#they're all just a bag of anxieties and trauma | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wardenparker · 6 months

Text

Vampire Waltz - ch 5

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Teasing, fluff, Dolly has low self esteem but it's not her fault, Bat Max comes with his own warning. Summary: In the course of one day, conversations turn from right interesting to downright life-changing, as Max starts to learn the truth of your connection from you but also from his sire. Notes: Big revelations are coming, folx! 🎵 Let's have a beautiful picture of the wonderful ballroom this week.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

You really should be paying more attention as Candance and Tracy talk through coven business. The room that you have come to know as the Green Salon in your inherited house is full to the brim with coven members all talking about the food drive they want to help out at for Thanksgiving next month. There are volunteer signups to follow through with and your own can drive to be organized, and you have to admit that this is the most community-focused coven that you've ever been a part of. But still you can't focus. The dreams have been so vivid lately, and they're such a mix of topics – your little bat friend pops up so often, and you haven't dreamt about Yayo in years. And now...now thoughts of Max are starting to slip in between the cracks and you aren't quite sure what it all means.

Mrs. Taylor smiles as she listens to the chattering of the coven. It's been too long since there has been life within these walls. He had been right in assuming that you would bring that life back to the mansion. Knocking on the door, she opens it to find several heads turned her way and she clears her throat. "Ladies, lunch is served."

"Thank you, Mrs. Taylor." Her appearance snaps you out of your daze for a moment, and you lend her a grateful smile. Breakfast this morning was simple because it was just for you, but Renee said that Mrs. Taylor had already been toiling away on lunch from early in the morning. She seems to revel in having people in the house again and you are the last person to want to deny someone the thing that makes them happy.

"Let's go in and we can start planning the masquerade while we eat," Allison suggests, pushing up from the couch that the two of you had been sitting on.

The housekeeper smiles before she disappears again. Aware that he is upstairs and once the meal is presented for the humans, she is going to take him one of the special blood bags that he requests when he is in residence.

The coven has preferred things ‘family style’ in recent years, even when Ms. Brown was a more traditional and formal woman most of the time. So Mrs. Taylor has set the table with bowls of fresh salad, baskets of warm homemade crusty bread, and tureens of steaming hot beef bourguignon. A few of the ladies, Allison included, all groan happily to have Mrs. Taylor’s cooking back. She pulls out a notebook to place at her seat but pauses, allowing herself what she thinks is a private smile when Eddie enters the dining room.

“Is it still alright for me to join you?” He asks, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans and a nervous expression on his face as he looks around. The invitation is a week old and might not still hold, so he wants to check.

"Of course!" Allison leaps up from her chair, even though it technically should be you answering Eddie since it is your house. "I mean, I don't think anyone would mind, right?" She looks around the table and is silently grateful for when the girls easily shift down to leave a spot right next to her own chair for the vampire to sit.

“Of course.” When you echo your agreement that seems to be the end of any debate at all. “We were going to start planning the masquerade while we eat.”

"Oh, I have to admit, I am hoping that I am invited." He tells the coven hopefully, giving them a charming grin. "I have always wanted to go to a masquerade."

“Of course you will be.” Candace pipes up from across the table, where the bread basket is already being passed around. “You live here. It would be awfully rude not to invite you when you live here.” Of course, it’s for Allison’s benefit too. And for you, since you seem a little more relaxed around Eddie than most other people.

"That's good." He makes sure to pass the bread to Allison when it comes his way, not taking one for himself. "Is this - it's going to be a thing that requires dates?" He slides his hands under the table to rub them on his thighs. His hands aren't sweaty anymore, he doesn't sweat, but he is nervous.

"It could be." Allison worries her bottom lip as she takes a slice of warm bread and passes you the basket. "What do you think, Dolly?"

"It...it doesn't seem nice to make it mandatory," you admit, taking a slice of bread and passing the basket along again. You can't imagine anyone in the world would be your date to such a thing and you would hate to be excluded from the night for something like that. Especially, like Candance said, with it being held in your own house. "But dancing is always fun with a partner."

Eddie nods, sensing that you don't like the idea. "Then we should make sure that it's not required to have dates, but maybe the guest list is even to make sure everyone is paired up when it comes to dancing."

“Like dance cards?” The salad is making its way around now and once more Eddie passes it on while he listens to you. “As in…something old fashioned? Dance cards for everyone who wants one?”

“I don’t know what it would be like, but I love the sound of that.” He glances towards Allison and wonders if he can make sure that he is on her dance card more than once.

“Mrs. Taylor brought out some old photographs from past masquerades in the house.” You haven’t seen them yet, but you’ve been told that all the gowns were one of a kind and the men looked resplendent in their costumes. That’s what Mrs. Taylor said, with absolute rhapsody on her face. “A hundred and fifty years ago they would start the ball at ten or so at night, serve supper around midnight, and end the thing with breakfast at sunrise for whoever was left.”

“That sounds perfect.” Of course, Eddie knows why it was held at night, but he’s not going to say anything about that. “Are you thinking of keeping to that tradition?”

“How does it sound to everyone else?” You ask, looking around the table.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea.” Of course, Allison would practically think anything Eddie suggests would be wonderful, but this does sound amazing. “It’s an ode to the past.”

“A return to the Gilded Age sounds fun.” Candace agrees. “We can do themed menus if Mrs. Taylor is okay with it? And encourage historical costumes?”

“I think that Mrs. Taylor would love that.” Eddie agrees. “She loves things like that. It would make her year. And I’ll help out wherever I can.”

“Thirteen of us, plus guests. That’s a fairly big party isn’t it?” You differ to Mrs. Taylor, who has popped into the dining room again to bring more bread like she somehow magically knew the first round would go instantly.

“Invite as many as you like, ladies,” she insists. Her smile is excited and eyes are twinkling like she has a secret she is just bursting to share. “This house can handle hundreds.”

“You could always invite the town as well.” Eddie suggests. “Make it the event of the season.”

“The whole town? Can we do that?” Tracy looks intrigued at the idea and glances around the table. “It could be a hell of a fundraiser, and I know we’re always looking for ways to do more good in the community.”

“It could be a ticketed event.” Eddie muses. “All proceeds going to the coven's charitable works?”

"It actually sounds like a whole lot of fun." The last time you organized any kind of dance or fundraiser was with your dance studios in high school and then in college, but back then it had been a blast to get decorations, refreshments, flyers, and all the necessary things sorted out for big events. It was a sense of accomplishment that nothing else quite seemed to give you. Bringing people together and seeing everyone happy? Your mother called it your hostess's heart, and had always said you would use it to help people one day. This seems like a beautiful way to make her words come true. "Tracy, you work at town hall, don't you? If we need any permits for serving alcohol or having a large fundraiser, would you be able to take care of them?"

“Of course!” Tracy beams at the thought of being able to help in any significant way. “I’ll find out Monday and let you know.”

“What about music?” Allison asks next. Everyone is starting to eat, and people are getting excited. And with Eddie sitting beside her, Allison has to admit that she’s more than a little excited, too.

“You know…..” Eddie tilts his head. “The orchestra group in college has been talking about needing to have more live events.” He sounds out. “To practice. What if I see if they would like to perform?”

“That would be perfect!” Candace lights up at the table and few of the other girls nod alongside her. “Gilded Age theme, right? Maybe we can make it like classical versions of pop songs? Like they did for Bridgerton?”

“I’ll ask them.” Eddie chuckles and nods his head. “It’ll be a challenge that I think they would enjoy.”

“I’ll ask Mrs. Taylor to look out for any old boxes of party decorations from long enough ago to be an inspiration for us. If we’re lucky there will be something in the attic alongside the clothing we borrowed this week. I sort of get the feeling that most things don’t get thrown out in this house.” As always, Mrs. Taylor’s cooking is off the walls amazing and all around the table people are humming happily and enjoying their lunch as the planning picks up.

“The house is basically a museum.” Eddie snorts, sipping his double walled cup. “What could possibly give you the idea they don’t like throwing things away?” He winks at you to remind you that he’s teasing playfully.

"It's a beautiful museum." Every day you spend here, you fall more and more in love with the house. There's always new details to discover. New intricacies in the carvings, new details in the paintings, new trinkets in the cases all around the hallways. "I'm glad everything got kept. It gives it so much more character than all the brand new houses that are just painted white and made of one big room divided by furniture you're not supposed to touch."

Eddie tilts his head, watching you smile, and he thinks about how far you have come since the first time he had talked to you. Even your posture is more assertive, as if you have come into your own skin. He would believe you had been turned if it weren’t for the steady thump of your heartbeat, mixed with those of your coven.

"So when are we doing this?" Allison has her notebook, and in the front is a calendar that is just positively chock full of little notes to herself but she flips open to it anyway. "Can we actually get all of this organized by the end of the month?"

“I’ve already aired the ballroom out.” Mrs. Taylor announces, having just come back from the tower. “As far as the menu goes, you tell me what you would like and it will be done.”

“Mrs. Taylor thinks we can manage it.” And for some reason that bolsters you more than almost anything else. It just makes you wish that you had someone to dance with. “That’s good enough for me.”

“Invitations, tickets will need to be printed.” She muses. “Perhaps an ad in the paper?”

"We can hand out flyers at the farmer's market," Allison nods, glad to see the infectious excitement go around the table. "It's going to be fantastic. I can feel it."

“Since your theme is the Gilded Age, the ink should be gold leaf.” Mrs. Taylor suggests. “There is a printshop in town that Ms. Brown would use.”

"You should take Max with you and check it out." Candace's suggestion takes you off guard and your eyes must get a little wider because she immediately adds, "You know...because he's business guy. Maybe he can make a deal on pricing or something?"

"Oh! I–uh–that's actually not a bad point." You wouldn't have thought to get him involved in any of this at all, but of course Candance is right. You have no head for business and that's literally all Max does. "I'll ask...see if he has any time to spare."

“Did I hear my name?” As if on an invisible cue, Max appears in the doorway of the dining room. “Ladies, ladies, speak my name and I shall appear.” He flashes everyone a charming grin but he smirks when his eyes fall on you. “Queenie, you are looking radiant, have you been plotting?” He asks playfully before he hides the one side of his mouth facing Mrs. Taylor. “I think you can take her.” He faux whispers loudly and winks at you.

"We were working out the plans for the Samhain Masquerade," you admit, probably the only one in the room who doesn't see the way you light up at Max's little joke. And only because you're too busy hiding a small laugh.

"Join us." Candance could not possibly be grinning any more widely and immediately shuffles her chair to one side to make room next to you for Max to pull up a chair.

Max looks over the food that is on display and grimaces slightly. “I’ll sit, but I couldn’t possibly eat.”

"Have an early lunch at the office?" Eddie guesses, a slight smirk going along with his raised eyebrow. He has a much stronger stomach for human food than Max does and doesn't mind still indulging in a bloodless meal from time to time.

“Lunch with the bosses.” He agrees, patting his stomach over the vest. “So what are you thinking? Aerobatic performers? Jugglers? Fire breathing?” He waggles his brows as he smirks at the table.

"We were talking about a theme." Having him sit next to you makes you suddenly hyper aware of yourself and you take a sip of your drink. "Making it an old fashioned Gilded Age thing with classical versions of modern music, food served overnight, and elaborate masquerade costumes. Even selling tickets and donating the proceeds to charity."

“That sounds fun.” Max chuckles. “Everyone will shit themselves to get exclusive tickets.”

“And we’ll be taking a poll of every guy who buys a ticket to find one good enough for Dolly,” Tracy adds, wondering how Max would react to that idea after seeing the way he had marked you at the Mabon bonfire. They had all seen it, and all understood that you had no idea it was Max. Which only makes the whole thing more fun.

That makes the grin slide off Max's face. Just for a split second before he forces his lips to twist up out of the pout that had taken over before you could notice. He's not going to make you think that he is controlling, not with the way you react to everything. "That's a tall order." He settles for a slight grumble in his voice as he leans back in his seat.

“Newport’s a pretty decent sized town, I bet we can make it happen.” She caught the slight slip in his expression and is fucking delighted by it. None of them have ever seen Max actually care about another being and it has the few of them that talked about it convinced that he must actually be feeling things for you. “We’re going to make sure her dance card is completely full.”

"Good luck." Max snorts, crossing his arms and trying to look smug rather than worried that he might not spend any time with you. It's a feeling he doesn't like. "She's not going to enjoy the stomping of the men who think they can dance because they took lessons when they were twelve and haven't trod a dance floor since."

“Well,” Allison’s head tilts in curiosity and she affects a fully innocent expression as she shrugs her shoulders. She knows you don’t like to be the center of attention but this is developing in an interesting direction. “I suppose it would be different if our girl had a date for that night.”

It feels like Max is being led somewhere and he really doesn't like it. But the idea of you having some faceless date that might try to take advantage of you, or hurt your feelings has Max nearly snarling in anger. Body tensing beside you like he's a guard dog about to attack until he hears your heartbeat speed up beside him, anxiety flooding your scent. "That would be up to Dolly." He manages to keep his tone light, almost cheerful. "She might not want one."

“I don’t know anyone.” Your voice is quiet, not liking the fact that there seems to be an argument brewing over you in any way, shape, or form. The only two men you know here are Max and Eddie, and you would have to be blind not to see Eddie’s interest in Allison. “It—it really doesn’t matter anyway.” You insist. “It’s been a long time since I danced.”

"You should dance." Max frowns as he turns towards you, ignoring Allison the second it sounds like you are contemplating not dancing. This is your party, after all. "Do you want to dance?"

“Well…of course I do.” He knows better than anyone that dancing means everything to you. Having to give it up felt like it would kill you. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s not…I mean…I wouldn’t want anyone to feel like they had to ask me. That’s…not okay.”

He wants to roll his eyes at the stupidity of that statement, but he knows you will get upset. No one has to ask you. "You should go with me." He decides easily. "We are by far the best dancers and it's not like it would be taxing to pick you up." He jokes. "I can tell you who will stomp on your pretty dance shoes and who would be a moderately good dancer, though, not nearly as good as I am."

The entire table seems to hold its breath — half of them expecting the invitation and half taken completely aback by it. It’s not like Max Phillips has ever shown any one of them specific attention before. No. He usually hits on an entire room at once and then zeroes in on the most vulnerable. But you don’t know that side of him. You’ve never seen it. Max might be full of himself but he’s reasonably nice to you these days. He teases more than anything else, and you’re starting to learn his sense of humor. “You don’t have to do that.” You tell him, assuming he’s only asking out of pity. Out of some sense that you’re actually as pathetic as you think you are, which is absurd to everyone but you. “If you…if you want to look for someone else..I can be your backup date.” To you it seems like the best offer in the world. The most sensible and the most likely to alleviate whatever sense of duty he might feel toward you as a housemate. “It’s still weeks away. You never know what can happen.”

Max snorts and shakes his head. "I'm thinking about the competition, babe." He scoffs. "No one could keep up and it's better that the best dancers are paired together, right?" He knows he's cocky, that he's brash and the fear that you don't want to go with him strikes a cord that makes him slightly more bold than usual. "I'd rather have the best, and you're the best."

Unconsciously, your head tilts, surprise tempered with a swipe of confusion. “You’ve never even seen me dance.”

“I have.” Max responds vaguely.

“When?” The incredulous question comes out of your mouth instantly, knowing that you’ve danced maybe twice in the last year and neither time was in this house.

Online. That’s the real answer, but he doesn’t want to weird you out. Your competitions had been filmed. Instead he just shrugs and grins

“Well…” Slightly unsettled, you just shake your head and shift in your seat again. “You don’t have to decide now. I’m sure there’s someone else you’d like to take more, and you should be able to.” It hurts more than you expect, the idea that he would choose someone else over you, but you tell yourself to stop being silly. You’re nothing special. You never have been. And Max is…well, you’re starting to see how truly special he really is.

“No.” Max frowns when he hears the smattering of whispers and giggles but he doesn’t focus on that. Instead he’s looking at you. “We’re going together. Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

“I want to.” It’s almost too hurried. Too enthusiastic. But once it’s out of your mouth there’s no going back.

“Then it’s settled.” Eddie says quickly. “Dolly and Max are the first couple for the masquerade.”

“Perfect.” Allison practically holds up her glass in salute. “If you wanted to, I bet we could make some pretty killer king and queen costumes out of whatever clothes Mrs. Taylor finds upstairs,” She suggests instead, having noted that Max seems to be the only one who calls you Queenie.

Max doesn't seem to get the reasoning behind that and hums thoughtfully. "If she likes it. I am easy to dress." He winks playfully. "Killer abs and all that."

“I—I really don’t need to be a queen.” You protest right away, feeling like that would be way too much look at me for one night. You’ve spent so long trying desperately to fly under the radar that you doubt you would even know how to stand out anymore. You’d end up looking like a little girl playing dress up and embarrass Max. And you definitely wouldn’t want to do that. “We’ll figure out costumes along the way.”

Max raises his brow and nods, sensing that you are not comfortable with the idea. Throwing his arm around the back of your chair, he leans in. "Just as long as we can dance, right sweetheart?" His tone is low, just meant for you.

“Right.” Just as instantly as you had become uncomfortable, that one thought soothes you, and in your gratitude you end up looking Max directly in the eyes for maybe the first time ever — there are entire worlds in his deep brown eyes and somehow this is the time you’re discovering it. At the table eating lunch with a dozen other people. “As long as we can dance,” you murmur in agreement.

******

He had spent the afternoon taking care of legitimate business. Things that he had to take care of instead of spending the rest of the day with the coven of witches like he had surprisingly wanted to do. He doesn't mind the witches, having nothing against them and finding them pretty entertaining, but he had really wanted to see you more relaxed, to see the smiles that have become more common now that you have settled in and finding your place.

The ballroom seems to call your name tonight, and you aren’t sure why. Or at least you would never admit to the reason. To say that you’ve been stuck on the thought of dancing with Max all day would feel utterly silly. To admit that you perked up at the mere mention of him while having dinner out with some of the girls from the coven makes you feel like a silly teenager. It isn’t worth it. He’s just being nice, and the last time that a guy was nice to you, you ended up in a decade-long abusive relationship with him. You’re just…you’re not the kind of person who can be in a relationship. Period. So you shouldn’t be daydreaming about it, either. Especially not mere weeks after being kicked out of Derek’s house. But you know damn well that you were emotionally done with that relationship well before the door ever closed behind you.

The thing about vampires is that they are blessed, or cursed with a keen sense of hearing. You would be mortified to know that every vampire in the house could hear you fart in your sleep. Most of them had trained themselves to block out the sounds of human prowling around again. Max couldn't, or maybe wouldn't, would be a better word. Drawn to the quiet strands of "The Blue Danube". Quickly and silently making his way to the ballroom, and to you.

You shouldn’t do it. You know you shouldn’t. Anybody could just walk in, and it’s not as though you are the type of person to show off. Or that you even could show off at this point. But you just can’t resist. The thought of dancing with someone — Max — has been in your head all day and you turn on some music on your phone to take some basic waltz steps around the ballroom all on your own.

He approaches quietly. His ears filling with the strands of the music, making his fingers twitch with the urge to join you when he sees you waltzing around the large, polished dance floor. You are grace itself, floating on air and seemingly carefree as your eyes close and the small smile on your face brightens into full joy.

A few turns around the floor with your eyes closed are all it takes to find your feet and your frame again, and in mere seconds it’s like you’re back in your first rehearsal room with your first real freedom after learning to dance. It’s a return to the easiest and most natural feeling in the world. And then, without even realizing anyone was nearby, someone steps into your frame and sweeps you up in the dance.

"Seamless." Max chuckles quietly as he enjoys the look of shock on your face. Starting to lead you through the steps as the music swells. "I knew that you would be flawless."

“Max…” Pure surprise has his name coming out in a breath of disbelief, but you don’t stop moving. He’s completely right. It was seamless. “I—I didn’t hear you come in.”

"I didn't want you to hear me." He chuckles quietly. "You were caught up in the music." His grin is wide and warm as he continues to lead you through the dance.

“It’s…been a long time.” For all your protests, you never miss a step or fail to follow a lead. Maybe your frame isn’t competition ready anymore, but Max’s hold isn’t demanding it.

"It doesn't feel like it." Max counters, moving you into a dip and smirking when you gasp before he pulls you upright again.

Ballroom dancers will tell you that when you find your perfect partner, it’s obvious. Steps feel surer and your hold feels truer. The rhythm of movement feels more natural. It’s something you had thought wistfully of someday long in the future, sort of the way you thought about your soulmate. Someday my prince will come, that sort of thing. You’re just shocked to be feeling that feeling in your gut when Max pulls you up from the dip. Like your heart has skipped a beat, but that only happens in movies and fairy tales. “I think it’s all down to a strong lead,” you manage, heaping the credit on him where you feel it’s due.

“Not from what I’ve seen.” Max tuts, backing you through the next few steps and leaning in before he pulls you back in the opposite directly. “You carried your partners before. It takes talent to lead and yet make it appear that they are leading.”

“Never managed to find my perfect partner,” you mumble, unable to shake the monumental feeling that yes you have but it’s only just now. “How have you seen me dance, Max?”

“YouTube.” He shoots you a grin, shameless now that he has danced with you. “Your competitions were beautiful and it’s amazing what you will find online now, if you know where to look.”

“I guess so.” It’s not something you ever would have thought to look into, but when you give it even a little thought it makes perfect sense. “Those were…the good days,” you admit. “The best days. Giving it up felt like it might kill me.”

“Why did you stop?” That has him extremely curious because he has seen how talented you are. Even now, every step you take is more poised and confident than the last. Dancing is so naturally in your blood that you are holding a conversation while doing it.

“Gotta grow up sometime, right?” It’s a bullshit excuse. You know it is. But what else can you say? The expression on his face says he doesn’t buy that excuse for a second and you sigh while he turns you both around the room. “My boyfriend wanted me to get a full time job,” you explain quietly. “Being home to take care of the house and make dinner every night meant there was no time for competitions or classes anymore. He— he wanted me at home.”

Max frowns, finding that to be a bunch of sexist bullshit. As much as he might have joked about having the little lady barefoot in the kitchen, normally that meant getting a snack before he fucked her silly and fed from her again. “Well, he’s an asshole.” He snorts, firming his grip on your waist. “You don’t make someone you love give up what they love.”

“It was…a bad decision all around.” As the song comes to an end, another one will begin right afterward, you just don’t know what it will be. The playlist you chose was just marked Classics. “It’s a long story. Not something you need to worry about.”

The urge to compel you is nearly overwhelming, but Max resists. Instead of commanding that you tell him, he just watches you. Letting his silence do the talking for him.

“I thought he was going to rescue me.” It comes tumbling out of your mouth when his eyes fix on yours, and you’re sure that it’s just your imagination that says he wants to know everything. “I had gotten stood up on a blind date and he—my ex— he came up to me at the bar and dried my tears and took me home…and I really thought that he was going to teach me how to grow up. But it’s obvious now how naive that is to believe.”

“Did he hurt you?” Max’s voice is soft, not wanting to scare you, even if he can’t help the darkness in his eyes. The anger that leaps to life at the thought of someone hurting someone as gentle as you are.

“I—” Yes. He did. He broke down who you were as a person and tried to reconstruct you into an automaton who would do only his bidding. And he almost succeeded. “It doesn’t matter now.” The tears that spring up in your eyes are unavoidable, and your feet stop moving with the heaviness that settles on your shoulders. “He got sick of me and kicked me out and then I came here. It’s done.”

A bad dance partner would have stepped on your feet, not able to avoid continuing despite the fact that you had stopped suddenly. Max doesn’t. He sweeps you into a hug that is encompassing. “He was a fool and you are safe here.” Max had wondered why he had wanted you here, now he wonders why he had not brought you here sooner.

It’s such an unexpected gesture, for his arms to lock tight around you, and you really almost break down sobbing right there in his arms in the middle of the ballroom. You find, though, that that isn’t the message that you want to convey to him — or at least it’s not how you want to convey the message. Your gratitude is boundless, but it boils down to just one thing. “I believe you.” Is what you murmur instead, burying your face in his chest as he holds you to him.

He stands off to the side. In a corner where it’s almost impossible to see him. Slippery as the shadows on the walls and twice as deceptive. Strong, white teeth flash in a smug smile. It was working.

The most overwhelming and surprising — well, maybe not most surprising, but it certainly surprises you at first — urge you have in your whole body is to kiss him. He’s never made a single serious motion in the way of wanting you, or being interested in you. He’s never done anything but be polite. But you’re so close to him now that you feel like closer is the only way to be and stepping apart even a little would be agony.

“Queenie…” Out of the corner of his eye, Max sees something. Head whipping up only to find a wall sconce. He had sworn he had just seen a flash of movement.

“I—I’m sorry.” He must have known what you were thinking somehow. Or you must have leaned in without realizing it. Stared at his lips accidentally. Something. But he doesn’t let you out of his arms when you start to pull away self-consciously.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Max looks back at you again. “I’m sorry. I thought I saw someone.”

“I thought…” you look to the doorway too, but there’s no one there. Not even a hint of Renee and her duster. “Thought…nevermind.”

“Thought what?” Max prompts softly, wanting to know what is going on in that pretty little head of yours. Dying of curiosity to know what you think of him.

“That you didn’t…” Your cheeks are burning hot on fire and your heartbeat is somewhere in the proximity of your eardrums rather than your chest, but you shake your head. “I thought you could tell what I was thinking. That’s why I apologized,” you admit finally, when his eyes don’t leave you for an instant.

“I could.” Max doesn’t know what you were thinking, but he’ll figure it out. “I just got distracted.”

“It doesn’t…” It doesn’t matter. It was a thought you’ve had far too many times since sitting and watching tv with him last week and he just doesn’t need to know that you’ve started dreaming about him. That’s…that’s far too much. “It’s nothing. I’m sorry.” You apologize again. If he really could tell what you were thinking then you can only assume how either disgusted or exasperated he is. But for some reason the knowledge that Max Phillips couldn’t possibly want you makes you crack apart like you’re leaving the dance studio all over again.

Max frowns slightly, not approving of the way that your eyes shutter, your shoulders seem to curl around in an effort to protect yourself. It's as bad as if you had flinched away from him, fearing that you would be hit. He slides his hand up your side and cups your cheek. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Queenie." He wants to kiss you, a feeling that he normally would act on, but he doesn't want to scare you. "When the moment is perfect." He decides, murmuring it out loud.

It’s not a rejection but it’s also not a full acceptance, and for some reason the unexpected space between the two things leaves you feeling like you’re in some sort of emotional limbo where all you can do is nod against his hand and try not to look too wistful at the gesture itself. It’s just wishful thinking that has you feeling like you never want him to let you go. At least, that’s what you’re going to keep telling yourself.

There’s a pregnant pause, a feeling in the air that makes Max lean in. Feeling that the moment is now. That he needs to get this urge to kiss you out of his system. Watching you to see if you pull away or panic fills your eyes when the front door opens. Startling him because he had been so entranced by you, he hadn’t heard anyone approaching.

Jumping away from him like a frightened children’s film or cartoon character, your whole face and body are on fire for so many different reasons but you bury your face in both hands and stammer out another vague apology before looking to the stairwell with frozen fear. “Eddie!” His name is a squeak in your voice and nothing more.

Eddie is there in an instant, obviously worried that Max had done something from the look the other vampire shoots him. Making Max narrow his eyes and huff at the assumption. The song fades and the silence in the ballroom settles awkwardly. “Dolly?” Eddie reaches for you. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” He has awful timing, that’s all. But you’re not even sure that Max was going to kiss you. You could have been imagining it. “I—I think I’m going to grab a book from the library and turn in. Good night.” You announce, snatching up your phone and hightailing it to the library as fast as your legs will carry you.

Max huffs at Eddie. “Thanks asshole.” He grunts, rushing off towards the balcony doors that lead out to the gardens.

“What?” Eddie shrugs in complete confusion as you and Max both flee from the room.

******

Heading through the marble hall and into the library, you scoop the first edition copy of Rudyard Kipling’s Rewards and Fairies off the shelf where you left it that morning. It will make for good bedtime reading now that you’ve gone through both books you were reading previously. Quick as a mouse and just as quiet, you rush upstairs to your room with every intention of just locking yourself inside for the night. But there, sitting and chirping on your windowsill, is your little bat friend.

As soon as he had cleared the doors, Max had transformed. Not wanting you to run away from him, but he’s also found that you find comfort in his bat form. It’s interesting considering most are afraid of bats, but you pet him, snuggle him, and talk to him. He flaps his wings impatiently, telling you to open the window to let him in.

“Hey, Cutie.” It’s such a relief to see this little friendly face that what you once just called the bat as a descriptor has now become his name. Cutie is now featured in any number of bat things around your room, like little sketches tucked into the corners of your vanity mirror and the embroidered pillow that you brought home early on. You go to the window to let him in knowing that he will hop right into your hand, and leave one window cracked for him to leave by when he eventually wants to. It’s chilly, but you’re not going to trap the little guy inside the house. That would be cruel. “Were you waiting for me?” You croon, sniffing back tears of anxiety and instead focusing on petting his little head to soothe yourself.

Max chirps, acknowledging that he had been waiting for you, just not as long as you might think. He nuzzles into your hand for a moment before he shoots out of your hand, crawling up your arm and chest to curl into your neck.

“Awwe, I’m sorry I kept you waiting, Cutie.” The feeling of being hugged is as real and undeniable as being hugged by Max just a minute ago and you sniffle again before continuing to scratch the bat’s head. “Please don’t be upset with me…” Though how the little animal could show it, you don’t know. This bat is more expressive than any other creature you’ve ever known. “I…got caught up dancing. Haven’t done that in a long time.” A soft sigh escapes you and you peak down at the bat’s expression of curiosity. “Lemme put on my pajamas and I’ll read to you, okay? You seem to like that.”

Max wants to watch you undress, but even he isn’t that unethical. So he flutters off your shoulder to the chair where you sit every night he comes, reading to him. Landing on the arm rest and fluttering his wings as he folds them up, chattering at you.

It isn’t so much changing as just stripping down a few layers to your tank top, and you replace your jeans with flannel pj pants. You come out of your dressing room far more relaxed and pick up the Kipling from the side table before coming over to the chaise. “You want your nest, Cutie?” Sometimes he likes to curl up in your lap and sometimes he likes to be snuggled against you, but either way you plop down on the chaise and grab your ballet slipper throw blanket to tuck around you.

Max waits until the blanket is on your lap, hopping right into it and looking up at you. He knows you have a soft spot for this version of him, so he plays it up, cooing at you.

“Here we go.” Fixing the blanket so it’s slung over one of your shoulders gives him a cozy place to settle near your collarbone, and you could swear that the little bay must like the vibration of your voice or something because he loves to perch there. “I got us some Kipling tonight,” you tell him, feeling more relaxed by the second. “A little something different than the gothic novels I’ve been reading you.”

Max chirps again, surprised that you are in your pajamas. It’s the most amount of skin that he has ever seen on you. He decides that he will make a lap around you, get the full effect of your comfortable clothing.

“Is that an excited chirp or a chirp of protest?” Either way it makes you laugh. Just a quiet, half-huffed sound, and you open the book in your lap while Cutie takes off around your chair. He seems excitable tonight and maybe you need that. A little positive energy before bed.

You’re beautiful. He’s popping the equivalent of a bat boner from the innocent scene, unsure why you are so irresistible to him. You’re pretty and kind, but so are other women who don’t affect him as badly. Max takes another lap and damn near falls out of the sky when he sees it. Discolored skin, in an unusual grouping. A birthmark. Screeching wildly, Max dive bombs your arm to make sure he’s not seeing things. But it’s there. The matching mark that has been the only blemish on his skin since he had been brought back by his sire. You’re his fucking soulmate.

“You okay, Cutie?” He’s never lost his balance in the air like that and suddenly you’re worried there’s something wrong with the little bat’s wing. Twisting around and scooping him out of the air, you take a careful look at both appendages and don’t see anything wrong.

Those big eyes bug out even more and he squawks as if you could hear him. Soulmate. You. You’re his soulmate. There’s zero doubt in his mind that he knew that. And the fact that he kept it from Max infuriates him. But it also explains why Max was kept here. How long had he known? All of these things run through Max’s mind as he flaps his way out of your hold and immediately crawls his way up your arm to stare at your birthmark again.

"Alright, alright, if you want to hang out back there, you go right ahead." It's a weird choice, but you're the one talking to a fucking bat so who are you to judge? You just let the little guy curl up behind your shoulder and open your book to start reading. The ritual is something that you've started to find immensely soothing so you're going to appreciate every second of it tonight, while thoughts of Max still race through your head. Unshakeable and unwavering.

Just to make sure he’s not insane and it’s not some makeup covering some tattoo or whatever, his little bat tongue comes out to lick at your skin.

"What are you doing?" You twist to look at the bat over your shoulder quizzically. "Not like you can answer me, can you? It's just a birthmark, Cutie. Nothing to be confused about."

Max looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours and his tongue swipe your skin again. Convinced it’s not makeup causing the discoloration.

“What is up with you, huh?” The book goes down to your lap again and you frown a little at the winged ‘pet’. He’s never licked you or anything before. Just nuzzles and chirps or squeaks while he cuddles into you. This is all new.

Max pulls his tongue back into his mouth and climbs up your shoulder, nuzzling your cheek and chirping again. Unable to vocalize the issue, but he doesn’t want you to shoo him off.

"How about I just cover up, then." He climbs back up on your shoulder and you pull the blanket around you, covering the little star-shaped set of marks on your skin that make up your birthmark. It must confuse his little bat mind or something. That's the only explanation you can come up with. "It's just some marks on my skin, that's all." You explain, rather uselessly. After all, what does the bat care? "My skin and no one else's. I used to have tattoos, too. But...well, the person that gave them to me is gone now. So I don't have them anymore."

Max flaps his wings, squawking indignantly. He’s right here. He wonders why he wasn’t allowed to have his tattoo put back. Some kind of punishment?

“You wanna be my soulmate?” Bats don’t have soulmates. Not that you’re aware of. Just humans, some species of monkeys, and some people think that dogs and cats do but that’s just wishful thinking. But then, what is this if not wishful thinking? Talking to a bat is as wishful as it gets. “Okay, Cutie. You can be my new soulmate. Since you’re a little bit spooky and like being read to, I think it’s perfect.”

If he could preen, Bat Max would. Your words soothes him instantly and he cuddles against your pulse, cooing and almost purring happily. You accept his bat form, and that’s half the battle in his mind.

"Yeah?" You giggle softly, glad for the now familiar feeling of the small winged creature cuddling against your chest. "Is that all you wanted? Just my never ending love and devotion?" This laugh is slightly more hollow, and you pet his little head with two fingers as you pick your book up again. "Somebody might as well have it. I don't think I trust myself to actually give it to a human anymore."

Max blows out a breath, actually needing to breath as a bat, funnily enough. He hates the idea that you are so hurt that you wouldn’t trust and love again. You’re too sweet to put yourself on a shelf.

"Just you and me, Cutie." You murmur softly. "That's all I need." Maybe. Just maybe. If you say it enough, it will be true one day. Unfortunately for your heart, though, it's already given itself away. And denying it won't do a single ounce of good.

Max listens to the sadness in your voice, still freaking out because you’re his soulmate and he can’t tell you. How would he explain himself? You aren’t to know that the residents of this house are vampires. On his orders. How would he explain that he has no marks? They disappeared four years ago when he was staked through the heart and turned into a blood splatter on the wall. The only reason he’s here now is because his sire, somehow your relative, took pity on him.

Reading is calming and before long you're yawning between paragraphs and curling deeper into your blanket. When you're on the verge of drifting off you stifle another long yawn and rub two fingers along your little bat friend's head. "I'm glad you came to say hello tonight," you tell the little creature, right before your eyes shut.

Max chirps softly, listening to your heartbeat slow down. Waiting until you are asleep before he moves. Changing back to a human form and watching you. Staring at you in awe, not hearing someone else approach.

He watches as his protégé stares at you. A smile curving his lips and exposing the pointed fangs. He senses the turbulent emotions in the younger man, able to sense what he is feeling since he created him. Linked in an inextricable way. He had hoped to visit you tonight, but he sinks back into the shadows with glee. You are already entertaining it seems.

******

Deciding that it is time for a conversation - not the one Max will want, but the one he will get for now – he disappears back downstairs and settles himself in the kitchen, knowing that Max has a tendency to go for a 'midnight snack' glass of blood before turning in for the night. Sleep is not necessary the way it is for humans, but rest helps to keep vampires strong. And Max is using quite a bit of stamina every night to transform in and out of bat form.

Max whistles as he comes in the kitchen, trying to put on an air of nonchalance as he grapples with the very real knowledge that his soulmate has been discovered. He had watched you for far too long, unable to move until you had shivered in your sleep. Picking you up and carrying you over to your bed as if you were no heavier than a feather, Max had tucked you into bed again. Closing the window like he had before and slipping out of the door to come down to the kitchen. Every step he had been taking away from you being one he was forcing himself to make.

His tendency toward dramatics is well documented, especially by those closest to him, so for him to be lounging in the pitch black kitchen when Max comes in and flicks on the light out of deeply ingrained habit? Well, it should surprise no one. The skies outside have torn open and the midnight rain is torrential, making the scene all the more delightfully gothic as rain pelts the kitchen windows across the room.

“Fucking shit.” Max isn’t afraid of much, but the sight of him appearing has the younger vampire jumping slightly, his dead heart nearly leaping to life in his chest. Relaxing slightly before he remembers. “Why are you here?”

“Business.” He answers, languidly rolling the word over in his tongue and drawing out the hissing sound of the last syllable. “Amongst other reasons.” There are already two glasses of blood poured and he gestures to the other side of the kitchen table for Max to join him.

Max snorts and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t refuse the invitation from his maker. “And does ‘other reasons’ include the human upstairs?”

“She seems to be settling in.” While it’s an observation instead of an actual answer, the older vampire shrugs one shoulder gracefully.

Frustrating, that is what the old man is. Hissing slightly, Max remembers that he also enjoys getting a rise out of people, so he leans back and picks up the glass of blood. “New pet?” He asks.

While he won’t give Max the satisfaction of a sharp reaction, he does set his glass down and let his eyes sweep over the younger vampire appraisingly. “As I understand it, she is the one keeping a pet. Not me.” He’s seen it with his own eyes. And while it’s unexpectedly charming, it certainly does represent a communication issue. “Or is ‘Cutie’ a different resident bat that I’ve not met before?”

It’s only because of the fresh blood that max has ingested that allows the flush to rise up under his skin. “She doesn’t know it’s any different from a regular bat.” He defends himself. How he knows about that, Max doesn’t know, but he always seems to know things he shouldn’t. As far as he knows, no one else in the house knows about his nearly nightly routine.

“She will eventually.” There’s spice in this blood. Something warm and tingling. Mrs. Taylor always somehow manages to provide the best of the best for him and he’s grateful to have had her for the last several hundred years. “One day she’ll know everything.”

“How long have you known?” That is the question that is burning under his skin. He doesn’t elaborate, knowing the elder understands what he is referring to.

“That she exists?” He is evasive by nature. Always has been. And he waves off the question with ease. “Her whole life.”

Max rolls his eyes again, obviously he should have been more specific. “That I am her soulmate?” He clarifies tightly.

“Oh?” One eyebrow quirks up in interest and he takes another sip of blood. “If that were true it would be a most interesting state of being. For you, of course. Entirely inconsequential to others.”

Max frowns, staring at the man who had changed him in college. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That I firmly doubt the soulmate status of one infant vampire will matter much to the general population of mortals in the world.” The immortals, he knows, will take a great interest. They did the last time a vampire and witch were soulmates and they will take an even greater interest this time.

Max takes a sip of his blood. “Stimulating conversation, as always.”

Amused, his sire almost smiles but just the ghost of the expression makes it to his lips. “Ask the correct question and I will gladly answer.”

It’s always a game with him. “What is she to you?” Max demands, leaning forward and his eyes are darker than they should be, directed at his sire.

It isn’t the right question, but it is an important one. One that he isn’t quite ready to answer in full, but he swallows and lets his eyes close for a brief moment. “Now that Cookie is gone, she is everything to me.” It is an honest answer, if not a whole one. And certainly more than he would have given Max at any other time.

Max sighs, aware that he’s not going to get the answers he wants from the older vampire. “What’s the correct question, then?” He huffs. “Since you want to play your little games.”

“What is it you truly want to know, Maxwell?” He tilts his head in curiosity, wondering what the most important question is to his protégé’s beatless heart. The correct question is the one that matters the most — Max has not learned that lesson quite yet.

Max growls, increasingly frustrated and sure he’s not going to get an answer to his question. His maker is some kind of mood and it is impossible when he is like this. “Is she the reason I’m here?” He asks.

“Yes.” Although the question might give Max complicated feelings, his sire’s answer is simple. There is no other possible answer, in fact. “She is the reason for much.”

“Fuck.” Max is aware that the program that he was selected for was very high stakes, pun intended. Most humans were eaten. “Is she-“ he stops, wondering if he really wants to know this. “Is my connection with her the reason I was changed?”

“Partially.” After another sip of blood, his sire chuckles at the purses frown on Max’s face. “You were always going to graduate the program, Maxwell. But she is the reason that I am your sire and not a lesser vampire.”

“Because she’s somehow related to your soulmate?” He still doesn’t know the relation, but that’s because he’s never cared to ask. Not that Mrs. Taylor would spill if he didn’t wish for Max to know.

“Now you’re getting it.” The intention was never to keep the entire truth from Max. Never. But to tell him before telling you? He may be unscrupulous, but he is not uncaring.

“Why does one distant relative matter so much?” Max asks, frowning again. Since his own family turned their back on him, he’s hardened himself against that sort of connection.

“Have you ever known me to be careless in my decisions?” The honest question is not meant to be a trick, but it is meant to make Max think. “Have I not kept my family as close as I am able? And the families of those I have sired?” It may also be ever so slightly evasive, but he will not apologize for that just yet.

One thing Max can say for sure is that he is not careless. But it brings up another question. “Then why have you not brought her here sooner?” He huffs. “She’s been abused, that much is obvious.”

Shame is not a thing most creatures like to feel, and he likes it even less than most. But unfortunately shame is what he must endure, and for once he lets his protégé see the emotion in his face when he finds the younger man’s eyes. “I tried everything in my power to find her before now, but I was prevented. Kept from her. And I will never let such a thing happen again. Not for all the days I roam the endless earth. It is our duty now, to protect her. Yours and mine.”

Max bites his lip and nods. “I don’t know what she thinks of me.” He admits. “She’s more comfortable around the bat than the man. It’s- I’m drawn to her, now I know why.”

“She seemed quite fond of dancing with you.” Which is no small thing, and brings a smile unburdened to his lips. The fluffy pink tutu, tights, and shoes he had bought for an eager four-year-old spring to mind immediately. “Perhaps she ought to be trusted with the truth. That the bat and the man are one.”

Max huffs out a laugh. “And how should I do that?” He asks jokingly. “Just transform in front of her? She doesn’t believe vampires are real.”

A sigh overtakes him. Weary and far more emotional than he would normally let on, but your disbelief at the existence of vampires hurts more than he can possibly say. “She knows, in her soul. In her heart. But her mind has been bound from believing it.”

Max frowns slightly and rubs his tongue over his teeth. “It sounds like you believe she was supposed to be raised in this world.”

“Because she was.” A flash of anger in his eyes has to be tamped down before he says more than he should, but the point is firm. “She was born to it. She belongs here.”

“Okaaaaaay.” Max’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the passionate answer. Sometimes it seemed like Cookie was the only thing the older vampire cared about. Obviously you are just as important, though the connection is still vague. “It’s not like she’s your daughter or something.”

His sire huffs, burying anger and sadness back under mystery where they belong, and shakes his head. “A witch and a vampire having a child? What a fantastical thought.” His tone has turned droll under the guise of heaviness. “That would be the stuff of Legend if it were true.”

Max snorts and sends him a small smirk. “As if you aren’t already a legend.”

“Am I?” That flash of mystery and amusement graces his features and Max’s sire sits back in his chair. “I had nearly forgotten.”

It’s not like he had bragged about it. Max had to learn of his sire’s exploits through the rumor mill that seems to power a college. Even a vamp one. He wasn’t one to boast or rest on his laurels apparently. Max hadn’t known how great the honor of him being his sire was until he was nearly graduated. And just now, he’s learning the reason why he had turned him. “Aren’t you?” Max asks, taking another sip of the warm blood. “Maybe not.”

“If you want to bait someone, Maxwell, go find Eddie and tell him flannel has gone out of fashion.” He chuckles at his own joke, taking the last sip of blood from his goblet. “Understand fully, though, before you leave me tonight. That Dolly is of the utmost importance. She is the only priority that matters.”

The weight of his words settle on Max and he bites his lip before he voices the concern. “Should I- would you prefer that I leave her alone?” He asks, unsure of why he would be giving such an obvious warning.

“If that was my wish, you would never have known she existed.” His sire tells him honestly. “You would not have be among those I deemed worthy of eternal life, and you certainly would not have been brought back after that stunt four years ago.” He shakes his head, wishing now for wine more than blood. Something to temper the emotional rollercoaster he has been on since you were finally located weeks ago. “You have been brought here for her, Maxwell. Endeavor to be worthy of that honour.”

“I don’t think she wants romantic entanglements.” Max admits. “She’s - skittish and I’m….” He trails off and shrugs. With his sire, it’s a lot easier to admit shortcomings. “Not.”

“But it is what you want?” Knowing Max as he does, it takes a great deal of willpower for his sire not to play on Max’s usual cocky side. This is too important for that anyway.

“I-“ Max stops, unsure of how to answer that. He wants you, but he also knows that you aren’t ready for something like that. It’s why he had spent so much time as the bat lately. “For her to be happy.” He decides. How that happiness looks is up to you. He’s already been selfish and he’s paid too high a price to chance it again.

“Good.” There may not have technically been a correct question to ask earlier, but there was certainly a correct answer to this one, and Max has hit on it. “You will tell her the truth soon. She’s made of stronger stuff than whatever she’s been through.”

It sounds like an order, but Max nods. “I hope you are right.” He tells the vampire who had turned him into what he is now. “Otherwise, we ruin the only safe place she has.”

“It is all the stronger for having us in it.” He reminds the younger vampire. “In the meantime, not a word to Eddie or anyone else. Only Mrs. Taylor knows I’ve arrived.”

His brow lifts again, but he doesn’t say a word about it. “Then back to the tower with you.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie

VW: @haileymorelikestupid, @miraclesabound @nastiasnow @vabeachazn @oberynslady @grogusmum @kittenlittle24 @guelyury @8-900 @survivingandenduring

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #Eddie BtVS #Bloodsucking Bastards #soulmate sunday #crossover fic #tw past abuse

168 notes · View notes

paintbrushnebula · 1 month

Text

Me eating dinner and thinking about ghostflower then being hit with the realization that Miles will 100% end up having separation anxiety:

Because like. he will. Gwen comes back after 2 years of him pining and dreaming about her and needing her while he can't even express it all with anyone without them thinking he's completely insane/has an imaginary completely made up girlfriend and you have to wonder if even he has considered the possibility that maybe Gwen wasn't real. Maybe he made up this guardian angel to feel some semblance of safety and security during the hardest most life threatening 2 years of his life. Like yeah maybe Gwen was this elaborate trauma response to becoming Spider Man and mourning Uncle Aaron's death and the stress he had to endure from everything he's going through from his mother and father. Yeah maybe right?

So now imagine his panic whenever she leaves to go somewhere? Whether it's back to her dimension or on a mission. His urge to reach out and touch her whenever he can, just to make sure she's there. So now whenever they're together he's always clinging to her like glue. Clingy and needy and yeah he knows he must look pathetic but he can't help it. So now Gwen's presence has become almost a requirement for him to even feel safe at all.

Mind you, this isn't him being possessive, it's not "where were you ?1!1?1!1?" He's never accusative about her whereabouts or what she's doing. It's just that he now becomes kinda emotionally dependent on her and it just feels so wrong to be apart from her for too long.

Really he just never wants to relive that moment when he was strapped to that punching bag by a scary twisted version of himself, trapped in another dimension with no foreseeable guaranteed way to return home, when he thought had no friends and no family who knew where he was. That moment when he realized that he was so truly truly alone and lost somewhere in the vast infinite unending multiverse.

#atsv #brushneb says stuff #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #miles morales #atsv miles #ghostflower #gwiles #miles x gwen #spiderverse

86 notes · View notes

crvptidgf · 16 days

Text

Bad Blood • pt. V

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

➸ summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, you find it difficult to let go of the past. Your trauma lies deeper than you think. When when you meet somebody who understands your pain, your journey of self-discovery and healing begins to set sail. For once, everything in your life seems to click.

➸ warnings/notes: reader is of romanian descent, afab! reader, mentions of trauma, descriptions of death and traumatic events, profanity, friends to lovers trope, hurt/comfort, eventual smut (18+), trauma bonding, eventual mutual pining, mentions of the golden trio being dicks for the sake of the story

word count: 2.6k

————————

I FELT AN agonizing, nauseating fit of anxiety the next day. I didn't have a chance to talk to the Gryffindors after my little chat about uniting the groups in the common room. Not that I minded - I was honestly kind of dreading bringing the idea up.

Truthfully, I didn't think they would take it too badly. Sure, they wouldn't be ecstatic about it, but I'd hoped it would run somewhat smoothly.

I was wrong.

"You want to what?" asked Ron, the bewildered expression on his face growing by the minute.

"Are you sure that's such a good idea?" asked Harry, his eyes fixed on Ron's.

I sighed, feeling stupid for even suggesting it. I knew they wouldn't like it, but I held out hope that they would at least consider it before saying no. Looking off behind Ron, I caught Theo's eyes across the table. He gave me a reassuring nod before looking away.

"Okay well they're willing to get to know you guys. Why can't you just try?" I mumbled, my mood already dropping.

I felt Hermione lean her shoulder against mine from beside me.

"You know we just want what's best for you."

I quickly stood up, Hermione almost falling over from my brisk movement. I'm not sure what came over me. Maybe it was high time I stood up for my newfound friends, because deep down I knew that if the Gryffindors didn't eventually come around, I was going to have to choose. My house and my blood, or my friends.

"Not all Slytherins are bad! Look at me," I said as I pointed to myself, "I have never done anything to make you believe in all the stereotypes and assumptions - so what is the problem?"

Hermione went to grab my hand but I yanked it away. "It's not that. They're Death Eaters."

I scoffed. "Their parents were. They didn't choose for any of this to happen, so why blame them?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him. I couldn't be bothered to listen to any more of their stupid excuses. I just wanted a peaceful lunch. To be able to sit down and enjoy myself without hearing a rude remark about my house - just for once.

"Ginny's on her way. Tell her I said hi."

With those last words, I picked my bag up and made my way to the Slytherin table. I felt like I could finally breathe as I sat down next to Pansy and Enzo, my shoulders slumping almost immediately in relief.

My phone buzzed in my bag but I ignored it. Instead I filled my plate with sandwiches and continued on like the conversation I just had did not happen.

"Didn't go well I presume?" said Theo.

I only sighed, putting my head in my palm as I picked at the bread in front of me. "What does it look like?" I asked, my tone more harsh than I had anticipated.

Theo threw his hands up in defense, making a funny face at me.

"Sorry," I mumbled, "I guess I just hoped it would go better. Now I feel stupid."

"Alright. None of that," said Pansy. "If they decide to come to their senses - great. But if not, then you always have us."

I chuckled at her statement. Although I appreciated the sentiment, we barely knew each other. "We only met like a day ago."

She scrunched her face up. "So what? Slytherins look after each other. We always have."

I nodded before taking a bite of my sandwich, not even realizing how hungry I was until the flavors settled on my tongue. Nothing would ever top Hogwarts food - even in secondary school it was always my favorite.

"Movie night in the common room today?" asked Theo, his eyes scanning over everybody at the table.

He was met with a bunch of nods and yes's as the group agreed to his idea. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad. I could get to know Pansy, Draco, and Blaise some more - and maybe even extend my friendship to them as well. This would be good for me.

"See you guys then. I've gotta get to class," Theo said as he stood up, beckoning Enzo to join him. "Nothing better than a good ol' lesson from Binns, huh?"

Enzo groaned as he got up, offering me a shoulder pat as he left the table. I finished my sandwich, just barely listening to the conversations around me. It wasn't long before the rest left for their classes, too.

Deciding that I should get some study in, I stacked the plates at the table and began to make my journey to the library. That is, until my phone buzzed. Again.

I pulled it out to mute it, presuming that it was Ginny or Harry texting me - instead I notice Mattheo's name pop up in the notifications.

- - -

My feet carried me up the stairs faster than I normally would, as if they had a mind of their own. The spiral staircase usually felt like a long trek, but today they're surprisingly easy to get through. Maybe it had something to do with what - or who - was waiting for me at the summit.

Heart thrumming against my ribcage, my legs finally got a break as I reached flat ground again. My breathing was erratic, but instead of waiting it out and calming myself down, I kept walking until I saw those familiar brown locks.

Mattheo was leaning against the railings, smoke pluming around him as he stared out onto the castle grounds.

"Fancy seeing you here," I said as I threw my bag onto the floor.

He jumped a bit as my voice broke the silence, but he smiled at me nonetheless, his body relaxing once he saw it was me.

"You want one?" he asked as he raised the cigarette.

I've smoked before, but I wouldn't say I made a habit of it. The only time I really do is when I'm stressed - or sometimes I only do it socially, and right now I would say both of those cases were true.

"Sure, why not?" I reached my hand out as he pulled one out of his pack. I wet my lips before putting it between them.

I felt Mattheo lean over to me, his palm covering the wind away from me before he flicked the flint, his fingers flexing as he did so. Shit. He had nice hands. The flame heated up my face momentarily as the lighter came into contact with my cigarette.

"So," he said, leaning back against the rails, "I uh- I heard about what happened today. I'm sorry it didn't go down well."

I waved my hand dismissively. "It's fine, really. I wasn't expecting much."

My elbows rested against the cold metal as I inhaled the smoke, the slightly familiar burn in my throat bringing back memories of the first time I smoked. Enzo and I were 13 and we had asked one of the older students to get us a cigarette. Not a pack, not two, but one. We took about 2 puffs of it together before we decided to never do it again - the half full cigarette thrown out onto the floor outside. I took up smoking again when I was 17. It was my way of coping with what had happened, but even then I couldn't bring myself to make it a common occurrence - it reminded me too much of the relationship that me and him had lost.

"Yeah? I'll be honest - me neither," he said before mumbling a quiet 'sorry'.

The sun rays beamed against my face as I laughed softly. "It's okay. You weren't exactly wrong..." I trailed off, getting lost in my thoughts. "I don't know. I just wish they tried to understand me more."

Mattheo nodded, flicking his butt off the tower, watching it gain momentum before hitting the ground below. We sat in silence for a second before he started to speak again.

"I get that. Just remember that you can't wait forever for them to change their minds. At some point you have to focus on yourself and find other people who will care about you just as much - if not more."

He was right. But I wish he wasn't. I've been feeling so conflicted as of late. I love my friends, but I'm really liking the new ones I'm making. If I'm not able to be myself around the trio then how will I ever break out of my shell? How will I ever recover from the trauma I endured during the Battle?

"I guess it is nice seeing Enzo again. I missed him... and I don't really like how things were left off between us," I said, my eyes not meeting Mattheo's. I felt too much shame and guilt to even look at him.

I heard him shift beside me. "What happened exactly?"

My brows furrowed at this. I would've expected him to know already; or at least the majority of the story.

"Enzo never told you?" I asked incredulously.

Mattheo shrugged, his body turning towards me now. "I don't think he likes talking about it. He only ever told me good things about you."

I felt a soft feeling settle in my stomach knowing that Enzo always harbored the same love I always held for him. I'm glad that even then, he thought of me as a sister - even when I didn't act like a sister should have. My guilt eased a little bit at this information.

"Oh..." was the only thing I managed to say. "It's kind of a long story."

"I've got time," he said before checking his watch, "30 minutes to be exact."

Letting out a breathy laugh, I threw the rest of the cigarette away before sitting down on the floor and resting my back against the barriers of the tower. I patted the concrete, motioning for Mattheo to sit beside me.

"My parents and his parents used to be really close. Like, I was at their house every summer kind of close - but when they found out that his parents joined the Death Eaters, they started acting like they didn't exist. I had to stop talking to Enzo, and distance myself from the rest of my house. It wasn't safe anymore, everybody's parents were turning to the Dark Lord, so the only way my parents thought to keep me safe was if I befriended other houses and left my friends behind. Including Enzo..."

Mattheo only nodded, urging me to continue. His eyes were trained on me as he absorbed every word I said. It felt so good to get it all off my chest.

"But that wasn't the last time I spoke to him," I took a deep breath and continued, "It was the end of our 4th year..."

- - -

Enzo and I were paired for a project in Muggle Studies - it was something I couldn't escape, and I couldn't ask the teacher to change it no matter how hard I tried.

I begrudgingly made my way to the library where I was supposed to meet Enzo. We were only 14 or 15 at the time. My books slammed onto the table as I sat next to him, feeling weird being beside him after not speaking for almost a full year. It wasn't that I didn't want to be friends with him - but I was scared. Scared of what my parents would say, and scared of what his parents would say.

"Let's get this started," I said as I opened my book.

Enzo's eyebrows knitted together. He closed my book right in front of me, hand resting against the leather bound cover.

"What is your problem?" he asked, his voice cracking as he silently begged me to look at him.

"I don't have a problem," I said as I nudged his hand away and opened the book once again, "I just don't feel like failing this class."

Enzo scoffed, and I could see him shaking his head from my peripheral. "Right..."

It wasn't until after we finished our draft of the project that he started asking me questions again. He ran after me as I shoved my books into my bag, the library doors closing behind me.

"Y/N!"

I kept walking.

"Y/N, c'mon, please," he said, his voice sounding out of breath as he fast walked beside me. "Tell me what's wrong. Why won't you talk to me? I keep trying but your friends never let me get anywhere near your table."

"Maybe you should stop trying then."

His steps faltered a bit before he continued. "Did I do something? Whatever it is, tell me. I can fix it."

I suddenly stopped in my tracks, my head whipping to look at him for the first time in the past hour.

"I don't talk to Death Eaters," my bitter voice came out. Everything in me screamed to stop, to apologize to him and go back to how everything was last year. I missed my best friend, and all I wanted was to feel normal again.

The pain in his eyes made my stomach drop. I couldn't believe I was treating him like this.

"What? I don't understand-"

"Enzo stop! You're just like the rest of them, and it's only a matter of time before you end up like your parents. Don't come crying to me when you have the Dark Mark plastered all over your arm," I whispered the last part at him.

Enzo shook his head, tears brimming in his eyes. "You know I would never - I wouldn't... Just please, listen. I didn't want this, I didn't want any of this."

I screwed my eyes shut as I turned away from him for the last time, ignoring his quiet sniffles as I went to join the Potter group for our free period.

- - -

I let out a shaky breath as I finished retelling the story, my chest squeezing every time I remembered the look on my best friend's face as I practically tore his heart out and stomped on it.

"Wow..." said Mattheo as he took it all in, "That's harsh."

"Yeah..." I said, my hands fiddling with the dead skin on my fingers, picking and plucking at anything that I could.

Mattheo took one of my hands, pulling it away from their attack on my cuticles. He rested it on his lap, his palm laying on top of my wrist before moving it to rest on the back of my hand.

"Don't beat yourself up about it. Everyone was confused and more importantly, scared. Your parents were telling you one thing, but your brain was telling you another. You were only 14 - 14 and dealing with the impending doom of a wizarding war."

I nodded, my eyes starting to prickle with tears as I tried to blink them away. The feeling of warmth spread across my arm as Mattheo inched his hand under mine, flipping my hand over as his fingers came to interlock with my own. He squeezed it tightly.

As his thunb rubbed across the back of my hand, my skin grew hot with each graze of movement against me. "Now don't cry sweetheart, we still have a movie night to go to," he said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Theo's movie taste better not suck," I said, my voice still wobbly from the tears threatening to spill.

Mattheo only laughed as he stood up, pulling me along with him. "No promises."

As me and him left the astronomy tower, our shoulders brushing against each other ever so gently, I noticed that my heart felt lighter than it had in years.

34 notes · View notes

alexanderlightweight · 11 months

Note

I really love that you open for prompts; it’s so exciting to see all the different things people prompt and to see what your mind comes up with.When Madzie feels ready to meet new people, Magnus and Cat take her to a small gathering with Downworld kids. But Madzie just stays with them and won't move around. So they ask her what she needs to feel safe enough to interact with the other kids. She needs her protector; she needs Alec. So next time, they bring Alec as well. (1/2)

okay so there is a second half of this prompt but i can't figure out how to add it to here. this is part of the an extension of you verse and Alec is dragged along because if he isn't, madzie might just create sharknado in rl.

lumine

Alec has already explained to Madzie why he’ll be sitting for most of the outing, especially the start, and she understands it. He’s on a large, colorful quilt that she insisted he and Magnus and Cat create together with her.

It took a lot of magic and the night market and a lot of Alec's bloody fingertips, but they finally have a galaxy quilt with sharks, rays, jellyfish, whales and octopi spread out across it. Alec is carefully unpacking the bag he packed for them, ignoring Magnus’ magic that is eager to help as he carefully sticks a straw into a mundane juicebox.

It does not break this time and he smirks as he sets it down.

Madzie is sticking close, Sharkie Sharptooth held diligently in her hand as she stares solemnly across the playground. Alec reminds himself to stay sitting, because he has to be safe for all of the kids, not just Madzie.

“What’s caught your thoughts?” Alec asks, because they’re exploring the idea that anxiety and trauma are like giant nets that other people leave in the ocean of life. Not Madzie’s fault, but that doesn’t mean she’s not affected by other people being mean and dropping their trash.

As a result, Madzie is very conscious of littering and she and Alec have watched the same ocean conservation movie three times, because she’s stubborn and determined to understand it even thought it’s mostly a documentary.

Madzie looks at him carefully and then points, quietly to the very tall top of the jungle gym that Alec knows she still isn’t comfortable going on by herself.

“We just need to let Magnus know.” Alec reminds her, because it’s not that he’s not allowed to move, it’s that they want the other parents and kids to feel safe and Magnus knows better than he does what works. Magnus smiles at him, softly when he asks and then he personally escorts them — pulling Alec up from the ground and handing him Madzie — and they make their way over to the play structure.

Catarina arrives as Alec is carefully letting Madzie step from his shoulders to grab the handle that will let her pull herself all the way up.

A minute later, Alec is both keeping Madzie from jumping off the top with one hand and a young, small warlock from falling with the other.

“Are you going to hurt me for running into you?”

Alec is asked bluntly and he bites back a tired sigh as he finishes handing Sharkie to Madzie. Then, with the knowledge that she’s safe and secure, he kneels down, making sure to keep his hands relaxed and in view on his knees.

“A shadowhunter’s true duty,” Alec tells the little warlock carefully, “is to protect. But sometimes—” here he hesitates because he’s not sure it’s place to say, but he tries anyway. “Sometimes people are very selfish and they only care about themselves. Shadowhunters forget they’re people too, and that we can also be like that. So they pretend they're still good. At some point, we got really cranky and forgot that we’re supposed to protect people and not just fight all the time.” Alec tries, because he’s not sure how old this kid is but he’s not willing to risk traumatizing anyone under the age of fifteen.

Tiny grey fingers reach out and Alec holds himself very still and lets trembling, rough fingers trace the rune on his throat. It tickles more than it hurts and Alec finds his lips twitching into a similar smile to the one he shared with Madzie as he softens. Kids are so very hard to be stern with and Alec knows that warlock children aren't as innocent as they could be. That they're raised to understand the trials of the world they’ll face, but it’s always so endearing to be around children not raised for war and hate.

“What happens if I see a shadowhunter that’s not you?” The kid asks, curious despite his wariness and the way he presses against Alec's side reminds him of his siblings when they were young and pretending they didn’t lean on Alec for strength.

“Then you should do whatever your parents and teachers have told you.” Alec tells him, “and then remember to protect yourself first. If and only if—” and here he takes a breath, because this is something he has only discussed in theory with the other downworld leaders but this is as good a time as any. “If any shadowhunter ever takes you away, then you tell them that you’re under the guardianship of the High Warlock of Brooklyn, and that his shadowhunter is a nephilim commander, okay?” Alec isn’t enough a of a threat yet, but Magnus always has and always will be and now, Magnus has Alec on his side. “Magnus will come to get you, okay?”

“But what if I’m somewhere warlocks aren’t supposed to be?”

“Then I’ll come find you and Magnus will come to me, because there isn’t a single place in this world that I can go, where Magnus isn’t able to follow.” Alec smiles at that and he touches fingers over his own heart, “there is no magic that can keep Magnus from me, okay?”

The kid frowns but he nods and he reaches out to carefully touch Alec’s neck rune again, “they’re not as scary as I thought they’d be.” He whispers and Alec smiles sadly and pats the sand next to him.

“Do you want to learn what they mean, so you can recognize the ones you see?” Alec offers, because understanding usually lessens fear and he knows from Madzie that marks of power can be very intimidating. Madzie met Alec before Valentine and it’s the only reason she’s not completely terrified of his runes and despite how horrible it was, Alec can’t regret how that encounter went.

When he gets a quiet nod, Alec carefully begins to trace out the most important runes to know. Things that may not seem worth noticing, but can change the course of a fight.

Speed, strength, iratze, the circle rune which should always be run from and Alec is about to trace a fifth rune when Madzie interrupts them.

“Alec—” Madzie calls out and she’s scowling at him, Sharkie Sharptooth in her little fists as she glares at the little boy talking to him. “Sunfish!”

Alec slowly gets to his feet, giving the kid enough time to scurry away but he stays cautiously close. Alec figures it’s fine, since his adult is probably watching, and goes to Madzie. Catarina is here now, a coffee in her hand and a grimace on her face as she glares at the sun viciously. Alec knows it’s only the presence of regular warlocks that keep her from turning the day to an eclipse.

“Do you want— ow, Madzie.” Alec gives her a blank look, eyebrow raised and she pouts, crossing her arms. “Is there a reason High Warlock Sharptooth bit me?” Alec asks dryly and he ignores Catarina’s snickers, knowing this is his own fault for playing along with Sharkie Sharptooth’s sudden promotion three nights ago.

“Sunfish.” Madzie reminds him and despite the fact that she’s being rude, Alec laughs and indulges her. Madzie being rude is something to celebrate, they can figure out boundaries later, once she’s more confident in setting her own and regularly asking for what she wants. Catarina’s eyes are wet, because Madzie rarely is so insistent and Alec smiles at the fact that he’s helped create enough safety for this moment.

“Sunfish it is.” Alec says and he lifts her, and despite how far she’s come, he finds himself wishing that she felt safe enough to squeal and laugh like the other children. Instead, there is a soft gasp of delight by his ear as Alec raises her up and twirls her. There is no magic or runes involved, just is strength and Alec finds himself fifteen minutes later with Madzie still held high as she whacks away other children with Sharkie as he tries to not step on any tails or wings.

“Magnus, if you do not help me, I will be sleeping at the Institute for the next week!” Alec finally bites out as he balances carefully, Madzie with both of her fists in his hair as she holds Sharkie in her mouth and hisses at the children trying to zombie-climb Alec’s legs. If it weren’t for Madzie, Alec wouldn’t care, but he’s reluctant to risk her progress and from the way Magnus nods, he understands as well.

“Well, that’s a threat enough for me.” Magnus drawls from where he’s been enjoying a mimosa next to Cat and he glides over, smirk on his face as he snaps his fingers and butterflies began to fly around the park. Only the toddlers follow the glittering insects and Alec hides a smile as tiny, strong fingers threaten to destabilize him.

“Now, all of you have adults of your own to torment.” Magnus says, giving all the children a raised eyebrow, “run along.If you’re all good, I’ll bring my shadowhunter next time as well. Right now, I want him back.”

Immediately, they dash off. The respect and adoration they hold for Magnus clear as the scamper towards their adults and Alec mock scowls, knowing that there is drool in his hair from where Madzie started gnashing her teeth.

“I am filing a complaint.” Alec says calmly and he winks up at Madzie to make sure she knows he's joking. "The next time we have a spare weekend, Madzie and I are going to the ocean. You and Cat can be on sand duty, if we allow you to come.”

Catarina snickers as she joins them and she hands Alec a coffee that he accepts gratefully and he graciously promotes Catarina from sand duty to merely being a sunbathing bystander.

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #an extension of you #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters

89 notes · View notes

legolasghosty · 7 months

Note

For willex? Smooching them all over the face, because that’s the only thing that gets them to wake up 💕

Willie rolls over in an attempt to avoid the sunlight that is beginning to filter through Alex's bedroom window. Usually Alex closed his blinds at night to avoid this situation, but with the distinct lack of sunshine in the winter, he'd started leaving them open. Which means that now Willie is awake, whether he likes it or not.

The clock on Alex's dresser reads 7:43, so it's not too early at least. And neither of them have to be anywhere today, so they'd talked about a lazy day in.

Willie glances over at their boyfriend, still sound asleep beside them. He's had a long week, they should let him sleep in. Alex's face is relaxed in that way it only ever really is when he's sleeping. Like the anxiety that haunts him every day is but a distant memory, the cares of the world and the trauma of the past merely fairy tales he read in a book. He's so beautiful.

It takes a tremendous amount of self-control for Willie to stop himself from running his fingers through the tangled, golden strands of Alex's hair or brushing his lips against his smooth brow. But they don't. He deserves the rest.

Instead, Willie clambers out of bed, closes the blinds, and heads for the bathroom. Alex is not a morning person, but Willie has learned a trick or two in the years they've been together. First trick: food.

He changes into a pair of sweats and one of Alex's hoodies(not the pink one, that's in the wash still from the...ketchup incident a few days ago), before pulling on his shoes and heading out the door. They don't bother doing anything with their hair. With luck, it will only be 20 minutes or so till they're back home anyways.

Willie breaks into a light jog as soon as he exits their apartment building. It's only a few blocks from home to Moon Pies, their favorite bakery. And he likes to think that the staff there like him and Alex as well. They do pop by for treats on a fairly regular basis.

"G'morning, Willie," the person behind the counter greets when they enter.

"Hey Aspen," Willie responds, grinning. "How's the shift going?"

"Same old, same old," Aspen chuckles, already heading for the bakery case. "The boss is trying out some new cookie recipes later though, so that should be tasty!"

"Oooo, any chance I can get a sneak preview?" Willie inquires, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Well he hasn't made them yet, so probably not," Aspen retorts, chuckling.

Willie shakes his head in mock disappointment. "Well then I guess the usual cinnamon rolls and lemon tarts will have to do."

"Treating your man I see," Aspen says as they pull the pastries from the case and slip them into little wax paper bags.

"First time we've both had the day off at the same time in like two months," Willie admits. "A decent breakfast is the least I can do."

Aspen nodded in understanding. "You guys enjoy it," they told him, accepting his card to pay for the treats. "And tell Alex I say hi."

"Will do," Willie answers, taking the bags and their card.

The little bell above the door chimes as he leaves, the December wind pulling at his hair as he steps outside. They shiver and hurry toward home. While it's not really that cold, it's a bit nippy in just his sweats and hoodie.

It takes a bit of fumbling to get the apartment door open without dropping anything, but Willie manages. He spreads out the fresh treats on the kitchen island and flips on the hot water kettle before heading for Alex's bedroom. Their boyfriend is still asleep when they poke their head through the doorway.

"Alex?" Willie calls softly.

The man in question doesn't stir. Willie laughs and heads for the bed. He tries tugging gently on the blankets tucked in around Alex's (very pretty and bare) torso, but that just makes Alex grip them tighter.

"Lexi, I got breakfast," Willie says, even as he climbs onto the bed, on top of his boyfriend.

Alex groans a bit at the weight of Willie's hips on top of his thighs but his eyes don't open. Willie smirks and leans forward, bracing himself up with one arm on the pillow beside Alex's head as he pecks him on the nose.

"Earlyyyy," Alex moans, the word wrapped up in sleepiness.

"I have cinnamon rolls," Willie retorts. They press another little kiss right between Alex's eyebrows. Then another on his temple, and another up by his hairline.

"'y can wait," Alex mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut tighter.

"But they'll get cold," Willie points out.

He brushes his lips against Alex's eyelids, enjoying the little warm feeling in his chest when they relax against his mouth. They continue their mapping of Alex's face, kissing along his cheekbone, then down to his chin and over to the other side of his face.

They finally give in to the urge to bury their fingers in his hair, all smooth and soft from being washed the night before. Alex hums and turns his head a bit to let Willie trail kisses along his jaw. Willie giggles and takes the chance to brush his lips against the sensitive spot just behind Alex's ear. Alex's breath hitches at the contact and he slowly opens his eyes a crack.

"You're pretty," he mumbles. One hand lets go of the blankets to slide under Willie's hoodie, up his bare back.

"Look who's talking," Willie teases, brushing his nose against his lover's.

"Sunshine," Alex grumbles, the nickname not coming out nearly as annoyed as he probably intended as he cups the back of Willie's neck with his free hand and pulls him into a kiss.

Willie smiles against Alex's mouth and lets Alex tug them all the way down on top of him. Screw every person who ever told them that moving in together would ruin their relationship. How could that possibly happen in a world where he got to kiss Alex good morning every single day?

After a minute though, they pull back slightly. "The food is gonna get cold," they point out regretfully.

Alex groans but nods. Willie rolls off of him and offers him a hand up. Alex seems to consider using it to pull Willie back down onto the bed, but gets up.

"You owe me kisses later for waking me up," he warns as he heads for the bathroom.

"Oh no, whatever shall I do?" Willie jokes. "I have to kiss my beautiful boyfriend some more. What a punishment."

"Troublemaker," Alex teases, turning to steal another quick peck.

"Love you," is all Willie can say when he pulls back.

"Love you too," Alex responds immediately. "Now please tell me you have tea going?"

#legolas tag #julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanfic #willex #alex mercer #willie jatp #look they're in love okay?#I'm just the stenographer #domestic fluff my beloved

27 notes · View notes

arianeemorythethird · 2 months

Text

Thinking about Anakin's characterisation in the clone wars show again and while I very much agree it's badly off from the movies, I think there is actually a way I can make it make sense to me!

Clone Wars Anakin is Anakin as seen from the outside: Clone Wars Anakin is Ahsoka's POV on Anakin.

Ahsoka sees Anakin as the heroic big brother she loves, who always comes through and saves her. He does good - saves people, wins battles, gives her loving and helpful advice - and she focuses on the parts of him that fit with that image, and with her preconceived ideas of what a 'hero' should be.

Conversely the movies are Anakin from the inside of Anakin's own head - tortured, consumed by his own anxiety, feeling every emotion with an intensity dialed up to eleven. And maybe everything he says and does appears cringingly awkward not because it actually is, but because that is just how it feels to be Anakin. He's teetering on the brink of a catastrophic breakdown at all times!

But I think the gap between the Clone Wars and movie Anakin characterisation makes this really interesting, because maybe to the casual outside observer it isn't always obvious that Anakin is teetering on the brink of a catastrophic breakdown.

Obi-wan and Padme's experience of Anakin is closer to movie Anakin, I think, because he is willing to reveal more of himself to them; conversely I actually think it's admirable that Anakin manages (more or less successfully) to hide how intensely fucked up he is from Ahsoka, because a) she's a literal child, she is not equipped to deal with his trauma b) he's in a position of more-or-less parental authority over her, c) they're in an active warzone most of the time and he doesn't want to get her killed because she's distracted by worrying about him, and d) she's a literal child.

The Clone Wars is such a weird mixed bag already, tonally - like it's a silly kid's show with bleak horrific violence, it's riffing off classic wartime propaganda, the morality is apparently very simplistic good vs evil (except we know it isn't), there's those jaunty little morals at the opening of every episode but half the time they're undercut by what actually happens -

But it does kind of make sense if this is all Ahsoka's POV, a child and teenager trying to make sense of unimaginable trauma and responsibility. She can't stop to process what's happening because she doesn't have the tools or experience to do that yet; things just kind of happen to her and around her, but she keeps pushing on through. She believes the Republic is good and war is just and everything is going to be fine because that's what she's been taught (even though the evidence all around her is that things are very much not fine). She believes that because Anakin is loving and protective, because he does good, he must be good. He must be a straightforward uncomplicated hero who's always confident and has nothing to hide, because isn't that what a hero is?

His confidence is a mask - but she can't see that; and if the audience is seeing him through her eyes, then we can't see it either.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #pretty sure everything i've said about ahsoka goes for rex and the other clones too actually #i will die on the hill that rex and ahsoka aren't necessarily the MAIN characters of the clone wars but they are the POV characters #we see the war through their eyes #even when they're not literally part of the scene it's still like... the show is framed by how they would react to and feel about things #to be clear i'm not saying whether i think this is deliberate #or not deliberate #i don't care #i don't care!!!#author is dead baby #this is just what i see #my meta

10 notes · View notes

octocrime · 2 years

Text

alright. (humanized) Octonauts headcanons for day 2. My hands hurt :(

TW: MENTIONS OF INJURY, MEDICAL, MENTAL ILLNESS AND TRAUMA, EMETOPHOBIA, AND EATING DISORDERS⚠️‼️‼️

Captain Barnacles 🐻‍❄️ -

- I actually don't have many for him, but he goes by he/him

- him and tweak are very good friends but tweak scares him sometimes and he wont even lie to you about that

- MLM

-he's autistic and very routine oriented, he's the autistic people go "but you aren't autistic" about unless you yourself are autistic

-he has all his badges displayed in his room and it's one of his comfort items

Tweak 🐰 -

- I will not get over the fact that she's Floridian, transgender she/her

- lesbian, her and dashi talk about girls

- actually on barnacles age level, she has crows feet by her eyes and grey in the sides of her hair

- did y'all know she glows in the dark it's the funniest thing to me???? like why??? why does she glow in the dark???? this is book canon this isn't even a headcanon.

- is certified in welding and has a degree in engineering. She found the classes easier than most should

- Ranger Marsh knows she's lesbian and will often attempt to relate by just,, "hey that girls pretty, you could date that one" which almost always turns into tweak going into a laughing fit

- she still has very keen hearing from her searching for animals with dad days

Peso 🐧 -

- he/they, prefers they most days

- they read manga and NO I won't elaborate, its nestled right in on his book shelf besides they're lengthy medical books.

-medical bag comfort item, often plays with the latches

- flappy hands stim, saying this solely because the flappity flippers exclamation and I'm right

- the noises they make when they bandage are neccesary for focus, no one knows why, it's like a stim for them

- hangs out with kwazii a lot and enjoys his stories, actually very convienent considering they're almost always around when kwazii is injured, which happens frequently

- medical special interest, will go into gross details if you don't stop him

- surprisingly unaffected by gore! It will make him shiver a bit if it's really bad but due to being a medic he can remain pretty unaffected by it

- asian-hispanic, which sounds like a generational trauma nightmare but they're actually doing quite well

- horrible anxiety but actually pretty okay with social anxiety, mostly afraid of getting hurt not talking to people, can actually be very social in the right groups

-pansexual

Dashi 🐶 -

- she/they, bisexual, has a horrible problem with anorexia

- has a bunch of mystery books in a box under her bed that branch out from a bunch from one author to a bunch of random ones

- keeps one of those diaries with a lock on it and is the only person on planet earth who can keep track of the keys for it

- a bit of a clean freak around her bedroom, sprays surfaces every few days and cleans up often

- Tweak has experience with EDs and will often help her through rough spots

- They dress pretty femine but will sometimes wear sweatpants and a T-shirt with no makeup instead

- pretty close friends with shellington, has listened to so many of his marine biology infodumps that they might as well have a marine biology degree.

Kwazii 🐱-

- transgender he/him, MLM

- has horrendous ADHD and can still drive a gup better than shellington

- pirate special interest, he has been a pirate but it's also his interest

- spyglass comfort item, won't leave his room without it on him but still insists it's not a comfort item

- takes the Gup B on rides every few days if it hasn't been used, he doesn't want it to get rusty supposedly

- a menace to tweaks work schedule along with shellington

- plays with yarn, he's like half cat what did you expect

- has a bunch of kids pirate storybooks hidden in his treasure chest

- I don't know if everyone has this, but his treasure chest doubles as a "hope" chest, it's mementos and old memorable things to keep you going, had it since he was a kid and hid a broken glass in it once to not get in trouble, regretted it as an adult.

- said he was tough enough for testosterone shots but had to switch to gel after a month

-tail is permanently bent at the end due to how much it gets messed with

Inkling 🦑 -

- uses a wheelchair while on land or inside but not in the water

- he/him and MLM

- has many degrees, was a professor at a school for awhile

- also has a marine biology special interest but masks it a lot more than shellington

- collected most the books in the library himself, even wrote a few, has some of shellingtons old journals stored in there

- spends most his days living his life as a peaceful old man but will beat the crap out of anyone on sight

- had a chaos streak in high school

- knits and crochets VERY efficiently, made matching sweaters for the vegimals and shellington. Shellington cried.

- basically the vegimals grandpa figure, he reads them stories when shellingtons out

Shellington 🦦 -

- I love him, uses all pronouns besides she but I'll be referring to him as he for convienence

- MLM but uses the achillean flag specifically

- can't drive because he's gay /hj

- has crashed the Gups so often that they have a "days since shellington has crashed a gup" board, his record is 32

- very heavy marine biology special interest, he doesn't masks it and everyone on the octopod listens to him as intently as they can

- infodumps so fast he runs out of breath and foams at the mouth a bit, (I also do this, the spit is not nice)

- will hurt you if you touch the vegimals in a negative way

- vegimals pretty much consider him their birth father! first person they saw out of the egg, quite literally consider him their dad

- he's very good at gardening due to being said father, I mean seriously he can make a mean garden

- has a bunch of science equipment, does leave it laying around the octopod sometimes

- just,, weird tastes, hot sauce on kelp cakes, he has also got fed caramel covered broccoli as a joke and liked it.

- doesn't actually hate touch that much but instinctively flinches away from you when you reach out for him

- likes to test and push his own limits, he has purposely kept himself awake for two weeks for an experiment, he's, a bit odd

- has a diary hidden away in his journal stash

- has a lot of journals! they document a Lot of things

- has a journal on the behavior of people on the gup, he has never shown anyone, he thinks it would be creepy if people knew he watched anyone that close

- great gift giver as a result though

alright that's it! octonauts week day 2, I am so tired, send help or give me the good old old yelled treatment

162 notes · View notes

eldritch-spouse · 2 years

Note

How, what's the best word for it? Confused, yeah let's go with that

How confused would be the clergymen with a monster, that has barely any human heritage, who treats humans with kindness and respect. Who would be absolutely disgusted with what the clergy does?

Although I guess that's Breg already.

[So essentially, a reaction to Breg? Sure.]

How they view Breg's demeanor towards humans

Morell will never really respect humans and shares no particular opinion on the monsters who are especially fond of them. They're exceptionally good prey however, no one can convince him otherwise. From what he's been told of breeders, it's odd that they'd even pay any mind to humans at all. Aren't they incompatible or something? Breg just twists his head is knots, but it'll be fine as long as the guy doesn't try to get in the way of his job.

Gallon finds it so amusing. The guy treats humans like they're innocent, wonderful little creatures. Clever as he is, Gallon reads into Breg's demeanor enough to know something's amiss in his thought process. Something must have happened to have him behave this way. Tsk tsk. It's an erroneous form of thought, humans are usually not to be trusted at all, Breg might learn that soon enough.

Vinnel might make it a game out of scandalizing the breeder. Uhuhu- What an idiot! Awwwe, someone's messing with the precious little meat bags, what a shame... He genuinely thinks Breg needs a wake up call, but wouldn't it be funnier to make him hurt humans by feeding him misleading information? Oh yeah, humans love it when you twist their arm like this, just try it!

Nebul knows better. Breg doesn't care for humans, he cares for an ideal version of them he's actively projecting. It's very rich to have the breeder express disgust, when really, he'd hardly any better himself. Does he actually respect them or does he coo at the like a lunatic at a pet store? Him and the wraith are not so different after all... That being said, Breg stinks of unresolved trauma and Nebul really wants to poke around in his brain.

Santi finds it really odd that, again, a breeding-oriented monster, would grow enamored with a race that he can't impregnate. It's fascinating, if not a bit funny. He feels a small degree of empathy for the monster, since he's not really that gung-ho on torture, but he also doesn't really care about human suffering. Or most suffering. He's from Hell, after all. Part of him thinks Breg is really juvenile in that aspect.

Grimbly is mildly put off by Breg. And, as such, he's going to be a manipulative little snake and say he doesn't hurt anyone. How could he? He's just a tiny little monster, can't you see? He's just a waiter! He definitely laughs about Breg fanboying over humans behind the breeder's back, it's ridiculous how delusional the breeder is.

Patches, putting aside his fervent desire to study a race so close to the siadar, would expend a bit of effort trying to temper Breg's human mania. He was once human before. Humans killed him, Breg. He was put on a guillotine for stepping out of line and learning things he shouldn't. Humans aren't fair or perfect and innocent, they're just as rotten as anybody else, the breeder is a total fool to think otherwise. Cracking that illusion could do more harm than good however, the dullahan is aware of such.

Fank-e also loves humans, so he can relate to Breg on that. They're just neat, right? Though, there's so many of them, lol who cares if his coworkers mess with a few? Come on Breg, there's so many humans out there, don't be selfish! >:[

Sybastian regards Breg in the same way he would a madman, with great distance and watchful eyes. The human fetish is odd, they're clearly meant to be prey, it makes no sense to defy instincts and revere them. For no reason. That's not what he's most concerned about however, the mimic can scent the constant anxiety wafting off this monster, like a barely-controlled frothing dog, and he does not enjoy it at all.

Ludwig thinks it's definitely anomalous of Breg to have such a rose-tinted lens, but ultimately, it's harmless. And that's a lot better than whatever's going on inside The Clergy's walls. In fact, to make up for the atrocities of this establishment, the world needs a lot more monsters like the breeder. Lud will actively encourage Breg's view on humanity and tell him to keep staying far, far away from The Clergy. It's poison.

Belo's not built to pass judgement here. Lessers are creations. What his god does with lessers is correct and allowed, therefore, what his coworkers, operating under Krulu, do with humans is not to be reprimanded either. He doesn't care about Breg's "disgust" towards what is done here, and finds it insulting that he would question the siadar. Clearly, this one is just as much of a filthy good for nothing heretical as the rest of the populous these days...

Krulu is both furious and very intrigued. Breeders are a type of monster he wishes to examine and pick apart further, mostly due to their seemingly unexplained ability to retain siadar genome throughout ages, their cross-species reproduction is fascinating! To see Breg waste it all on lessers, the horrifically flawed poster children of his kin, is enraging in indescribable ways. Breg better stay far away, because he'll never be the same if Krulu ever gets their charred claws on him...

#Morell oc #Gallon oc #Vinnel oc #Patches oc #Fank-e oc #Sybastian oc #Krulu oc #Santi oc #Grimbly oc #Belo oc #Ludwig oc #Nebul oc #Bregory

62 notes · View notes

svndrenched · 2 months

Text

@infernalpursuit sent:

a weird headcanon for ALL of them!!!!!!!! or at least the ones you have most muse for

all of 'em?

Adisse, Ellera, and Hadren - When they were all little, Hadren would scare her younger sisters with stories of dragons and werewolves and draugr and brigands. Adisse grew out of that fear on her own. Ellera took a bit of encouragement.

Alia - Phantom limb pain. And itches. And leg being asleep. It's all still weird, even though the leg has been gone for years. Sometimes she still goes to paint the toenails on that side and is thankful no one else is there to see her do it but her cat.

Anaïs - When she first left the Vault, the first ghoul she encountered, she treated like a friendly face. It was not. Not anymore. Her trauma convinced her that used to be her neighbor, Mr. Sumner. It wasn't.

Arlo - He tried to convince his sisters that the family pet Growlithe was going to evolve and eat them when they were kids. He was grounded for this and doesn't care for Growlithes now.

Asa - They've made countless pipes in their glass blowing class and the professor is too much of a chicken shit pushover to say anything. Their favorite one is a clear blue one.

Baz - Honestly, he's not great at arm wrestling. Something about the angle, he says, but it's bullshit. He's just plain bad at it.

Beam - Once ate someone's pet Saluki. It was an accident and he was stuck picking dog hair from his teeth for days.

Brier - Ask her about the time she got arrested for trespassing. And the other time she got arrested for trespassing. And the other time. She has boundless curiosity and bolt cutters.

Chira - In her Pokémon verse, she's a massive fan of Grusha. When he announced he planned on retiring from snowboarding, she cried.

Dar'jhan - Regularly gets told he's going to get scurvy because citrus fruits give him heartburn. He is terrified of this.

Deacon and Glory - They have a chess tournament at the Railroad HQ when things are quiet. Glory cleans house during this and wipes the crypt floor with those scrubs. Deacon does not.

Empyrean, Thara, and Un-kyong - When Empyrean first got to the Church, Un-kyong definitely started a rumor that she and Thara hated each other. It wasn't true at the time, but it had been brought up enough, it was like she manifested this beef into being. She isn't sorry. Empyrean and Thara can respect the other's grind, but they don't like each other.

Fumiyuki and Hanami - The first time Fumiyuki met Hanami, he scared him beyond his fucking wits. Hanami knows this to be true and terrorizes this poor curse user, just because he can. Something about the voice is scary as fuck.

Gakuganji - He cannot drive. It sends his anxiety through the roof. So while on paper, he is able to do this, in practice, old man's a mess.

Gardenia - She hates sand. Hates it. She has to wash off outside, change out of sandy clothes, and shower immediately. Probably even vacuum afterwards, too. She hates sand.

Hornjolf - Bazulmorz was his gay awakening and now they're in love.

Iruka and Nezumi - Nezumi broke Iruka's nose when they were kids. It was on purpose because he made an ill-timed joke about her.

Itzli and Timofei - These two cardinals are so, so wretched, they schedule a weekly bitchfest just to talk shit about everyone else at the church. When Timofei doesn't forget. And when Itzli decides she wants to go. There are always snacks and a bag of blood for them to split.

Joni - She restored her van herself. Ask her about it! She's proud as hell, okay?! It ran decently before, but with the help of her uncle and Sebastian (despite being an unfriendly shit the whole time) she got it done!

Jupiter - When things went tits up with Team Galactic, she went looking for Cyrus for a while. But it seemed he wasn't entirely interested in being found. Eventually she gave up, and he spent her time learning how to cook. She's not a professionally trained chef by any means, but she can outcook most of my other muses.

Jyspolwynni and Remni - Some fish elves are fishier than others. Remni's gills are more developed than Wynni's, but Wynni has a more otherworldly look that Remni does. Fish elves are weird, man.

Loree - She tutors for chemistry and math, but cannot get the grasp of English and Literature her ap class requires. She's trying so hard and is stressed so bad over this.

Maggie and Zecharias - Based on accuracy alone, Maggie is a better shot with a rifle, and Zecharias is better with a bow. Though he doesn't use it often and prefers his shotgun or revolver.

Mayumi - She had a crush on Yu while they were in school, but she was never his type. Which was a fucking shame.

Mica, Veta, and Onnicka - They all might act like big ol' bitches, but Glücksfall and Snapdragon love playing together. There's enough overlap in the fan bases that really draw the best crowds and the bands all get along decently well.

Mike - He tried to teach Walker how to fight when she was 11, He ended up having to find someone else to do it because he forgot she was left-handed and a child and accidentally broke her nose. He cried over this. She didn't. What he did successfully teach her was to be down to fight anyone at any time. He's so proud.

Mountain - He befriends all animals. Even the ones set to be slaughtered, which there are several throughout the church grounds. The chickens like to follow him, much to Errett's dismay. He doesn't do this on purpose.

Mr. Torgue - He can fuck it up with a set of knitting needles. His Grandma Flexington taught him, obviously. So far, his favorite projects are a TORGUE afghan he made for his grandma and a dice bag he uses when he plays Bunkers and Badasses.

Murphy and Sioned - If there was a competition for worst person in the Commonwealth, it wouldn't be between these two. They really aren't all that bad if you're willing to overlook the murdering amd weird cult-y shit. Murphy sends caps back to their brothers, and Sioned gives settlers food after they talk to them about the Glory of Atom and his Division.

Noah - He speaks Belarusian while he's out in the Commonwealth to avoid people talking to him. It's kind of a manipulation thing because people will overlook him as a threat if they think he can't understand them, but he almost always uses this to his advantage to avoid problems.

Ocvist - He does not care for the golden dragon, Villentretenmerth. He finds his to be brash and impulsive and too proud. Changing into a human form? Outrageous.

Prue - I've talked about this a bit before, but she is colorblind. She has tritanopia. It usually doesn't cause any issues for her, apart from the occasional weird outfit, but she has painted a wing of her ship the wrong color in the past. It's annoying, but rarely dangerous.

Rochelle - She has a big fat crush on Oz. She hates it. They're so nervous all the time and she has shit to do. Not be pining over the embodiment of fear. Ugh.

Ryuko - Despite rarely being home, their house in Kumogakure is lined with trinkets from her travels, well-loved paperback books, and rose-scented candles. They're a romantic.

Salomé - She always starts her day with a cold brew. This is a habit she picked up while getting her bachelor's degree. Her whole day feels off if this is skipped.

Shane - His hangover remedy is eggs, vintage SNES games, and two advil. He lies to himself and says it works every time.

Tempest - She has been reprimanded more than once for luring new fire ghouls to their deaths. She's not sorry and she will do it again. If they'd stop bringing in those weird, overly aggressive, territorial fire ghouls, she wouldn't have to kill them and pick their bones clean. But they don't listen.

Verastian - While conjugation magic is his forte, his ability with alchemy is nothing to shake a stick at. He offers a fine array of healing potions, fortification elixirs, and if you're willing to wait until his shop closes for the day, he'll sell you the best poisons from the back door.

#muses;; look at all those chickens #infernalpursuit #((oh my god. this took forever lmao))#((perceive it))

3 notes · View notes

and-stir-the-stars · 10 months

Note

You mentioned in a post that Saffron Evan eventually becomes somewhat protective of Mike. How would he respond if someone harmed Mike after that point?

(Obviously there might be a different response to different levels of assholery, so answer whatever type(s) interest(s) you.)

I think Evan’s overprotective phase happens relatively early in his and Mike's post-capture relationship; Evan generally acts very spiteful and hateful (partly to cover up the inherent fear of Mike he still has ingrained in him, but also because his whole world has been turned upside down and he's scared and has no one else but Mike around to blame) for six months at the very least. Evan finds Mike's old letters and his faith in William gets shattered, thus shattering Evan’s world once more; Evan is more angry and lost than ever before, and he doesn't know what to do with the hope that maybe Mike did-- does-- care about him after all. There's another month or two of Evan, like, equal parts lashing out AND reaching out to Mike through the trauma, before it suddenly occurs to Evan "hey, Mike knew that William was dangerous and would try to use me and just left me there anyway." Cue even more lashing out before Mike finally has his speech that makes Evan realize oh, Mike was just a scared kid back then and I didn't help matters very much; aka, the realization that Mike is just a person and not Big Brother Who Was Supposed to Care About Me and nothing else.

This realization is what sparks Evan’s overprotectiveness in the first place. It's, like, equal parts guilt over the hand he played in doing this to Mike and fear because Mike has finally started to care about him and care FOR him and he doesn't know what he'll do if something bad happens to Mike. And there's a big element of, like, Evan can tell now how badly Mike actually treats himself and Ev finds it unnerving.

Annnnnd, now for the purpose of that whole recap: Evan’s overprotective phase happens while he and Mike are still reclusive and very much isolated from society; Mike hasn't even met Jeremy yet at this point. So, there's not actually a lot of opportunity for Evan to catch someone doing something to hurt Mike. It would probably have to happen during a trip to the store or a fast food restaurant, or one of the times when Mike brings Ev to the parlor he's taking an apprenticeship at or to one of the side jobs he's working at.

So, now I'm imagining some absolute jerk going off at Mike when they're at a store or at one of Mikey’s jobs. It would probably be an adult going off at Mike, and adults still heavily trigger Evan’s anxiety and ptsd (both because William conditioned Evan to stay wary of adults-- little kid Evan can't let anything slip to an adult if he's too afraid to talk to them, right?-- and William just Being Abusive has made Evan wary of adults, especially adult men). Because of this, I doubt Evan would, like, directly go after the adult insulting/humiliating Mike; he's not going to say anything to the person, and definitely won't scream or try to physically overpower the adult. but I can see him doing something "pranky."

Except Evan would be awful at pranks. There's actually this one scene in Scrubs where a guy named JD pranks this girl by dumping a bucket of cold water while she's in the shower, and JD narrates that the girl isn't so good at pranks before the camera cuts to the girl obliviously throwing a raccoon in with JD while *he's* in the shower and he comes out with soooo many scratches, lmao. Anyway, I am now imagining that Evan has his raccoon with him in the store, maybe snuck in his jacket or a bag or smth, and Evan follows the jerk into the bathroom before shoving the raccoon under the stall with the person and listens happily to the person's screams of pain and terror :)

That's probably a bit extreme for Evan, though. I can see him stealing the person's shopping cart while they're distracted and rolling it away, maybe tipping it over or rolling it into some shelves. He tries hiding behind Mike when the person turns their anger on him, and Mike just grabs Evan and bolts out of there. He wants to be mad at Evan, especially because Evan is very specifically not supposed to be calling attention to himself or doing anything to trigger his ptsd, but like... that was pretty funny and he's kinda proud of his little bro.

If it's a younger teen or a little kid somehow insulting/hurting Mike, then Evan might try snapping at them or getting physical, but then again, Evan also has ptsd and trauma from all the kids he killed and let be killed when he was with William, so maybe Evan wouldn't try anything directly. Not really sure.

Anyway, like I said, Evan’s overprotectiveness is a result of that Realization about Mike being an Actual Person; it's a very intense and rather unhealthy overprotectiveness, and while it's good that Evan is starting to actually care about things outside of William again, his overprotectiveness is something he has to work on in his therapy sessions. He has to both get it down to healthy level and learn that the ways he's trying to protect Mike aren't altogether healthy on their own. Like, there doesn't actually need to be a whole story about someone being a jerk to Mike in the store to make Ev lash out; Evan will growl and try tugging Mike away if someone so much as says hello to Mike or tries asking what aisle the cereal is in.

Though, just because Evan works on the overprotectiveness in therapy doesn't mean it goes away entirely. It crops back up when Evan is stressed and when Ev can tell Mike is overly stressed, too. I'd imagine that if/when Henry comes back into the picture post-capture, Mike’s stress about the situation once again triggers Evan’s overprotectiveness.

#I'd go more into how henry affects things but i really don't know yet #Saffron pawn au #evan afton support center #evan afton #I am open to any thoughts you guys have on how henry might fit into the au btw

12 notes · View notes

fangirlisms13 · 1 year

Text

Robin buckley x byers reader!

Warnings : tw: mentions of su1c1de and anxiety!

Type: fluff / angst ( set in the readers' pov and robins )

Summary: reader has been distancing herself from the group because they feel as though the group doesn't like them and it sends them into a spiral but robin shows up to help them <3 can be platonic or romantic!

Please listen to phoebe any song of hers while reading ( made this while listening to her ! This is me comforting myself laugh out loud )

-------------------------------------------------

What if they hate me. What if they're hanging out with me because they pity with me. What if they aren't really my friends. What if my robin will stop being my robin. Would they still want me If I'm nothing new ?

Those were my thoughts every day. I would have constant reassurance from my friends, but it just didn't feel right. So after we hung out last, which was on June 15th, 1986. I stopped. I stopped accepting invites using lame excuses such as " Oh my mom said I need to watch will," johnathan, of course, caught on since ya know the whole sibling thing. But thank God he just let me be. I know Will,mom, and him have noticed me slowly sinking into my thoughts, disappearing in my room, but I swear the billboard in my mind said the end is near, and I believe it. I just think if I distance myself, they'll be better without me. How did I grow up to breaking down.

Robins pov:

It's been weeks since I've seen my y/n . I miss them. Jonathan said to let them have their space, but I just can't, knowing something is wrong. Nancy says that jonathan probably just thinks that me going over there will trigger something,but it's been too long. Working at scoops isn't fun without seeing their smiley face when they see me at the register. Or seeing them watching me with a knowing look in their eye that we have a ubreable bond, but maybe that's not what it is anymore...

fuck that. I'm going over to their house. I can't just sit her knowing they're in pain.

Your pov:

I've been sitting in the scolding shower for almost an hour. I can't get out. I don't have the energy to play with will or to gossip with my mom or to make fun of jonathan for his stupid love with Nancy. I don't have the energy. I'm so drained. Maybe it would be different if I hadn't seen the things that I've seen. It isn't the trauma, though it's my mind. Fuck I can't even remember half the shit that went down. It's hard to being able to tell anyone and I know Jon always says I can talk to him but it's hard letting your family know that you wish to end it all. So I play the radio and sit in the shower and hum along till the feelings gone yet it only last for a few until it's back. I can't stay in the shower all night so I get out and press the pause button and slowly changed. I get into my room until I hear a knock at the front door. Mom isn't supposed to be home till 5am and Jon is with nancy... and wills supposed to be with Mike. I grab Nancy's bat that she left here and slowly open the door and see a drenched Robin looking back into my eyes.

Robins Pov:

I knock on the byers door as hard I possibly can until they open the door. They looked so different. It has been only weeks, and yet they've changed their hair, the bags under their eyes have gotten darker, and the sadness in their eyes got bigger. I give them the biggest hug I can, and then they break down. I rub their back as we stand at the byers doorway, trying to calm them by telling them that they're safe with me and that they're okay. We slowly walk back into their house, still in an unbreakable hug as we sit on the couch.

Your pov:

Robin asked me after I calmed down. " Why?" The pain I could hear in her voice stung. Realizing the fact that I didn't know that I was hurting others so I could hurt myself is what ended up bringing me more pain. I try to tell her but ny quivering lips and the tears on the brims of my water line stop me. All I could bring myself to say is " I don't know. ".... she begins to calmly ask me questions to distract myself, but it isn't working, so I start telling her how I feel. " Robin. I can't explain it, but sometimes I think I'm a killer, and I don't know if the killer in me can tame the fighter in you. I feel like I fail you anytime I do anything, but I know I can't give up, but I need to. I'm hurting, mentally drained, and I just want to quit. I need to quit. I just-" the hot wet tears slowly fall down my cheeks as I begin spilling all my thoughts, the thoughts I sore to myself would never be brought up to anyone start pouring out of me similar to how writers just start flowing while writing. I finally stop after a million tears , snot running down my nose, the anxiety pit in my stomach becoming bigger, and my hands shaking more than ever. Robin looks at me with the most hurt and betrayed eyes I could ever see.

Robins pov:

Holding y/n while they spill everything made me wonder how long they've felt like this and how long they sat by themselves, wondering if tonight was the night they died. I hug them with the most strength I can possibly give and just comfort them the best I can. I start giving them affirmations to make then realize that we all love them and I told them that " my y/n , I love you so much, you're my star in the sky, and if you were a waiting room I would never see the doctor. You're the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, and I don't think I could live if I couldn't live with you." They look up and just started sobbing, saying thank you.

---------------------------------------------------

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this !!! I honestly live laughed live writing this and let me know if you catched on to my little phoebe quotes <33 !! Ilysm and if you ever feel like this please know you are not alone.

#robin #robin buckley x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #robin buckley fanfic #angst #fluff #robin buckley #stranger things #will byers #jonathan byers #joyce byers

28 notes · View notes

dirtytransmasc · 2 years

Text

add on to my post from before, I just felt bad leaving such a long response to the OP's post, I split it up a little. so go here for context

Billy would definitely help with everyone's anger issues;

He knows how repeated trauma, shitty parents, and being teens effects your anger management, so he definitely tussles with all the kids. he lets them scream, yell, and bitch whenever something got them really upset.

- He takes Lucas to the court and they really go at each other for hours.

-he lets mike throw some punches.

-He lets Max and El tackle him and generally hang on him.

-Dustin and Will typically are more yellers than anything else but the offer's always there while he listens to long-winded rants.

-Erica typically bullshits him about their problems, she likes that he treats her as both a kid and mature, finding a balance, being able to navigate between who she is and who she pretends to be; she feels respected and able to be at ease with him, he won't treat like a baby even if she isn't trying to act more like an adult, like others do (I relate to erica in the sense, that I'm mature for my age, but to be respected by others I have to act like an adult instead of just a mature kid if that makes sense.)

with the other older teens he really gets into it.

- Nancy would actually work out with him, they're gym partners, and get makes sure she never gets bothered while she's there. it gives her a sense of control over her fire. she's a punching bag girl and likes to work on more practical skills than building muscle mass for show or impressive strength. it helps with the anxiety of not being prepared for danger.

-Steve likes to get high and bicker, anger makes his head hurt after so many concussions, so he soothes it with weed and gets it all out.

-Jonathan likes the quiet, so he takes shotgun with billy while he speeds down empty backroads. they don't do much talking, but there's a silent understanding as they share a joint.

-Robin likes pressure and movement, so he puts on her favorite songs and dances with her, squeezing her as they rock back and forth for slow songs, and getting he all riled up for faster ones. he also definitely gets into some super deep shit with her, like stuff about being queer and everything.

- He definitely jams out with Eddie, normally with him on the drums and Eddie on his guitar. they can play for hours and go so hard they're both trembling and they end up with noise complaints. (that sounds so sexual, for no reason, why is describing playing music so sensual)

- Chrissy (she gets to live too) normally joins the boy's jam session, cause she actually really likes that type of music, but just between her and billy, she really likes his hugs. they're tight and warm, all consuming. she feels held together, and it makes her feel a bit better

this was a combo of things, billy helping his friends+their unhealthy coping mechanism, but I enjoyed writing it. also, I want it to be clear, billy doesn't always enjoy all these things, but he does them for his friends, that's why some of them feel out of character for him.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #mike wheeler #max mayfield #el hopper #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #dustin henderson #will byers #stranger things #dirtytransmasc

71 notes · View notes

tache-noire · 10 months

Text

Punishment

Rating: 18+ (explicit sexual content + violent content)

Ship: Samoa Joe/CM Punk

Content: Facefucking, masochism, tooth trauma

Summary: Punk isn't satisfied until he's taken everything Joe can possibly give him.

ALSO ON AO3

Joe's not surprised one bit when Punk staggers into his locker room and tosses his duffel bag on the floor, barely five minutes after the show's gone off air. But he puts on a sardonic smirk and scoffs all the same.

"Still not enough for you?"

Punk sinks gingerly to his knees in front of him. "Has it ever been?"

He paws at his dick through his shorts. His hands are still wrapped in bloody tape, orange-pink still pooled between his teeth. He lurches forward, but Joe stops him with a hand around his jaw. Huge, spanning ear-to-ear across his chin. Punk moans, half in pain when he squeezes experimentally.

"You haven't been to a medic yet," he states. He knows his rival too well.

"Just a cut lip and a cracked tooth. It can wait." Punk's tongue pokes at his cheek, feeling around the breakage.

Joe raises an eyebrow. "It's gonna hurt like hell."

"Don't tell me you don't want to hurt me," Punk sneers.

They both know each other too well.

Joe's jaw clenches. So does his hand. Punk winces. There's a heavy moment where they both glare at each other again, like time's rewound 20 minutes and they're waiting for the bell to ring again. Each waiting for the other to take the first step, forward or back. To give way. And it's Joe, because Punk's right. He wants him to hurt. He deserves it, winning by roll-up, then strolling in here because he's never fucking satisfied until he regrets showing up to the arena in the first place. Fine. Joe's good at making people regret facing him.

He keeps his grip on Punk's jaw as he stands and pulls off his trunks and shorts, one-handed. Shoves his thumb in his mouth to keep him occupied while he strokes his cock halfway hard. He could let Punk take care of it, let him lick and drool and suck to his heart's content, but the quicker he can get to fucking his face, the better. When he has to tap out from the pain, he'd like to at least be CLOSE to coming.

"Last chance to back out."

Punk doesn't even answer. As soon as Joe takes his thumb out of his mouth, he leans in and swallows his cock down to the root. A little too fast, too eager. He whimpers around it, a little warning sting shooting through his jaw. But his dick throbs in his shorts all the same and he ruts into the heel of his palm as he starts to suck him off in earnest. It's easy at first. Joe lets him take it easy. He's still kind of soft and fits comfortably in his mouth. He can pull away and lap at the head and wriggle the tip of his tongue against the slit the way that always makes him swear under his breath (and tonight is no different). He doesn't have to do the one thing that hurts the most, actually closing his lips around and sucking hard. Not yet. But twisting and tangling itself around the arousal in his gut is a second coil-- anxiety. It's going to hurt, just as soon as Joe gets tired of this foreplay and gives Punk what he came here for.

The harder and fatter Joe's cock gets in his mouth, the harder it is to avoid aggravating his tooth. Bumping into it. Pulling on the exposed nerves with the suction he can barely avoid anymore. He keeps his jaw as wide open as possible and relaxes his throat, and that's the signal for Joe to take charge.

"This was more fun when you had long hair," he chuckles, palming the back of Punk's shaved head like a basketball.

The ease with which he controls him shoots liquid fire through his veins. After 20 years he'd finally managed to get that reaction under control while facing Joe in the ring, but it's returned full-force now. He shivers, eyelids fluttering. A little bit of that anxiety is soothed. Just enough that he doesn't brace himself.

The push is easier than the pull, for once. Punk makes the mistake of relaxing, letting his lips form a seal, and that little sting becomes a shock. A violent shudder rolls down his spine, chased by a low moan. He squeezes himself through his trunks. Jaw slack, tongue out. Breathe through the nose. Nothing he hasn't done before. Focus on the rhythm of Joe fucking his face. Swallow around the tip as he hammers the back of his throat. Nothing Joe hasn't done to him before.

It's just this particular kind of pain that's new. A broken finger, a cracked rib, those are all things he's good at fighting though. The pulsing, zipping flares from his tooth are pure and visceral like nothing else. It can't be ignored. Tears flow freely down his cheeks, cutting through the gruesome mess of blood and spit that splatters fresh with every thrust. Raw nerves from top to bottom. Dragging and ripping from his jaw, rough fabric rubbing the weeping head of his dick.

Punk lets his eyes roll back and gags wetly around Joe's shaft. Usually, around this time, he'd be nestled in a nice, stupid corner of his head where he can just get off on being used. Warm and cozy. This is something else new, this unrelenting presence of mind. He's locked out mentally, and locked in physically by the wide hand gripping his skull and forcing him all the way down, squashing his nose against Joe's pelvis. He squirms on the floor.

A switch flips, all of a sudden, and panic overrides. Almost unconsciously, he grabs Joe's hips and digs his nails in. Keeping him buried deep in the back of his throat. If he pulls out again, he's going to fall apart. His throat spasming, his lungs burning, he can stand that. But he can't handle the agony in his broken tooth. It's too much. Finally, Punk can't take any more. He sobs and slaps Joe's leg, three times.

Joe pulls out of Punk's mouth quickly, like ripping off a band-aid. Making him yelp like a kicked puppy.

"You're not good enough," he growls, switching his grip to hold Punk by the throat while he jerks himself off. "You've never been strong enough to take what you ask for, and you never will be."

Punk gazes up at him, painted red from nose to chest, maybe reverent, maybe too dazed to even understand what he's saying. But his chest heaves with another sob, "P'ease," and that's close enough to a prayer.

Joe shoots across his face with a grunt, striping his forehead, his swollen, bruised cheek, his gaping, bloody mouth. He lets go of Punk's throat, and he slumps on the ground. Punk slumps on the floor while Joe comes down. He's blinking slowly like a cat, absently licking his lips clean. Still hard, tenting the front of his trunks.

Joe rolls his eyes. "Come here."

He hauls Punk's limp body up, into his lap. He's trembling, panting against his shoulder, drooling blood all over him. But as soon as Joe tugs down the front of his gear and gets a hand around his dick, he bucks into it.

"Jesus. Are you 41 or 14?"

"Be'r hobe 'm for'y one, ol' man," Punk slurs.

Joe scrapes his thumbnail across his tip in retaliation, earning him a shaky "oh, fug--" and a jerk of Punk's hips. Never enough. He always wants more. Can't even take a regular handjob, he needs the tight grip and rough calluses, the nails raking down his spine and digging into his hip to keep him perched on Joe's thigh. He needs everything to be punishing.

"Bi' me, fug, 'm a'mosh dere," he begs, and Joe obliges. The second he sinks his teeth into Punk's shoulder, the man goes rigid and he releases between their sore, sweaty bodies. Joe doesn't let go until Punk does. Not until he's limp against him again, and he has to stand up with him balanced on his hip like a baby.

He drags a folding chair out of a corner and kicks it into the shower stall. He sits Punk down, and he's already recovered enough to wrinkle his nose at him like a petulant child.

"You've lost a lot of blood and you're still half in shock from pain. I don't trust you not to slip and kill yourself, old man," Joe sneers, pulling his gear off piece by piece.

He lets the spray hit him straight in the face for a couple seconds before scooting him back. Can't be too soft on him. And his face was filthy anyway. Punk sputters and mumbles some attempt at swearing under his breath. He catches the soapy cloth Joe tosses at him, thankfully able to wash himself at least. He's extremely ginger with his face, wincing every time he has to scrub at his swollen cheek. Joe snorts.

"This is the worst idea you've ever had. I don't think they're gonna be able to repair that one anymore."

Punk shrugs. "Ain' da firsh dime you cosh me a toof."

"Mm. Can you make it to medical on your own?"

Punk cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders. He's stopped shaking, and his eyes are clearer, if tired. He rises to his feet slowly, keeping a hand on the back of the chair. He seems stable enough.

"I 'hink 'm fine."

"Good."

He steps out of the shower, taking the chair with him. Joe takes his place. He looks like a crime scene. Bloodstained in far worse places than Punk was. He hears the door open and close, not even a goodbye. Whatever. He's got more than teeth missing in his head, but it's not Joe's responsibility to chase after and babysit him. Punk wouldn't want him to. He wants the same thing from Joe, every time, win or lose. Punishment.

He'll be back, eventually. He always comes back.

#aew #all elite wrestling #cm punk #samoa joe #joepunk #rpf #fanfiction

6 notes · View notes

saffloure · 2 years

Text

ೃ༄HIT DICE (IV)

EDDIE MUNSON X HARRINGTON!OC

MASTERLIST

✧chapter four: misery of the wrathchildren

↳ word count: 7,5k

↳ spoiler warning: s4ep1-2

↳ other warnings: angst, death, wound & injuries description, anxiety attacks, mentions of ED, childhood trauma, mentions of weed

↳ mentioned songs/artists: Ozzy Osbourne, Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now by the Smiths, Morrissey, Metallica, Christine by Siouxie and the Banshees, Rainbow in the Dark by Dio (reference)

↳ a/n: hell kinda broke loose in this chapter

"Principal Higgins’d crucify you if he saw you right now," Eddie Munson chuckled, lending his scraped black lighter to no other than Stacy Harrington.

With her brows furrowing, she leaned forward, inhaling the bitter puff of nicotine.

"Like what?" she asked in a challenging tone, closing her eyes as she let her bag drop to the ground.

"Skippin' classes and smokin' those disgusting menthol Newport’s with the last person you're supposed to be friends with," he replied swiftly, his back now plastered to the cold wall of Hawkins High gymnasium.

There was a little passage between the two buildings — legend had it, it was the exact same spot where Steve and Nancy broke things off two years ago. Now, however, hidden from the judging stares of rumbustious students and their astir yells, the location had become a secret hideout. This morning, the little shire of serenity had been especially important, hence neither Stacy nor Eddie felt the urge to attend the great speech before this evening’s Championship Game.

"I'd rather spend eternity listening to you rambling about DnD than hear another word from that barf bag Carver," Stacy whispered in a venomous tone, her expression causing the corners of Eddie's lips to go up.

"Speaking of which..." the Dungeon Master started, sending her the side eye.

"You know I can't, Edds," she interrupted him with a sigh, "I need to be on that stupid game."

"But you don't want to go there," Eddie pouted theatrically, a cigarette he was smoking almost falling off of his mouth.

"Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do," Stacy murmured, looking down at her shoes, just as they were the only thing that could possibly comfort her. "And I need to do... this 'till I'm out of this shithole."

There was a moment of tingling silence shared between the two high schoolers. If it wasn't for the accompaniments of muffle sounds of the school band and the students cheering, the atmosphere would have been almost grave.

An awkward sensation swallowed Stacy Harrington, leaving her with an inner notion of dispute. Throwing the cigarette butt on the ground, she took a few steps closer to Eddie, burying her head in his chest.

"I'm sorry. It's just so bizarrely complicated," she mumbled, begging to feel at ease when he gently stroked her back.

"'S alright, sweetheart," he comforted her, only to be met with her discombobulated stare. Correcting himself, he blabbered, "I mean... It's not alright, but I get it."

"We should go back inside," Stacy responded, pointing at the school building.

"Nah, they're not finished."

"They are! Just look!" Stacy exclaimed, trying to see through the window that was on almost twice her height. "I swear they're all gone by now!"

"You sure you can see anything?" Eddie teased, yet simultaneously handed her her bag. "If you wanted to free yourself from me that badly, you could've just said," he added in the exact same manner. This time, however, sticking out his tongue.

"Not that quickly, Munson," Stacy responded cheekily before continuing, "We still need to go roller skating together."

"For what? So you could laugh at my exceptionally traumatic fall and possibly an arm broken in three places?"

"Pretty much," Stacy let out a giggle, playfully punching his arm. "See 'ya, milksop!" she added before entering the school building.

Still having around ten minutes before her classes began, Stacy Harrington made her usual route to the bathroom. It was an oddly specific coping mechanism, or rather the lack of it — running the cold water through her fingers, splashing it onto her face in order to deal with the emotions she tended to bottle up each time they surfaced. Today wasn't any different. Moreover, it was a day such an occurrence was likely to happen. Pep Rally, the worst possible social event.

The bathroom door opened right in her face the moment she laid her hand on the doorknob, causing her to nearly spit her heart out. Recognizing a familiar face, she let out a sigh of relief.

"Geez, Max," she mumbled with a smile that never fully reached her cheeks.

"You're friends with Chrissy Cunningham?" The redhead asked unprecedentedly, pointing at one of the bathroom stalls, "She's in there... I-I tried talking to her but she told me to get lost."

With a rapid nod of her head, Stacy patted Max's shoulder, muttering a quick, "Thank you."

Not hesitating a second longer, Stacy stormed into the depths of the restroom. Chrissy was her dearest childhood friend, someone, whom she treated as a younger sister or a cousin. With a relationship as long as theirs, it wasn't a revelation for the girls to be familiar with each other's background. And unfortunately, such information contained knowledge of Chrissy's eating disorder caused by her mother’s disruptive antics. Therefore, Stacy had rather a prominent idea what to expect when she set off to find the doe-eyed cheerleader.

"Chrissy? Are you in here?" Stacy's voice rang through the seemingly empty toilet. It wasn't hard to find the only locked stall and hear muffled paints that began to terrify her.

They brought back the memories of the last summer.

"Open the door, Chrissy!" she shouted, maniacally grabbing the doorknob. "Chrissy!"

"Go away!" The shriek that was let out from the cheerleader was far from an annoyed one.

No.

It was soaked with terror. Ossifying the air around them. It was a scream for help. A scream of someone stricken with horror.

Having no idea where her sudden strength came from, Stacy managed to kick the door so hard the little metal padlock fell out, hitting the ground with a clinking sound.

"Chrissy," she whispered, watching the golden-haired girl sitting, completely fossilized, on the dirty bathroom floor.

"S-Stacy?" Her voice was weak but high-pitched. Almost as if she had just woken up from a draining nightmare.

"Come here, sweets," Stacy murmured, kneeling right beside her friend and embracing her in a warm hug. "You wanna tell me what happened?" she asked, delicately stroking the back of her head.

"I-I..." Chrissy started, yet no other words escaped her mouth.

"You don't need to answer just now. Take your time."

"I think I'm losing my mind..."

An unspoken sister-like worry filled Stacy Harrington the second her friend quietly sobbed, soaking the shoulder pad of her blazer. At that moment all that mattered was to keep Chrissy safe. To help her. Hence she wasn't capable of helping Heather Holloway and her family, Billy Hargrove and all of those, who let out their last breath before the Starcount Mall massacre.

That day, July 4th became a date she would never forget. It became a tragic scar not only on her behavior, but also on her mind. Because of that, Stacy Harrington had sworn to herself she would never let anything else happen to her family and friends.

It was why seeing Chrissy Cunningham, red-cheeked, crying on the bathroom floor with clasped eyes made her so unbelievably vengeful. And solving the problem was the only thing that could possibly tame those feelings down.

"What do you mean losing your mind?" Stacy repeated with a furrowed brow.

"I'm imagining things," Chrissy whispered in frenzy, her hands shaking when she put them back on her knees. "And they're... so, so scary, Stacy," she added in a muffled cry.

"Do you... wanna talk about them?" the other girl asked carefully. With a shake of the head, she knew she made the right decision not to force Chrissy into talking. "Okay. Okay..."

Stacy looked up on the cheerleader, only to let her eyes wander around the bathroom stall they were still sitting in. Hesitating to take further steps, she took a deep breath.

"I... get those anxiety episodes sometimes," she began in hopes of comforting Chrissy.

"You do?" the blonde girl asked in the most innocent tone one could ever imagine.

"Yeah…” A sad smile appeared on Stacy's face when she answered before continuing, "...about school, my future, my friends. Because of that I stress a lot. A shitload, actually."

Her snarky remark caused the cheerleader to chuckle through her drying tears.

"I'd never have thought," Chrissy smiled softly, her demeanor seemingly calmed down. "What do you do to stop that?"

"I-uh," Stacy murmured, scraping the back of her head. She didn't think this part through. "...I occasionally smoke weed. I know it's not the smartest solution but..."

"Do you think I could try it?" Chrissy interrupted her friend, her eyes suddenly becoming bigger.

"I-I... You could, but I don't think it's the best idea. You should talk to someone about the things first. A school counselor, a teacher, even me if you want to," Stacy rambled, realizing how odd the conversation would have been if anyone listened in.

"I've already... talked to Ms. Kelley. For a while now," Chrissy confessed with her head hanging low. As if she was ashamed to admit it.

It broke Stacy.

Seeing her childhood friend and the sweetest person in the whole Hawkins made her want to shout. It was unfair. It was ordinarily heartbreaking to be a witness to Chrissy's meltdown.

The usage of substances to deal with one's problems was utterly immature, she knew that. Yet still, Stacy was becoming desperate to do whatever it took to find a solution.

"If you want to... I can ask Eddie Munson to meet you after school," she whispered as Chrissy nodded her head. "But you have to promise me not to tell anyone about it, okay?"

"Okay," the girl agreed in a timid tone.

As they both got up, Stacy send Chrissy a warm smile before turning back. Heading towards the doors, she heard her name being called.

"Stacy... Thank you."

"Not a problem, sweets," she answered, doing a little saluting gesture that made her friend giggle.

Deciding she should talk with Eddie about the strange situation she had experienced, the canteen became her destination. With the bell announcing the lunch break, she was ready to head towards the DnD table. Having a tiny delay of talking with Ms. Bailey after class, she tightened her ponytail as she rushed through the schools corridors.

As she entered the canteen, her brows furrowed, eyes opening widely a moment after.

Eddie Munson was standing on top of the cafeteria table, delivering a resonant monologue. His hands were plastered to the sides of his head as a resemblance of devil's horns as he put out his tongue, ridiculing Jason Carver.

Focusing all of her attention on the bizarre scene, Stacy shivered when an arm wrapped around her neck.

"Your boyfriend's fucking crazy," the sarcastically amused tone of Debbie Donoghue resonated in Stacy's ears, leaving her with a bad aftertaste.

However, instead of answering, she fixed her already blank stare on the curly-haired third-time senior, who now jumped off of the table.

"Wanna some M&M's?" Angie Ferguson asked blandly, showing a handful of multicolored candies in her mouth before handing the little red bag to her friend.

"Thanks," Stacy replied, appearing compellingly absent-minded.

She watched Eddie sat down, his face muscles tensing up to reveal a sour expression. Throwing his lunch at Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler, he scoffed, finding himself back up.

Debbie chuckled at Stacy's reaction, pinching her cheek before she and Angie went back to their usual table. Harrington, however, shook her head to let herself out of the trance she had found herself in.

"...I'm gonna snatch that diploma and I'm gonna run like hell outta here," Eddie exclaimed in agitation, his smirk suddenly.

"I'm borrowing you," Stacy informed both him and the Hellfire members, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the cafeteria.

Confused as he was, Eddie let out a chuckle after they had found themselves on the more secluded part of the corridor.

"Hold up, hold up! Where are we running?" he uttered, a smile never leaving his face.

"Urgent matter," Stacy replied rapidly.

"Well, that I already know, love. We wouldn't have been holdin' hands in front of Carver the Douchebag if it wasn't," he smirked, bumping into Stacy's back when she abruptly stopped.

She looked down at his hand that was still wrapped by her fingers, muttering an unbothered, "Oh..."

"Oh? You're gonna cause a controversy worse than DnD in Newsweek," he blabbered, putting one of his hands on the locker in front of him. "Speaking of which..."

"No."

"Come oon, you didn't even give me a chance to finish!" Eddie dramatically complained, scrunching his eyes.

"I'm not coming today, Edds. I can't even play," Stacy replied with an eye roll, nervously grabbing onto the strap of her bag.

"Oh, I know. 'M not asking you to play... Besides, you know how the campaign is gonna end so..." he shrugged.

"Edds..."

"Sinclair ditched us. We need a sub. It wouldn't be weird if you came here to watch since we, 'ya know, already'd have one outsider," he stated informatively, yet only now noticed how worried she appeared to be. "You good?"

"Chrissy's not been feeling well recently. I think she gets anxiety from all that Pep Rally shit," Stacy confessed, hiding her hands in the pockets of her blazer.

"And you want me to..?" Eddie began, waiting for the girl to fill his question in with an answer.

"...sell her something."

He blinked twice when a fond smirk grew on his face.

"I can't believe it," he muffled, grinning. "Hawkins' pride and joy, Miss H. And Miss C. doing drug deals?" he added in amusement.

"That's not funny, Eddie."

"One more day and it'll turn out she listens to Ozzy as well... I mean, maybe she'll come with you to our campaign, huh?" he rambled on, keeping up his joking mannerism.

"For the love of god! I'm not coming to your stupid meeting!" Stacy stopped him, her voice muffled, yet at the same time audibly annoyed.

"I..."

"Honestly, Eddie. I get that's important to you but so is that shitty Pep Rally to me! If I don't come there it'll be a fucking social suicide!"

Only at that instance Stacy began to hear what she was saying, realizing how abominable her explanation sounded. Suddenly, she felt her stomach drop, her limbs freezing. Before she got the chance to deliberately explain herself, Eddie was looking at her with eyes as widely open as he didn't want to believe what he had just heard.

"Social suicide, you say?" he scoffed, avoiding the eye contact with her. "So that's what this has been all about? You, not getting embarrassed by people like me? You, getting to live your picture-perfect life?"

"That's not what I meant," she tried to interrupt him, but failed as he looked up on her.

"But that's exactly what you've said, Stace! You put on that phoney smile, pretend like it's all good and your friends don't talk shit about you behind your back. A-and the moment someone wants to like you for you, you just turn your back, wagging your tail at that Donoghue girl."

This time it was Eddie, whose voice quieted down at the end of his sentence, regretting the words he had just said.

"I-I..." Stacy tried to defend herself, yet the brutal thought that was just delivered to her kept her far from creating a working answer. "I’ll see you around."

"Stacy!" Eddie called after her as she turned on her heel, speeding off in the opposite direction.

"Just remember about Chrissy," she reminded him before she disappeared into another corridor, a tear escaping her eye.

With his hand clenched into a fist, Eddie let out a growl, hitting the locker he had been leaning on, "Shit!"

This evening, guilt and frustration were the only emotions Stacy Harrington endured. Replaying the conversation she had with Eddie over and over, she couldn't seem to pay attention to the basketball game she was watching alongside Angie Ferguson. Her leg was nervously bouncing, as if she was awaiting for the inevitable end of the tournament. Minutes seemed like hours, elongating her suffering from overthinking every possible scenario that came after her argument with Eddie Munson.

The most tremendously bashful thing? She knew he was right.

That was why after their teams victory, she refused Debbie Donoghue party invitation. After all, she wasn't wagging her tail at anyone. At least not more than necessary.

Grabbing her stuff, she made eye contact with Chrissy that lead to them talking behind the bleachers. She wanted to make sure the girl was taken care of and the fight between her and Eddie didn't affect her. After learning that the Dungeon Master and the cheerleader fixed a meeting after the game, Stacy drove straight to her house, breaking into tears the moment she closed the doors to her bedroom.

Pathetic. The word rang inside her mind like an annoying alarm clock on a Monday morning.

Pathetic. There was no doubt her actions were just so.

Pathetic that she could've prevented it.

If only she stood up, exclaimed she had no interest in basketball, yelled she had had enough of the counterfeited compliments and noisy gossips.

If only she had the courage to be herself.

With her makeup now entirely destroyed by sea salt tears, she crawled into her bed, placing a The Smiths vinyl into the record player. Such cliché action of listening to melancholy music while feeling morose herself was what was a usual occurrence during times like those. A few minutes in, Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now started playing. Wrapping her arms around her knees, a distressed smile entered Stacy's lips.

In my life Why do I give valuable time To people who don't care if I live or die?

"Stace! Turn that sappy Morrissey down!" Steve called from his room, his complain being a repressed grumble.

Fulfilling his wish to avoid him coming to her room with a possibility of finding her crying, Stacy rolled out of her bed. All of the sudden, her eyes fixed on the baby blue landline phone located on her desk. Her mind cramped up with the thoughts of how Chrissy was doing. If she got home safe. If the drug deal came as planned.

A salve of shame overwhelmed her again when she realized she could've suggested her company during smoking. Hence why her one hand made its way to the phone, the other frantically searching for Chrissy's number in the tiny purple notebook Stacy kept the addresses of her friends.

Just as she was about to dial the number, she realized how late it was. If she was to call Chrissy, she would have woken up her whole family. That, she wanted to avoid. She knew the Cunningham's and how their frustration with a late night call could affect their daughter. Therefore, Stacy made up her mind into calling Eddie Munson. His uncle worked late shifts, after all.

However, no one picked up. Not even after four attempts.

He's mad at me, Stacy thought to herself, letting her intrusive thoughts devour her sanity. Back in her bed, she cried herself to sleep, deciding she would try contacting both Eddie and Chrissy the morning next.

Waking up, her emotions cooled down, leaving her mind with a clearer vision of what to do — apologize to Eddie and make sure Chrissy took the weed well. Dressed up in denim jacket, matching jeans and a simple white t-shirt, Stacy grabbed a piece of toast, her Walkman and a pack of cigarettes. Making her way to the Cunningham's she hummed along Siouxie and the Banshees mixtape she accidentally left in her car.

"Oh! Hi, darling! We were just having breakfast. Would you like join us?" the soothing tone of Laura Cunningham greeted Stacy the moment she knocked on the front door.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Cunningham. I'm not hungry," the girl replied, only now realizing she was holding her breath. "I-uh, actually I was going to ask if Chrissy is home."

The cheerleader's mom furrowed her brow, abruptly surprised, "Weren't you two at Debbie's yesterday? I thought you stayed over."

"I didn't go," Stacy responded, doing her best not to express the sensation of fear that began to burn her from the inside. "Chrissy didn't come home last night?" she asked, placing her hands behind her back to hide their trembling.

"No... Did something happened?" Laura splattered all of the sudden, a motherly concern on her face.

"We were... supposed to go shopping. But I guess she must've stayed a night! Good day to you, Mrs. Cunningham!" Stacy lied swiftly, sending her friend's mother a reassuring smile.

A smile she wanted to believe was genuine.

She couldn't stop her fingers from quivering when she started the car. Breaking the speed limit, she raced to the trailer park in hope for some answers. If Chrissy didn't return home that must meant Eddie offered her to stay. And if she experienced bad results of the substances she allegedly used, it would've been for the best if she did that. After all, Eddie was experienced with the drugs he was selling. He could have easily taken care of someone, who zoned out a bit too quickly...

...or at least that's what Stacy wanted to believe.

It wasn't until she arrived at the trailer park, the realization hit her. Simultaneously, her guts wrenched, her legs became unbelievably light, her head began to spin. She had no recollection of parking her car and running towards the direction of Eddie's trailer.

Swarmed with people in blue uniforms.

"Miss! Miss! You can't come in here!" a policeman called, stopping her from running into the house.

But stepping on the doorstep was enough for Stacy to notice a figure being covered by black plastic sheet. Limbs unnaturally bend in joints, lifelessly sprawled on Eddie's floor. Bloodshot eyes, still wide opened. Crimson liquid leaking from her mouth that seemed to freeze in the middle of a scream.

"Miss? Are you okay?" The policeman's words seemed so far away, so distant.

The only thing Stacy could hear was the sound her own rushing blood. The only thing she could feel was the piece of toast forcing her guts to be vomited.

"T-that's... Is that... Chrissy?" she managed to say, her hands shaking so badly she couldn't grab the railing to sit herself down.

"We... still didn't identify the victim. That could be anyone, Miss. There's no need to..."

"Bullshit..." Stacy interrupted the man, hearing her voice as if it was not coming from her. "She has a cheerleader hoodie on. Her name's on it," she explained, pointing at the direction of the house.

"As I was saying, Miss. We didn't identify..."

"Her name's on the hoodie," Stacy repeated, rocking herself back and forth as her arms and legs trembled from the terror that was awaiting to come.

"Miss, you really need to go. This is a crime scene."

Her head was spinning. Her mind was absent. Her brain couldn't comprehend what she had just saw.

She froze. Just as she did in Starcount Mall. Just as she did in the Byers' house.

"Stacy?" a familiar voice called, although she needed to look up in order to recognize its owner. She had never heard Wayne Munson so petrified. So frightened. "Stacy, he didn't do it. He didn't," the man frantically rambled.

He.

Eddie.

Stacy's eyes wide opened when she rapidly got up, her expression covered by overwhelming frenzy.

"Where is he? Where's Eddie, Mr. Munson?" she questioned hectically, her breath heavy.

"He... he ran away," Wayne answered quietly, his eyes blank, lacking any sort of liveliness. "But he didn't do it, Stacy. You have to believe me. Eddie's a good boy."

"I... I," Stacy stuttered. It was only now when she fully realized what happened.

Chrissy was dead. In Eddie's trailer.

The fog that took over her mind vanished, leaving her with the sore throat and sheer horror. But, she finally could begin to think rationally. That's why she vigorously lead Wayne Munson a fair distance from his house. Just to reduce the possibility of the policemen listening it.

"Can you tell me what happened?" she asked, her voice steady, yet still morbid.

"I came home from work. Saw this girl on the floor. No sign of Eddie," Wayne answered in short sentences, still reliving the sight of the dead body in his living room.

"Do you know where he might've gone?" she continued, receiving a negation when Eddie's uncle shook his head. "Okay... okay..." she whispered more to herself than to him.

Trying to confirm that everything was under control. Even if it was leaking through her fingers, not seeming to stop.

"He didn't..."

"I know, Mr. Munson," Stacy interrupted him, grabbing his forearm.

Never for a second had she thought the murder was a result of Eddie's action. It had never crossed her mind that he could be the perpetrator. As naive as it might've sounded, Stacy knew him. She knew his tiny quirks, his random outbursts of breaking into monologues. She knew about the spots he hid his drug supply, about his fascination with Tolkien, about his love for trashy metal ballads. But most importantly, she knew he couldn't have done that. Because nonetheless of everyone else claimed, nonetheless of them calling him a freak, a weirdo, a social outcast, she knew he was a gentle soul. He was the boy, who spent his days on learning how to play the new Metallica song and who skipped lessons just so he could stop being bullied by both his teachers and his peers. He was her friend. Not a murderer.

"I will find him. I promise," Stacy whispered, noticing the tears escaping Eddie's uncle's eyes. "If you need a place to stay..."

"My friend runs a motel. Don't worry, little Harrington," he reassured her with a tiny sorrowful smile.

After saying goodbyes and thank you's, Stacy run back into her car, her destination becoming her brother's workplace.

She needed someone to calm her down.

"Fuck!" She yelled the moment a song called Christine came on, hitting the steering wheel with all of her strength.

Her mind went back to the scenery she entered a while ago. The gruesome sight of her friend's corpse perpetuated her mind, making it unable for her to breath properly.

If only she didn't tell Chrissy to meet Eddie. If only she came with her.

Stacy's thoughts became unbearable to the extreme she had began hyperventilating. It was just like having a macabre lucid dream, a feverish nightmare that was turning out to be reality.

But then, she felt her body sinking even further.

If Eddie didn't kill Chrissy, who did?

Running into Family Video seemed to be a never-ending marathon. Stacy didn't realize when she was standing inside, her hair disheveled, her face red from crying. She didn't even recalled bumping into an older couple until the lady let out an annoyed scoff when their shoulders touched.

"Woah, woah. What happened, Stace?" Steve called as soon as he saw his sister. Mumbling, "Apologies," to the older woman as he grabbed Stacy by her arms.

"Chrissy... Eddie... the trailer park," she mumbled full of panic, her voice cracking the more she spoke.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit," Dustin ranted, grabbing Stacy's forearm and leading her beside the counter to sit her down. "You've seen her, didn't you?" he asked, worry entering his face.

Stacy nodded her head, a lonely, bashful tear streaming down her cheek.

"Hey, she's my sister, Henderson. Not yours," Steve called with the tone that indicated he was trying to get rid of the tense atmosphere.

"Yeah, but she is... Stacy," Dustin wondered, confused by his own lack of a more descriptive word.

"Can you focus? We're kind of short with time," Max reprimanded the boys, pointing at the computer's screen that showed shop's database.

"Well, forgive me for caring about Stacy, who comes in her with her eyes cried out!" Dustin argued, furrowing his brows at Steve.

"It's not that, man! You're just stealing my job!"

"Oh, calm down, Dingus!"

"I saw her on the ground and she... didn't look human," Stacy's whisper brought the attention to her, causing the teenagers to become silent. "And I know Eddie couldn't... I mean, h-he couldn't..." she stuttered, putting a hand over her mouth. She began feeling nauseous at the mere thought that had just occurred in her mind.

"The lights started flickering last night," Max replied, carefully approaching Stacy.

"No…" the older girl gasped, her eyes fixed directly on the redhead. "No, this can't be happening… not again," she repeated to herself as if she wanted to convince her own self the Upside Down wasn't a part of it.

It was so unbelievably hard, hence she already familiarized with the idea in her subconsciousness.

Noticing her state, Steve took a few steps closer to gently ruffle her hair. Giving her time to calm down, the teens had returned to the computer. Trying to figure out the true identity of a certain mysterious persona, they based their research off of their VHR rentals. Connecting the dots while realizing they were doing their research on a man named Rick, Stacy rapidly stood up, glancing at the screen.

"You're looking for Eddie," she stated with confidence, yet her voice remained weak. "You think he's hiding at Reefer Rick's?"

"Hold up, how do you..." Steve started but was never able to finish.

"I can take you there," Stacy assured quickly, her voice breathless.

"So this is true," Robin gawked, a small smirk appearing on her shocked face. "The thing that goes around school... That you actually are friends."

A loud sigh of Max Mayfield tried to return everyone to the rightful subject when she said, "Of course they're friends. Why else would she be at the trailer park today?"

Indicating it was close to common knowledge, Max Mayfield grabbed her Walkman, walking past the remaining high schoolers.

"What are you waiting for?" the redhead went on, standing by the exit.

"Uh, me and Robin are actually on a shift here," Steve complained, met with four equally reprimanding glares. As an defense, he yelled, "Okay! Geez, calm down, people!"

"Closin' early!" Robin called, locking the door as all of them left the store.

"Everyone get into my car. Stace, you sit in the front!" Steve ordered in a mother-like tone, starting up the engine.

With her left feet bouncing, Stacy bit the nail of her thumb, her eyes numbly fixed on the road. Focusing to begin giving directions, she was unable to concentrate on anything else but the route.

On the backseat, Dustin was complaining he was seated in the middle, meanwhile Max rolled her eyes, looking out of the window. Robin's stare, on the other hand, was fixed on Steve's back. Just as she knew what conversation was going to happen in a few seconds.

"We need to talk," Steve started, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

"About what?" Stacy asked, not out of sleaziness but of pure curiosity. She felt cut off of the real world, her thoughts took too much time to make a sensible whole. Therefore only after a while she realized the meaning behind her brother's words, commenting it with a simple, "Oh."

"Why didn't you tell me you are friends?" he went on, his voice sounding almost disappointed.

"Technically I did," Stacy whispered, unintentional smile cracking her expression. "Turn left."

"Wh-technically you did? What is that supposed to mean?" His brows furrowed as he followed her directions.

"That time two weeks ago when I was going out. I've told you you were going to Eddie's."

"I thought you were being sarcastic! Like you always are!" Steve exclaimed, sending a sharp stare to Robin, who began to chuckle.

"Why are you making such a great deal about this?" Stacy asked, her voice weaker that usual. Implying she had truly not inner strength to cope with his fits at that moment.

"You need to tell me about stuff like that! I'm your older brother!"

"Well, shit. I haven't noticed," she mumbled, causing even Max to smirk. "Follow the road until we pass McKinley's house."

"I'm being serious! I need to know about that so when the dude needs to be beaten up..." Steve stopped himself, looking at his sister, whose face drastically change. "Why are you laughing?"

"Sorry, it's just... whenever you got into fights...like that one with Tommy H. or Billy... you're always the one, who ends up being beaten up," Stacy claimed through her pitiful chuckles. A smile on her red, swollen from crying face resembled the first droplets of rain on the land stricken by drought.

"Oh, very funny, Stace. Hilarious," Steve lamented with his tone awfully exaggerated.

Stacy looked down on her hands as the reoccurring realization of existence caught up to her again. Through her forced soft smile, she had to deal with the horrid images, the mortifying scene, and, what mattered the most now, Eddie Munson, who was now a proclaimed murderer. The same Eddie Munson, who she thought to be angry with her due to her own indecisiveness.

She looked out the window, placing her chin on her hand. What if he didn't want to see her? Most importantly, were they even going to find him at Reefer Rick's house?

With the persistent thoughts occupying her mind once again, she brought her attention back to navigating Steve. Arriving at the tiny shack near the Lovers’ Lake, the crew found themselves scanning the house with flashlights.

"Eddie! It's Dustin!" the curly-haired boy yelled, while banging on the window.

A tiny quarrel broke, typical for the dynamics of when Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington were paired up together.

Stacy couldn't get her act straight. The flashlight in her hand wasn't working properly, or… that was what she thought until she realized it was the fault of her trembling hands. She was petrified. Not for herself, but for Eddie. If what Max said was true and their suspicions confirmed? What was the possibility Eddie was being targeted by the same thing that killed Chrissy? What if that something captured him and they were going to find him in the exact same condition?

"The boathouse," Stacy whispered ever so quietly she was heard only by the red-haired girl standing beside her.

"You guys?" Max called, following the clue she was given. Basking in the dead of the night, there was a single light burning, directly above the doors of the building Stacy mentioned.

"Oh, I have a bad feeling about this!" With Steve's mumbling incoherent words to himself, the remaining four went after Max. As they carefully opened the doors of the building, he grabbed an oar laying beside them, taking a lead, just in case.

The boathouse looked drastically different from what Stacy recalled. The atmosphere was chilling, especially now, at night. What added to the eeriness was the overwhelming silence that seemed to be deafening. As they split up, Steve following Dustin, Stacy keeping a close distance between her and Robin, the girl suddenly kneeled down. She picked up a golden box of cookies.

Famous Amos'.

The box she left half-full in the living room of Reefer Rick's house over a month ago. It couldn't have been just a coincidence.

"What are you doing?" Dustin's muffled shriek brought her attention back to her brother, who now hit a bump of trash covered by a black tamp… with an oar.

Shaking her head, ignoring the usual bickering, Stacy went after Max and Robin as they examined a bunch of candy wrappers and beer bottles that were messily placed on the wooden shelf.

"Maybe he heard us. Got spooked and ran," Robin commented, her voice so serious it almost did not suit her.

"Don't worry! Steve will get him with his oar," Dustin answered sarcastically, not pleased at the fact his friend was holding an equivalent of a deadly weapon in his hands.

Stacy stood silent, her nails digging into the cardboard box she realized she was still holding. The same box that dropped a second after Steve let out a terrified shriek and was put up against to wall by a silhouetto that emerged from the darkness of the boathouse.

"Woah, woah, woah! Eddie! Stop!" Dustin yelled frantically, repeating his name over and over.

Stacy had no idea why words couldn't came from her mouth. Especially when her friend was holding her brother, holding a broken bottle to his throat.

"It's Dustin! This is Steve! His not gonna hurt you, right Steve?" the curly-haired boy spoke in a cautious manner, causing Eddie to focus his eyes on him.

The eyes that Stacy remembered as cheerful each time they spoke, now we're filled with anguish and... fear.

Dustin went on, introducing the girls as to calm Eddie down and make him as comforted as possible in that instance. Yet, when it came to Stacy, she held her breath when Henderson said her name. For a spare moment she could've sworn her and Eddie's stares locked. His grip on the collar on her brother's neck loosened a tiny bit.

But it wasn't until Dustin swore on his mother none of them were trying to cause any harm, Eddie fully let go. Breathing unevenly, he slid down the wall, his eyes completely blank, avoiding meeting anything but the floor. Dustin kneeled next to him, saying words Stacy was unable to hear. All of her focus was on Eddie's glance when he finally looked up. Only then she noticed how watery his eyes were, how puffy they appeared.

But she couldn't do anything. She couldn't even emote what she was feeling, hence every single inch of her body felt frozen.

"We wanna know what happened," the calm, quiet voice of Robin was what caused Stacy to snap out of her thoughts.

But it was Eddie's first words that day that utterly broke her heart. "You won't believe me," he sobbed, failing in maintaining his steady tone.

Stacy wanted to kneel down next to him, embrace him, tell him it was going to be alright. Just so he won't feel that exact same way she did last summer. Just so he could lay all of his problems on someone else.

"Try us," Max challenged him.

And so he did. He had told them about Chrissy Cunningham, deep in trance in his living room. He had told them about how he tried waking her up, how she lifted up in the air, how her limbs bend and how the blood splattered from her eyes. Whilst he told that, his hands were trembling, he was biting his lower lip in order not to break into tears. Yet, the constant cracking of his voice entirely negated that he was far from what he had tried to pursue.

The thesis confirmed while recalling the monstrous incident, he snapped at Dustin and Max after they claimed they believed him. After all, his confession seemed compellingly out of place.

It wasn't until Dustin explained Eddie, in brief detail, what they endured on the span of the last three years that the curly-haired senior started to believe he wasn't going crazy. Although his voice remained monotonous and his lips compressed.

"You know, I tried to wake her, man. She couldn't move. It was like she... she was in a trance or something.

"Or under a spell," Dustin suggested, his eyes opening widely.

"A curse," Eddie corrected him.

"Vecna's curse."

"Vecna's curse," Stacy repeated to herself, yet her voice was barely audible.

Taking a step back, she leaned on a wooden counter in hopes of stabilizing her body. Her head was so light it could take a moment for her to collapse the second she’d close her eyes. It all felt like a bad dream. A nightmare she so frantically wanted to wake up from.

And yet, her eyes remained shut.

It felt like oscillating in between reality and imagination; one moment she was feeling entirely rational, ready to take action. The other, her body was pulled down by a sinking lead weight, unable to recognize anything but the sound of her echoing breath.

"Stace?" her brother's voice stood her back up on her feet.

"I'm good," she replied, although she was far from sounding convincing. Finally taking a look at the others, she realized everyone had been staring at her for a while now. That only meant one thing. "Are you going... Can you wait for me? It'll just take a second."

Her sudden change of mind caused Steve to furrow his brow and Robin to nudge him in the shoulder, making him answer nothing except, "Yeah. Sure."

As she watched the four leave, she hesitantly took a step closer to the man, sitting in a half-darkened corner of the room. With her breath becoming coherently audible came the realization she needed to do everything in her power to tame it. Or at least try to.

She didn't even noticed when the words, "Please tell me you're not hurt," left her mouth.

Eddie swallowed the gulp in his throat, focusing on his clasped fingers resting in his lap.

"'M okay," he mumbled, although he sounded exactly how Stacy a while ago. "I-I didn't want to... I tried to wake her..." he started, feeling he had to explain himself. Seeing Stacy shoved an immaculately great amount of guilt on him.

She shouldn't have came here. She shouldn't have seen him like this.

Intrusive questions swarmed his head with every step she took. He could see the pain in her face, the stained cheeks. Even the marks on her forearms she had given herself after trying to snap herself out of her anxiety attack. The thought of him not being aware how much she knew of if she even believed what he had just confessed to make him feel like he was choking a cloud of gray smoke. Smoke that was coming from scorching fire which was devouring his insides.

"I know," Stacy tried to comfort him, yet her voice broke in between the words. "I-I'm so glad you're safe," she added, being only millimeters from him.

His arms wrapped around her hips as he was still seated against the wall. What felt like an electric shock came through her body, causing the hell to completely broke loose. Within seconds she had found herself kneeling down, her chin resting on his shoulder, her hands pulling him closer.

It wasn't like any other hug their had shared before; it was a gesture of desperation that desolately tried to calm their frenzy. An embrace that felt like peace after the storm, like a rainbow in the dark. Most importantly, it felt real.

"We-we will deal with this, I promise. It'll all be okay," Stacy assured him, her throat burning from all the tears that were waiting to be released.

Her fingers carefully stroke his back, hoping to calm them both. She realized her actions had the opposite effect when a sob took over Eddie's body.

"You're crying," she murmured, frantically trying to wipe off his tears with her fingers.

"You're crying, too," he informed her, his weak voice stricken with worry.

In a state of surprise, with an open mouth, Stacy touched her cheeks, only to find out he was telling the truth.

"I... didn't realize," she confessed, a small smile exchanging the sorrowful expression. "I'm sorry," she added, wiping her face off with her forearm.

"What?" Eddie shook his head. "What are you sorry for?"

Stacy's trembling fingers traveled back to his body, this time stroking through his curls.

"You don't deserve to be a part of this," she cried, recalling all of the times the Upside Down was involved in her life. Now, when it was Eddie Munson — a person, she so dearly liked — she couldn't help the overbearing sensation of fear pushing on her.

Eddie looked back down, exhaling after an extended amount of time. He leaned into Stacy's touch, closing his eyes gently and wishing he didn't have to open them any time soon. Simply stay like that, not remembering the morbid events that took place in his house. Just him and Stacy's fingers comforting him.

"And I'm sorry I behaved like a total bitch. I've never meant to say your party was stupid," she added, but this time her tone resonated strongly. Confidently. Just like usual.

The vocabulary, that wasn't entirely suiting her, made Eddie chuckle for the first time since the incident. Seeing his response, Stacy swooped her feet a bit closer, closing him into a warm embrace once again.

"It's okay," he whispered into her ear, his hands melting into the sides of her head.

"It will be. I'll fix it, I promise," she reassured him once more, slowly getting up. "I'll be back as soon as possible. Get you some groceries and shit," she explained quickly, trying to collect not only herself but him.

"Thanks," he smiled briefly, his fingers interlocking with hers.

"Oh! I have a gift for you," Stacy exclaimed, vigorously searching through the pockets of her denim jacket. "To make waiting for us more bearable," she added, handing him her Walkman, a cassette and a pack of cigarettes — the only things she managed to grab before heading out this morning.

"Ew, menthol Newport's," he replied, smirking at her choice of cigarettes.

An attempt to bring just a tiny bit of normality to the situation.

"Oh, shut it, Munson," Stacy chuckled, shaking her head. "Gotta go. I'll make sure to grab you a beer."

With a smile, she waved to him, turning on her heel. However, she was made to turn her head at the sound of her name escaping his lips.

"Stacy?"

"Huh?"

"Be careful, 'kay?"

#eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x harrington!oc #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #joseph quinn #joseph quinn stranger things #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things fanfiction

46 notes · View notes