes had to get used to the light again, but he still looked at you with admiration and devotion.

"Hi…" he croaked and brushed his hand against your cheek. "I missed your beautiful face."

You smiled and placed your head on his chest. His hand started stroking your back.

"Did you like it?" you asked and looked into his eyes.

You didn't need a verbal response. It was enough for his lips to curve into a wide smile and his eyes to sparkle.

"That was amazing…" His hand started caressing your hip. "But the more important question is, did you like it? Was everything okay?"

You snuggled closer to his body. His concern only proved to you how much he had changed since Boston.

"Yes. I'm fine. I feel very good… Do you think we can do it this way for now?"

You felt a little uneasy asking about it again. You didn't know if Joel would consider tying his hands a one-time thing.

Joel nodded and kissed your head.

"Of course, Sweetheart. I'm proud of you for fighting your trauma… We will do everything slowly. At your pace and on your terms."

His words were like a soothing balm for your soul.

You closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat.

"Maybe next time we'll try without the blindfold?"

Joel also closed his eyes and smiled. He pulled you closer to him.

"Whatever you want. With or without a blindfold. It doesn't matter to me as long as you feel safe and comfortable with me."

You took a deep breath and felt sleepy. The fire was still burning in the fireplace, Joel's body was warm, and his voice sounded like a lullaby. You yawned and murmured sleepily:

"Can we take a nap?"

Joel chuckled quietly. He found you so cute when you were sleepy.

"I'd love to take advantage of this opportunity. We still have a few hours."

Joel covered you both with a blanket and buried his face in your hair. It wasn't long before you were both dozing off. *

The next day, when you were driving together to Anna and Toby, you had a blissful smile on your faces. You kept glancing at each other. Whenever your horse rode next to Joel's horse, he immediately placed his hand on your thigh.

You two heard a long groan behind you.

"There are children here."

Joel laughed and rolled his eyes. He looked at Ellie, who was riding with Teddy.

"You keep saying you're an adult. So just one kid and…" Joel smirked and placed his hand on your hip. "We're just showing affection. It's nothing bad."

Ellie snorted.

"Yeah, right… That's why you've been so happy since yesterday. Find a room."

Teddy started laughing happily.

"Ellie, Daddy, and Mommy have their own room at Grandpa's."

Ellie patted his head.

"You'll understand when you get older."

You looked at them and smiled. You loved the little fights between the teenage girl and Joel and the way Ellie took care of Teddy.

Suddenly Joel stopped your horses and you looked at him in surprise. You were practically at Anna and Toby's house. But when you realized what it was about, your heart trembled. From a distance, it was obvious that something was wrong. There was a trail of blood in the snow leading to an open door. The front windows were broken.

You didn't think much, your instincts just kicked in. You jumped off your horse and shouted:

"Anna, Tob…"

Joel was equally fast. He grabbed you from behind and pressed his hand to your mouth.

"Shhh…" he growled. "We don't know who is there."

You looked at him with tears in your eyes. You realized he was right. Your behavior was irrational. You nodded and he released you.

Meanwhile, Ellie was hugging the worried little boy. Joel walked up to her and gave her the reins of his horse.

"Hide among the trees."

Teddy looked at him and whimpered.

"Where are the grandparents?"

Joel wanted to hug him, but instead, he rubbed his shoulder soothingly and said sympathetically,

"Don't worry, 'bear cub'. Me and mom will check everything."

Joel tried to stay calm even though he suspected the worst.

He walked up to you and handed you his handgun while he took the shotgun.

"You're following me. If something goes wrong, you jump on your horse and you all run back to Jackson. Without turning back. You understand!"

His voice was so stern and commanding that all you could do was nod and hold back the tears that wanted to escape from your eyes.

Joel sighed, he didn't want to be so hard on you. He cupped your head in one hand and kissed your forehead.

"Okay. Let's go."

Slowly, tense, and focused, you approached the house. The surroundings seemed deserted. You felt your heart in your throat. You glanced at the open door and the trail of blood leading into the house. You heard Joel's voice:

"I'll check the house…"

When he disappeared into the house, you had the impression that time stopped. You felt fear and despair wash over you. Anna and Toby were like parents to you. You couldn't lose them like this. Tears began to flow down your cheeks.

Finally, Joel left. He still looked focused and ready to fight.

"Nothing," he muttered.

"What?" you croaked.

Joel stepped closer and wiped away your tears with his thumb.

"No one is there. There are no bodies… Someone must have been there… The house looks ransacked, but… Anna and Toby may still be alive."

You felt the world spinning around you. You didn't know if it was all real or if you were stuck in some nightmare.

"What happened here?"

Your question hung unanswered in the frosty air.

Taglist: @casa-boiardi @noisynightmarepoetry @ihavetwoholesforareason @sloanexx @creedslove @orcasoul @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @i-workwithpens @milla-frenchy @liatome @jojo-munson @pascalislove @goldenhxurs @elliaze @aestheticangel612 @cheyxfu @prestinalove @stevengmybeloved @faith-alons26 @harriedandharassed @this--is--music @joeldjarin @elliaze @ajeff855 @anislabonis-love @quality-lust @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @misshoneypaper @simplyreading96 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @softstarlite @missladym1981 @heartpascalispunk @brujademente @littleshadow17 @emmathetrash

Pernament tag list: @harriedandharassed

Yes, I know, this cliffhanger is… Ugh… But I promise that this time the next chapter will appear much faster so I won't leave you in suspense for a long time.

Part 11

Part 13

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel x reader #joel and you #joel miller fic #tlou fic #joel and ellie #joel is daddy #angst #hurt/comfort #love story #unforgivable mistake

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my-castles-crumbling · 12 hours

Text

"I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free."

~ Taylor Swift (So Long, London) Pairing: slight wolfstar, but it's not the focus - Rating: T - TW: mentions of abuse, Dumbledore bashing

"He was innocent," Remus murmured, staring into the clear blue eyes that he used to associate with trust. With hope. With honesty.

"And unfortunate oversight," Albus Dumbledore murmured, his face unreadable.

"An unfor- WHAT?" Remus shouted, immediately losing his temper, and not for the first time that day. Again, he pictured Sirius, the Sirius he knew, the Sirius he loved, rotting away in a cell, innocent. "He was in Azkaban for TWELVE YEARS, Albus! Twelve years without hope, without comfort, without-"

"Without you?" Dumbledore interrupted, his calm demeanor making Remus want to kill.

"I'm done," Remus murmured, his fury so strong that he felt like ice. He walked from the room shaking.

"You want me to go back?" Sirius asked, his voice hollow.

"It's for the best," Dumbledore murmured, his face impassive. "He need a safe place. We need to get Voldemort under control, before it is too late. I'm sure you agree, we need to protect everyone. Protect Harry."

But that struck a nerve.

"You seem to like sending people back to the places where they've been abused under the guise of protection," Sirius snapped, thinking of Harry, who was currently locked away at the Dursleys.

A long silence followed.

"Will you let us use Grimmauld Place or not?" Dumbledore asked after a few tense moments.

"Yes," Sirius grumbled. But only because he knew he had no choice.

"Did you know?" Harry asked, staring desperately at the painting of Albus Dumbledore. "Did you know how bad it was at the Dursleys?"

He knew the answer. He'd heard him speak to Petunia about it.

"I did," Dumbledore said simply, his eyes dull.

"And you knew about Draco. And Sirius. And his brother," Harry stated, no longer asking. How many other abused children had Dumbledore known about and ignored? How many other people had suffered without knowing it for Dumbledore's causes?

"It was for the Greater Good," the painting stated simply, not looking contrite at all.

"But...it wasn't good for any of us, was it?" Harry asked, a dull throbbing in his chest.

"I suppose not."

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soldiersareyourprotectors · 1 day

Text

Evan adjusted his tie in the mirror, feeling the slight tremor of nerves in his fingertips.

Tonight marked one year with Daniel, a year filled with laughter, support, and a love stronger than he had ever imagined possible. He still marveled at how fate had brought them together in the most unexpected of circumstances.

Evan, a successful businessman, had moved to the city to escape a harrowing past. His ex-boyfriend, Liam, had become increasingly aggressive and abusive, culminating in a terrifying night when Liam broke into Evan's apartment, demanding they leave together. The ordeal had ended with Liam's arrest and a restraining order. Seeking a fresh start, Evan changed his name and moved, hoping to leave the fear and chaos behind.

It was a few months later when he met Daniel. Tall, with an athletic build and a smile that made Evan's heart race, Daniel was everything he had never thought he needed.

Daniel was a police officer, dedicated to his job and fiercely protective of those he loved. They had met when Daniel was off duty, at a charity event organized by Evan's company. A spilled drink, an apology, and a shared laugh had turned into a first date, and now, one year later, Evan could hardly believe how much his life had changed for the better.

The doorbell rang, pulling Evan from his thoughts. He hurried to answer, opening the door to find Daniel standing there, looking effortlessly handsome in his uniform.

Daniel's eyes lit up when he saw Evan.

"Happy anniversary, babe," Daniel said, stepping inside and pulling Evan into a warm embrace.

"Happy anniversary," Evan replied, his voice muffled against Daniel's shoulder. He felt the familiar surge of comfort and safety that Daniel always brought with him.

They had planned a quiet evening at Evan's apartment, a place that had become their shared sanctuary. Daniel had insisted on bringing dinner, and Evan could smell the delicious aroma of Italian food as Daniel set down the takeout bags on the kitchen counter.

"How was work?" Evan asked, leaning against the counter and watching Daniel unpack the food.

"Busy, but nothing too crazy," Daniel replied with a grin. "Just the usual stuff. I'm all yours now."

Evan's heart swelled with affection. He knew Daniel's job was demanding and often stressful, but Daniel always made time for him, never letting work get in the way of their relationship.

They settled on the couch, plates balanced on their knees as they shared stories about their day. Evan couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude for the peaceful normalcy they had built together. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and fear he had known before, a testament to the healing power of love and stability.

After dinner, Daniel surprised Evan with a small, wrapped box. Evan's eyes widened as he opened it to reveal a delicate silver bracelet, engraved with their initials and the date they had first met.

"It's beautiful," Evan whispered, touched by the thoughtful gift. "Thank you, Daniel."

Daniel took Evan's hand, his expression serious. "Evan, I know this past year hasn't always been easy. You've been through so much, and yet you've opened your heart to me. I promise I'll always be here for you, to protect you and to love you. You're my everything."

Tears welled in Evan's eyes as he leaned in to kiss Daniel, pouring all his gratitude and love into that one tender moment. "I love you, Daniel. You've given me a life I never thought I'd have. Thank you for being my rock."

They spent the rest of the evening wrapped in each other's arms, until Evan's eyes widened with shock as a sharp pain suddenly stabbed through his abdomen. He dropped the bracelet, clutching his stomach as he doubled over, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Evan? What's wrong?" Daniel's voice was filled with concern as he rushed to Evan's side, his strong hands steadying him. But Evan couldn't respond; the pain was too intense, and his vision started to blur.

"Hang on, I'm going to get you to the bedroom," Daniel said, his voice calm but urgent. He scooped Evan into his arms with ease, heading down the hallway.

Just as they reached the bedroom door, a figure emerged from the shadows, and before Daniel could react, a heavy metal pole came crashing down on his head. The impact was swift and brutal, and Daniel crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Evan, barely holding on to consciousness, looked up through a haze of pain to see the one face he had hoped to never see again. Liam stood over them, a malicious sneer twisting his features.

"Well, well, well," Liam drawled, tossing the pole aside with a clatter. "Is this what you replaced me with, Evan? Some pathetic cop?"

Evan's mind raced, panic flooding his system despite the pain. How had Liam found him? He had taken every precaution, every measure to stay hidden. Yet here he was, the nightmare of his past come to life once more.

Liam crouched down next to Daniel's unconscious body, roughly lifting his upper torso and invading his mouth with a forceful, possessive kiss. "Look at him," Liam sneered, breaking away and letting Daniel's head drop back to the floor with a thud. "This is who you thought could protect you?"

Then, with a sickening sense of delight, Liam pushed his hand inside Daniel's pants, groping his unconscious body. "Look at you, helpless," he whispered, his breath hot and rancid against Daniel's neck. "Do you really think this man can protect you, Evan?" His words sounding like a threat.

Evan's stomach churned, and not just from the pain. Seeing Daniel violated in such a way, even unconscious, filled him with a desperate fury. He tried to move, to do something, but his body wouldn't respond.

Liam's eyes gleamed with a twisted satisfaction as he began to strip Daniel of his uniform, piece by piece. His sneer faltered slightly as he revealed Daniel's naked, athletic, muscular body, his eyes widening with a mix of surprise and jealousy. "Well, isn't this a surprise," Liam muttered, his voice tinged with begrudging admiration. "Guess the cop isn't so pathetic after all."

"Please, Liam," Evan managed to gasp out. "Just let us go. We can talk about this."

Liam's voice raised painfully, his eyes flashing with anger. "Talk? You want to talk now? After everything you put me through?" He laughed bitterly. "No, Evan. I'm done talking."

Liam then proceeded to strip himself, his movements deliberate and menacing. Piece by piece, he removed his clothing, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he watched Evan's pained expression. When he was finally naked, he positioned himself over Daniel, who lay completely exposed and vulnerable on the floor.

Evan's vision began to darken further, the pain and fear overwhelming him. He had to stay awake, had to fight for both their lives. But as Liam's voice faded into the background, Evan's world went black, the last thing he saw being Liam sitting down onto the fully stripped Daniel.

Evan's eyes fluttered open, and he found himself strapped onto a gurney in front of their house. The cool night air brushed against his skin, and he shivered slightly. The flashing lights of police cars and ambulances cast an eerie glow over the scene.

"Evan," a familiar voice called out, filled with a mix of relief and determination. He turned his head as much as he could and saw Daniel standing beside him, his police uniform back in place. A few scratches marred Daniel's face, a silent testament to the possible struggle that had ensued after Evan had fallen unconscious.

"Daniel," Evan croaked, his voice hoarse and weak.

Daniel's eyes softened, and he reached out to gently touch Evan's hand. "You're safe now, Evan. It's over. No maniac like Liam could ever bring us apart."

Evan felt a wave of relief wash over him. Despite the lingering fear and the pain, Daniel's presence and his words filled him with a sense of security. He squeezed Daniel's hand as tightly as he could, drawing strength from the contact.

Just then, two police officers emerged from the house, dragging a visibly dazed Liam between them. His clothes were disheveled, and his eyes darted around wildly.

As they approached the police car, Liam started shouting, his voice frantic and desperate.

"No, you don't understand!" Liam cried out. "I'm Daniel! He stole my body! That maniac stole my body! I'm Daniel, not him!"

One of the officers shook his head, his expression a mix of irritation and pity. "Yeah, sure you are," he muttered. "Another crazy story from a madman."

Liam struggled against their grip, his pleas growing more incoherent and desperate.

"You have to believe me! Please, I'm telling the truth!"

The officers ignored his protests, preparing to push him into the back of the police car. As they moved closer, Daniel's lips curled into an evil smile, a stark contrast to the tender expression he had shown Evan just moments ago. His eyes locked onto Liam's, and a silent message passed between them—a promise of vengeance and torment.

Meanwhile, Liam continued to plead desperately at Evan, his voice filled with desperation and urgency. "You have to realize, Evan! It's me, Daniel! Liam somehow swapped our bodies! You have to believe me!"

But Evan's mind was clouded with confusion and exhaustion, unable to comprehend the gravity of Liam's words.

The officers continued to ignore his protests, pushing him into the back of the police car and slamming the door shut. The muffled sound of Liam's continued shouting faded as the car drove away, leaving Evan and Daniel in the relative quiet of the aftermath.

Daniel leaned closer to Evan, his expression softening even more. "It's really over now, Evan. Liam's gone, and he won't hurt us anymore."

Evan nodded, tears of relief welling in his eyes. "I was so scared, Daniel."

"I know," Daniel whispered, brushing a tear from Evan's cheek. "But we made it through. Together."

"Daniel," Evan murmured, relief flooding through him at the familiar embrace. He buried his face in Daniel's chest, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace.

But as Evan nestled closer, he failed to notice the subtle shift in Daniel's demeanor.

Hidden from view, Daniel's face twisted into an evil grin, a chilling contrast to the tender moment they shared. In that moment, Daniel's eyes gleamed with a sinister satisfaction, knowing that the real Daniel, now trapped in Liam's body, wouldn't be able to bother them again. With Evan safely in his arms, Liam's plan of becoming Daniel to be with Evan forever had worked. He relished in the feeling of his new, more muscular body, the uniform hugging it snugly, and having Evan all for himself.

#body swap #male body swap #male transformation #muscular men #stolen body #stolen clothes #stolen life #stolen uniform

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charliehoennam · 1 day

Text

beyond the badge pt. 3

pairing: david loki x f!reader

summary: his fianceé is abducted and a distraught david realizes some rules must be broken in order to save the one he loves.

warnings: 18+, dark themes such as language, violence, eventual smut, suicide, death, physical injuries, threats, blood and abuse of law enforcement

SHARING IS CARING, SO REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

one | two | four

Cruising through the town in his Crown Victoria, David can’t stop looking around for you.

The amount of experience he’s acquired over the years tells him you’re almost certainly tied up in some disgusting old basement and he can only pray you’re unharmed, even though in most of the kidnapping cases he’s solved, the chances of you being completed untouched are slim to none.

But still, he scans every passing face because what if?

Other than your disappearance, what he hates the most is having to rely on a criminal keeping his word.

All he can think about is how Donovan can have a sudden change of mind and order your execution. Or he could order his boys to slap you around, mess you up or God knows what else.

It corrodes him, flipping his stomach to the point he has to pull over to the side of the road. He throws the door wide open and stumbles out of his car towards the far side. Hardly anything other than bile spews onto the grassy ditch.

With a heavy groan and hard blinks of his ticking eyes, his back rolls and straightens as his vision finally stands still.

He walks back to his car and grabs a half empty water bottle that’s being sitting his car for too many days. Using the water, he rinses the bitter taste from his mouth and spits it out a couple times.

As he climbs back into the driver’s seat, he takes another cigarette from his pack – which he’s had only for a couple hours and it’s already nearly empty - and lights it up.

“It’s never bothered me, but if this is what you wanna do, you have my full support.”

You’re dancing around one another in the kitchen, relishing in one of the rare nights you’re able to share and cook together. It’s one of the things you love to do together.

Trying out a new recipe is a whole event. David treasures these little cooking events for a number of reasons.

Growing up as a child, food was scarce in his household. He had lived off of expired Wonder bread and peanut butter for a good long while until he was caught stealing food from the school’s cafeteria – the leading factor that eventually led to Child Protective Services escorting him to Huntington’s Boys home where he had spent the following 6 years.

The Boys Home wasn’t exactly any paradise either. His neglectful and drunken excuse for a father might not have been around to starve him, but he still had to fend for himself.

As a single, grown man working law enforcement, the most elaborate dish he learned to make was boxed pasta with canned tomato sauce. He was content with that until you came into the picture.

The first time he invited you over for dinner, he forgot he only had half empty ketchup and mustard, soy sauce packets, a couple beers and day-old Chinese takeout along with other scattered ingredients that couldn’t be combine to make a dish for one. So, he stuck to what he knew: pasta and tomato sauce.

He’ll never forget how cute you were, trying to lie and tell him it was great. He knew it was awful. If his far-from-sophisticated palate could taste it, he had no doubt you could taste it.

You laughed it off over a pizza that night, but he still likes to joke that you kept coming back for more.

One of the main reasons he looks so forward to these events is because he gets to be with you.

Most nights when he comes home, you’re asleep in bed and he doesn’t want to wake you. Although sometimes, you’ll stir from his presence and stay a couple extras hours to enjoy some adult fun.

There’s just something to soothing to him about watching you cook. He admires every single movement. The way your tongue pokes out as you carefully slice with a sharp knife. The way your hips sway to music that plays only in your head. The way your breasts jiggle when you whisk. That’s his personal favorite and also why he loves it when you bake.

“You really mean that? I might get a little cranky though. Or so I’ve heard” he smiles over at you as he dices fresh garlic.

“Yeah, babe. Of course,” your smile melts his heart every time. “Why the sudden change though? I thought you loved smoking?”

“Well, I love you more and I wanna be alive to spend more time with you.”

“Be still, my beating heart” you grin, surprised and lean up into him for a quick kiss. “That’s very sweet. I support you even more for that. And, if there’s anything I can do to help, I’m more than happy.”

Your voice shakes as you whisk the bowl of eggs for the omelet.

“Well,” he smirks standing behind with his arms wrapped your hip as his eyes lower to peak down at your jiggling cleavage. “I could think of a couple things you could do to help.”

David arrives at the police station – along with a few unit cars to accompany the transportation of the large sum of money - located in Conyers’s neighboring town. It’s much larger than the one where he works and heavily protected, with more law enforcement and advanced security system since the evidence room is shared with neighboring towns.

As David makes his way to the evidence room, Mike quietly thanks God that his boss let him in on the situation once the call from O’Malley came in. Of course, he already knew about everything, but he had to act like he didn’t and that was the hardest thing he’s ever done.

It’s clear from David’s disheveled appearance that he’s at his wits end and hanging on by a thread. He knows David’s always had an intimidating brooding look to his nature, but he looks ready to kill as he marches down the hall.

Mike’s never been afraid of David before, despite David’s rebellious past, but the determination in David’s dark eyes has a chill running up Mike’s spine as he approaches.

They don’t waste time with small talk. Mike tries to ask him how he’s holding up, but David doesn’t answer. Instead, he confirms the money and hands one of the duffel bags to the police officer next to him. He’s all business and that’s all he can muster for now.

Mike isn’t sure of what to say to him. He knows no amount of words in all the languages in the world can ease his pain, but it does hurt to see David suffer this way. So, he doesn’t say anything. He stays quiet as David opens and checks the bags.

He thanks his friend in a curt manner and heads back down the hallway, making a mental note to invite him out for a beer to apologize for his attitude. He hopes Mike can understand his impatience for small talk. He’s too concerned with your well-being that he isn’t even certain if it is well after all.

Once the money’s picked up, his car rolls to a stop at the old abandoned mill by the river. With a couple new packs of cigarettes, he sits in his car waiting for the time to pass. One cigarette after another, he smokes as he thinks over every possible outcome of this ‘deal’.

He trusts the plan he and his co-workers concocted, but that’s not what he’s worried about.

Anything could go wrong. It’s such a shot in the dark and he hates that he can’t predict anything. Everything is so uncertain and he can’t remember the last time he felt this terrified.

Taking the hidden picture from his pocket, he holds it against the steering wheel while his other hand hangs from the window with a cigarette dangling between his fingers.

David would gladly give his own life to save yours. He’d switch places with you in a heartbeat if he could. You don’t deserve to get caught up in his mess, in the wicked ways of his world.

What if you are alive and he’s able to get you back? Where will you go from there?

Even if you do decide to stay with him, there could be a possibility this happens again. The guilt will forever linger him when he thinks back on this and he knows he’ll never forgive himself.

Despite the love he has for you, he wonders if you would be safer away from him. Now, he’s almost certain you would.

This is why he shut himself off from the dating scene. This is why he wanted to avoid this vulnerability in the first place. Innocent loved one get hurt because of his job and he doesn’t know if he can live with that.

Time takes forever to fly by. Every minute is crucially grueling to him. Alone in his car, he finally breaks down in cathartic tears. All the anguish he’s been holding inside finally floods out.

As the day darkens, he hardens his heart bracing himself for what may come. Once he finally got all those tears out, a numbness overcame him. He sits, dragging the smoke into the shell that he’s become, void of all emotions.

#david loki #david loki x reader #david loki x you #david loki x y/n #detective david loki #david loki fic #david loki imagine #david loki fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fic #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #prisoners #prisoners fic #prisoners imagine #david loki prisoners #prisoners fanfiction

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sleepytwilight · 2 days

Text

Right person, right time.

"Lilith... Run while you still can." Said Hael. "I promise I'll take care of your son so please... Please I don't want you to end up like this." He cried.

Lilith let out a faint smile as she glance at outside of her tower. The place where she was locked up since she arrived back to her world.

"I'm sorry." She smiles, "I don't think I can leave my baby alone... If I leave, they'll kill him and you. Humans, they are more dangerous than you thought. They may have no magic but together they formed a great soldier to defeat you."

"..." Hael frowns. "... This is not fair. He just want to use you for the throne, once he gets what he want, a heir from you. He'll kill you." Said Hael. "Don't tell me you're giving up. Lilith, you survived for 20 years, you can't just give up!"

"... I'm tired, Hael." She confessed. "Throne, wars and getting used. I'm tired of it, if he just want a heir from me then fine. I'll give what he want and he'll free me by killing me." She cried. "... I'm such a bad mother for wanting to die. My son, Astral... ... Hael, as my guardian, please... Take Astral far away from this empire." She ordered. "Please help me before I lost my mind."

"... As you wish... My empress." Hael nodded. "... Your son, I will make sure he knows how much you love him."

Lilith smiles at Hael comfort. Once the bell rings, it's the sign that she is soon to be wed.

"Go now, take Astral far away from here while everyone are distracted." Said Lilith.

Hael nodded, he turned into his cat form and sneaked out from the tower.

The maids entered the tower, as well with Lilith's stepmother, Evelyn.

"Well well well, our little Valentine's wedding day has come." She smirks. "What's with the long face, dear? Shocked that you're going to marry someone you don't know?"

"... I'm not sure, mother. Tell me about it." Replied Lilith. "Is this how I'm going to die?"

"... ..." Evelyn sighed. "You really an idiot... You could've run away when you get the chance. You have magic and a shape shifter by your side yet you still stay."

Lilith was taken aback that her stepmother knew about Hael.

"What you think I didn't realize that? A cat that been with you for 20 years, plus he's your mother's pet..." Evelyn scoffed, she grabbed Lilith hair and force her head out of the window. "Look around you, my dear. Everyone is celebrating your wedding. Funny enough they are also was the one who celebrated your death too..."

"..."

"Pathetic isn't it? This is how we live, my dear. If only your mother stay on her place, none of this wouldn't happen... We could've have a nice relationship." Evelyn huffed as she let go of Lilith's hair. "Despite having a blind eye and burn mark, you're going to be very beautiful on your wedding day." Said Evelyn. "I'll spare your son and your cat as wedding gift. I'm hoping I don't need to get rid of them."

Thus, Evelyn left the tower. Lilith pathetically cried, wondering why she's so weak. If only she was brave enough to fight back, despite all the abuse she still love her parents.

The maids tend Lilith, they helps Lilith gets ready for her wedding. She looks like a perfect princess.

"Your majesty, let me do your hair." Offer one of the maid.

Lilith looks over the mirror, her hair got longer while she was locked away.

"Cut it." Ordered Lilith. "I... Really hates long hair."

"I see... I understand, your majesty." The maid obediently obligated to Lilith order.

Lilith's hair once again are short, just like the day she arrived at Neb Aula. If Arcturus was here, he would love to put accessories on her hair.

"Thank you." Smiles Lilith.

Lilith took an earring from her drawer. A gift from Vega, her best friend. She slightly chuckles to herself, remember the good time. She wore the earring, a star shaped one.

"Your majesty, you have to take off your ring." Said one of the maid. "It's against the protocol, your majesty have to wear the ring that given by the groom only."

Lilith huffed, she look over her ring. The ring that Sirius gave her, she never take it off even after everything he had done.

"I'm going to die soon, won't it be just cruel to not let me do what I want?"

"That's... ... Alright, your majesty. We understand." The maid sighed, she pities Lilith. "We will escort you to your wedding."

"My father won't be escorting me, huh?" She smiles faintly. "I expected it."

As Lilith walked alone down the aisle, while her father the former emperor watched as she getting humiliated by the gossips.

Lilith gaze shifted to her groom, Adam. The famous Duke and the witch hunter. She never understand how he could proposed to her when he barely know her.

She could feel her half sister, Eve is glaring at her. Her little sister used to talk about Adam all the time.

'ah... This is already tiresome.' Lilith thought to herself.

"You look gorgeous." Complimented Adam. "No need to be shy, we're soon to be husband and wife."

"Ah... Right." Lilith forced herself to smile.

She recalled the day Pollux shot the fake Sirius on her wedding day in Neb Aula. She had no idea that fake Sirius proposed to her- anyway... She hopes Pollux is here to shoot Adam.

Spica if he was here, he would love to nag her. Asking why she's all gloomy on her wedding day but bought every expensive gift for her. It's his way to worry, Lilith imaged Spica will be the one who walked her to her wedding, he would shows off to everyone.

Alpheratz, the man she never bother to say his name properly and only call him 'Phera'. She missed him already, he wouldn't hesitate to save her. He always saved her.

Arcturus, Spica, Pollux, Alpheratz, Vega and Sirius...

She was very happy to be able to experienced her own life.

Giana, Rigel, Thuban, Schedar and Altair. She hopes they're fine without having Polaris.

Lilith snapped back from her thoughts, realizing the pope has almost finish his recital.

"And you, Lilith Valentine. Will you take Adam Roosevelt as your husband?" Asked the pope.

Lilith hesitated. "... I—..."

"Her answer is no as her actual husband is standing right here." A familiar voice came out from the crowds.

Lilith turns around and the man is none other but Sirius. She dropped her bouquet of flowers, as tears rolling down from her cheeks.

"Pardon, but you are interfering a royal wedding. Who are you?!" Adam raised his voice.

"Don't you hear him? He is Lilith only husband! Sirius, the first sorcerer of Canis major!" Pollux join in. "Now bow down you bastard!" He took his gun and aimed it on Adam.

"Uh- Poll, we want to avoid bloodshed." Arcturus joins in. "Lilith you're very beautiful but we're saving you now!"

Lilith's stepmother got upset by sorcerers who disturb the wedding.

"Lilith dear, who the hell are these men?!" Asked Evelyn.

"We are her friends." Said Vega. "Hello, Lady Evelyn. Long time no see, did you had your fun after you executed my parents?"

"Y-you—!" Evelyn suddenly fell into fear. "It can't be, I thought you're dead!"

Vega smirks as Evelyn misery.

"Well, guess you didn't did a good job on killing me. Too bad I'm here to save my best friend, consider yourself lucky that I hold myself for her."

"Okay, I got the kid and Hael." Alpheratz entered the hall, already feels tired as he saw Pollux aiming to shoot Adam. "Okay kiddo, how about we go out so you don't have to see bloodshed-" and Alpheratz walked out once again.

"Haha... This is real, right?" Lilith muttered to herself. "Sirius, everyone... Is that really you guys?"

"... Yes," replied Sirius. "Sorry for taking too long to rescue you." He apologized.

"Better late than never.." Lilith ran into Sirius embrace, "you're really real..."

"Of course we are." Join Pollux. "Now shall I shot him and your ass mother?" Asked Pollux.

"No Poll, we should go now." Said Arcturus. "Spica can't hold the portal forever."

"I see you're still wearing the ring.." smiled Sirius. "Let's go home now, Lilith."

"Yes!" She smile as she wipe her tears. "Let's go now."

"Wait Lilith, are you seriously going to run with these bunch of men?! They're—" Adam was quick to shut up when Pollux shot the ceiling making a loud noise.

"Shut the hell up-" said Pollux.

"Well, we gotta make our run." Added Arcturus.

"This kid take a lot after Sirius..." Said Spica as he pokes Astral cheeks.

"Well I'm praying to God that he takes after Lilith personality-" replied Alpheratz. "Hael is sleeping, that old cat is probably relief that everything is alright now."

"Guys, we're here!" Arcturus ran as he wave at Spica.

"Talk about time." Spica smiles out of relief. "Seems like Sirius is carrying Lilith. Don't get jealous, Alpheratz."

"Are you teasing me right now?" Scoffed Alpheratz. "Now, I just want to support Lilith all I can and wish her happiness with Sirius as she deserves."

"You're... Getting matured. I'm proud." Add Spica.

Once again, Lilith's back to Neb Aula. The towers are long gone yet everything seems peaceful.

"Did you like it?" Asked Sirius. "While... I was recovering, I fixed everything. Monsters has been erased from this world." Said Sirius.

"It's... Beautiful." She smiles.

"Yeah you lovebirds-" Alpheratz faked a cough as he handed Astral to Sirius. "Your son, don't cry in front of me-"

"... I won't." Sirius gently caress his son. "God... I really messed up, didn't I?"

"I said don't cry in front of me—" Alpheratz sighed. "I'll just leave you guys be... Family bonding.."

"It's okay, Sirius... I'm here now." Said Lilith.

"How... How can you still be waiting for me? I caused you a lot of pain yet you...." He cried as he hug his child gently. "And I abandoned our son because I was so selfish..."

"Because I love you, Sirius. You came back, didn't you? You came back for us." Lilith smile softly as she hold Sirius face. "I don't mind waiting for thousand years for you because I know you'll come back to me."

Sirius smiles, he gently took Lilith and embrace her along with their son.

"... I really don't deserve you.." whispered Sirius.

"But I deserve you." Replied Lilith. "You're my everything, Sirius."

"Heh... You're making me cry." Sirius slightly chuckles. "Our son... What did you named him?"

"Astral." Answered Lilith. "It's the name you chose."

"Ah... I'm pretty good with name, hmm?" He smiles. "Astral my son... I promise I'll be a good father to you."

"You will be the perfect father." Said Lilith.

#arcana twilight #arcana twilight sirius #arcana twilight mc #arcana twilight arcturus #arcana twilight alpheratz #arcana twilight pollux #arcana twilight vega #arcana twilight spica #arcana twilight summoner #arcana twilight lilith #arcana twilight headcanons #Arcana Twilight Hael

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lady-of-tearshed · 3 days

Text

Impactful words

@ruhnweek @cadiawrites

Day four: Free Day

Ruhn Danaan x Lidia Cervos

A/N: *Gasp* That gif is so Ruhn and Lidia. Anyways. I love them. Also, first quote is from the movie Pride and Prejudice. If you do not know that series, respectfully, go watch it right this instant. It's sappy. 💕

A HUGE thanks to @sarawritestories for helping me out with that Pollux part. Ily sweets you're the best. 💕

Summary: Idk. Period comfort.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Period, abusive Pollux, angst, panic, anxiety, self-loathing, vomiting, blood

“You have bewitched me, body and soul. And I love… I love… I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

Gods, that was sappy. Lidia’s cheeks turn into a bright red at the sight of the handsome actor on the screen, and she cuddles closer to Ruhn. Ruhn isn’t fond of this kind of romantic lovey-dovey movie, but he always caves in to watch it with his mate. Only to see her eyes glimmer as she swore she wasn’t crying, or see her squirm on the seat beside him when a heated scene came up. It was some kind of unspoken rule in their relationship. She watches sunball with him, and he watches her romantic movies. That’s how it works between them.

Well, watch.

He is supposed to be watching the movie right now. But sleep had rushed through him mere minutes after his long fingers had started to thread through Lidia’s silky golden hair. He had traced the length of her blond curls and his eyelids instantly grew heavy. He can’t help it. Lidia’s locks are just so soft. It is nearly impossible for him, or anyone else, to not feel relaxed and sleepy while combing her hair.

Lidia’s peers up at Ruhn in hope to get his insight on her favorite movie scene, her golden eyes still wet from how emotional this scene makes her every damn time. She pouts, a bit disappointed to find Ruhn’s eyes closed and his chest rising and falling slowly, steadily. How can someone fall asleep so quickly? She clicks her tongue, her eyes rolling and she lifts her hand to Ruhn’s face to flick his nose, in hope to wake him up. Her hand freezes, and she feels like she has just been struck by lightning. She grunts, and clutches her stomach tightly, curling into a ball between Ruhn’s legs.

Lidia mentally curses, blaming Cthona for the pulsing pain in her womb. Tears were burning her eyes. The blond-haired Fea female sinks her teeths in her lower lip to choke back her whimpers. She bites it so hard that it pierces open, and she can taste the saltiness of her own blood on her tongue. Silent as a mouse, Lidia unfolds her legs from her fetal position. She can't wake Ruhn up. Then she feels it. What she dreaded the most. That familiar stickiness pooling between her thighs. She needs to get up, to push through the pain, and hurry to the bathroom. Now.

What if… What if... What if…

Unfounded fear settles in her gut as she starts to make up the worst scenarios of Ruhn’s reaction when he would learn that she dirtied his expensive-looking couch. Her legs shake weakly as she rolls to her side, contracting her muscles to stand up. She scolds herself. She should’ve kept track of her menstrual cycle. She should’ve known it was coming. If only she hadn’t been too lost in the frenzy of hers and Ruhn’s love affair… Her stomach churns, it’s her fault, all of it. She feels gross.

You stupid bitch…

"Look at what you did," Pollux gripped Lidia's gold locks and forced her face on the couch. The little breath she was able to get was invaded by the metallic stench of blood that was stained on the couch. It was an accident. Her punishment? Being suffocated into the cushion as if she was a pup having her nose rubbed in for urinating on the furniture. Lidia's oxygen was limited, and spots appeared in her vision. This was how she would die. Before her lungs gave out, Pollux yanked her head back as she gasped for air. "You stupid bitch."

She forces air through her lungs as she tries to stand on her wobbly legs. Sweat is coating her forehead, and her gaze lands on the bathroom door. Five more steps. She can do this. She’s been through worse. Lidia doesn’t dare look behind her, too afraid to see the copper stain she might’ve left there.

You stupid bitch…

Tears blurries her vision, and she can feel them tracing patterns as they slide down her cheeks. She takes a first step, then attempts a second one. Her stomach churns from the overwhelming distress and pain in her body. She sobs, heaves, and with the remaining strength she has left, she collapses on her knees, in the bathroom doorway. She wastes no time, ang crawls to the toilet. Her peripheral vision narrows as bile falls out of her mouth. She had managed to reach for the toilet bowl, at least she didn’t make another mess. Her fingers painfully grips onto the toilet seat, her knuckles turning white. She tries to ground herself, to breathe, to calm down.

“Lidia..?”

Ruhn. Her stomach flips, and she tries to keep her nausea at bay. Her breathing is getting shallow and her heart is beating so fast, so loud, that she can herself hear it. Ruhn wastes no time, and tug on his hair tie in one swift movement, using it to tie Lidia's hair in a ponytail as fast as he can, before they fall into the toilet. He kneels right behind her, caging her between his knees, his left hand rubbing circles on her lower back in an attempt to sooth her tense muscles. His other hand strokes her white knuckles as she holds on for dear life onto the freezing toilet seat.

Oh, Ruhn.

“Look at you,” Pollux growled behind her, and she tried her best not to flinch. She closed her eyes, waiting for her lover's rage to fall onto her. Like the rock that the waves keep crashing over. “On your knees like a good little bitch, cleaning up your,” He paused, and Lidia could imagine him clearly, scrunching his nose in disgust and clenching his fists. “Mess.”

She wanted to apologize, she should've. But the words stayed tucked deep down in her throat. The smell of bleach burnt her nostrils before she could feel it scorch the soft skin of her hands. She jumped back, the towel she was holding fell from her aching hands. She stumbled back against Pollux's chest, and was quickly slammed back down on her knees. She felt her knee pads wobble from the harsh impact. The Hammer held her hair tightly, so tight that she could feel some hair detaching from her burning scalp as he pushed her back down on her aching knees. “Stop whining,” Pollux snarled, shaking the remnants of the chemical onto the couch. Everything burned, her eyes, her nostrils, her hands, her lungs… “Clean,” He spat, his voice held no mercy. And he walked out of the room before she could apologize for something she had no control over.

She should've been more careful. She would be next time. She would track her cycle properly.

What a stupid bitch…

“Fuck, why are your… feminine products so far away,” Ruhn’s hand stays still on her back, as he stretches his arm towards the sink cabinet. His rummaging makes the bottles, and different products bump against one another, some of them landing on the floor. Lidia groans, wiping her mouth as she tries, but fails to move from in front of the toilet to help Ruhn. “Ah, got em’.” Ruhn states, holding the pink envelope of a pad in his hand, smiling proudly.

“Ruhn, it's…” She tears up, and shakes her head. The hormones, she tries to convince herself that it’s the only reason for her emotional turmoil. She swallows, and stands up, wincing. She needs to clean up the couch. To get into clean clothes, and put this pad on. Ruhn stands close to her, his hands on her hips, steading her, the menstrual pad still in hand. “Don’t touch me, I'm gross,” She chokes out, tears clouding her vision. Pathetic. She was acting pathetic. Her cycle, and suffering wasn't Ruhn's problem.

And yet he still cares…

He shouldn't. She doesn't deserve that.

What a stupid bitch…

“Hey…” Ruhn’s frown deepens, and he holds her closer to him, rocking her from side to side as she sobs. Her breathing is incredibly fast. And her eyes… Her beautiful gold eyes look dark, so dark, she seems to be stuck in a bad memory, somewhere so far away… He sways her slowly from side to side, placing soft kisses on the top of her head. “Would a bath sound nice, maybe?” He murmurs against her hairline, his nose humming the delicious scent of her shampoo. She feels gross, so maybe a bath would help her to feel better in her skin, he guesses.

A bath… A bath… No, the couch. She needs to clean her mess first. Gross, she feels so grossed out of herself.

Lidia’s thoughts are reeling, her body so stiff, frozen in shock. She is still unused to such kindness in that type of situation. She snaps back into reality when she hears the water run from the faucet. Ruhn keeps his arms protectively draped around her, his concerned glance fixed on her face. Her rapidly moving chest meets his steady one with every breath she tries to take. She finally manages to copy Ruhn’s breathing, and she can now hear better, see better, and the pain was a bit more bearable too. “Bath?” Ruhn asks again, staring into the honey depths of Lidia’s eyes. She was here, safe, with him, out of these horrific thoughts.

“The couch,” She swallows down, trying to lube her dry and sore throat. She tries to slip away from Run's comforting, and oh so warm arms. “You’d prefer to rest on the couch?” Ruhn asks, trying to figure out what his girlfriend needs from the little glimpse of information she mumbles to him. She bites her cheek at the thought of Ruhn’s couch, her eyes filling with tears again. Ruhn rubs his thumbs on her arms slowly, the worry for his mate is written all over his face. “No, I need to clean the couch.” She blurts out.

The couch. The couch. She made a mess. What a stupid bitch. The couch…

Ruhn stills, and his eyes narrow as he tries to figure out where all this nonsense and panic comes from. He wonders how he could have ever made her believe that he cared more for such material things than her well-being and comfort. “No, I'll just buy a cleaning spell later,” He murmurs, confused at Lidia’s panicked state. Has he done something wrong? He doesn't like it for one bit that his mate looks so terrified around him. He sighs and presses a kiss on the top of her head. “Bathe, Lidia. Or rest. Is it because you'd prefer to just change and rest? I didn't mean to force you into doing anything.”

Lidia sobs, covering her mouth with her hand. Ruhn moves one of his hands to cradle her face against his chest. Lidia feels like if it wasn't from Ruhns's love and tender hold, her heart would have shattered completely from the weight of her guilt and self-disgust.

“Please,” Ruhn pleads, his fingers brushing away her tears. “Tell me what's wrong.”

“I just… I dirtied your couch. I should've kept track of my cycle. I'm such a,” She hiccups, her throat feeling so tight, “Such a,” Such a stupid bitch, she wants to say, but the words refuse to come out. Only sobs and incoherent babbling fall from her lips.

Everything makes sense for Ruhn, then.

Fucking Pollux.

Ruhn cuts her off with a soft caress of his lips against hers. Now is not the time for him to be angry at Pollux. He needs to be calm, and reassuring, for his Lidia. He takes a deep breath. “Hey, no. Gods, Lidia no…” Ruhn holds up her chin so his eyes can dive deep in hers. He doesn't want her to feel bad around him. Especially not over something she has absolutely no control of. He hates it. Hates the one that has carved nonsense into her brain even more. Only time would undo the mental and emotional damage Pollux had caused.

“You are such a strong and beautiful female,” He smiles softly down at her, turning off the faucet, his eyes not leaving her puffy and red ones even for one second. His hands slide under her shirt, tracing her ribs slowly. He looks into her eyes, silently asking for her permission. Lidia nods, her blond curls bouncing on her shoulders as she does, and he lifts her shirt off. “My strong and beautiful mate…” He whispers, kissing away her tears as he helps her out of the rest of her clothes.

Lidia absent-mindedly watches Ruhn as he gently picks her up, and settles her nude body in the tub. Her muscles relax with the heat of the water. Her whole skin welcomed the warmth, too, making it feel like she was receiving a peaceful hug. She closes her eyes and leans back her hand in Ruhn's palms as he starts to rub shampoo through her sweat coated hair. She rubs her stomach, trying to ease the pain of her cramps and the guilt lingering there.

“You've done nothing wrong,” Ruhn's voice breaks through the silence. “It was an accident. I love you. It's not your fault," He adds.

“I'm so–” “Don't.” He says, his tone slightly harsh, and he hated himself for how Lidia flinches. He shakes his head, his fingers still massaging the shampoo on her scalp. He sighs, “Don't be sorry. Please. You have nothing to be sorry about. Not with me.” She nods, tilting her head back a little bit more so Ruhn could rinse her hair. The shampoo tickles her ears as the water falls on her head, and she sinks in the comfort and reassuring presence of her mate.

Ruhn rubs every surface of her fair skin with a cleaning glove. Lidia almost starts crying again at the look of pure love and adoration shining in the blue eyes she loved so much. He wasn't disgusted, of her, or her femininity. He loves her, and admires her as a person. The deer shifter's heart flutters at this sight.

“I love you, Lidia. Like, a lot,” Ruhn chuckles slightly to ease the atmosphere, lightening Lidia’s heavy heart. “And I want you to be comfortable with me. I know it'll take time. But let's just start with like,” He halts, his eyebrows frowning as he tries to figure out where they could start. He grins when suddenly, an idea pops up in his head. “Keeping your feminine products at easy reach in the cabinet? It would be a good start. Okay?” He winks at her, replacing the things in the cabinet, putting the box of pads and tampons in front of everything, so it’s easy for her, or him, to reach when needed.

The realization feels like a kick in Lidia’s guts. She doesn't have to hide them anymore.

Not with Ruhn.

My strong and beautiful mate.

Ruhn's words thrums in her ears, and the sight of his eyes filled with all the beautiful emotions he feels towards her dances in her mind, replacing all negative thoughts and fear that Pollux had once pushed there.

She smiles, truly smiles, and nods, the water sloshing around her as she brings her knees to her chest. “Okay.”

My strong and beautiful mate...

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe

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pholla-jm · 2 days

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Stronger Now

lol, I found this deep in my WIP's. IMAGINE: STRONGER NOW ~ SANJI X SIBLING!READER GENRE: ANGST/FLUFF cw: during sabaody archipelago arc. also touches sanji's past. talk of slavery and child abuse. not proof read. first person p.o.v **************

"Everything will be okay... everything will be okay." Is what I say every single time I'm put onto that stage. However, I knew that nothing would be okay. Whenever I'm put onto the stage, I worry for who is going to buy me next. How the next person is going to treat me... which would be shit.

I don't regret what I did to receive this type of life. If I had a choice to redo anything it would be to help my younger brother sooner. I haven't seen him almost eleven years, and I hope wherever he is at he is alive and well.

My younger brother Sanji, one of the sweetest people I know, did not deserve the torment he went through. Especially from our father or any of our siblings.

The sound of my shoes hitting the ground is the only thing I could hear throughout the stone walls of the castle I currently resided in. I was currently searching for Sanji, wondering what he was doing since I haven't seen him in awhile.

I suddenly hear a loud crash followed by some crying. I could hear some other voices, four voices to be exact. I didn't need to hear anything more to know what was going on. I quickly followed the voices and soon I was greeted with the sight of Yonji beating Sanji up.

"Hey!" I shout walking over to the three males and picking all of them up by the back of the collar, "what do you think you're doing?!" "We caught Sanji cooking again-" Ichiji starts but I cut him off. "So you beat him up for it? I told you many times-" "I don't care what you say! Sanji is weak!"

I raise my eyebrow at his response, irritation and anger filling my veins. No matter how much I want to hit them, I won't. I refuse to hit a kid, no matter how much they deserve it. Instead, I drop all three of them on the ground. Each one landing on their bum with a 'oof'.

"Go on, get out of here. Next time I catch you hurting Sanji, there will be dire consequences."

All three of them got up and started to leave, each of them mumbling how one day they would be stronger than me and beat me up. Hah, like that day would ever come.

"What's going on here?" I hear Judge, or rather father, say. I look over to see him glowering down at me, and right next to him was my younger sister, Reiju.

I immediately feel Sanji go behind my legs, gripping onto them. I place my hand on the back of his head, comforting him.

"None of your business."

One would think that a father wouldn't support his kids hurting each other, but he was the opposite. I hated the fact he didn't claim Sanji on his own just because he considered him weak.

"It is my business girl." "It will be your business when you actually start caring for you children." "I do care for them, not for that one though."

I scowl at him, disgusted with him. I can't believe half of his DNA is in me.

"Then it's none of your business. Let's go Sanji." I say turning around and grabbing his hand. "You won't be able to protect him forever. Once you're married off, you're never allowed in this building."

I grimace at his words. That's right, he set up a marriage for me. I don't even know the guy, this marriage is just for Judge's convenience. I ignore him and continue to walk with Sanji to my room where I have some medical stuff for him.

I look down at Sanji, his face set in a frown. Now I could see all the bruises and bumps on him caused from his brothers. "What's the matter Sanji?" I ask him. He looks up at me, with tears in his eyes, "you're going to leave me one day."

"Actually," I say before sitting him down on my counter so I could grab some bandages, "I think you're going to leave before me. But I'll always be with you. Even if I'm physically not here, I'll be here." I say pointing to his heart.

I start to clean his cuts and put ointments on his bruises.

He looks at me confused, "how will you be in my heart?" I laugh at him, "no silly. I won't be in there physically. Metaphorically. No matter where you're at, I'll always love you and I'll be in your memory." "But I want you to stay with me forever." I give him a sad smile, knowing that things won't turn out that way, "I know... I know."

Honestly where I'm at right now is a lot better than being married off to some guy I don't know. If I was married right now, I would probably be tied down with children and never allowed to leave the house. Huh, now actually that I'm thinking about it, both situations are the same. Either way, I ended up a slave.

I close my eyes, letting the darkness overtake me. I was definitely going to need rest for what was going to happen next. Auctions were so tiring and it drained a lot of energy out of me.

"Why do you protect him? He's so weak." Reiju asks me while I continue to write in my journal. Besides Sanji, I can tolerate Reiju sometimes. I place down my pencil at her question and close the journal. "One day he won't be weak. But just because someone is weak, doesn't give someone the right to pick on them. If you are strong, then it is your duty to protect the weak." Reiju tilts her head, "why?" "Well wouldn't you want someone to help you if you were weak?" Reiju hums in thought. "If we help someone out while they are weak, they in turn will become stronger later. They will help aid other people. That person will never forget the kindness and will return the favor later if needed."

"Ah," Reiju smiles up at me, "you're so smart (y/n)." I smile back at her and ruffle her hair, "where's Sanji anyway?" Her smile immediately goes into a frown making me worry. "Father put him in the dungeons."

"What?!" I immediately get up and start to rush around the room, gathering some things. "What are you doing?" She asks. "It doesn't matter. It's pass your bedtime though. You should get going to bed." "But-" "Now."

Reiju sighs and leave my room. I continue to stuff things in a bag, including the journal I was previously writing in. Once I leave my room, I go out to grab a lantern knowing that Sanji was scared of the dark.

I quickly make my way towards where the dungeons at, careful not to be seen by the guards. Once I pass them I can immediately hear the cries of my younger brother. The sounds causing my heart to clench.

"Father please, I'm sorry. It's so dark down here. Please let me out." I bite my lip to suppress any tears from escaping. I hate this so much. Once I calm down my emotions, I pull out a match and light up the lantern.

"It is pretty dark down here, huh Sanji?" I ask once I'm able to see him.

There he was placed behind the bars with a metal helmet on him so I could only see his eyes. He had tears flowing down his face, but once he saw me his tears immediately dried up.

"(y/n)!" "Shh!" I say placing a finger on my lips and he nods his head. Once I'm in front of him, I kneel down in front of him. "I'm so sorry Sanji..." I whisper grabbing onto his hand. "It's not your fault..." He whispers back clenching onto my hand. "I'm going to help you, okay? But you have to listen to everything I say."

He immediately nods his head. I let go of his hand and bring both of my hands up to the helmet that was stuck on him. "Relax." I tell him as I put my fingers in the helmet, facing away from him. I applied pressure the metal bending in the opposite direction until it broke. The broken pieces clunked on the floor and I could now see Sanji's full face. His eyes were wide as he looked at me.

"There's that handsome face." I say pinching his cheek causing him to blush and swat my hand away. I laugh at his reaction before standing up, "did I hurt you?" I ask a little worried. He shook his head, "no... you're so strong." He says with wonder.

"I bet one day, you'll be stronger than me though. Stand back." I tell him and he listens to my orders.

I grab two of the metal bars and push against them so there was enough space for Sanji to get through. "You really think so?" He asks and I nod my head, "I know so."

"Come here." I say waving him over and he doesn't waste another second to wrap his arms around my waist. His head resting right on my stomach. I place my hands on his back. I really wish I could stay like this forever. I just want to protect my little brother as long as I could, which is why I have to do this.

"Let's go Sanji." "Where are we going?" He asks, but I don't answer him.

I walk over to one of the walls, punching the cobble wall. The stones fall easily to the ground causing a sliver of daylight to sneak into the room. The sun was rising, which meant the ship should be here soon.

"(y/n), where are we going?" He asks as I drag him across the ship. There was already an island that I could see. A island that father was attacking. There was bound to be another ship nearby where I could get him to safety. "Stop asking questions."

I didn't hear anything else from him.

It took a while for the fighting to stop, but neither of us were spotted which was good. I saw a ship from a far.

"There," I say pointing to the ship, "go on there okay? There are wonderful people on there that will take care of you." "Huh?" Sanji looks at me confused, "what's going on?" "I know you want to be a cook Sanji. You have a gift and if you stay here, you won't be able to fulfill your dreams." "B-but" "You want to find the All Blue, don't you?" His eyes widen at my words and tears start to well up in his eyes. "Come with me." He says but I shake my head. "I can't. Just go, Sanji!"

Tears now fell down his face and loud sobs escaped his lips. I put my bag over his shoulder and turn him back around the ship, "the sea is a big place. You're going to meet some people that love you more than your family ever did. So stop crying and just go!" I push him towards the ship trying to stop the tears running down my face.

Sanji must of realized that I was right and continued to run towards the ship while crying. Hearing his cries only made my cries worse.

"Stay safe, Sanji."

After that, the rest was history. Once Judge found out what I did and the damage I caused, he immediately disowned me. He realized that he couldn't marry me off since I wasn't technically a Vinsmoke anymore. That combined with the fact he couldn't look at me any more, he sold me off to be a slave. I don't regret what happened though. I would happily do it again. The look of anger on his face was very pleasing to me.

"Hey, get up. You're up next." Someone shook me and pushed me towards the stage.

Well here we go.

I was pushed onto the stage where the announcer immediately started bidding for a price for me. It didn't take long with a bid of 3,000,000 bellis. I was so used to this that I didn't hear the small commotion that was going on in the crowd.

Right after me was a mermaid, which I knew she was going to be placed for a high amount. I was right, of course, with 500,000,000 bellis. She was about to be pushed off the stage until there was a loud crash. Two men burst into the building, one of them punching a celestial dragon and punching another person. Soon a commotion erupted throughout the room causing everyone to run and destruction to follow.

What the hell is going on?

"(y/n)!" I heard someone shout my name and I was soon grabbed. I let out a small scream from shock and closed my eyes. I didn't know who was grabbing me, but I didn't fight back just in case it was one of the buyers. "(Y/n)?! Is that you? Please look at me!"

The voice was familiar causing me to slowly open my eyes and look up at the person who was holding my arm. I squint my eyes at the guy. The blonde hair covering one eye, and a swirly eyebrow. It couldn't be....

"Sanji?"

A large smile is now placed on his face and his arms wrap around me, spinning me around. "What are you doing here? How did you end up like this?" He asks me as soon as he places me down. "That doesn't matter. What matters is that you're safe! I'm so happy to know that you didn't die out there." I smile at him.

I was a bit confused to why he was frowning at me.

"(y/n)," He says. "What is it?" "I'm not a little kid anymore. I'm a lot stronger now. You don't have to hide things from me."

The smile falters from my face, "oh."

That's right. He is grown now. Sanji sighs, "just because I'm older and stronger now doesn't mean I still don't need you."

"Once my crewmates find the keys, I'll get you out of this." He says pointing at the collar around my neck. "Thanks." I say pulling wrists outwards so the chains could break. I do the same thing with the chains wrapped around my ankles.

"So, you're on a crew now?" "Yeah... we have a lot of catching up to do." He says patting my head, just like I used to do when he was a kid.

"From now on, I'll protect you."

#one piece #oneshot #one piece x reader #op x reader #sanji fluff #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji angst #one piece fluff #one piece angst

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forellasket · 3 hours

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hi!! what about like a body swap w the jjk guys wouldnt that be fun. like a curse with a weird technique got to us and blah blah (you can wrote whoeverr but megumi would be nice <3)

JJK Boys React to:

Body Swap CT!!

MEGUMI—

ok first off i just wanna say that he would need a factory reset after realizing what happened

megumi would look at you, then down at himself, then back at you about a thousand times

it feels weird being in someone else’s skin, he would try not to let it show how uncomfortable he would feel

he really doesn’t know what to do with himself. it’s not even a matter of trying to respect your body since it’s his for the time being

he just loathes the feeling of invading it

that is…

until he notices that his— no, your body gets all hot and fluttery when he’s around you

it’s strange. why is he getting flustered by his own face? it’ll eventually click that it’s just your body’s instinct to get nervous around him

now he can only stand there and wonder what his body is doing to you

ITADORI—

oh boy.

my only words of wisdom in this situation are good luck.

right off the bat when he realizes he’s not in his own body anymore, he loses his shit

if you’re a woman, he 100% feels the need to touch his chest. having boobs is crazy

he’s known for being a reckless dude so when he’s running around in your body, expect to have several unknown bruises

i feel like he’d try to do shit he normally does and forget that he doesn’t have his usual heightened abilities and then whine when he hurts himself, or technically you

he’ll apologize profusely for the damage done, and start going on and on about how you can beat him up when you guys switch back

GOJO—

he’ll just flirt with you/himself the whole time. that’s it. he’ll compliment your beautiful new blue eyes or how tall you’ve become over night.

he’s makes those “looking in a mirror” jokes and thinks he’s the funniest person alive.

spoiler alert; he isn’t.

INUMAKI—

this time it’s your turn to fuck up

he literally speaks in ingredients, and you don’t.

straight off the bat you start freaking out and talking like you usually do and the poor people around you suffer for it

also inumaki, his throat is gonna hurt REAL bad

but now he’s embracing his inner american with the freedom of speech!! 🦅🇺🇸🔥

he abuses the fact that he can talk normally for once without drawbacks and he YAPS

all day

to anyone willing to listen

that’s not to say he isn’t still quiet though, you’ll strain yourself trying to hear him

he gets real sad when you guys swap back

NANAMI—

oh he’s so respectful about it.

keeps reassuring you all day that everything will be fine— although it’s a little awkward trying to comfort himself…

he’s definitely stiff as hell with everything he does, similar to megumi

bro goes into robot mode, and is so uncomfortable

literally doesn’t know how to take care of your body because anything and everything feels illegal

he can’t eat or drink because then he’ll have to go to the bathroom, and that’s an invasion of privacy

but he can’t let your body starve so then what

the man is stressed

he spends a lot of time silently panicking and trying to swap yall back

here lies nanami kento R.I.P 🪦

TODO—

this one is solely for shits and giggles.

if you’re not a tall woman with a big ass, he spends the whole time complaining. that’s it pt. 2

i’m so deadass he whines the whole time about how he misses his body and that this sucks and he’d much prefer he’d gotten to swap with takada

and blah blah blah

YUTA—

he’s so nervous

it feels wrong

he’s not worried about his body, just yours

he’s not worried about how he feels, just how you feel

he’s trying to make sure you’re okay, but it’s weird talking to you when you’re wearing his face

and vice versa

you can’t really feel comforted when you’re looking down at yourself having a panic attack

you two feed on each other’s nervous energies and eventually descend into madness

i feel bad for everyone who has to take care of you during this

#jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk gojo #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #todo jjk #nanami kento #nanami x reader #inumaki toge #inumaki x reader #yuta x reader #jjk yuta #yuta okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen

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siampie · 2 days

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Get Off the Highway || Chapter 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, angst, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome

A/N: Short chapter to introduce Reader to the bunker and having more interactions between Reader and Dean.

Previous Chapter || Chapter List || Next chapter

Masterlist || Join my tag list

Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie, @lyarr24, @deans-baby-momma, @kr804573, @zepskies, @impalari,

@urinternetmom, @sushiumex

Dividers by @cafekitsune

You stumbled into your kitchen while your coffee was brewing. You had come back after a difficult hunt that had left you with a couple of stitches on your hip, and a few bruises on your face and body. You swallowed some painkillers with your coffee. This was going to be a slow day for you. No hunts. No visits from family. Just you and your cup of coffee, and probably some television. The perfect rest day. Your eyes drifted to your living room. On the wall facing you, there was a framed photo of your family. One of the rare ones that you still had.

Life at home wasn't always ideal when you were growing up. Your parents were not the bests example of loving and compassionate parents. They could be neglectful and somewhat abusive. You had taken their sides over your siblings more times than not, only to keep the peace. Trying to maintain chaos at bay. Of course, your siblings had resented you over the years because you weren’t doing enough for them. And they were right. You had not.

You tried to make up for it these days but it was hard to when your siblings were barely talking to you. Except maybe for your brother; Matt; the only one who still made sure you were taken care of. You were lucky to have him still. Still, you did not understand why he kept coming around.

A loud knock on your front door disturbed the quietness of your apartment. “I’m coming.” You secured the fresh bandage on your hip, before going to your front door. You grabbed your gun on your way there. You looked through the peephole. It was your brother.

“You look like shit.” Matt said, once you let him in.

“Thanks.” You answered dryly. “But you should see the other guy.” You said jokingly as you shut the door behind him.

He put down the bags he was holding on the kitchen table, and turned to you. He rested his hands on your shoulders and looked down at you. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” You assured him. "I still know how to take a beating."

"Not funny." He berated you lightly.

"Sorry." His eyes roamed over your face. After, he was satisfied with his inspection, he pulled you into a hug. “Come here.”

You wrapped your arms around him, and just let yourself enjoy the simple hug. It was just a hug but it felt like everything you needed.

“No, no, no.” You heard from behind you. You excused yourself as you were being pulled aside by none other than Dean Winchester.

“Hey, Bucko!” You smiled at him, ripping your arm out of his grip. “Sam.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean asked you, already annoyed at your being here.

“Pleasure to see you too, Winchester.” You replied dryly, ripping you arm out of his grip.

He gave you a deadpan look, “that’s our hunt. And you’re not taking it from us.”

“Didn’t know there was an ongoing competition between us.” You said with a wry smile.

“Competition?” Dean repeated and looked you up and down. “Barely.”

You gasped. “You did not just give me the up and down look, did ya?”

“What are you gonna do about it, Princess?”

“Alright, you two,” Sam wore an amused smile on his face. “Maybe we can find a way to work together.”

“You’re right,” you nodded. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of last time fiasco. Right, Bucko?”

You walked past him, and patted his shoulder. Sam chuckled as he followed you inside. Months had passed since you last saw them. Only hearing of them in passing, although you'd rather have loved no mentions of them. Or more specifically of Dean. You felt bad for putting Sam in the same category as his brother but they were a package deal. And those two seemed to be attached to the hip.

You were still sporting a few bruises from your last hunt. Matt had wanted you to stay longer at your apartment, to take a longer rest. But you were starting to stir crazy, sitting in your couch all day. And you couldn’t sit still any longer. Although, he disagreed with your decision to go back on the road, he made you promise that you’d take it easy.

Or at least you promised you’d try.

“You really are the worse, you know that.” Dean glared down at you.

“And you’re an asshole but I’m not complaining about it, now, am I?” You shot back following him and his brother back to their car.

The hunt had gone pretty smoothly. Once you had figured out that it was a revenant, and once it was confirmed by the absence of a body in the grave. You all set out to get the monster back in its coffin, and used silver to make sure it remained there.

“It’s not that hard to follow simple instructions, now, is it?” Dean threw his shovel into the trunk of his car.

“No, it’s not. But it becomes stupid to follow them when one of you is in a bad situation. And it clearly looked like you needed help.” You retorted, your shovel joining his own.

“I was handling it, princess.”

“Didn’t look like you were, bucko.”

You both glared at each other, angrily. No matter what you did, Dean still saw you as a nuisance. A thorn in his side that he was trying to get rid of. And you couldn’t understand why. You had done nothing to provoke his blatant hostility. And you’d think that after saving his life, once again, he would just drop the attitude. But it seemed to only anger him even more.

The petty person within met him at his level. Fighting fire with fire. But the people pleaser within, just couldn’t stand the idea of him not liking you. You didn’t understand why and couldn’t figure it out. And you hated it.

You followed the Winchesters down the spiraling stairs that led you deeper into the bunker. Sam, more than his brother, had invited you back to their new location. Sam had given you a quick tour. As quick as it could be in this huge place. There were many bedrooms, a kitchen, a war room, and many other places of the sort. But most importantly there was also a large library.

“That place is sweet.” You had beamed, walking into the kitchen behind Sam.

“Yeah, it’s pretty great.” Sam nodded, smiling.

“How did you find it?”

“None of your business, kid.”

You rolled your eyes at Dean as he walked past you, “alright, keep your secrets.” You turned to Sam. “If I ever need to research things, can I borrow some of those books?” You pointed towards the library.

“You’re welcome to it,” Sam grinned at you. “Anytime you need.”

“Yeah.” You squealed, Dean turned to you before rolling his eyes. “Sorry.”

Later, you found yourself in the library reading a book about some wiccan rituals. Nothing you really needed to know but you had picked it out of curiosity, you were intrigued by the title. Sam was sitting across from you working on his laptop, probably searching for another hunt, you thought. Dean was wherever the hell Dean was, you couldn’t care less.

“I’ve said it before and I’m saying it again. This place is amazing.” You suddenly said, shutting the book before pushing it away from you. Sam looked up from his laptop at you. “Can you imagine how much knowledge those people have gathered over the years?” You continued gushing. “I mean, it must be infinite.”

“I don’t think it’s infinite but huge, yeah.” Sam agreed. “It would probably make hunting easier.”

“Definitely.” You leaned back into your chair. “You guys are so lucky to have found this place.”

“You know if you ever need a place to lay low, you’re welcome to stop by.” Sam offered.

You smiled at him. “That’s really kind of you but I already have a place like that. I mean - not exactly like that. I have a place to lay low, between two hunts.” You spoke. “My brother is making sure that I stop by every once in a while, just to check if I’m still alive.”

“Older?”

“Younger.” You told him. “He likes taking care of me, so I let him do it.”

“Sounds like you two are very close.”

“Wasn’t always this way.” You pushed out a sigh. “It’s funny, you know ‘cause growing up, we hated each other. And nowadays, he is the only person I can count on.”

“But he’s not hunting with you.” Sam noted.

“That’s because he’s not a hunter.” You leaned your elbows on the table. “Unlike you, Winchesters, hunting is not exactly a family business.”

It wasn’t. Hunting had stumbled upon you one day. So, you told Sam everything about the night where it all began for you. You never were a big fan of camping. Naturally, when your best friend suggested you go on a camping trip, you refused at first. And with much insistence on her part, you finally agreed. But the camping trip had turned bloody and deadly pretty quickly. You and your group had found yourself on a Wendigo hunting ground.

This encounter had changed your entire world. It opened your eyes to the underground world of hunting. Silent warriors that kept evil at bay at the risks of their own lives. Receiving no rewards and no gratitude. Not exactly a career you would have chosen for yourself. But as said previously, you couldn’t go back to your life and continue your existence as though you knew nothing of this world. Not after you had a glimpse of it.

“Don’t talk to me.” You said before Dean could utter a word as he walked into the kitchen. The sight of him alone, in his grey robe, his messy bed hair, was enough to irritate you.

“Well, someone’s cranky today.” Dean walked to the coffee pot.

“Well, someone needs to shut up.”

“Guys, please—” Sam sighed, sitting down next to you.

“She started it.” Dean replied to his brother.

“What are you? 12?” You shot back at him.

“I’m 12? What does that make you then?” Dean argued back.

Sam got up with his coffee and breakfast and left the kitchen. “Look, what you did? You made Sam run away. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Nah, that one’s not on me.” He sat across from you. “He ran away because of your ugly mug.”

“Is that the best you can come up with?” You said in a bored tone, taking another sip.

“Shut up.”

You hummed, nodding your head, “great come back.” You stood up, and moved to leave the room. “You look ridiculous in that robe, by the way.”

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#dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus sized!reader #dean winchester x fem!reader #siampie writes

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swiftieblyth · 2 days

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Troublesome Twin:

Warning list-

hunger games warning, abusive family, mother died in childbirth with the twins, Arachne, Coriolanus Snow, Dr. Gaul, violence, and murder.

I think that’s all, let me know if there’s more!

Word count- 1725

Coryo woke and saw Y/N sleeping in his arms, her leg on his leg still as he gently rubbed his thumb over her thigh. Y/N let out a small moan, leaning more into Coryo, making him swoon at the love he gets from her, and the love he gives her back.

“Coryo,” Y/N mumbled, looking up at him with half opened eyes, face smushed to his bare chest.

“Morning my love.” He smiled, looking down at her with so much love. “How are you feeling, baby?”

“It really hurts, Coryo. It hurts worse than anything.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He cooed. “I wish I could take all this pain away from you. Make it my own.”

“No. I don’t want you to. I don’t want to see you in pain.”

“But I don’t want to see you in pain, my love.”

“I don’t care. I never want you to be in pain. I’ll always be in pain if it means you don’t have to be.”

“My darling, love. Anytime you are in pain, my heart is in so much pain, I can’t take it. Will you let me take care of you?”

“Of course, baby.” Y/N let out, nuzzling her head into his chest. “You never have to ask to take care of me. I always want you to take care of me. Forever and always.”

“I always will my love. And our little babies one day.”

“Coryo,” Y/N squealed. “We’re too young to be talking about kids.”

“Oh, but my love, I know I’m going to marry you. Make you my wife, my baby mommy, and Panem’s First Lady.”

“Oh, Coryo. I will gladly be your wife one day. And be the first lady. And my gosh would I gladly have your babies for you. Gosh I would give you a hundred kids if you wanted them.”

“Now, let’s not get crazy my love.”

“I’m sorry, I just love you so much! My medicine just makes me really crazy.”

“I know my love.” Coryo kissed her head, then started to get up.

“Where are you going?” Y/N groaned, wrapping her arms around him.

“Darling, I got to get up,” Coryo breathed, putting his hands on her arms, gently moving them.

“Why?”

“Because, I got to get you your food and medicine.”

“I don’t want it.”

“I know, but you got to take it my love.”

“Don’t wanna.” Y/N moaned.

“I know,” Coryo let out, kissing her head. “I’m gonna go get it for you my love.”

“Coryo?”

“What is it baby?” Coryo asked, looking down at her.

“Can you hand me my guitar?”

“Of course my love.” Coryo smiled, walking to it.

“I forget how the West was won

I forget if this was ever fun

I just learned these people only raise you to cage you

Sarahs and Hannahs in their Sunday best

Clutching their pearls, sighing ‘What a mess’

I just learned these people try and save you

‘Cause they hate you

Too high a horse

For a simple girl to rise above it”

“That was beautiful, my love,” Coryo smiled, standing in the doorway with Y/N’s food and morphling.

“How long have you been there?” Y/N asked, sitting down her guitar.

“Since you started singing.”

“Really?” Y/N sighed.

“You sound beautiful, baby,” Coryo let out, walking to her and sitting on the bed next to her. “Why don’t you like it when people hear your music?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t think it’s good.”

“Darling, it’s amazing. You could make a career out of it if you wanted to.”

“I know. But I think I want to be the head gamemaker like my mother.”

“And you would be great at that my love.” Coryo smiled, kissing her head. “You’ll do great at whatever you want to do.”

“Okay, ready, baby?” Coryo whispered, as they walked in.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Y/N let out, squeezing his hand.

“Wakey wakey, my Capitol friends.” Lucky called. “I’m Lucky Flickerman and welcome to day number two of the 10th annual Hunger Games. Now, while most of you were getting your beauty sleep last night, something scintillating occurred. Bobbin from District 8, slaughtered.” Y/N held her breath as she tightened her grip on Coryo’s hand. “Which of these beasts slayed Bobbin from District 8? Either way, it doesn’t matter. 10 tributes remain. Reaper still at the top of the boards.”

“They’re not showing us what happened to that little boy.” One of their friends explained to Y/N and Coryo. “He clearly was killed right there. There’s cameras everywhere. It doesn’t make sense.”

“They said they were old cameras, Lysiie.” Festus explained. “Probably just another one of Coral’s.”

Y/N squeezed Coryo’ hand, looking up at him. Coryo looked down and saw the pain on her face as she looked down to her leg. Coryo nodded and sat down on the chair, bringing her down with him. “What can I do for you, baby?” Coryo whispered, kissing her head.

“Can you make the pain go away?” Y/N asked. The tears in her eyes and the pain all over her face made Coryo’s heartbreak.

“No.” He sighed. “I’m sorry baby. I wish I could. And if I could, you know I would.”

“I know.” Y/N sighed. “I just wish it could all go away.”

“I know, sweet girl. Do you want to go home?”

“I want to stay here with you.”

“Okay, my love.”

“What’s happening?” Y/N asked, as Jessup started to accuse Lucy Gray.

“What’d you do to me?” Jessup asked.

“Nothing!”

“Coryo,” Y/N whispered, desperately looking up at her boyfriend.

“Lyssie, what is he doing?” Coryo asked, carefully moving to get up without hurting Y/N who was sitting.

“Something’s wrong. He wouldn’t turn on her like this.” Lyssie explained, as Jessup started chasing Lucy Gray.

“Coryo,” Y/N squeaked, scared they were about to lose each other. Coryo didn’t respond, but he rubbed her shoulders.

“Jessup going after Lucy Gray.” Lucky explained.

“Go to the stands, go to the stands,” Y/N breathed.

“Stop running! What did you…” Jessup yelled. “What did you do to me?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Both tributes from District 12. The same district folding in on itself.” Lucky explained.

“Wait look,” Coryo let out.

“The foam.” Y/N cut in.

“I think it’s rabies. That bite. From that train. Send him water.” Coryo ordered.

“Wait, what?” Lyssie asked. “You remember the posters from the war?”

“Rabies. It makes you afraid of water. Send him the drone.”

“That will scare him.” “Yes. Away from her.” Coryo explained, as Y/N held one of his hands that was on her shoulder. “Jessup is done. Lyssie, you’re the only one that can get it right to him.”

Lyssie sighed, but went to her communipad.

“Ms. Vickers going for her communipad early.” Lucky commented.

“Thank you,” Coryo breathed.

“Sending a drone,” Lucky continued.

“Nothing to be proud of,” Lyssie stated to Coryo.

Everyone watched as Jessup died. Y/N let out a sigh as she felt Coryo relax a little and kissing her head.

Y/N shook and sniffled a little as she whipped her eyes. Coryo crouched down next to her and cupped her face. “Hey, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay. He was going to kill her. We had to get him killed.”

“I know. It’s not just that, I’m also in a lot of pain.”

“I know, sweet girl.” Coryo cooed. “It’s not quite time to take your medicine yet though. I’m sorry baby.”

“It’s okay.”

“Oh, look at this!” Lucky called, knocking them out of their moment to look and see the group cornered in on Lucy Gray. “The Pack doing what they do best. Packing it in. Lucy Gray is swarmed, cornered. Mizzen, propellering his net.”

“Coryo,” Y/N gasped. “Send her water.”

Coryo nodded and quickly reached for the communipad to send the water.

“Mr. Snow going for his communipad.”

Everyone watched as the drones flew in and knocked out some of the other tributes.

“These drones aren’t very good.” Lucky mused.

“Hey!” Someone called. “You can’t attack the tributes!”

“I’m just sending water.” Coryo let out.

“Again, a fall,” Lucky trailed on. “Ending a tribute's life.”

Everyone watched as Dill fell dead. Y/N and Coryo knew that Luncy Gray had poisoned the water she had just taken a sip from.

“Coryo,” Y/N squeaked, barely audible.

“It’s okay, love.” Coryo let out, wrapping his arms around her.

“We did that,” Y/N whispered as she buried her head in Coryo’s neck. “It was my idea. It was my fault.”

“Hey, stop. Stop this,” Coryo breathed, kissing her head. “None of this is your fault, okay? We didn’t know she was going to drink it. Besides, we have to do this for us. So we can be together forever. As soon as this is done, and we win, I can keep you safe for the rest of our lives.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.” He let out, hand accidentally gracing where she got stabbed, causing her to hiss in pain. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry my love.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t mean to hurt me. It just hurts really bad.”

“I know, my love. I know.”

“Capitol citizens, I’m afraid I must interrupt our Games to announce a tragic loss, one that affects us all. Felix Ravinstill, son of our beloved president…” Dr. Gaul cut in on the screen. “Has, this morning, succumbed to his injuries sustained in the rebel bombing. Out there in the districts, they will be celebrating this young boy’s death as a triumph. I will not allow my Games to give our enemy such a victory. I swear to you, here and now, before the sun goes down tonight, a rainbow of destruction will engulf our arena. Even if it means there’s to be no victor in these Games.”

“The snakes.” Y/N breathed, trying to get up.

“Love, what are you doing?” Coryo asked, as he caught Y/N as she lost balance. “‘A rainbow of destruction.’ Coryo, it’s my mothers snakes. She’s going to send them in.”

“She wouldn’t do that to us would she?” Coryo asked.

“It’s not her.” Y/N breathed, fear in her eyes. “It’s my father.”

tag list here

Tag list: @uglyfish3rman, @Edb954, @joyfulyouthlover, @Warlike-morning, @melodyoflove99,

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ghosttotheparty · 2 days

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a man raised hopeless (18k) ao3 // pinboard // playlist tags: Good Uncle Wayne Munson; Appalachian Wayne Munson; Character Study; of sorts; Drug Use; Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism; Drug Addiction; Mental Health Issues; Postpartum Depression; Suicidal Thoughts; Self-Destruction; Grief/Mourning; Eddie Munson Lives; Healing; Hopeful Ending

Wayne Munson was raised to be a lot of things that he isn’t.

He was raised to be God-fearing, but he’s always struggled to see God, struggled to know Him. His parents were good Catholic folks, rosaries tucked in their pockets at all times, Bibles on their bedside tables, calendars crossed off daily. Easter and Christmas were hardly days of celebration, even when Wayne and Al were little boys. There were never any eggs to find, any gifts to unwrap. Wayne got used to the ache in his kneecaps, the faintly bruised skin, from kneeling in prayer for so long. It never did him any good. Al either.

He was raised to be quiet, to speak when spoken to. That never did him much good either. He’s always been a quiet man, even when he was little and Al was as rambunctious as humanly possible. He watched as Al ran circles around the house, fingers tangled in his lap because he was always scared to touch anything after he saw Al knock a vase over and watched as their father beat his skin blue. Wayne never understood how a vase could be so important. It was just a vase, and it was ugly anyway.

He was raised to respect authority. He never did. All the adults in his life were self-serving assholes, his parents and teachers included. The cops in his hometown were corrupt, everyone knew it; they took bribes, let their own dealers off easy when they were called to their houses. They kept their eye on people that didn’t need an eye kept on them, ignored crimes in broad daylight, shined their badges and flashed them at anyone that dared ignore them. Wayne hated cops by the time he was in middle school, wrinkling his nose at them when he saw the way they sneered and smirked at the girls in town. And then they started harassing Al for no reason at all, until Al started giving them reasons, practically wrapping them up and tying them in ribbons and leaving them on the dashboards of police cars.

His parents tried as hard as they could to train Wayne up, to mold him into a mini-me for his father. Wayne always looked like John, and he always hated it. He never liked his mother much either, but he would have preferred to look like her if he could have.

It was a small family, just the four of them. John, Ruth. Allen, Wayne. Most families around them had more children, but Wayne thinks he and Al scared their parents off any more. They weren’t easy as babies, weren’t easy as children or teenagers. Ruth complained about Wayne incessantly, telling him often how much he cried as a baby. No matter how much she rocked him, how much she fed him, how much she hummed and sang to him. He cried, and he cried, and he cried. Until he got old enough for his father to tell him to be a man, until the sting of his tears on his cheeks was replaced with a sting across his bottom, and then later, a sting across his face.

Wayne stopped crying when he was thirteen. John used to say that he would give him something to cry about, but life did that for him every which way. Every turn in Wayne’s path, every time he turned his head. Something to cry about.

He knew there was something wrong with him. Ruth used to tell him that too. The amount that he cried when he was little wasn’t normal, even Al knew. He’d tried to get Wayne to stop crying before their father noticed. But there were other things too. Everything was too loud for him, and he always had his palms covering his ears, blocking out whatever it was. The insufferable buzzing that came when John had the radio on, the squeaking of the tap in the kitchen sink, the shouting of the neighbor’s boys playing outside. The sun was too bright, his clothes too scratchy, the car too cramped, and he would lock himself away in his room just so he didn’t have to deal with any of it. He used to tell his mother he didn’t think he was meant to be human, and Ruth would roll her eyes and ignore him.

Al called him stupid. Called him a sissy, a pussy, called him everything their father would call him. He’d tell him he needed to grow the fuck up, needed to grow a pair. And Wayne tried, just like he tried being friends with God, but it never worked.

John hit the road when Wayne was fifteen. Al was thirteen. Neither of them cried, but Ruth did. Wayne could hear her through the thin walls of their house, could hear her sobbing and wailing John’s name into the pillow like he would hear her from wherever he was and he would come back. He never did.

Wayne always wondered what became of him. If he knocked up some poor woman and had another boy. If he treated him like shit too. If he got too tipsy and spun his old car out of control and hit a tree. If he said the wrong thing to the wrong person. If he took himself out the way he always threatened to when Ruth was too short with him. Wayne knew he took the gun with him.

Ruth’s eyes were bloodshot all the time, her nose and cheeks always flushed red, but Wayne never saw her cry. She hid it well, kept her voice steady, and he’d hoped maybe John’s absence would soften her up. Hoped she was just as hard and cruel as he’d been treating her. But she took up John’s role, whatever the fuck that was. Smacked Al and Wayne upside the head. Swung leather belts and wire hangers in the air to land on their skin. Downed bottles of liquor despite the scripture on the walls. And God watched just like He always did.

“I swear I’m gonna skip town one day,” Al whispered one night after their mother had passed out on the sofa. Wayne looked over the newspaper at him, finding him in the dark. He used the streetlights and the few passing cars for light to read the funnies. “I swear to the good lord, Wayne, I’m gonna do it.”

“You can’t even drive,” Wayne had muttered, looking back at the paper.

“I’ll take my bike.”

”Where would you even go?”

“Jesus, Wayne, fuckin’ anywhere’s better than here.”

“It’s not so bad here,” Wayne said quietly, glancing when their mother let out a huff and rolled over before falling still.

“You only say that because you don’t know any better.”

“And you do?”

”I have a damn imagination.” Al swore like a trucker after John left, like he was trying to make up for all the swears they couldn’t hear.

Wayne had rolled his eyes. He really didn’t think it was so bad. The roads were rough, the fences rusted, and the cops were shitbags, but it wasn’t so bad. The sun was bright, and he liked hearing the birds singing. Liked the crickets that filled the silence at night, liked how the lightning during storms lit up the sky. He’d always been a wanderer, even though his parents tried to train him out of it, and he loved the creek that was nearby their neighborhood. He liked seeing the little fish swim by in the sparkling water, liked the smooth rocks that he collected on top of his wardrobe. He found a knife in the water one day when he was twelve, a little pocket knife with a nice leather handle, and he scrubbed the faint rust off the blade under the tap out back with a wire brush his father bought for the car.

Al had said it was probably a discarded murder weapon. Wayne told him to shut up.

“Are you comin’ with or not?” Al whispered sharply, like he’d lost his patience in the few silent seconds between them. Wayne looked at him again.

He was staring intently at him, eyes wide in the dark, eyebrows raised. He looked more like Ruth than Wayne did. He had her hair, dark and curly.

“Where to?”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Al said, and he sounded angry as he shifted in his seat, drawing his knees to his chest and looking over them at Wayne. “I just wanna get the fuck outta here.”

”We can’t just pack up and leave, Al,” Wayne said finally, setting the paper down. “We’d need an actual plan, y’know, we’d need somewhere to go.”

”Why do we need a place to go?” Al said, frustrated. “Why can’t we just fucking go?”

”So we don’t starve on the side of the road, dumbass,” Wayne snapped, leaning toward him. “We live in the middle o’ nowhere, Al, you wanna bike your way outta the mountains? Christ.”

“Then how the hell are we supposed to go?” Al said sharply. “Can’t get a job if we don’t fuckin’ go somewhere.”

Wayne sighed, rubbing his face, and he looked at him.

“I’ve been saving,” he said finally. “Loose change ‘nd shit, all my money from working at the diner.”

”What the fuck, Wayne?” Al hissed, reaching out to smack his head, and Wayne flinched away from it, making a face. “You didn’t tell me?”

”Didn’t want you stealin’ it all.”

“Now I fuckin’ might.”

Wayne was quiet. Flipped the page of the newspaper.

“We can hitch a ride,” Al said, whispering again. “Or jump on the train that goes through town.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You fuckin’ figure something out, then. If I have to spend one more fucking year in this damn house with that bitch I’ll kill myself,” Al said, nodding toward their mother’s sleeping body.

“Don’t talk about Ma like that,” Wayne said half-heartedly. He couldn’t really bring himself to mean it.

“Shut up, Wayne.”

It took two years. Wayne kept his patience as best he could, but Al struggled. He brought it up almost every day, and Wayne found him looking through their shared bedroom more than once, trying to find Wayne’s saved money. He was especially desperate to go after knocking up some girl in town, but nothing ever became of it. No father came knocking the front door down to break Al in half. The girl left town and neither of them saw her again.

Wayne saved every penny he made at the diner, every penny he found on the sidewalk and hoped was lucky. He hated working there, hated being a damn line cook. He smelled like fucking beef every day, and his wrist got sore from holding the spatula, but he made money. And his boss was nice.

He mentioned offhandedly one day that he was hoping to leave town, hoping to find a job somewhere.

“My buddy in Indiana’s workin’ at a plant,” his boss had said. “Said they’re looking for som new recruits.”

He’d said it so casually, like it didn’t light Wayne up inside, like it didn’t flip his life upside down.

He was hired by the next week after his boss made a few calls. He packed a bag, just one, stuffed it full of clothes and food and cash, and he hopped on a bus with Al. And he’d never seen Al smile like he did that day, so bright it made him look young again. (He didn’t see Al smile like that ever again.)

He felt bad for Ruth. Knew she was all alone in that house, knew the house would be quiet now with no one there to fight and bicker. Knew she was left with the crate of liquor in the basement and the cross above the front door, abandoned by her entire family, abandoned by God.

“If she wanted us to stay, she would have been nicer,” Al said when Wayne voiced his guilt to him, and as guilty as he was, Wayne agreed. She was a mean old woman, and now all she had to mean to was the walls of her house and her broken mirrors.

Wayne never thought he’d find himself in Indiana. It wasn’t much different than back home. A little flatter, maybe, fewer mountains towering over them and caging them into town, but it looked the same sometimes. Trees and creaks and birds and squirrels. Deer. Discarded beer bottles along the side of the road. They found a shitty apartment, one bedroom with one stove burner and no oven, and they made it work.

Wayne liked living a quiet life. Taking the bus to work, taking the bus back home. He was glad to have an uneventful life, glad to not have stories to share with Al, even if it was boring.

But Al was always going to be Al, and Wayne had known that even before he agreed to take him with him. He thinks maybe he’d had hopes of Al maturing, growing out of their hometown, turning into his own person instead of some ugly byproduct of John and Ruth, but every hope he might have had was in vain.

Al was mean.

To everybody, but to Wayne especially. Wayne could swear Al had it out for him, even though Wayne was the one that brought him out of their hometown, brought him just like he’s asked, like he’s practically begged, even though Wayne took him with him out of the goodness of his heart, out of kindness. He knew how miserable Al was, knew it personally because he was miserable too.

But Al treated him like shit. Cursed him for waking him up in the morning while he got ready for work like Wayne wasn’t the one paying for him to live here, rolled his eyes and refused to wash the dishes simply because he didn’t like doing it. And Wayne somehow understood why his father was so angry all the time.

He and Al fought constantly.

Wayne got a car eventually, a shitty old thing that stalled and squeaked and had rusty hinges, and he stayed away from the apartment for as long as he could just so he didn’t have to see Al, just so he didn’t have to listen to him bitch. Drove up to the quarry just to look at the sky and smoke cigarettes, brought a book with him even though he’s never liked reading much. (He found that the quiet helped.) Al got a job at a garage after a while, and when their rent was raised, they scrapped enough together for a trailer.

It had one bedroom, but there was a washer and a dryer, and it made Wayne think of home. The creaky ground and the cabinets that didn’t quite shut all the way, the overhead lights that flickered and drove him a little crazy. Wayne slept on the sofa just because he didn’t feel like arguing with Al.

He’s always been a tired man, even when he was little. His mother would tell him he was like an old man, staring into space while John yelled at him, looking down at the newspaper when John beat Al, complaining about the volume of the radio. Wayne embraced it, turned it into a joke even though he didn’t find it particularly funny.

Al called him an old man when they lived together. Teased him when Wayne scolded him for wasting money on drugs and liquor, laid on the ground with vacant eyes and curled lips. And Wayne barely had the energy to fight him about it. It was his money, after all.

Wayne didn’t have friends. He was never the type to make friends, nor was he the type people particularly wanted to be friends with. He always looked angry, seething, even when he wasn’t, his eyebrows drawn together naturally, eyes narrowed. His coworkers left him alone most of the time, even though a few teased that he was just a kid, that he shouldn’t have been working somewhere so tough. Wayne never really got that. He had no problem being older than he was.

He was forty when Al brought a girl home.

She was sitting on the floor, her back against the sofa with a mug in her hands, one of Wayne’s mugs, and she looked young and tired. Wayne had stopped in the doorway, just beginning to kick his shoes off and drop his bag by the door, but he looked down at her as she looked up at him.

Her hair was curly, curlier than Al’s, almost wild, flying around her head. Her eyes were wide, dark and shining like a deer’s, and her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked, her head tilting curiously. There were freckles across the bridge of her nose, and she looked soft. Too soft to be somewhere like this.

“Who’re you?” Wayne asks gruffly, finally toeing his shoes off and nudging them aside, dropping his bag and taking off his jacket.

“Judith Abbott,” she said.

She was soft-spoken, her voice sweet and quiet, and she was a darling. Her blouse was white and ruffled, her skirt pleated and falling to hide her legs as she drew her knees to her chest, and as Wayne looked at her, he found a bow hidden in her curls, a little ribbon just peeking out of the mess at him.

“Judith Abbott,” he repeated, eyeing her. “What are you doing in my living room, Judith Abbott?”

“Waiting for Allen,” she said with a smile that pressed lines into her cheeks, her eyes squinting.

“Allen,” Wayne said under his breath. He hadn’t heard that name in ages; everyone called him Al, even the cops. “Where’s he at?”

”He went to get some liquor,” Judith said lightly, and Wayne rolled his eyes, finally going to unpack his back, setting his old tin lunchbox on the counter.

“So you his girlfriend or something?” he said.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Judith said, giggling, her cheeks flushing pink, and Wayne’s stomach twisted. He paused, looking over at her, sitting on the ground like a shy little girl, with a bow in her hair, holding the mug with both hands like it was heavy.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“I turn twenty next week.”

He blinked. Looked at her. Ached a little inside.

“Why?” she asked, sipping her tea or coffee or whatever it was.

“…You don’t think you’re a little young for Al?” he asked.

“I’m mature for my age,” she said resolutely, nodding a little as though to herself, like she was saying it more for her own sake than Wayne’s. He felt sick.

“Yeah, I bet you are.”

She didn’t say anything to that.

They talked until Al came home, and it took longer than it should have if he’d just gone for liquor. Judith asked about his work, about his hometown. Said Al, Allen, talked about Wayne all the time. They met at the garage when Judith’s dad went in for a tune-up. That Al couldn’t take his eyes off her, and she got shy, but she went in the next week on her own anyway, because she liked how Al looked at her. And Wayne wanted to take her away, to hide her until Al gave up, until he fucking died.

He pulled Al aside when he came home, when he went to put something away in the bedroom, leaving Judith in the living room with her cold tea.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he’d snapped quietly, grabbing Al by the back of his shirt. Al was smirking again. Wayne hated his smirk.

”Fuck are you talking about?”

”She’s a teenager, Al, Jesus.”

“She’s twenty in five days.”

”It’s weird that you know that.”

”That I know when my girl’s birthday is?”

“You know what the fuck I mean,” Wayne hissed, his face hot. “Jesus fuck, Al, she’s a fucking kid.”

Al rolled his eyes. Knocked Wayne’s arm away and stepped out of his reach, and he tossed something to the bed, something wrapped in brown paper and tape.

“She’s legal,” Al said. Wayne grit his teeth. “And even if I don’t pick her up, someone will,” he added almost smugly. “You’ve seen her.”

Wayne stood in the bedroom when Al left, shutting the door behind himself, and he buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath. He was shaking, and he didn’t think he’d ever been so angry, didn’t think he’d ever wanted to hurt Al more than in that moment. He’d looked at the package after steadying his breathing, picked it up and flipped it over in his hands, but it was bound with tape, and he couldn’t open it without Al knowing. He thought about opening it anyway, just to appease his curiosity and his suspicion, but he tossed it back to the bed anyway.

Al was on the floor when Wayne rejoined them, leaning against the sofa with his arm around Judith’s shoulders, holding a lit cigarette to her lips as she giggled shyly, taking a short drag and coughing the smoke out of her lungs. Wayne swallowed his nausea.

Judith’s parents caught wind of her relationship with Al after a while. She moved in within the month, taking up residence on the other side of the bed, and she stayed sweet even over the years. Woke up in the morning to sit with Wayne, made him coffee and did the paper’s crossword puzzle with him. Her hair grew longer, and she didn’t cut it despite Al telling her to.

Wayne came home to the two of them in the living room most days. His hours were different from Al’s, and Al spent more time at home, especially when his boss cut his hours because he kept flirting with women in front of their husbands.

They were high a lot of the time. Judith was giggly when she was high, pink-cheeked and squinting, tucked into a ball while Al sprawled himself out over the sofa, taking up as much space as he possibly could. Al was quiet most of the time while he floated, staring up at the ceiling with his lips parted like he was seeing right through it to the universe, like it was whispering to him, like the water stain was a galaxy.

Judith was different. She giggled and laughed and talked more than usual, telling bad jokes and laughing herself to tears, and as much as Wayne hated that she was inebriated, she was endearing. He’d listen to her, leaning over the tiny dining table to hear her whisper, smiling absently.

“You know you’re my best friend?” she asked one day, sipping the water Wayne handed to her, holding the cup with two hands like she always did. He paused and looked at her, sitting across from her and tilting his head.

He knew they were an odd pair. He was already balding, going grey sooner than he should have, worn with lines on his face, his fingertips stained from tobacco. She was dainty. Sweet and spunky. Wayne was pretty sure she would be an artist if she were anywhere else, if Al hadn’t hijacked her life.

“‘S kinda sad if your best friend is your boyfriend’s older brother.”

The word boyfriend twisted in his mouth. She didn’t notice, giggling.

“Al doesn’t like that we’re friends,” she said, glancing at Al’s sleeping body. He was snoring, arm hanging over the sofa with his hand resting on the floor.

“Al doesn’t like much of anything.”

She giggled again, nodding like it was funny, like it was a joke.

“He doesn’t.”

Wayne looked at her. Her curls were tied up at the top of her head messily, flying every which way, falling in her face, and her eyes were glassy. She looked younger than she usually did, and Wayne hated how much it was true that she was mature for her age. She was just a kid, especially compared to Al and Wayne, but she was older because she had to be. She didn’t have a choice.

“Judy, sweetheart,” he said softly, leaning over, and she looked at him. He called her that a lot. She was a sweetheart, and she knew it wasn’t meant to be anything it wasn’t, knew it was purely platonic. “You know you can leave.”

She’d blinked her eyes at him, half-smiling.

“You know I can’t,” she whispered.

“Judy…”

“I hate him,” she said, nodding, her eyes almost vacant, and she’d never said it before. She and Wayne both knew it, but it was never spoken aloud. Never acknowledged. “I do, but I can’t leave him.”

“Why not?” he asks seriously, leaning closer. Al snored away. ”You can leave, Judy, you have no reason to stay here.”

“Wayne, I don’t have a family,” she says softly. “My brother doesn’t talk to me, my parents don’t talk to me, y’know, they left town. I don’t have any friends. I got nowhere to go.”

He was quiet, and his heart split open a little bit. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need somewhere to go, that it was okay to just hop on a bus and ride it until she found somewhere to stop, but he didn’t. Knew how she would argue, because he argued it himself when he was just a little younger than she was.

“I hate him,” she said again, leaning closer. “But I love him so much, Wayne.”

“How can you love him, Judith?” he said tiredly. And she looked at him.

“You know.”

He looked at her.

“He’s my blood, Jude,” he said quietly. “I can hate him all I want, that don’t change that he’s my brother. You got no ties to him ‘cept whatever this is,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward Al.

Judith looked at him. She sighed, her eyes flickering with something Wayne couldn’t quite read.

“You ever been in love, Wayne?”

He scoffed.

“You know I ain’t got time for that.”

She sighed again, setting an elbow on the table and propping her chin on her palm. A curl fell in her face, and she blew it away absently.

“He’s ruined me, Wayne,” she said, whispering. “I don’t have space in me for anyone else.”

Wayne’s chest ached. He wanted to cry.

“Not even yourself?” he whispered.

She smiled sadly, tilting her head like Wayne was being cute, like she was fond. And she shook her head.

“I’ve never liked myself much,” she said. “But he makes me feel beautiful.”

“You are beautiful, sweetheart,” Wayne said adamantly, leaning closer. “But you deserve so much more than what he gives you.”

She looked at him, her cheek squished against her hand, her eyes sparkling. She looked older than she used to, like Al had aged her.

“That’s nice, Wayne,” she said. And that was that.

The drugs were bad. Wayne could only watch as they drained the life out of her, as the sparkle in her eyes faded.

She got pregnant after a few years. She sat Al and Wayne down together in the living room to tell them, and Wayne stared at her as Al let out a laugh.

“‘S not a joke, Al,” Judith said tightly, looking at him from where she stood in front of them, wearing one of Wayne’s flannels that hung down to her knees, her arms wrapped around herself. “I’m serious. I— I haven’t been to the doctor, but I’m, like, a month late, and I’ve been sick, and I…”

“Find a doctor to get rid of it,” Al said, lifting his hands like it was obvious, and Judith looked at him seriously, her eyebrows furrowing.

“I’m keeping it.”

“No, you’re fucking not.”

”Yes, I am,” she said adamantly, crossing her arms, her shoulders hunched uncomfortably.

“Why the hell would you keep it—”

“Because it’s my fucking baby, Allen.”

“It’s mine too,” Al snapped loudly, standing up and looking down at Judith. She pursed her lips, setting her jaw defiantly. “You think I wanna fuckin’ baby?”

“Allen, shut the fuck up,” Wayne yelled, and Judith and Al both startled, looking at him, wide-eyed. Al turned away, burying his face in his hands as he swore under his breath, and Judith glanced at him before looking back at Wayne. “Judy, c’mere.”

She sniffled, moving to sit on the softer table across from Wayne, who moved closer, sitting on the edge of his seat and held his hand out. Judith was trembling as she slid her hands into his, looking at him anxiously.

“You’re sure?” he asked softly. She nodded, her lip quivering. “Okay.”

He took a deep breath. Ran his thumbs over her knuckles.

She waited. Al watched.

“You gotta stay off the drugs,” Wayne said, looking into her eyes again, raising his eyebrows and nodding, prompting her into a response, and she nodded. “Keep that baby healthy.”

She nodded again.

“We’ll go to a doctor,” he said, nodding with her. “Figure out whatever we need to.”

“Okay,” she said. Her voice wobbled, and she looked like a teenager again, and Wayne ached.

She fell asleep early that night. Wayne pulled Al into the living room, holding him by the front of his shirt.

“You’re off the drugs too,” he said firmly, looking into Al’s eyes, and Al tried to push his hand away, scoffing.

“C’mon, Wayne—”

”Look at me,” Wayne snapped, pulling him in roughly by the fabric of his shirt, and Al stared at him, eyes wide. Wayne had never gotten physical with him. He’d yelled, and he’d dodged Al’s hands, but he’d never retaliated, never initiated like this. “Every fucking cent you spend on drugs is going to this baby, you understand me?”

“Wayne.”

“Every penny, Al,” he said firmly, his voice shaking, his throat tight. “You fucking got me?”

Al stared at him. His breath smelled like cigarettes. He nodded.

Wayne shoved him away, forcing him to stumble back, and he took a shaky breath.

“You forced her into this life,” he said, his voice thick. His eyes were burning. “And you forced her to stay, you hear me? You owe her fucking everything.”

Al didn’t say anything. He got drunk that night, drunk enough to confess to Wayne that he never loved Judith. That he just thought she was pretty, that she was naive enough to stay. That he couldn’t kick her out when her parents abandoned her, not when she gave him those doe eyes of hers. Wayne told him to shut up.

Judith’s pregnancy went smoothly for the most part. Wayne did everything he could for her. He mentioned in passing that his sister-in-law was pregnant to his co-workers, who were so taken by the small insight into Wayne’s otherwise private life that a few of them scraped together a care package: diapers, baby powder, some second-hand toys and a stroller. When they dropped it off at the trailer, Judith cried.

There wasn’t time to get her to the hospital when her water broke.

Wayne had done as much research as possible just in case, and he still felt so fucking lost. Didn’t know how to help her, how to comfort her as she screamed and wailed and sobbed for God to have mercy on her. She’d cried Al’s name, and he came to her. Held her hand and pressed kisses to her knuckles, and he looked scared when Wayne looked up at him from between Judith’s legs. His eyes were wide, glassy like he was crying, looking at Judith like he was in awe, and even in the heat of the moment, even as he pulled a human body from Judith’s, Wayne knew he’d never see Al like that again.

Edward Samuel Munson was born at sunrise. The sun shone on him as he cried for the first time, wrapped in his mother’s arms, tiny and pink and covered in blood, wailing as she whispered brokenly to him, face sparkling with tears.

My baby, my baby, my baby, my baby, my baby…

Wayne was too old to be sitting on the floor, but he did anyway, leaning against the coffee table with his hands hanging in his lap. They were covered in blood, glistening in the sunlight. It was under his nails, seeping into the lines of his palms and his fingerprints, and he didn’t think he would ever get rid of it.

He looked up at Al. He was rubbing his face, covering his mouth, anxiously, the same way Wayne did.

“Al,” Judith choked, finally looking up at him. “Look at him, look at our baby— Isn’t he beautiful?”

Al slid off the sofa to sit next to her, his arm around her, and he looked at the baby in her arms like he was scared of it.

It could have been a beautiful image. It should have been a beautiful image. Mother and father. First born son.

But there was a pit in Wayne’s stomach, deep and vast, and swallowed his insides whole. He felt fucking sick, the smell of blood and piss in his nose, soaked into the blanket he and Judith were atop. He was shaking.

Judith was rambling like she was high, muttering under her breath to Al.

“Look at our son, he’s so beautiful. That’s our baby, Allen, ‘s our boy. God, look at his hair, Allen, look at his little nose, oh my god…”

Al looked at Wayne, and their eyes met. And Wayne wanted to say something, wanted to tell him that it ends with them, whatever fucking curse has plagued the Munsons for generations. Munson men meeting nice girls from nice families with nice futures, and ruining them. Having boys and leaving them behind.

Munsons always have boys. There aren’t any aunts on their father’s side.

Wayne had wanted to say it. This ends with us, you understand? We’re both fucking sticking around for this boy, for Judith.

But Al’s never been one to make promises, much less keep them.

Judith slept early. Al went out.

Wayne looked at little Edward, asleep on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. He was a tiny thing, squishy and pink and skinnier than Wayne had expected. The doctor that had come by said he would fatten up after some breastfeeding.

The silence felt deafening after everything. Wayne could hear himself breathing.

He sat there until his entire body hurt, his joints and muscles stiff, but he didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to leave the baby alone. Didn’t want the baby to feel alone.

He traced the seams of the blanket wrapped around the baby lightly before he let his hand fall to rest on his belly, feeling it rise and fall slowly with every breath, and his entire body ached. This little baby, so precious and sweet and tiny. He didn’t deserve what this life was going to give him.

Judith went to the doctor a lot after having the baby. Not just for her body. She’d changed, in her head. She was quieter than she used to be, kept herself tucked away in the bedroom or in the corner of the sofa while she fed the baby. But she didn’t look at him the way she did when he was born.

She looked at him. Not gazing, not admiring. Staring blankly, analyzing. Glaring.

“He doesn’t like me,” she told Wayne one day while Al was out.

“What makes you say that?”

The baby was in an old bassinet, staring up at the ceiling like it was something beautiful, his hands waving in the air.

“I just know,” Judith said, looking down at her lap and picking at her nails. “He doesn’t smile at me.”

“He’s still learning to smile, Judy,” Wayne told her gently. “Be patient.”

She didn’t say anything.

Wayne went with her to the doctor. Nonclassical depression, he said. It happens to mothers after childbirth sometimes, he said. Be patient with her, he said.

Wayne did his best. Brought her tea and books when she wouldn’t get out of bed, brought the baby to her to feed him, to hold him, to bond with him. She did her best. Wayne knew she did.

“He won’t stop crying,” she whined one day after calling Wayne back into the room to take the baby. She looked exhausted. She looked old.

“That’s all he knows to do,” Wayne said quietly, picking the baby up and cradling him to his chest, rocking him absently as he sat on the bed beside her.

The baby stopped crying. Judith started crying.

“He hates me,” she sobbed. “Why does he hate me?”

“He doesn’t hate you, sweetheart,” Wayne said softly, touching her arm, and she leaned into the touch, crying as she fell against him. He held her. She drifted off, her tears soaked into Wayne’s shirt.

He stayed still, holding the two of them, listening to them breathing, feeling their warm breaths on his neck. He could feel their heartbeats. They felt small.

He lowered Judith when he heard the front door open. Laid her down as carefully as he could, holding the baby to his chest, and he went to find Al, who was kicking his shoes off, holding a brown paper bag.

“Al.”

”Hm?”

He was off. A little tipsy, or a little high. Wayne couldn’t tell which.

“Sober up,” he said. “‘Nd go hold your girl.”

”What’s wrong with her?”

Wayne stared at him in disdain. He brushed his thumb back and forth over the baby’s back.

“She’s depressed, Al.”

Al had sighed. Dropped his bag. Went to the kitchen to make coffee and rinse his face with cold water.

She started using again around the time Edward started walking.

Little Eddie. Hobbling around like a drunk, eyes bright and shining, arms outstretched as he toddled toward Wayne, sitting on the ground with his hands out. Eddie made his way over and collapsed against Wayne’s chest with a healthy giggle, and Wayne smiled in a way that made his cheeks feel sore. He looked at Judith and the smile faltered.

She was looking. Picking at her short fingernails. Her gaze was blank, almost unsettling, and Wayne looked away, back at Eddie, forcing his smile to widen, clapping when Eddie did.

Wayne watched the light fade from her eyes again. Watched her become quiet and distant, watched her become a shell of the girl she used to be. And he couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or the depression or some vicious combination of the two, but he didn’t think it really mattered.

His girl was disappearing right before his eyes, and nothing he did helped, nothing he did mattered. He couldn’t save her.

And it broke his heart that Eddie never knew any different. Never got to remember the way his own mother’s eyes shined at him with love, the way she murmured to him. My baby, my baby…

Eddie grew up. He knew his mother as Mommy, then Ma. Wayne picked him up from daycare, and Eddie showed Judith his colorful drawings, beaming brightly, and she looked at him.

That’s all she did. Looked.

Eddie was undeterred.

He was such a creative kid. He loved color, loved music, loved dancing. He danced funny, wiggling this way and that, eyes closed. He liked the same music as Wayne. He read books, and Wayne wondered where it all came from, all his brains. He loved the library, always had at least three books checked out at a time.

And he never seemed to pay any mind to the looks people gave him in town. He barely even seemed to notice.

And those fucking looks. Stares and glares and scowls. Menacing. Wayne noticed them, of course he did. He was a Munson. The looks were for him too.

Everyone in town knew who they were. Wayne had to pay the price for his stupid brother’s reputation.

But it was worth it to see Eddie’s joy at little things: new books in the library, colorful wildflower along the road, new shirts, hand-me-downs from Wayne’s coworkers whose own children outgrew them. Eddie was such a happy kid. He brought his mom picked flowers even though he knew she wouldn’t react to them, ranted and raved about his favorite books to Wayne.

Wayne may not have been meant to be human, but Eddie was what humans were meant to be.

He was loud. He was bold and bright and everything Wayne could ever want him to be. He missed Judith’s smile, missed her doe eyes, and Eddie was blessed with both. Wayne wanted to keep Eddie smiling as long as he possibly could.

Eddie got quieter when he was in elementary school, and Wayne could only watch as he became sullen and angry. As he came home from school with fresh bruises and torn jeans. As his shell grew harder and he grew colder and meaner. And Wayne was reminded that Eddie was a Munson.

Wayne could never bring himself to act like his own father, who told Wayne the bullying and harassment were his own fault. He could have changed his own appearance, his own mannerisms, to make people leave alone. To make them think he was normal. Wayne knew what it was like to live behind a mask. He didn’t want Eddie to dull and fade the way he did.

But even though he never said it, Al did. Sighed heavily when Eddie came home with a black eye and said, “What’d you do now?”

“Nothin’ he could’ve done could warrant something like this, Al,” Wayne had said, beckoning to Eddie to analyze the wound, looking at the way it was swollen and already flushing with color. “You tell a teacher, Ed?”

”Nobody cares,” Eddie said sullenly, knocking Wayne’s hand aside as he reached up to touch the skin.

“Go get the peas from the freezer,” Wayne said, watching him go.

Even when Eddie was quieter, he was different from the other kids. He looked at things differently, in a way Wayne didn’t know how to explain, even to himself. Eddie’s eyes were wide and almost vacant even when he was paying attention, even when he was focused. It was unsettling in a way to most people. Not to Wayne. Never to Wayne.

The trailer became quieter than it should have been with four people. But Al and Judith were always high, and Judith wasn’t giggly and silly when she was high anymore. She was almost catatonic, eyes half-shut as she stared at the ceiling, her hair frizzy and unkempt, a little bit matted because she never brushed it anymore. Eddie was used to it. Talked to her even though she wouldn’t respond, even though she just looked at him blankly, like she didn’t even recognize him even though they shared a face.

“I’m going to the library,” Eddie said after icing his face for a few minutes, and Wayne watched him go again, watched him put his shoes back on and let the door swing shut behind himself.

“Swear that kid’s a faggot,” Al muttered. Wayne clicked his tongue and reached out to smack the back of his head.

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Forgot how soft you are.”

“Shut up, Al.”

“Am I wrong, though?” Al said, scoffing. “He’s a pansy.”

“Shut up,” Wayne said again. “Doubt he even knows what faggot means.”

“I’m sure he knows deep down—”

”Allen.”

Al scoffed again. Lifted his hands in surrender.

Wayne’s always hated hearing him talk like that. Al used to accuse him of being one himself, insisted that’s why he’s so sensitive about it. Wayne always just told him to shut up.

Eddie was just a kid. His parents didn’t treat him like one.

“Hey, Uncle Wayne?” he asked a while later, looking over the table at Wayne, who looked up at him, raising an eyebrow and humming. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Mm, ‘course.” His voice was muffled around the pencil between his lips, and he lay the newspaper down to focus on Eddie. ”Go ‘head.”

“…What’s a faggot?”

Wayne blinks at him.

“Why do you ask that?”

Eddie pushed his hair back. It looked like Judith’s, dark and curly and beautiful. It was overgrown, too long for a boy. Not that Eddie ever cared.

“I heard Dad call me that,” he said quietly, like Al was going to be on the other side of the door across the trailer, listening. “Heard you say I didn’t know what it meant. What’s it mean?”

Wayne looked at him. Twisted the pencil in his fingers.

“I know he doesn’t like me,” Eddie said softly, his fingers tangling. His pencil had been set aside, next to the scraps of old homework he was drawing on the backs of. “I know it’s a mean word, I just… The boys at school call me it, too. Do you think they know what it means?”

Wayne stifled a sigh, looking at him. His cheek was healing, the bruise colorful and softer now than it was the previous week, and he was precious.

“Some of them, maybe,” Wayne said gently. “Bet a lot’ve ‘em don’t.”

“Why do they say it, then?” Eddie asked, tucking his legs between himself and the table, frowning.

“They know it’s mean,” Wayne said. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Eds, okay?”

“I don’t use words if I don’t know what they mean.”

“You’re smarter than the rest of ‘em,” Wayne said, looking at him across the table seriously, and Eddie gave him a beautiful smile, bright and warm. “Now, fifteen across, hm? ‘Eye for an eye, for instance.’ Fuck’s that mean?”

”Revenge?” Eddie said after a brief moment of contemplation, and Wayne took a moment to count the boxes.

“Goddamn, I don’t know where you get your brains, kid.”

Eddie beamed.

Al and Judith got worse. They lost weight. Their skin dragged, marked with scratches and scabs, their teeth became grey and yellow, and their eyes dulled. They got meaner.

Wayne tried to keep everything as normal as he could for Eddie, but he knew over the years that he couldn’t protect him from everything. He would come home before Eddie got out of school to clean up after Al and Judith, to gather discarded needles and bottles and lighters, to open windows and get fresh air in. To tug their unconscious bodies to the bedroom from the living room. To clean up any bodily fluids or stains.

It was a Wednesday when it went differently. Wayne had long dreaded the day that his routine changed, scared to come home to unresponsive bodies, but it was different than he’d expected.

Al’s car was out front, the trunk open, and as Wayne passed by, he could see boxes in the backseat. Judith was in the passenger seat, asleep or unconscious, her hair covering her face, and Wayne lingered for a moment just to look at her. She looked younger when she slept.

The door was hanging open. Wayne went inside hesitantly, pulling his bag off, looking inside. Al was at the kitchen counter, stuffing cans into a duffle bag.

“Al?”

“Mm.”

“What’s going on?”

“We’re headed out.”

Headed out, he said. Like they were going to get groceries or gas, like they were going for a walk or to see some friends. Like they would be back, like they weren’t leaving.

“Headed out,” Wayne repeated, dropping his bag and setting it aside. Al hummed affirmatively.

Wayne trained himself out of high hopes a long time ago, but he couldn’t help the small glimmer that formed in his chest.

“Headed out to… to rehab, or…?”

Al scoffed. Shot a look up at Wayne and kept packing.

“Al,” Wayne said. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” Al said with a sigh. “We’re just going.”

Wayne looked at him.

He looked so light, he sounded light. He sounded almost fucking hopeful, like he was going on some grand adventure, he sounded like he did when they were kids, when he whispered to Wayne, I swear to the good lord.

Wayne didn’t recognize him anymore. He looked somehow older than Wayne did, his hair a mess, his skin rough and scratched away, his bones brittle. He’d wasted away his life like this, years and years tossed aside just for fix after fix after fix. And Wayne’s eyes burned. Because his little brother was a mess. Because he couldn’t do anything about it.

“You’re leaving,” Wayne said. “Like Dad did, you’re just— you’re just going?”

“Yeah,” Al said lightly, nodding, like it was fine. “I’m leaving.”

“What…”

Al glanced at him. Zipped up his bag. Started toward the door. He was already wearing his shoes. He wasn’t wearing a jacket even though it was cold out.

“Wait, st— stop,” Wayne said, stepping in front of him, stopping him. “Christ, Al, just…”

He rubbed his face in exasperation, and Al sighed heavily, like Wayne was wasting his time.

“Wayne, just get outta the way.”

”No, you— What? Christ, Al, you’re just fuckin’ going? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Al said. “I’m done here, Wayne, I hate this town.”

“You hate this town,” Wayne said. “The town I fuckin’ brought you to because you begged me to get you outta Tennessee? The town I fuckin’ paid for you to come to when we were kids, you fucking hate this town?”

“I was sixteen,” Al said firmly. “I didn’t wanna come to fuckin’ Indiana, Wayne, I wanted to get away from the woman that beat me with an empty beer bottle every night—”

”I got you away from her,” Wayne yelled. Al startled back.

Wayne’s never been loud like this. Never yelled or screamed, never fought back so hard. But he was willing to fight now, willing to find what little energy he had to fight for Al and Judy.

“I brought you here,” Wayne said. “I saved my fucking money for two fucking years to bring you with me, Al, and you just wanna fucking go?”

“Jesus, Wayne, yes.” Al was red-faced. “I just wanna fucking go. Christ.”

“How can you do this to me?”

“I don’t fucking care, Wayne.”

Wayne looked at him. His throat was tight.

“Fuck’s that mean?”

“Christ.” Al dropped his bag and looked at Wayne intently, grabbing him by the shoulders. “I don’t why I gotta tell you this, but apparently I do. Wayne.”

“Al,” Wayne said pleadingly. Al ignored him.

“I don’t care if I hurt you, Wayne. I don’t care if I break your damn heart, because I’m not a good fucking person.”

”Al.”

“I’m not gonna fucking change,” Al snapped, letting go of him, his voice raising abruptly, and for a brief moment he looked like John. “I didn’t change for Judith, and I didn’t change for my own fuckin’ son, Wayne, what the fuck makes you think I’d change for you?”

He shoved Wayne back by his shoulders, and Wayne stumbled, looking at him desperately. And Al’s anger faded just as quickly as it had come, and Wayne realized with a pit in his stomach that he was high.

“I’m a damn Munson, Wayne,” Al said.

He said it almost sadly, an unchangeable fact. His eyes, usually dull and lifeless, were shining now like he was going to cry, like he was feeling this, whatever this was.

“So am I,” Wayne said quietly.

Al smiled a little, tilting his head almost fondly.

“You’ve always been different from the rest of us,” he said. “Don’t think you were meant to be a Munson, Wayne.”

He let go of Wayne and bent down to pick up his bag again, swinging it over his shoulder. He moved to walk past Wayne, opening the door.

“Leave Judy,” Wayne said desperately, turning to look at him, his voice breaking. “Al, just… If you have to go, leave her here, please, she… she’s still got time.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Al said quietly, looking back at Wayne, his hand lingering on the doorknob, one foot outside. “She’s worse than you think, Wayne.”

”Let her get better, then,” Wayne said desperately. “There’s— There’s a good rehab clinic in Indy, I’ve got pamphlets somewhere in here, just stay another night, Al—”

”No,” Al said softly, shaking his head. “‘M not leaving her behind, Wayne.”

Wayne’s lip quivered. That hadn’t happened in a long time.

“You just don’t wanna die alone.”

Al shrugged.

“Maybe.”

“Al, if you walk out that door, I swear I’ll never forgive you.”

Al looked at him.

His gaze was dull again. Vacant. Empty and soulless.

“I know,” he said. “I don’t care.”

Wayne’s vision blurred. The feeling was unfamiliar after so long, after decades of dry eyes.

”You’re leavin’ a boy without a father,” Wayne said as Al headed back out the door, his voice trembling just as much as his hands, his throat so tight it broke his voice.

Al looked at the sky, exasperated, sighing heavily. He stood there for a moment, unmoving, eerily still before he turned around and looked at Wayne.

And he didn’t look like Al anymore. Didn’t look like Wayne’s little brother, the kid that used to call him a sissy and tug on his hair to piss him off. Didn’t look like anyone Wayne knew.

Wayne broke apart. He’d only gone two years without Al in his life, and he didn’t even remember those years. He’d never known life before Al, only known life during him. And Al was looking him in the eye like this, unwavering and uncaring, empty, forcing into his hands a life after Al. And he hated him. Jesus Christ, he hated him, and he hated him more for leaving like this, like their father had, but he loved him too.

“No, I’m not,” Al said softly.

And then he was gone.

The door swung shut behind him, and Wayne couldn’t move. He stared at the door, at the cloudy windows, at the sunlight. It was so quiet.

He exhaled as he turned, looking around the living room. There were needles and rubber bands on the ground next to the sofa, empty glass bottles and discarded cups, scattered leftover traces of Al and Judy.

Wayne’s chest went tight. He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut as tightly as he could, until colors flashed behind his eyelids, and he felt lightheaded. Sick. Shaking, and trembling, and lost. Up was down and down was up and there was a compass spinning aimlessly in his chest. He fell.

He covered his ears with his hands. Pressed his palms into his eyes until it hurt. Lowered his head until his forehead pressed to the floor and listened to himself breathe.

He thought it might have been a heart attack. Thought Eddie would come home to find his parents gone and his uncle lifeless on the ground. He laid flat on his back, looking up at the ceiling, a hand on his chest.

And he cried.

He cried until his face was sore, until he ran out of tears, until his head aches, throbbed under his skull. Until his throat hurt. And he pushed himself up, forced himself into the bathroom to wash his face, into the kitchen to down four glasses of water, and into the living room to clean up.

Just for a little bit, he pretended. Pretended Al and Judy were in the bedroom as he tidied up, gathering the needles into the sharps bin he kept in the kitchen, went outside to toss the bottles in the recycling bin. Threw the rubber bands away. Vacuumed. Sorted the blankets on the sofa.

He was in the kitchen when Eddie came home from school. He could see outside the window, and he watched as Eddie waved to his friend’s dad in the car. Wayne could never remember Eddie’s friend’s names. This one was Jerry or Jeff or Jack or something.

“Hey, Wayne,” Eddie said lightly when he came inside, kicking his shoes off and nudging them out of the way. Wayne looked at him over the counter.

He was thirteen. Lean and lanky and cartoonish. He was growing his hair out after Al shaved his head a few years ago, angry that his boy had hair like a girl’s, and it was wild, falling in his face no matter how much he pushed it back. He’d taken to using bandanas to keep it out of the way.

”How was school?” Wayne asked, his voice rough, his hands shaking as he set a plate in the drying rack.

“Eh.”

Eddie walked past him, down the hall to his parents’ room. He always had a sort of bounce in his step, like he had too much energy to just walk.

And Wayne kept washing the dishes. Heard the bedroom door open and shut. Heard the blank silence of Eddie taking in the empty bed. Heard him come back.

”Wayne?”

”Yeah, Ed.”

“Where are my parents?”

”…They left.”

He set another plate aside.

“Left… to Indy?”

Wayne turned to look at him, and he immediately wished he hadn’t. Because Eddie’s eyes were shining hopefully, almost excitedly, and he looked like Judy.

“I— I saw the pamphlets,” Eddie said quickly. “That you had, the ones for that one clinic in Indy— Did they…”

”No,” Wayne said softly, looking back at the sink, scrubbing a cup clean. “They’re not goin’ to Indy.”

“Oh.”

Eddie was quiet. Wayne rinsed the cup and set it aside. Rinsed the sponge of soap and squeezed all the water out of it. Rinsed his hands.

He looked at Eddie as he shut the water off, and then he wished he hadn’t again. He was looking at the ground, his eyes downcast, his eyebrows furrowed a little like he was thinking, like he was worried about something. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. The hoodie was too big for him, bought with his growth spurts in mind.

And he looked up at Wayne. Blinked. His expression softened like there was a switch in one of his pockets.

“What’s for dinner?”

Wayne set the towel down.

“There’s a pizza in the freezer.”

Eddie smiled.

“Cool.”

They didn’t talk about it. Didn’t mention Allen or Judith, the missing car, the missing clothes and food. Judy took her favorite blanket with her, and Wayne pretended he didn’t miss it.

After time, they felt like a myth. Allen and Judith Munson. (Even if Judith never actually took their last name legally; she might as well have been a Munson. Fucked for life.) They felt like ghosts, haunting the trailer, lingering in every doorway like they were watching, waiting for Wayne and Eddie to just acknowledge them, to look into the air and say hello. They never did.

Life went on. Wayne still led a quiet life. Didn’t tell his coworkers that they’d left, but they all knew anyway. It was a small town, and Al was notorious. His absence was loud.

Eddie got older. Got his first tattoo, a stupid spider on his chest that he was so excited about that Wayne couldn’t even be annoyed or disappointed. Eddie’s smile lit up his entire face, lit up the entire room.

His hair got longer. Wayne’s got scarce.

A kid in town disappeared and was found dead, and then he came back. Wayne didn’t get involved except to partake in the search before the body was found. Another kid went missing, some teenager named Barbara Holland. Her name and face were on the news, a lovely photo of her smiling softly, gazing at something behind the camera. She wore big glasses and her face was freckled, and Wayne’s chest ached for her parents.

“We just want our girl home,” Mr Holland said, his voice shaking, his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Just— Just please, if you know something, if you’ve seen something, please tell us. Please.”

Mrs Holland was crying. Sobbing. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Wayne could tell she was an otherwise very composed woman, her shirt crisp and ironed, buttoned up neatly. She was wearing expensive-looking slacks and shoes, and her wedding ring sparkled. But none of it mattered to her then. She was crying incoherently, holding her husband’s shirt in his fists.

“You think this town is cursed?” Eddie asks. He was older than Barbara, but Wayne ached just the same at the thought of Eddie vanishing like that, disappearing completely.

“What makes you say that?” Wayne said. It was a stupid question. Eddie hummed indifferently like he was shrugging.

“Heard some people sayin’ it. All that shit with the kid that died and came back. Barb. This town’s just…”

He trailed off. Wayne watched as the Hollands clutched at each other as the reporter spoke of Barbara’s last known whereabouts, some rich kid’s house at a little party. Something her parents wouldn’t have known if she hadn’t gone missing.

“I don’t believe in that shit,” Wayne said quietly. “I think people are cruel. And selfish. And cruelty and selfishness are contagious.”

“Barbara is in her junior year of high school here at Hawkins High,” the reporter said, perfectly poised. “She hopes to graduate as valedictorian or salutatorian alongside her best friend. If you have any information to report, please—”

”Don’t ever let them infect you, Eds,” Wayne said quietly. Eddie had scoffed, but he was nodding when Wayne looked at him. “Think that’s funny?”

“Mm. Usually I’m the one people think is contagious.”

Wayne looked back at the television.

“If kindness is contagious, I haven’t seen any evidence yet.”

Eddie scoffed again. The reporter kept talking, rattling off phone numbers to call.

“Would you look for me if I went missing?” Eddie asked.

Wayne’s stomach twisted, and he looked at him again, turning to look at the side of his face. He had freckles on his nose like Judith did. His hair was finally growing out to the length he liked it, and he’d cut himself some bangs that looked unexpectedly good.

“I’d walk through Hell to find you if you went missing, Eds,” Wayne said seriously. Eddie looked at him, blinking like he was surprised. “I’d turn the damn world upside down, you understand me?”

Eddie blinked again. His lips twitched into a little smile, and he nodded.

“‘S nice,” he said quietly, looking back at the television. The camera was back on the Hollands, clinging to each other, and the microphone was close enough to them that Wayne could hear Mrs Holland crying under her breath, her voice muffled by her husband’s shoulder.

My baby, my baby, my baby…

“C’mere,” Wayne said gruffly, his throat tight, and he reached for Eddie.

Who usually would make a sarcastic comment that Wayne was too sentimental, too mushy for an old man like him. But he just fell into Wayne’s arms like he was ready for it, hiding his head in Wayne’s chest like he was littler than he was, and Wayne held him until the news ended.

Barbara was dead. If Wayne was a religious man, he’d have prayed for her parents.

Wayne never believed in things like curses, despite the consistent destruction that’s perpetually in the path of the Munsons, but he gradually understood why people believed the curse about Hawkins. Nothing ever went right in this town. Even the new mall, the brand-new symbol of progress and thriving capitalism, was a pile of ash and rubble within two years of its opening.

He stayed out of it. Minded his own, kept out of trouble. Eddie didn’t have the same survival instincts.

He was a stupid kid. Taunted the others in town by making devil horns and cackling like a witch, drawing as much attention to himself as he could to draw it away from the other kids in town that the bullies targeted. He was quiet as a child, but when he started high school, he seemed to realize that he could scare the other kids off.

Wayne knew what kind of person he was. He knew he was sweet and silly and kind, knew he was a darling that didn’t deserve the shit he got.

Nobody else knew him like that.

He was a weirdo, a freak, and he embraced it in a way that Wayne fucking admired. He was so bold, so brave and unapologetic, making the most of what little he had, what little he was given. He wasn’t scared to exist out loud.

It broke Wayne’s heart that everybody had these stupid misconceptions about Eddie. He hated that everyone thought he was scary, even if it kept him a little safer.

People acted like Eddie was dangerous, like he was a ruthless predator, but Eddie was soft. He was sick the first time Al brought home a dead deer, trembling and frozen as he watched its head loll around lifelessly. He trapped spiders and beetles under cups and let them outside, watching them skitter away from him with a smile. He cried when he saw roadkill.

Which Wayne thought to himself as he stood in his living room, his eyes on the body in front of him.

The ground was stained with blood. The poor girl, she was a cheerleader. Wayne recognized her little pleated skirt and her sweater, and her hair was up in a ponytail, and she looked so damn young. Her eyes were open, but they were white, like they’d rolled back into her head, and there were streams of blood down her cheeks. Her jaw was wrenched open, broken and crooked, and her bones were broken like twigs, her limbs split in these awful, unnatural angles.

It was silent. The overhead light flickered. Wayne exhaled shakily.

Eddie didn’t have the guts to do something like this.

But someone did. And they took Eddie with them, whoever it was, they had Eddie. They had Wayne’s boy.

His hands shook as he picked up the phone and dialled 911, and his voice shook as he spoke to them, and then he waited outside with a cigarette, looking at the orange sky, at the rising sun, and he wondered where God was. If He was watching Wayne back.

He was questioned. Of course he was. He’d never caused any trouble around town, but he was a Munson. Al’s reputation lingered even after he was gone.

The interrogation room was cold. His chair was stiff, and the table was wobbly, and the air was foggy with his cigarette smoke.

“I don’t know where he is,” he said for the fifth time, his voice still shaky, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “He wasn’t there when I got home, his van was gone.”

“Right,” the cop said dryly, eyeing his notes. “…So you got back after work, and…”

Wayne took a long drag from his cigarette.

“Opened the door,” he said, eyes downcast, resting his forehead on his hands. “Smelled the blood.”

“Right.”

“Called Eddie’s name. Turned on the light.”

“Right.”

“Saw the girl.” Wayne’s throat tightened. “Called for help.”

”And you didn’t do anything between finding the body and calling?”

“No,” Wayne said quietly. “Took me a minute to… to process it, but…”

The cop hums and looks back at his notes.

“He’s in trouble,” Wayne said after a moment, leaning to look the cop in the eye. “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, no shit.” The cop sighed heavily, and he set his elbows on the table between them, looking at Wayne. “Look. We both know your nephew is capable of something like this—”

”He’s not,” Wayne interrupted. “He’s not capable of something like this, he’s just a kid—”

”He’s a grown man,” the cop said dryly, like he was bored. “I’ve seen him. He’s strong, isn’t he?”

”He…” Wayne squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his cheek. Ash fell from his cigarette to the table, dusting warm over his hand. He wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. Eddie was strong. Always lugging around speakers and amplifiers, lifting the sofa so Wayne can vacuum under it, hugging Wayne around his waist and picking him up to set him out of the way.

“He’s squeamish,” Wayne said finally. The cop raised an eyebrow. “I had an accident at the plant and got some stitches, and he damn near threw up when he saw it.”

“When was this?”

“Last year.”

“Mm.”

The cop sighed, looking at his notes, and he made a face, tilting his head, before he looked back at Wayne, lacing his fingers in front of himself. Wayne lifted his cigarette to his lips.

“Y’know Bundy had a girlfriend,” he said quietly. Wayne blinked, exhaling the smoke shakily, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Fuck’s that gotta do with this?”

The cop sighed, tilting his head at Wayne like he was annoyed that he had to spell his point out, like Wayne was stupid.

“People like your nephew,” he said softly, almost kindly, like he felt bad for Wayne. “They’re good at hiding what kind of people they are. And people can love them, and care for them, and you think you know him so well, Mr Munson, but you don’t.”

Wayne shook his head, his eyes burning, but the cop kept talking.

“He’s been lying to you, Munson.”

“He can’t fuckin’ lie for the life of him.”

”You think that.”

Wayne shook his head again, and he put his face in his hands.

”He might be hurt,” he said quietly, almost muttering to himself. “He’s fuckin’ scared.”

“Mr Munson.”

“Y’all are sittin’ here, letting the town go on a goddamn witch hunt for my boy,” Wayne said, looking up at him. “Because he’s fuckin’ weird, right? Because he’s got long hair and tattoos, he’s gotta be able to kill that poor girl, right?”

“Mr Munson. You know the things your nephew’s done.”

Wayne shook his head. His vision was blurry, and he fought his tears back, his hands shaking so much more ash fell to the table.

“He’s not like his old man,” he said weakly. The cop just looked at him.

“Being like his mother isn’t much better.”

“You never knew her,” Wayne said defensively before he caught himself, shaking his head, pressing against his eyes again. “Eddie’s not like her either, man, he— he’s his own person, he’s a sweetheart, I swear.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Wayne said, his voice finally rising with frustration, with rage. His hand slammed on the table, and the cop just watched, uncaring. “Where’s my fucking son?”

“Mr Munson,” the cop said slowly, carefully, looking into Wayne’s eyes. “I assure you, we’re doing everything we can to find your nephew. Can’t let this happen to anyone else.”

He gestures to the photo on the table between them, the staticky photo of the poor girl’s body, crumpled like a discarded tissue in front of the old pull-out sofa in the living room. Wayne felt sick.

There was something wrong with Hawkins. There always has been.

Wayne didn’t understand any of it, didn’t have any clue how so much fucking bullshit could collect in such a small area, but he couldn’t do anything but wait. There were men that stood at his door at the new house, which was out in the middle of fucking nowhere, just outside Hawkins, but they didn’t speak. Wouldn’t tell Wayne what was happening, wouldn’t tell him why they were there, what they were guarding. They wouldn’t tell him what the scientists were looking for in the trailer with their fancy machines and hazmat suits. They wouldn’t tell him where Eddie was.

One always accompanied him when he went out for anything, following a few feet behind him as he got groceries, and Wayne didn’t fucking understand why. It felt like he was being monitored, like he’d done something wrong.

But the man never intervened with anything. Just watched.

The press talked to Wayne. Recognized him as a Munson and stopped him in the street as he tried to get back to his car.

But they didn’t ask him questions like they asked the Hollands questions when their girl went missing. They didn’t ask him for a statement of some kind, didn’t ask how he was feeling about his nephew having vanished. They didn’t give him an opportunity to look at the camera and beg Eddie to come home.

“Why did Edward do it?”

“Have you seen your nephew recently? Has he contacted you?”

“Where is he, Munson?”

Wayne’s hands shook. This was gonna send him into an early grave, he just knew it. A heart attack, a stroke. Something. And Eddie was gonna home to find that his absence fucking killed Wayne.

Wayne grit his teeth and clenched his jaw and he didn’t say anything.

The house he was in was decrepit. It was bigger than any place Wayne had ever stayed before, two floors, but the stairs were broken, falling apart. Wayne could swear they were trying to kill him.

He was pretty sure it was just an abandoned house. Out in the outskirts of town, broken windows and overgrown weeds crawling their way through the cracks in the porch. A house of wood rot and water stains.

They wouldn’t let him leave.

He tried. Packed a bag with a flashlight and a jacket and his old pocketknife, ready to go find his boy and bring him home, and they stopped him. A hand to his chest, pushing him back inside gently like they felt badly.

He fought. He pushed past them, shoved them aside. He argued and cursed and struggled, but he was an old man. Worry had aged him. They pushed him back inside easily and locked the door shut and they ignored him banging on it, trying to push it open. They ignored him crying.

He hated the house. Hated the stupid door with the lock on the outside, hated the cracked windows that wouldn’t budge even when he pushed and pulled at them with his entire body weight. He hated the cabinets that hung on their hinges and the few cans of food he’d been allowed to bring with him. Hated the empty bedroom across from his, the broken bedframe and the uneven floorboards. Hated the dim, flickering lights and the dark corners in every room.

Hated that the house was in the middle of nowhere, and no one could hear him yelling for Eddie. And he hated that it didn’t matter even if someone did hear him.

It wasn’t until after the earthquakes that they left him alone. That they decided it didn’t matter if Wayne went out and looked, if he searched until he dropped dead.

The earthquakes ripped Hawkins apart at the seams, destroyed the trailer park and turned the library in town to rubble. Wayne sat in his car outside what used to be his home, what was his home for over two fucking decades, and he looked at the ground, torn open almost unnaturally, and he’d never known a despair like this.

His entire life had been ripped up from the roots, turned inside out and upside down. Everything he’d ever had was gone except a few shirts and Eddie’s guitar. He’d taken it when the scientists and military fucks had kicked him out of his own home, kept it in the living room propped against the wall.

He’d never been a fighter. But somehow he was still tired of fighting, tired of running and surviving. He wanted to be done.

He was an old man.

And Eddie was gone. All Wayne needed, all he wanted, all that he had to fight for.

Wayne kept replacing the missing posters, his heart splitting a little more each time he saw the horrible graffiti. Pentagrams and devil horns and pitchforks. Speech bubbles with awful words in them, ugly words with arrows pointing to Eddie’s head.

The school gymnasium felt like an oddly safe place after it all. Everyone there was tired, exhausted, desperate for any kind of solace and quiet that could come with donated blankets and drip coffee in paper cups. None of them really paid Wayne any mind, even if a few of their gazes lingered on him.

None of them spoke to him except the Henderson kid.

He was a good kid. He watched Wayne cry, and he didn’t say anything about it.

Eddie’s guitar pick hung from Wayne’s neck as he took down the missing poster, pulling the thumbtacks from the paper slowly, careful not to rip it even though it didn't matter. Nobody was going to spot Eddie in town and recognize him by his hair or the Dio patch on his vest. (God, he was so excited about that patch. Sewed it into place himself.)

Wayne never washed the blood from the chain. He couldn’t bring himself to hold it under water, to watch it stain the water pink and fade. He kept it, wore it around his neck and took it off to shower to keep the blood, to keep what little he still had of Eddie.

He sat in the living room. Looked at Eddie’s guitar and held the pick and didn’t eat the food he’d prepared because he felt sick, like there was some hollow void in his gut. And he decided that he did believe in curses after all.

Because Eddie Munson got what was coming to him. His punishment just for being. He existed, and he paid for it with everything he ever had.

Wayne forgot what sunlight felt like. He stopped going to the plant, stopped answering the phone, and he wondered if he was dead too. There weren’t any men outside his door, and his coworkers never came by because Wayne never wanted to be friends with them, and nobody knew Wayne lived outside town. He had a phone, but it never rang. He laid in bed and looked at the ceiling and smoked cigarettes and drank beer, and he knew he was destroying himself, but he had nothing to stick around for.

The house was abandoned, and so was he, and nobody would find him for a good long time. The house would become nothing but its bare bones, and he would be the same, buried under the rotting frames and overgrown weeds, and it would be fine.

He wondered where Al and Judy were. If either of them were still around. If they’d seen Eddie’s face on the news and recognized him as their son. If they’d seen his face and not recognized him, if they’d just seen him as some delinquent, too far down the pit of Satanism and revenge.

He wondered if Heaven and Hell were real. Where Al and Judy were, if they’d been separated, or if Al fucked Judy up so bad they managed to stick together. If Eddie’s reunited with them or if God kept them apart for whatever twisted reason He could come up with.

It was unfair that he was the only one that lasted. That he was the only surviving Munson.

He didn’t know what day it was when there was a knock on the front door. Three gentle thuds in succession, unfamiliar after so long. Wayne thought it was November, maybe. Cold and dark and lonelier without Eddie there singing carols as obnoxiously as humanly possible.

He went downstairs, walking unsteadily, holding the crooked handrail tightly as the steps creaked. His shirt hung from his body, too big for him now.

He could hear voices outside. Quiet voices. Low and soft, almost gentle, and he usually would look through a window before opening the door, but he didn’t really care anymore. He opened the door.

The Henderson kid looked older. It had only been a few months, but he was taller now, his hair curly and reaching his shoulders. He held himself differently, shoulders squared almost defiantly.

But he was crying.

There were men behind him, a few in uniforms and one in a professional-looking jacket. His expression was light like he was forcing it to be, like he was trying to be kind to Wayne.

“What’s this?” Wayne said. He hadn’t spoken in months, and his voice was rough and scratchy in his throat. It hurt.

And the kid threw himself into Wayne’s arms, hugging him so tightly it hurt a little, but Wayne found that he didn’t mind. He hadn’t been hugged in months.

“We found him,” Dustin sobbed. “We found him, and he’s alive, Wayne, he’s…”

Wayne grabbed him by the shoulders. Looked at his face, at his glistening eyes, shining with desperation and something unreadable.

“You found him,” Wayne repeated vacantly, his voice hollow.

“He’s alive,” Dustin said again.

He’s alive.

The words sounded foreign to Wayne’s ears, like gibberish. And Dustin waited for him. Looked at him, watched him process it.

“Alive,” Wayne said. ”You said he…”

“I know,” Dustin choked, squeezing more tears out of his eyes. “I know.”

“We have some things to discuss,” the man behind Dustin said, his voice light and friendly, and Wayne looked up at him, blinking blankly. “May we come in?”

“Uhm.”

Wayne’s throat was tight, choked up by the idea of Eddie being alive. His heart beating, wherever he was.

Found him.

Wayne didn’t even know what that could have fucking meant. Found. In the ground, under a house, in someone’s fucking basement. In the cracks that formed in Hawkins, somewhere in one of the trenches around Forest Hills, tucked into himself and shaking, scared. And for some reason Wayne’s mind merged Eddie with Judith. He saw Eddie in a void, lost in the woods, wandering aimlessly, looking for the sky between bare tree branches, and his eyes were empty. Hollow and vacant. They shared a face, Eddie and Judith. The same doe eyes, the same lines around their smiles, even though Judith never got to see it.

In Wayne’s mind, Eddie fell to the ground. His bones were broken, his jaw wrenched open like that poor girl’s, and he was crying blood. And it was more sad than it was scary as Wayne watched, like coming home to find an elderly dog had passed while he’d been away. Like watching a car crash in slow motion, like watching his brother walk out the front door.

And he wondered for the first time in his life if that was what it was like to be not just a Munson, but to be human.

Jesus, he’d given his whole life for this. And maybe that’s what everyone in this fucking town had been doing, too. Not fighting, or surviving, or running, but just existing. Going through the motions. Having families and paying bills and celebrating birthdays, living solely for hope and faith and unavoidable fate.

“Mr Munson?”

Wayne blinked. Looked up at the man again. His hair was grey and white, and his eyes were a bluish green. Dustin was holding Wayne now, not embracing him, but holding him up, supporting his body, because Wayne wasn’t standing.

“He’s alive,” he repeated absently, his voice distant to his own ears.

”May we come inside?” the man said again. Wayne blinked.

“Yes,” he said roughly, forcing the word out, and he shifted his weight to stand, reaching to hold the door frame as Dustin set a hand on his chest carefully, watching him move like he was worried, and Wayne was reminded that he was old. “It’s— It’s a mess in here, I’ve been…”

“Grieving,” the man finished for him, and Wayne looked at him. He was nodding like he understood it. “It’s alright.”

Grief had never occurred to Wayne.

Men like him didn’t deserve grief. He didn’t even know the word until he was older, and he knew less what it meant. But it made sense when the word found his ears as he lingered in the doorway of the shitty dilapidated house that he had grown to accept. He only ever found it within himself to fight back when Eddie was gone. He only yelled when it mattered to Eddie, only cried when he anticipated the breakage of Eddie’s heart. He’d never had the energy to fight until he was this disaster of a human, and that fight in him was rage, and that rage was grief.

Wayne went inside.

The man, Dr Owens, was nice. He was patient with Wayne, who was slow to understand anything at all now. He had another man go out and bring food when he realized how empty the kitchen was, and he brought Wayne a glass of water to sip slowly. Dustin sat on the floor. He was still using the cane he’d had the last time Wayne saw him, and there was a black bandana tied around the handle of it that looked familiar.

It was a crock of shit.

Magic and monsters and all the nonsense that Eddie loved to talk about. Owens explained it all in scientific terms, fancy words and drawn out explanations of how it all worked, and Wayne was tired. He listened, nodding, eyes watching Owens’s mouth because his hearing had started to go, and Owens noticed. He spoke slowly. Carefully.

They were there for hours. Sitting in the living room and talking about everything that proved to Wayne that the sky was empty.

Eddie was at a hospital. Unconscious and unmoving, but breathing.

He wasn’t at Hawkins Memorial. That was too well-known, too busy. The hospital he was at was outside town, was more of a lab, and Wayne was confused by it the first time he stopped by, just a few days after learning of its existence. The building was a damn maze, built like it was created to confuse old men like Wayne. The receptionist eyed him when he stepped inside, pulling off his hat as the rush of heat washed over him, a welcome change from his house.

“Can I help you?” she asked lightly, looking up at him, a phone held between her cheek and shoulder, her glasses tilted.

“Uhm, I’m… I’m looking for Eddie. Munson,” he added, but it didn’t seem like he had to. She nodded knowingly, glancing him up and down again like the trailer park was written on him, and she flipped through the clipboard in front of him.

“You’re Wayne, I presume?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She hummed a soft laugh at that, like his manners were silly, and she rummaged through a little plastic bin next to her before she pulled out a visitor pass and handed it to him.

His name was printed on it, typed out neatly next to the words Name of Visitor, and above his name, Eddie’s. Not just Eddie, but the whole thing.

Name of Patient: Edward Samuel Munson

Wayne hadn’t seen his whole name in a long time. He’d always been the baby, then Eddie.

“He’s in room two-oh-seven,” the receptionist said lightly, and he looked up at her again. “That’s on the second floor, the elevator’s right down this way.”

She gestured down the hall next to them, and he nodded.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She gave him the same soft hum, and he went. Clipped the badge on the front of his flannel and felt it flop with every step he took. The elevator was too bright, and Wayne squinted. He was still waiting to outgrow that.

He’d never liked hospitals. Not that he’d spent much time in them anyway. He could never afford to go with Al. His work paid for his stitches after the accident last year.

He knew the practicality behind the overhead lights, but that didn’t make him like it. They buzzed loudly, ringing in his head, and the floors were so smooth and shiny that they just reflected the lights brightly, and he squinted as he wandered down a hallway. His shoes clicked on the floor, the sound almost echoing around him, and nobody paid any attention to him.

Room 207 was toward the end of the hallway. The door was shut, and a piece of paper was blocking the window, and it was just a door, but it looked oddly menacing. Wayne stood outside it for a moment, looking at the numbers like he was making sure it was the right room.

And he opened the door.

There was a quiet beeping, steady and rhythmic, and the room smelled faintly of rubbing alcohol. Eddie was laying on his back, his body covered with white blankets, his arms at his sides, and he was quiet.

Wayne had expected that, of course. He knew he was in a coma. But it still hit him like a fucking slap across the face. Eddie wasn’t a quiet person. Not anymore. He even snored when he slept. Rolled back and forth and twisted his blankets around his limbs restlessly.

But he was silent here. Still.

His hair was gone. His head was shaved to the skin, and Wayne had forgotten that Eddie had a widow’s peak. The absence of his hair made his face bolder, his features sharper. His eyebrows looked thicker, his eyelashes darker, and though they’d shaved his head, he had stubble on his jaw and above his lip, and he looked old.

There were scars on his face. Shades of red and pink and purple like they were still raw even though the skin wasn’t swollen or bruised.

Wayne collapsed into the chair next to the bed, rubbing his face, covering his mouth. Eddie was wearing a hospital gown. It had short sleeves, and Wayne could see his arms. Could see the flesh that had been torn away and replaced, stapled and stitched into place, could see his tattoos and their missing ink. He’d been ravaged. Eaten alive.

It was going to make him sick. Wayne knew it. Eddie had a weak stomach.

Wayne moved the chair forward until his knees were pressed to the side of the bed, and he leaned forward. Reached for Eddie’s hand. His skin was cold. He still had his calluses.

Wayne was careful to not touch the IV on the back of his hand as he cradled it to himself, lifting it to press kisses to Eddie’s knuckles. He lifted his other hand to caress Eddie’s head, leaning forward to press kisses to his forehead. He lowered his head to Eddie’s stomach, and he cried.

He went to the hospital every day. The receptionist always saw him coming and set his visitor badge on the counter for him, and he always called her ma’am.

It was never easy to see him. To sit at his bedside in silence, holding his hand and watching as the doctors ran tests, taking Eddie’s blood and forcing his eyes open. But everything was normal.

As normal as anything could be.

Wayne found an odd comfort in the hospital. It was warm.

He mentioned this to Owens one day in passing, that the hospital was warmer than his house. That he liked the tea in the waiting room. And Owens’s face shifted into some expression that Wayne couldn’t quite read, something sort of sad.

The radiator in the living room was fixed when he got home the next day. And the kitchen was filled with groceries. Not just canned beans and corn, not just bread and peanut butter, but produce. Leafy vegetables and colorful fruits and meat in the freezer. Eggs and milk and oats.

Owens told him not to worry about it when he asked about it. Wayne still liked the tea in the waiting room of the hospital.

He took to reading to Eddie with some distant sort of hope that he might be able to hear him. Wayne read slower than Eddie did, but he hoped Eddie wouldn’t mind the way he passed between paragraphs to sip his tea and gaze at Eddie’s sleeping face.

The waiting room was always quiet, less busy than the hospital in town, but a few people stopped by. Wayne saw Dustin a few times with a red-haired girl, leading her slowly as she used a cane to feel the ground around her. Wayne recognized her from Forest Hills. Hair like that, of course he’d remember.

Most of the people in the waiting room wore white jackets like doctors or scientists. Wayne could never tell who was who, but he didn’t really care enough to ask. He was there for Eddie.

The tea was chamomile. He had at least two cups of it every time he went, and for the most part, nobody bothered him.

It was dark out when the woman approached him, smiling kindly and watching as he poured the water into his mug.

“Hello.”

He looked at her. She was wearing a long skirt that reached her shoes. The end of it was wet from the snow outside, but she seemed undeterred, her eyes bright and shining. They were blue.

“Hello,” he said, looking away from her gaze. ”Can I help you?”

”I’m not from Hawkins,” she said inexplicably, and Wayne blinked. “I’ve just seen everything on the news and wanted to come by to provide some support.”

He nodded, setting the kettle down and starting to turn away again.

“Is there any way I can support you?” she asks, and her kindness has shifted into some sickeningly sweet tone that crawled over Wayne’s skin and tugged at it. He squared his shoulders, suppressing a shiver, shaking his head.

“None that I can think of,” he said as lightly as he could. “Thank you, ma’am.”

”I can tell you’ve been through a hard time,” she said as he tried to turn away again, and he took a breath. Held it in his chest. Stepped back as she reached for his arm. “And I’ve been through some hard times, too— Would you like to know where I’ve found my comfort?”

“I really wouldn’t,” he said stiffly, shifting, trying to turn away, but she had him fucking cornered.

“My good Lord has provided more for me than I could even put into words,” she said softly, her voice too breathy to be earnest, and she pressed her hand to her chest over a sparkling cross hanging from a chain around her neck.

“God and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms,” Wayne said, losing his patience a little bit. She tilted her head, eyebrows raising.

“So you’ve heard the good word?”

“Heard it,” he said. “Don’t mean I believe it.”

“Well you sound upset,” she said, twisting her voice like Wayne was a child, like he wasn’t fucking older than her. She had to be at least a decade younger than him. Old enough to know when to shut up. “Are you angry at God?”

He paused to look at her. His grip on the mug handle tightened, and his fingernails were pressing into his palm so much it hurt, but he didn’t notice. She waited for him, eyebrows raised, eyes bright and shining like she was hopeful.

Like Wayne was going to roll over and let her be right. Agree with her. Let her baptize him right here and now with his fucking chamomile tea as the holy water.

“God ain’t real,” he said quietly, watching as she blinked and listened to him. It didn’t feel like she was listening. It felt like she was trying to look like she was. “And even if He was, He ain’t done nothin’ for me.”

“What has He done to you?” she asked softly. “Why are you angry, what has He done?”

He clenched his jaw.

“I’ve spent my damn life alone,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. “My brother stole my best friend from me, he ruined her life, and I had to watch. They left me. I raised my nephew myself, and I had to watch while you fuckin’ God-fearing folks chased after him with pitchforks and torches his whole fuckin’ life just because he’s different.”

He saw the realization in her eyes. Saw her recognize him. Her eyes flickered to his visitor pass and saw his name. Saw Eddie’s name.

“I’m sixty-five years old,” Wayne continued, his voice shaking, and his eyes stung again. He hated crying. But he couldn’t stop anymore. His father’s training had worn off, and Wayne’s eyes were making up for the decades he’d spent without it. Without feeling. “And I can count on one hand the amount of people that have helped me. I’ve never found kindness or— peace in someone like you.”

She was holding her cross.

“You fuckin’ seen this town?” he said, gesturing vaguely. She stepped back. “You seen the shit God let happen? You seen how they—they had a fucking town meeting to talk about how cruel my boy is?”

His voice broke. His hands were shaking, and he was going to spill his tea, but he didn’t care.

“My boy, he—he’s in a fucking coma, and he’s sweeter than the rest of ‘em, and they wanted him fucking dead.”

He looked at her. She was blurry in his vision, holding the cross and twisting it between her fingers, and he exhaled sharply, letting his breath out of his lungs.

“That’s all what people have done,” she said softly after a quiet moment, hesitant. “What has God done?”

Wayne blinked his tears back, and he swallowed the stone in his throat, and he loathed her.

“He watched.”

She was quiet, and he left her there, turning to head back to Eddie’s room, and he sat in silence with him, his tea growing cold on the bedside table as he tried to warm Eddie’s hands.

He talked to him. Whispered quietly under his breath like someone was outside trying to listen.

My baby, my baby, my baby…

Henderson came by a few times, and he sat with Wayne. He respected Wayne’s quiet, only chatted if Wayne chatted back. He read out loud more smoothly than Wayne did, gradually becoming more theatrical, and Wayne understood why Eddie loved him so much. He was a good kid.

He made Wayne smile.

It felt unfamiliar on his face after so long, but when Dustin noticed, his entire face lit up in a way Wayne knew Eddie loved.

He introduced Wayne to the red-haired girl, Max.

“Max,” Wayne said softly, nodding even though her eyes were blank, white and unseeing. “I knew that.”

“We were neighbors,” she said lightly, tilting her head.

“I knew that too. How’s your mom doing?”

“Uh,” she said, hesitating, and her hesitation lingered for so long that she let out an awkward laugh. “She’s… She’s managing.”

”Y’all need anything, you just let me know, alright?”

“You too, old man.”

And Wayne had laughed.

”Eddie loves you, don’t he?”

She’d grinned and shrugged, and Dustin looked like he was going to cry.

They went back to school after the new year. The town celebrated the new year with fireworks and celebrations of survival, and Wayne watched them from Eddie’s hospital room. He remembered Eddie telling him that 1986 was his year, and he tried to not be upset about it. Eddie was alive. His heart was beating, and the doctors said he would wake up. Nothing else mattered. They would figure it out.

Usually when the door opened while Wayne was in the room, it was a doctor or nurse coming to just check in. Feel Eddie’s pulse, test his blood, check his eyes, monitor his wounds. Other times it was Dustin, stopping by to sit with Wayne, to read whatever book Wayne was reading to Eddie.

But the sun was just rising, the sky still dark out, just beginning to lighten, and the kids had school. Wayne looked up, his mug pausing on his way to his mouth, and there was a boy there.

He recognized him. He had a familiar face, a little soft and square, wide eyes, a strong nose, spotted with moles. His hair was overgrown in a way Wayne didn’t see often on boys in town, pushed back and tucked behind his ears, and he was wearing a red sweater. He looked out of place.

He was holding flowers. A little bouquet of daffodils, tied with a red ribbon, clutched in his hand.

He jumped a little when he saw Wayne, pausing in the doorway and looking at him like Wayne was going to attack him, like Wayne was something scary.

“Who’re you?” Wayne asked, sipping his tea.

“Steve,” the boy said quietly, shyly. “Harrington.”

“Steve Harrington,” Wayne repeated, closing the book and looking up to look at him. Of course he knew who the Harringtons were. You couldn’t live in Hawkins for forty years without knowing them. “What are you doing here, Steve Harrington?”

“I’m, uhm…” He paused, holding the flowers up and gesturing toward Eddie vaguely. “Just…”

“You know him?” Wayne said, raising his eyebrows.

“I… Not as well as I’d like to.”

Steve’s face flushed a bright red, and he looked at the ground, his hair falling in his face, and Wayne just let out a light laugh.

“Sorry, I…” Steve trailed off, shaking his head. “I haven’t talked to people in a while, sorry.”

“‘S alright,” Wayne said, sipping his tea again and leaning back in his seat. “Figured a guy like Eds is gonna have some strange friends.”

“Yeah,” Steve scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

He put the flowers in a vase. And he sat in the chair next to Wayne, his hands tangled in his lap shyly. Wayne looked at him. His visitor pass was hanging from the end of his sweater, and his jeans were worn, torn a little at the knees in a way that looked incidental instead of intentional like Eddie’s.

He fidgeted, and Wayne looked at his hands. He was wearing one of Eddie’s rings, the stupid mood ring that Eddie claimed looked “mystical,” around his index finger. Wayne didn’t say anything about it.

There was a chain hanging around his neck, and from it hung a cross. It was simpler than the one the lady in the waiting room wore. Steve’s was plain and gold, shining when it swung forward as he rocked back and forth.

“You religious?” Wayne asked, and Steve looked at him, following his gaze to the cross. He scoffed again.

“My parents want me to be,” he said lightly, and Wayne hummed understandingly. “…Are you?”

Wayne hummed again, gazing at Eddie’s hands. He didn’t have the IV in anymore, but the mark had yet to fade.

“God wants me to be.”

Steve laughed lightly.

They were quiet again. Looking at Eddie and watching him breathe.

“I found him,” Steve said abruptly, turning toward Wayne a little, sitting on the edge of his chair. “When we were— When we were down there, we had to… to take care of some stuff. And I found him. He’d moved.”

Wayne nodded, looking at Eddie’s arm. His veins were visible under his pale skin, green and blue and purple and colorful.

“You left him the time before?” he said, looking at Steve.

Steve nodded.

His eyes were glistening suddenly, shining with unshed tears, and Wayne wondered briefly if he just had this sort of effect on people around him. They kept crying. He didn’t mind.

“The gates were closing,” Steve said weakly, his voice tight in his throat, and he blinked tears out of his eyes. They fell down his cheeks almost gracefully. Wayne didn’t really know what he meant by that, but he didn’t care.

He turned toward Steve, lifting a hand and setting it on his shoulder, looking him in the eye.

“Steve Harrington,” he said firmly. Steve looked at him, his eyes wide like he was scared. “You brought my boy back to me.”

Steve took a shaky breath, and he nodded jerkily. His hands were so tight in his lap that his knuckles had paled, and Wayne reached over to take them gently, easing them apart. Steve’s fingernails had carved into his palms, and Wayne smoothed his thumb over them.

“Thank you,” he whispers brokenly.

Steve shook his head, but he was crying too hard to respond, his eyes squeezed shut as he fell forward to hide his face. Wayne moved closer, letting go of his hand and his shoulder, and he drew him closer. Let him fall against his chest and held him as his shoulders shook, as he sobbed. The book in Wayne’s lap fell to the floor, and he ignored it as his vision blurred.

Steve Harrington wasn’t what Wayne expected.

He wasn’t anything like his parents, who Wayne never met personally but saw around town. They were rich fucks, dressed like they were going to tea instead of to the local grocery, and they looked down at everything, eyeing the world from over the end of their nose like they were disgusted by it all. Like they weren’t a part of it.

Steve snorted when he laughed. He sat like Eddie did, drawing his knees to his chest or sitting cross-legged in a chair. He bit his nails, and he actually liked the books that Wayne read aloud to Eddie. Wayne offered them to him for him to read himself, but he declined politely, saying something about a few too many concussions.

He was sweet. He brought Wayne tea from the waiting room, and he brought him lunch from home, sandwiches wrapped in foil or dinner leftover in Tupperware. He drifted off more than Wayne did, dozing while Wayne read. A few times Wayne came into Eddie’s room to find Steve asleep, resting against the bed with his head next to Eddie’s lap, holding his hand, and Wayne let him be.

Neither of them were around when Eddie woke up. A nurse was.

The sun was just starting to rise as he got to the hospital, the sky lightening along the horizon, and the air was misty and crisp in Wayne’s lungs as he ran across the parking lot. He didn’t get his visitor pass. Linda didn’t care.

He stopped in the doorway of Eddie’s room, holding the door open. He was sat up, leaning against the headboard, his hands in his lap, the hospital gown falling off his shoulder. Wayne could see his shoulder and collarbone, and he looked so fragile.

He was looking up at Owens tiredly, nodding as he spoke, but Wayne couldn’t hear anything. He watched as Eddie shrugged, muttering something between his cracked and dry lips, and closed his eyes as he lifted his hand, hesitating before touching his finger to the tip of his nose.

Wayne let out a laugh.

Eddie jumped and looked over at him, his hand falling, and the sun was suddenly shining through the window, golden on Eddie’s pale skin, sparkling in his eyes as they filled with tears and he raised his arms like a child, moving like he wanted to crawl across the bed toward Wayne. Wayne let the door shut, and he was still a little out of breath from running inside, gasping as he wrapped his arms around Eddie and Eddie wrapped his arms around him.

Eddie was weak, frail and thin, and his voice was rough as he sobbed into Wayne’s chest, almost wailing like he did when he was tiny enough to fit in Wayne’s hands. He was trembling, and Wayne was trembling too, running a hand over the top of Eddie’s head. His hair was longer, a little softer, and Wayne couldn’t help but think that Eddie had time to grow it out now.

He kissed Eddie’s temple. Kissed his cheeks and nose. Kissed his tears away. Cradled him like he was a baby again, like he wasn’t a grown man. He rocked him back and forth, and he held him by the wrist to feel his heartbeat. And Eddie fell asleep there, his face pressed against Wayne’s chest, his fingers curled weakly into the fabric of his shirt.

And Wayne cried, and he cried, and he cried, his eyes closed with the warmth of the rising sun on his face as he murmured under his breath even though Eddie couldn't hear it.

My baby, my baby, my baby…

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