#this is very unedited
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Eddie led a weird life.
This was something he welcomed, given half the things people thought were “weird” was just his fashion sense or preference for table top games.
Small potatoes to the larger things in life, really.
Of course, this was before he found out there was an evil version of Hawkins underneath him.
Now Eddie did things that would previously sent his old self into a fucking coma.
His friendship with Steve Harrington for example.
Dude saved his life and bridal-style carried him out of literal hell.
It’d have been rude not to be friendly with the guy after that, even if they weren’t both members of a very exclusive and bloody club, with trauma and secrets that really only a select few people would ever understand.
Sleeping over at Harrington’s half the week also made perfect sense, and Eddie will argue that to his very grave.
It turns out nightmares suck, and waking up screaming all the time sucks even more.
Something everyone involved in this entire escapade (and all the ones prior) knew.
Because more bodies means more eyes to look out for you, and feeling safe means you might actually sleep for an hour, they all got used to showing up at each other's houses at odd hours of the night.
Pulled one another out of nightmares and got comfortable with the fact that they slept better, together.
Steve’s house in particular is typically void of both adults and annoying freshmen, which meant it's the most comfortable place for a lot of people to crash together.
(Sometimes the annoying freshmen do show up and maybe Eddie is also a little weirdly overprotective of the whole Party now, and alright fine, he enjoys all their company, even Erica's--but who's keeping track?
He isn’t.
He’s busy arguing all this is perfectly normal.)
Sleeping in Steve’s bed is where things get a little tricky.
See, when it was more than just Robin and Eddie crashing at Casa De Harrington, they all sleep in the living room.
Steve drags out some fancy blow up mattress (an air mattress what the fuck) and changes the couches around and long story short his fucking living room is more comfortable than Eddie’s own bed has ever been.
But when it's just Eddie and Robin, they retire to Steve’s stupid huge bed, so large the damn thing takes up most of his equally massive room.
(“This isn’t weird right?” He’d asked Robin once, hanging his head over the edge of the bed while Steve did--whatever it was he was doing to his hair in the bathroom.
Robin, who was busy rifling through Steve’s drawers for a shirt to steal, stopped and looked at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Not unless you make it weird, Munson.” She’d told him, and well, that was all the permission he needed.
They slept together in tight groups, where it was easiest to defend each other in case of Upside Down fucking monster attack.
Case closed.)
Sleeping in Steve Harrington’s bed, without the buffer that was Robin Buckley, is where the lies started.
Because it was weird.
It was incredibly weird, and did guys even do this solo?
Eddie hadn’t. If one of Hellfire or the band stayed over, it was a strictly floor/bed/couch situation unless there were more than three of them, and that was within Eddie’s small ass trailer.
Sure they piled up if they had to, but it wasn't like it was with Steve. All tangled limbs and being right up in each others space, no pillow or blanket or anything as a buffer.
Hell, Eddie had woken up getting spooned or doing the spooning more than once, and no one said shit.
How Steve made it sound so genuinely normal was beyond him.
Not that Eddie argued about it.
Not the first time of the fifth or the twenty-fifth, and not even after Robin pointed out he was rooming with Harrington more than she was.
Because he just slept better, next to Steve.
(Steve apparently, felt the same.
Or must have given it kept happening.)
It wasn’t like Steve didn’t crash at Eddie’s trailer either--his parents had come right home upon hearing about the earthquake, and had been a bit more present after running into the joint forces of Jim Hopper and Joyce Byers in the hospital lobby.
Add in Wayne’s own Disapproving Stare (TM) and the town being up each other’s ass to try and keep it together, and suddenly Mr. and Mrs. Harrington were hanging out in Hawkins that much more.
(Steve seemed to think it was more to save face rather than because they actually gave a shit, which Eddie felt was obvious but he wasn’t gonna say it.
“They’re trying I think. They just--they’ve never encountered anything like this.” He’d said, a little frown line pinching his eyebrows together.
“Stevie, no one has faced anything like what we have. Your parents, on the other hand, are only dealing with what they think is the aftermath of an earthquake and plenty of people have seen those.”
Steve had sighed. Stared a little helplessly, like he knew he was making excuses but couldn’t help himself.
“I know, Eds. I know.”)
Them being home more meant Steve was at Eddie’s more--on grounds that Robin’s parents were fine with him hanging out but drew some kind of weird not--very--hippy line at him sleeping over.
Which was fine.
Great even, the Eddie and Steve had never slept better! Sucks to be Robin, who had to call up Nancy Wheeler if she wanted to share.
All this was, was trauma buddies being guy pals who were very comfortable with each other due to said fucking trauma.
Steve used to help Eddie take a piss for fucks sake, and according to literally everyone else involved in the Vecna related mess, this was their fourth go round with supernatural shit.
Chances of it all happening a fifth time seemed kinda high, even if the gate was supposedly closed and the psychotic meat puppet madman six feet underground.
Sharing was caring, and caring was not letting your new buddy you saved fight off monsters alone if they popped back up.
Plus he and Steve spent a huge amount of time together, almost as much time as Steve did with Robin.They were all in each other’s back pockets to the point that Eddie’s band was used to it, with Gareth even starting to make secret lover jokes about it all.
(The dick.)
They were just really good friends dealing with the shit life had dealt them. That was it, that was the whole ass story.
Eddie’s growing gay crisis aside.
So no. It wasn't all the time with Harrington that sent Eddie over the edge. Nor was it the bed sharing, rapidly dropping boundaries, or even the fact that Steve knew where Eddie kept his condoms (An accident Eddie wouldn't ever live down, holy shit.)
No, what sent him into an absolute, hair tearin' meltdown, was the day Steve woke up, rolled over, kissed Eddie right on the lips and then went to make breakfast.
No good morning, no how ya doin.
Steve just left Eddie there, clutching onto the sheets for dear life and mildly terrified he’d just hallucinated the entire encounter.
(Hell, maybe the whole thing was hallucinated.
Maybe he died in the Upside Down and this was some sort of sick version of the afterlife.
Eddie pinched himself, and when that wasn’t enough, bit his own knuckle. Both hurt, which was unfortunate, because death seemed preferable to dealing with life right then.)
Unfortunately for him, Steve did not run back into the room with a myriad of excuses, which meant Eddie had to experience the horrifying ordeal of getting out of bed, putting his clothes on and going into the trailer’s kitchen--because Steve hadn’t even had the decency to wreck Eddie’s life at his own house.
‘What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck--’
Heart galloping, Eddie put on his big boy pants--metaphorically and physically--before stepping out into the kitchen and confront his friend.
Who was cooking shirtless, without a care in the world.
It still took him a full thirty seconds to get his mouth to work.
“Hey Stevie? Do you want to tell me what that was about?”
"Hmm?” Steve replied. His eyes were hooded, hair mussed in a way Eddie knew only a few select people had ever seen it.
He looked half asleep, and proved it a second later when he reached twice for the one of the two mugs on the counter and missed entirely.
Eddie swung in, grabbing one and offering it out for Steve to pour coffee into, before swapping it out for the other mug once Steve was done.
Stayed in Steve’s space even as the former jock fussed with adding in milk and sugar and whatever else he was feeling, working up the courage to say something.
Anything.
“Uh, the--just now?” Eddie squeaked. He coughed to clear his voice, trying desperately to act normal.
Look normal.
Like he hadn't just been kissed by the guy he had absolute worst crush on.
Steve, bless him, didn’t tease him. Just shoved one of the mugs into Eddie’s hands and kept the other for himself.
Took a nice, slow sip, adam's apple bobbing and Eddie quickly averted his gaze, staring firmly into his coffee.
“What happened?” Steve asked a second later, sounding a touch more clear, and not at all like he was experiencing deep regret, or dodging the question, or even aware of what had happened.
Eddie had two seconds to realize that hell, maybe Steve really didn’t know, before his mouth once betrayed him.
“When you kissed me?” And motherfucker, for once, Eddie wished he would think before he fucking spoke.
(Wayne had always told him he'd come to regret it. He just hadn't thought it'd be like this!)
“Oh.” Steve said, very anticlimatically. “I didn’t realize I did that, sorry.”
Eddie's entire body twitched.
One long shudder, like it was rejecting the very words coming out of Steve's mouth.
“You didn’t,” He tried, voice dry and cracking. He realized his hands were shaking and promptly put his mug down before he dropped it. “You just--what, did that on instinct?”
“...Kinda, yeah.” Steve said and why the hell did he sound entirely unphased!?
Was this some kind of weird jock thing? Did the basketball team all wake up together and kiss each other on the mouth?! Did they think it was some sort of straight--guy haha joke, or fucking--Eddie didn’t even know what, because Eddie was too busy spiraling.
“Steve I’m gay.” He blurted out, mouth now firmly ahead of his brain.
He instantly wanted to take it back.
Grab the words with his hands, and cram it into his mouth.
Maybe Steve was only cool with it if he thought Eddie was straight.
Hell, maybe he fucking did it while sleep walking or something and Eddie was the one being weird about it, or he--fuck, really did imagine it and, and--!
“I know.” Steve told him, interrupting Eddie’s catastrophizing entirely.
“You know?” Eddie stared at him, feeling like the world had fallen out from underneath his feet. “How do you know!?”
He actually had a pretty good idea of how Steve knew, considering they were both friends with Robin, but while Robin was comfortably out to both of them, Eddie was not.
Had not in fact, even confirmed that he was queer to Robin herself, though he’d hinted at it plenty and shared more than one inside joke.
Didn’t think Robin had outed him or anything, but more that, well…
Steve was smarter than the kids made him sound, that’s for damn sure.
“Honestly dude? You’re not subtle.” Steve told him and at least he finally sounded serious.
Like this was a much needed conversation and not some weird tangent Eddie was on.
“The handkerchief, that triangle pin that you and Robin both have, the fact that you once jumped in my pool to get away from Dustin asking about you're dating life."
He rolled one hand in an etc. all gesture, before adding; “Also there was that time you and Robin got absolutely smashed on my dad’s whiskey and argued about who the hottest Rocky Horror actor was.”
Eddie’s mouth sprang open to defend himself, but absolutely nothing came out.
When had they even watched Rocky Horror together!?
“You kept insisting the guy who played Brad was hotter than the one who played Rocky, remember? I thought Robin was going to strangle you because she like, adores Susan Sarandon.” Steve continued, like they were having one of their playful little spats and not--not discussing Steve kissing him!
“You guys asked me to tie-break,” He added slowly, like he was trying to jog Eddie’s memory. “and I told you guys I thought both were hot.”
Which--oh.
Oh.
“Okay so you’re…?”
Not going to kill me is what Eddie intended to say, but Steve took it as another question entirely, and answered with a nod and a hum.
Which--okay.
Steve Harrington was bisexual, and also already thought he’d come out to Eddie.
He could roll with that.
That was not the problem, at all.
The problem was; “That doesn’t explain the kiss though?!”
Steve finally put his coffee down, huffing out exasperatedly. “I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t realize I did it, man. We share a bed a lot and I guess I wasn’t--I must have--”
And now, finally, Steve was getting embarrassed. A red flush spread across his cheeks and down his neck, vivid even on his tan skin.
He ran a hand through his hair, and Eddie knew purely from the sheer amount of time they spent together that it was a self-soothing action.
“I guess I’m sorry?”
It came out less as a question and more as an accusation-- which Steve himself seemed to hear because he immediately corrected it with a far less sassy and much more sincere; “No I am--I’m sorry.”
None of which answered why Steve had kissed him.
“You didn’t think I was Nance, did you?” Eddie asked, because apparently he just couldn't stop while he was ahead.
Maybe he should have died. It'd be better for both of them, considering he was doing about as good as kicking Steve while he was down.
Steve, the guy who had saved Eddie's life and was now one of his best friends and here Eddie was, dragging this out of him like a moron.
“No.” Steve said immediately. Reflexively, almost, firm and sure. “I am very aware you’re not Nancy.”
‘Let it go Eddie. Don’t make it weird Eddie. Just laugh it off and say okay--’
“Then who did you think it was? I mean you said it was instincts and like, I'm not stupid. I know I can be confused for Nance in the low light, it's happened before but--"
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
“I didn’t think. I knew it was you." Steve interrupted. "I knew I was kissing you, Eddie."
Oh god, just kill him now.
Hell he'd even take a Vecna death! With all the gross gore and the shitty villain monologue!
"This morning I was tired, and I was sleepy, and I apparently skipped the part in my head were I asked you out and we were dating.” Steve deadpanned at him.
Eddie gaped, mind shattered and rapidly reforming.
It was like the universe was recreating itself, only this time all the stars had aligned and his wish had come true and some Disney director had taken control of his life--
“But I get it if I’m not your type." Steve was saying, because Steve was perfect.
And Kind.
And wanted to date Eddie.
"I’m sorry if I made things uncomf-mmphhh!”
‘Mmmph’ because Eddie had flung himself at Steve, face first, the second "I asked you out and we were dating" had finished processing.
(Which was alarming fast, considering he'd been struggling all morning.)
‘D--ff--ing?”
Steve laughed in his mouth as Eddie tried to talk while kissing, pulling away slightly and holding his chest back with a hand when Eddie tried to chase him anyway.
“Yes, dating. As in, would you, Eddie Munson, like to go on a date with me, Steve Harrington?”
“Yes.” Eddie’s mouth said.
At least this time it and his brain were on the same wavelength.
“Yes I very much would.” He put some weight into his lean, making it harder for Steve to hold him back. “I think you can tell, by the way I'm trying to kiss you. Which you are not doing."
He pouted, and refused to be embarrassed about his behavior.
Steve laughed, and he might have said something like “God you changed up fast” except he had given in and let Eddie close again, and his words were now being swallowed down.
Eddie's life was weird alright, and now it was weird even by his own standards, but he wouldn't have it any other way.
#this is VERY unedited#steddie#ANOTHER STEDDIE#IM ON A ROLL#this is a warmup that got out of hand#oneshot#ANOTHER ONESHOT#damn Im killin it#*knocks frantically on wood*#now if only I could kill ANY OF THE FOUR FICS IM WORKING ON#steven harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#look it was early#Steve had a nice dream#forgot he wasnt dating eddie IRL it happens lol#“Im gay” “I know” trope lol#Eddie Munsons Very Weird Life#0o0 fanfics#stranger things#gareth emerson
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end of the week snippet!
you tagged me a while ago but finally getting around to it so ty @star4daisy !!
“You don’t even know if I’ll…” Evan trails off, his words shaky. Leaning in closer, almost there.
“I said—” Barty’s sentence dies as Evan dives forward, a strangled sound leaving his throat. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh—
He doesn’t register the pain at first, only the small push of something sharp pressing into his skin, nothing more than the poke of a needle. Followed by the warmth of Evan’s mouth on the space just above where his neck meets his shoulder. Cool lips against a spot that burns.
But then it spreads, turns into something akin to pain but more. A familiar sting, a prickling throb that shoots from head to toe and doesn’t stop, growing more intense. Somewhere, in the back of Barty’s muddled brain he knows that it hurts, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this good.
[ not gonna tag but it's open for anyone to do! ]
#not much context but hopefully u can guess what's happening?? hehe#this is very unedited#forgive any awkwardness#rosekiller#vampire evan my beloved#still slowly finishing this oneshot#fic: my lost lover
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I can't believe I'm doing this after so long. It has been almost a year since I've even written anything, and it's hard to believe that I'm actually getting to share something with you all again. I'm in a really good place right now after having way too many dark days this past month, so I'm going to try to ride this high into something good.
I won't share too many details about this fic yet because I don't want to give away what I'm working on, but here's the beginning of something that will hopefully be coming in the near future:
(Simon's pov)
Have you ever been in love with someone you can’t have? Like, I mean /really/ can’t have. They’re so off-limits that they might as well not even be on the same planet as you. And it’s not even because they hate you. Or because you were sworn enemies back in school. No, those things you can move past. Those things you can change with a conversation or two, or okay, maybe a thousand. Anyway, those things can change with time and a willingness to do so.
This can’t be fixed, though. Nothing I say will ever be able to change this. I didn’t think I still had feelings for this guy; I haven’t even seen him in ages.
But when I found out about his impending marriage, I realized just how wrong I was. I can’t stop a marriage. That’s a line you don’t cross. No matter how I felt about this guy, I couldn’t mess with that. I couldn’t ruin someone else’s happiness just to get my own. I would never forgive myself for that. It wouldn’t be right, and I could never live with the guilt.
So when Penny dropped the crinkled newspaper in front of me, folded back to the announcements page, I tried to find it in me to be happy for him despite the fact that my heart dropped to the floor.
Okay, now for tags. I'm not sure who to tag because it's been so long, but I'd love to see what everyone is working on now! @aristocratic-otter @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @ivelovedhimthroughworse @ionlydrinkhotwater @cutestkilla @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @palimpsessed @dragoneggos @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists @larkral @moodandmist @iamamythologicalcreature
A big thank you to those of you who have been tagging me despite my absence <3
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Lone Wolf - Bleach One-Shot
https://archiveofourown.org/works/41223981
Summary: There are few people in the Soul Society more lonely than Komamura Sajin.
CW: None.
#Bleach#Fanfiction#My Fanfiction#Komamura Sajin#Happy Birthday to the best boy#Also me#This is very unedited#But alas#I have not had time this past month
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#hashtag real hashtag not clickbait hashtag unedited#(<- it is very very blatantly none of those things)#saint sebastian
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Fictober23 Prompt: 3 - "Okay, show me."
Fandom: DPxDC
Rating: G
Warnings: -
"So… first time getting kidnapped?"
Tim blinked at the teen that was tied to a wall right across from him. He marveled for a a moment at how similar the two looked and even thought that he could see how the other teen could have gotten mistakenly kidnapped in his place. Though if they had already kidnapped him then why did they end up kidnapping him again?
"No, getting kidnapped kinda comes with the name and status." Tim finally answered and the other kid nodded sagely as if he understood. "Usually they are a little more incompetent."
He moved his wrists a little causing the strange silver bracelets they had slapped on his wired before chaining him to the wall so that they would cause a rattling noise, making the other teen look at them with a raised eyebrow.
"So first time getting kidnapped by the GIW then."
"GIW?"
"Guys in White, or well Ghost Investigation Ward, a government organization." The other teen explained with a shrug. "Usually they are incompetent. Aside from a couple of burns from getting shot, this is the first time they actually managed to chain me in a while. Normally they would have messed up by now but it's interesting that they even manage to nap you too."
Now Tim raised an eyebrow. That was news to him. To think there was a governmental organization that was actively abducting civilians for who knows what. Damn, he could see how B would not be happy once he told them about that.
"Sorry btw." Tim blinked up at the other teen in confusion, who chuckled in return. "They probably kidnapped you thinking you were my double or something. We look similar enough for them to think that."
"Wait…" Tim's eyes widened in realization. "They kidnapped me because I look like you? Not the other way around?"
"Uh yeah, why would I be kidnapped because of you?"
"Tim Drake-Wayne. Does that ring a bell?" Tim huffed only to watch how the other teen furrowed his eyebrows as if deep in thoughts before shrugging.
"In fact no it doesn't. But I don't keep up with high society, it helps pissing of the fruitloop whenever he drags me to 'meet important people' and I actively call them false names no matter how often he introduces them."
Tim's eye twitched. While that is fun, this was also the first time he met someone who hadn't heard of his name before in some way or form. In the end just let out a sigh.
"So what now? We wait to get rescued or will they release us after some time?" Well he had already tipped off his family, so it was probably only a matter of time until one of his siblings burst in to play knight in shining armor. He just hoped it wasn't Jason again, or he wouldn't shut up about having saved him for another month.
"Oh we can wait, but they won't release us. It's probably better if we get out on our own."
"Really? And how do you plan for us to get out of the handcuffs?" Well Tim did have a lock pin hidden in his jacket and some small sized tools stuffed into the sole of his shoes but with his hands chained above his head it was a little difficult to get them. But his feet were not chained so with just a bit of body twisting he could-
"Oh the handcuffs are no problem. They can be easily removed by overloading them."
"Overloading?" Tim arched an eyebrow, now the cuffs did not look like your normal brand he can admit that but how was the other going to do that unless he had some secret electric tool stored on him.
"Yea, overloading. It's pretty simple. These look like the same Brant they tried to cuff me with a year ago. It's funny how they look like they haven't learned a single thing in all these years."
"Really now?" Tim stared at the other teen unimpressed. "Okay, show me. How are you going to overload them with no tools around?"
"Easy." The other teen smirked at him and Tim's eyes widen as he saw the others hands emitting a green light before the cuffs on his wrist sparked and then fell off. Okay, noted the other teen was a Meta.
"My name is Danny by the way." Danny grinned as he rubbed his wrists before getting up and walking over to Tim to do the same to his cuffs. Tim rubbed his his own wirsts, carefully examining them for any time of injury only to look up just in time to watch Danny reach into his own chest. With wide eyes he watched Danny sticking out his tongue while one of his hands was going through his body as if he was looking for something.
"Aha! I knew I stuck them in my body somewhere for a situation like this!" Okay there was so much to unpack from this sentence alone but before Tim could even ask a single question Danny pulled out a lockpick set from his chest and proceeded to pick at their cell door.
"I have so many questions." Tim muttered, still watching the other teen.
"Well I can probably answer some of them once we are out of here. It's the least I can do after you get kidnapped because of me." Danny grinned as the lock he was working on clicked and he swung the door open. "Wanna talk over some coffee? You look like you need some."
"This is definitely not what I expected when I said 'show me'." Tim muttered once more walking passed Danny out of their cell, eager to leave this place.
"Yea well that the more civilian friendly things I can do." Danny followed with a grin. "Though I do have some other tricks I could have used too."
"You talk like a hero." Tim thought aloud, eyeing the teen and how they were holding themselves. Nothing about this teen screamed innocent civilian anymore, well aside from the obvious Meta abilities. He also marbled about the fact that they basically just walked out of the warehouse they had been holding. Huh looked like these GIW guys were really as incompetent as Danny had mentioned earlier.
"Yea, well I am a retired Hero." Great now Tim got more to look into in regards to Danny. Oh that reminded him, he probably should tell his family that he was no longer kidnapped… but that could probably wait until after he got his coffee with Danny. What was the worst that could happen? Red Hood storming an empty building. Oh well, it would be a good exercise for his brother then.
#fictober23#danny phantom#danny fenton#dpxdc#dp x dc#crossover#tim drake#dcxdp#GIW are more of a comic relieve in this au#Tim and Danny look a lot like each other#they could get mistaken as twins#GIW are very incompleteness#Danny has no commen sense when it comes to displaying his powers#Jason ends up finding an empty warehouse but no Tim#he beats up a couple of the GIW guys that stuck around to long after the two left#Tim later gets an earful from Bruce for not notifying them about his escape#he has no regrets#the coffee he and Danny had was worth it#he also got to talk to a retired hero as 'civilian' with to many questions#unedited#no beta wie die like danny
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[a roy pov companion snippet to persephone part two]
There was a time, just after his father’s death, when Roy would fall into fits of choking suffocation.
His throat would close, his mouth turning itchy and hot and tight and he’d gasp and claw at his own flesh, desperate for air. Wheezing, bent over on all fours, struggling to breathe and desperate for relief, swallowing around that phantom smoke in his lungs that clung to him and refused to leave.
Brave Bow would find him in the dirt, press a calloused hand to his forehead and brush his hair from his eyes. He’d had the same hands as Roy’s father, then – steady from years fletching arrows.
Calm, boy, he’d say. The fire is gone, and you remain. You remain, and for that you must breathe.
It’d taken years before Roy felt it again, crouched with a needle in his arm and Oliver Queen’s shadow casting him in darkness. That same, encompassing squeeze that pushed his organs taut against his bones, stretched like taffy and drawing all air from his body. It’d been Dinah there with him, that time. Different callouses, with that same tender gentleness.
Then, Jade. Lian. Ollie. Donna. His comfort changed shape, and he learnt to drag himself out of the fire by himself, breathing around the fist in his mouth. The feeling became familiar, and so did the way it would leave him trembling and skittish. In and out. Inhale, exhale. You remain, and for that you must breathe.
Now, he’s sitting on a rooftop in Queens, and the smoke has returned to drown his best friend, because Dick Grayson believes there is evil in him. That all the good he’s done is poisonous. That he bears the burden of a grown man’s mistakes. Because – because Bruce Wayne couldn’t let one good fucking thing in the world lie.
He carries through the motions, watching himself from outside his own body as Dick thrashes, refuses to breathe until Donna physically compresses his lungs for him, forcing him to inhale. His heart is beating so fast it’s as if it’s not beating at all.
Never in his life has Roy wanted to kill someone more.
Donna is staring bullets into the side of his head as they descend into Dick’s apartment, holding him with a tight grip. Dick, younger Dick, seventeen-year-old hurt and miserable and alone Dick, stays silent but his eyes flutter like he’s about to pass out. The bruise on his face has only darkened in the hours since they left Jason Todd’s apartment, and the yellow spots on his cheekbone have started to purple. The bags beneath his eyes are deep.
How did I never notice he was like this? Roy thinks, half incredulous at himself. How did we let this happen that first time?
There was an answer, but it was for an older Dick who still carried all his cards to his chest. Would they be forgiven when that Dick found out what they knew about him? How they knew him now, better than they had before?
Garth, bless him, is holding a performatively casual pose as they gently push Dick through the open window. The soup is in a bowl – the slightly misshapen one that’d been Damian’s first try with a kiln – and Garth looks at him, then the soup, and pivots to start the kettle instead. What Dick really needs is solids, and maybe some protein, Roy knows, but the chances of him just throwing it back up again are high.
“Garth,” Roy says, and Garth turns those big, glistening eyes at him. It’s like staring into a lava lamp. “I’m sorry, but nobody wants any fucking soup.” Then he risks putting his hands on Dick’s shoulders – the kid doesn’t flinch, thank God – and says: “You, stay there. I need to go put my head in the shower.”
He presses down gently until Dick sits on the couch, carefully avoiding Donna’s gaze as she tries to catch his eye and rubs his hands over his face. Inhale, exhale. The smoke thickens, twists, chokes. Roy tilts a little but manages to regain his balance, and passes Donna as she goes to Garth, still fretting in the kitchen. Trusting, finally, that Dick wasn’t going to bolt right this second, he walks out towards the bathroom and immediately collides with Wally.
Wally’s still buzzing a little, and the hairs on Roy’s arms stand on end as he’s zapped when Wally grabs his elbows to hold him upright. There’s a deep line between his eyebrows, but when he looks up over Roy’s shoulders at Dick, his face goes slack. This worked out, actually. It’d keep help keep them both occupied to talk out their feelings, until Roy could get back in control of himself.
“Easy, fleetfeet,” Roy says. “Babysit for a second, would you? I need to wash my face.”
“I thought we decided we didn’t want him to run,” Wally hisses back, but Roy just gives him a shove in the couch’s general direction and staggers down the hall.
He hears Wally move forward as he manages to kick the door shut, falling against it as he starts to gasp. Roy presses his head back against the tiles, squeezing his eyes shut and desperately inhaling in through his nose and out his mouth. His throat itches. A throbbing pain starts at his temple, beating with his heart and radiating to his jaw and neck and shoulders until he tenses into a spasm.
In, out. Breathe, hold, release. Roy manages to swallow, but the noise he makes sounds like a sob, and he fumbles with the faucet until he can trust that the water is drowning him out. Again, and he claps a hand over his mouth. Everything feels ready to snap.
He got through it that first time, says a voice in his head. It sounds a lot like Connor’s patient grace. Remember? He’s still here, just the same.
But this is so much worse, Roy replies internally. Can’t you see? Because now he knows it’s not gonna end. It’ll never end.
No. This is too much.
The first time he grabs at his phone, it falls from his trembling fingers and lands on the floor with a crack. It takes him one, two more tries to retrieve it, and instead of standing he folds himself onto the floor, sat pressed against the wall next to the basin. The blue light makes his eyes sting and seeing Lian smiling back just makes that rolling nausea return, thinking of a young Dick Grayson stare at his daughter in wonder. Eight years old, like Dick’s own father hadn’t fallen when Dick was that age. Like Dick had lost a father all over again a decade later. It hurts so bad.
Thankfully, when he swipes through his speed dial, she answers.
“You’re late with an update, boyo.”
For a moment, he can’t even get the words out, just audibly breathes into the receiver with his eyes shut and his free hand twisted into his hair.
“Roy? What happened? Is Dick alright?”
He has to swallow around the lump in his throat again.
“Is Lian there?” Roy manages to get out in a croak. He truly doesn’t know what he’ll do if Mia’s taken her to MOMA or something. Maybe permanently move into Dick’s bathroom. “She free to talk?”
“Sure.” He hears Dinah move and begin to walk. She’s calm, but her steps are quick and loud down the line. “Give me an answer, Roy. If you want to talk to her because you’re bleeding out-“
“No, no,” Roy says. “No, it’s just – it’s been a long day.”
It’s only about twelve pm, but Dinah doesn’t comment on it. He hears a door open, then shut. His heartrate picks up again.
“Dinah,” he says, and he hears her stop. “Dinah.”
She knows, clearly.
“He’s seventeen, Dinah.”
“Yeah, Babs said.” A pause. “Seventeen, huh?”
“He’s…” Roy stops, tugs at his hair a little. “I can’t tell you –he’s been saying-”
“You were all kids. You know that right? The stuff you were doing wasn’t normal, in retrospect. Makes sense he’d freak you out.”
But it’s not just that. It was the casual acceptance of baiting Deathstroke. Dick’s conviction of his own fault about losing Robin. His terror of confronting Bruce. The profound, absolute loss of everything. Dick Grayson lost his father at eight years old.
Roy can’t reply to that, really, so Dinah says:
“Here she is.”
There’s a shuffle, another pause, then –
“Daddy?”
The tension leaves his body so fast he almost drops the phone entirely, and his legs properly unfold into a sprawl.
“Hey, princess.”
“You okay?” Her voice raises in pitch slightly, like when she’s getting nervous. He’d put a lot of effort into stopping her from sounding like that, so it’s jarring now. “Dinah said… Dinah said-“
“I’m fine. Really. I just wanted to check that Mia wasn’t buying you more Legos from the giftshop with my card.”
“They were mermaid Legos,” Lian tells him, worry gone entirely and now a little huffy. “And Mia said – Mia said you were a landlord. And could buy them.”
“Daddy is not a gazillionaire like Batman.”
“Does Batman have Legos in the Batcave?”
Batman has bloodied memorabilia of all the people he’s let down, Roy thinks privately, but says instead:
“No, but he has a dinosaur.”
“A real one?”
“No. It’s like the one’s out of Jurassic Park. A robot dinosaur.”
“A robot dinosaur,” Lian says rapturously. “Can we visit sometime? With Uncle Dick?”
I am never letting either of you near him ever again, is the correct answer, as much as Dick would throw a fit over it. Roy clears his throat, rubs at his eyes, and changes the subject.
“Maybe. But I want a school update. I didn’t get to talk to you about it, yesterday.”
“Well,” she stops, and he can hear her think it over. “I’m better at spelling than Cassidy, because she always forgets her ayches. But I taught her a trick for it. I can teach you too!”
My best friend was only eight, he thinks.
“Yeah, baby,” he says in a hoarse voice, and tilts back his head. “Tell me all about it.”
#this is an unedited snippet from september 2023 so plz no one judge me#roy harper#dick grayson#nightwing#arsenal#donna troy#teen titans#lian harper#persephone tag#fic#batman#dc comics#mart#roy harper is very dear TO ME!!!!!!!!!!
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The first time Steve hears Eddie singing that song, it's nothing but a absent-minded humming while he's doing something else. Writing something down, he thinks, for the campaign, probably.
Steve knows that song, that's why he smiled when he heard the soft, muffled tone falling out of Eddie's throat. Steve's heard Will singing it, and it's so painfully Jonathan, that song wears his signature all over. Maybe it's because it's The Smiths, and The Smiths is Jonathan.
Steve holds a smile and keeps himself busy, away from Eddie's eyes, because of course, that's what he does. No need to cause a scene, he could go on with his day without Eddie asking him "why are you smiling like an airhead?" Nah, thank you very much.
It's not his music scene, but Steve admits that it has been a favourite since it came out. It was just so goddamn relatable. He first heard it when Nancy dumped him, and sometimes, when he was working at Scoops, he could hear that song coming from the rock station Robin liked, coming from the backroom. No surprise she likes that song too.
Those were dark times for him. Summer job at Scoops, that is. It was a disappointment after another; no university, no high school anymore, no girlfriend, no status to hide after, no friends but the kids he drove all around Hawkins (and yet, three weeks away from Dustin, who was the only one who actually went to see him without asking for anything in return), the most embarrassing dry spell and having absolutely zero idea of what to do next. And that song just randomly filled the air and he indulged himself for two minutes to sulk on his own misery and he felt surprisingly less depressed right after.
So, yeah, that song holds a special meaning for him, a soothing balm for his broken heart, a good nostalgia from his darkest period.
And it comes back to him, from Eddie's voice, and it comes to stay the rest of the day. The rest of the week.
It makes him sad. A good sad, Steve guesses.
He's not really better than a couple years ago, but he's less scared, which is undeniably a victory.
He lets out a sigh and walks away from Eddie, leaves him there, happy and focused and begging.
Steve comes to notice that Eddie sings that song a lot, and he's making it his business not to ask, not to sing along, not to say or do anything that may reveal that Eddie's version of that song is becoming so fast the best he's ever heard.
The day the older side of the group go to see him play with his band, and at some point, he just sits and grabs an acoustic guitar and sings it, that one song, the world turns around. It's hard to keep a straight face, and to breathe regularly. A prayer, a begging in form of ballad, the room is in respectful silence, or if there is any background noise his brain makes the greatest job ignoring it.
Feels Robin's hand slipping through his palm and lacing fingers, but he doesn't look at her.
He can't.
His lips, disloyal and treacherous bastards, shape the last sentence of the song.
Lord knows it would be the first time.
The last chord fills the negative space and the bar noises are there again out of the sudden, and some of his friends are shouting nice things, and Eddie is graciously discarding the acoustic guitar and grabbing his sweetheart again and Steve is hoping to go unnoticed when he wipes his face in a quick movement.
He knows Robin sees it, but she says nothing, merciful and elegant.
The gig goes on for a couple of more songs and it's far too soon when Eddie is there, letting himself fall on the stool next to him, all pleased and content and full of black smudged eyeliner and Steve knows he has to say something to him, so he opts to go with, "I really like that song."
It doesn't need any more saying, because Eddie grins and fucking bites his bottom lip, and looks at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world, leaning on the bar next to Steve, and Steve knows, he just knows Eddie knows which one he's talking about.
"Yeah. I bet you do."
He doesn't tease, doesn't go with the rancid bUt YoU lIsTeN tO tEaRs FoR fEaRs In YoUr CaR aLl tHe tImEeE shit like the kids like to whine. He doesn't pretend not to know which one he's talking about. Steve smiles at him, buys the guy a beer.
"So, Robin told you? About, uh, about the song."
He tries a bit too hard to look unaffected, but the label of his cold beer bottle has seen better days. Steve feels Eddie going still and turning his head to face him, wielding such soft, almost pitiful expression that makes Steve's inside go still, lungs not working, muscles tense, blood frozen in his veins, and somehow scalding in his cheeks. He dares to look at Eddie, who whispers, "She did not."
The time stops, or so Steve thinks, when he turns his head to look at Eddie, not really moving an inch.
The question goes unspoken.
The answer is one second too long of both their gazes taking residence in the other guy's lips.
And the song comes alive in Steve's mind, and his lips move again.
So for once in my life
let me get what I want
Lord knows, it would be the first time
#inklessletter#ficlet#stranger things#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#fluff#soft#this is very much unedited so#it's been a long time since I don't write a bit#pre steddie#steddie ficlet#please please please let me get what i want#the smiths#this song is so absurdly important to me
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💗
Messing around with @sourlemonsimblr newest skin and kinda rehauled my sim Eileithyia Cole who hasn't been seen posted since like 2017.
#model#Eileithyia Cole#the sims 3#the sims#ts3#simblr#Sims Of Color#Because Yes Eileithyia is just albino#Unedited because I'm lazy#She looks nice without editing#Very late post when I should be asleep
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Q: Why wasn’t there an Adopt a Jock (lol I wrote this as Adopt a Joke. Sorry Steve.) update this week? (slash sevenish days Idk time is dumb)
A: It was Steddie Big Bang Time! I am so excited to work with both my artists, and REALLY fricken excited to finally be able to give ya’ll a snippet.
They mention Hopper’s death here but its pre S4, they don’t know he’s actually alive.
Eddie
"Tonight is a good night for the other guy, not me, to die."
--What We Do In The Shadows
A scenario for you to ponder:
You are trapped in the dead police chief's cabin. With you are your three best friends, your life-long gay crush, and several children, one of which is supposedly telekinetic.
Maybe two.
You're not sure because one of the demonic plant-penis dogs prowling around in packs outside gave you a concussion.
You have two options available to you.
Option One) you and your loser friends hunker down with your hands over your ears while Mr. Sexy Chest and the children figure a way out.
This option has the highest chance of you and your besties surviving, unscathed.
Option Two) You tell Mr. Sexy Chest that you know how to hotwire cars and can likely get the police truck outside running in an ill fated attempt at impressing his very straight (and very firm) ass.
This option has the biggest chance of you dying, a virgin sacrifice to the monsters in the woods like every horror movie idiot known to man.
Eddie Munson, elbow deep in wires, cursed himself for being a very stupid man.
"Can I just say, for the record, that this is really dumb?" He huffed, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.
The truck had clearly been sitting here since the old man had died. Likely before then, because Eddie had taken one look at the wires underneath the steering wheel and knew immediately the engine was going to need some work before he even bothered trying to wake her.
Steve, who had a hip rested against the truck, turned to look over his shoulder, down at where Eddie was ducked under the raised hood. "You can but it won't make you feel better."
"Great." Eddie said, planting both hands on either side of the engine.
Fucking truck.
Fucking--monsters, and the military and Steve Harrington holding a bloody bat with nails in it casually, like guarding Eddie’s back while he stole a cop car was just a casual Tuesday to him.
It probably was, considering all Eddie had heard.
"Does it help any if I tell you this is actually one of our better plans, and not just because we usually don't get to spend a lot of time on them?" Steve said it like a peace offering, instead of the absolute insanity it sounded like.
Eddie sighed. "No Steve, it doesn't."
"I didn't think it would.” Steve replied and from the corner of his eye, Eddie watched him rub his nose. “It is a little funny though."
He looked like he was trying to hold back a smile, like he somehow actually found them having spent a solid two hours coming up with a plan to be hilarious, and if it didn’t make his entire being glow brighter than the dumb yellow sweater he was wearing, Eddie would have cursed him out.
"God I hate how cute you are." Eddie muttered instead, sticking his head back in the engine. If he could just connect this one wire-!
Then his brain caught up with his mouth.
‘Oh my god I can’t believe I just said that out loud.
"What?" Steve asked, confused, and oh, thank god.
“I said I hated how cut up the wires are. Hand me some of that black tape would you?” Eddie said, sticking his hand up, thanking every deity he could think of that his mouth hadn’t managed to out him.
He’d gotten too far in this backwards, hick town to get murdered now.
Muttered angrily to himself under his breath as he continued to do his best to get Hopper’s old clunker up and running.
He wasn’t sure how this guy had the thing going for as long as he did, but as far as Eddie could tell?
The truck ran on magic and well-wishes, both of which they were fresh out of.
“Come on, come on…” Eddie coaxed, as he finally managed to successfully splice and tape the two wires he’d been fiddling with together.
It wasn’t a solid fix, but it should be enough to get them out of here.
"Dude it's okay. If you're like--freaked out." Steve said abruptly, and where the hell had that come from!?
Eddie slammed his wrench down on the edge of the truck, standing up from the bent over crouch he’d been in so he could face Harrington.
"Steve,” He deadpanned, “I think anyone who isn’t freaked out by all this has something wrong with them."
He got a defensive look in return. "I'm just saying! It's normal! You don't have to brave face it or anything, we've all collectively had a lot of breakdowns over this."
He just got a stare in return.
For a brief second he thinks maybe Steve is bringing up last night. That he’s suddenly returned to his King Shit status, rubbing it in Eddie’s face how he’d had not just one breakdown when the demodogs attacked but another one later, when all the adrenaline had left him with nothing but mounting anxiety and panic.
Except when Steve turns to look at him his face isn’t mocking at all, and--oh.
Oh.
Steve, Eddie realized with abrupt clarity, was giving Eddie the speech he wishes someone had given him.
This wasn't another weird language game or that fake-nice thing people did where they act friendly to get an up front show of Eddie’s weirdness, just to make fun of him later for it.
This is honestly. Plain and simple.
Eddie doesn’t know what to do with it.
“Thanks.” He manages, voice now quiet. “That’s…thanks.”
Steve looks away again, rubbing the back of his neck and god, where was this Steve Harrington in high school? Yeah Eddie had seen glimpses of him in his senior year but what about all the years prior?
The guy before him in jeans and a yellow sweater gave off sad single mother vibes so hard Eddie felt an urge to hug him until all the bullshit went away.
Except the bullshit wasn’t just the seven annoying freshmen, but also crazy monsters and shit.
“She uh, she should run now.” Eddie said awkwardly, tapping the car as he turned to remove the few tools he and Steve had managed to scrounge up. “I won’t turn her on until we’re ready to go though, because we’re boned if we turn her off.”
Steve snorted at that, mouthing “boned” at him and Eddie gave a feral grin in response. Stepped into his space, because how could he not, and clapped Steve on a sweater-clad shoulder.
“Get the kiddos, Stevie. We’ve got an eagle to fly us out of Mordor.”
#this is very unedited#steddie#well this part is pre steddie#this one gets there faster than my normal for once#probably bc the whole things a one shot#hellfire joins the party#steve harrington#eddie munson#theyre stuck in Hop's cabin right now#this is very heavily based off of various comedy horror movies and books#predominantly John Dies at the End series#But also cabin in the woods evil dead tucker and dale vs evil#all the good stuff#also backrooms starcourt but thats later#right now its just eddie cursing life itself as he gets sucked into this shit
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i’m not even that big into cinematography but marble hornets is THE exception for me because it’s genuinely just so impressive at times. because of its structure and how everything is shot in tapes basically all of it is straight, unedited shots. so you have anywhere between like 2 to 10 minutes of a continuous, unbroken take, and that’s SO fucking impressive. because even other works like unfriended who claimed to be “shot in one take” utilized different takes/clips, and used camera glitches to cut everything together, but marble hornets doesn’t. it’s just straight footage that must’ve been reshot dozens if not hundreds of times for all the correct camera framings, line deliveries, prop works, etc, and that’s just so fucking cool to me. indie creators just do it better!!!
#icarus speaks#and i ofc mean unedited just in the sense that it’s one shot#not multiple spliced together clips#don’t worry i know they are all HEAVILY edited#slenderman himself didn’t show up to shoots#or maybe he did idk his life#but yeah. very good series :]
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shinsou who knows he’s not a good boyfriend. he loves you more than anything, anyone- and he thinks he always will. but he’s a bad boyfriend. he’s a pro hero, and you never fault him for that. but that means he constantly misses dates and anniversaries. whenever he comes home to your excited face he can’t help it whenever he’s out as soon as he hits the pillow. he’s not the best at communicating, and seeing you try to keep your composure whenever he does something that makes you angry makes his love for you grow. because even though he’s a horrible boyfriend- you’re the best partner he could ever imagine. when he misses the dinner he promised he’d be home for since you had a new recipe you wanted to try, he found a cat shaped sticky note taped to the table reading “I know you’re probably starving, so I left you a plate in the microwave! <3” whenever he pushes you off of him because he’s too tired too overstimulated too much, you hide the hurt and tell him you understand with a sympathetic smile. when he comes back from a rough day, you’ve seen it all on the news, you welcome him with his comfiest pajamas in your hands and gentle touches. but he sees it wearing you down. he sees the permanent furrow in your brow that was never there before. he sees that you’ve stopped waiting up for him (and even though he told you to it still hurts). he sees that this relationship can’t be saved, no matter how many heart shaped bandages you carefully place on the cracks. but he can’t bring himself to break up with you-even knowing you’ll be happier in the long run.
“babe?”
“yeah toshi-“ you freeze, mind clouded in a thick fog.
“break up with me.”
the hurt that is painted across your face once he releases you from his quirk is something he’ll never forget.
#just thoughts#unedited#not very good but it’s been in my brain#poor baby he’s so tired#hitoshi shinsou#shinsou x reader#shinsou imagine#shinsou angst#hitoshi shinso imagine#hitoshi shinso x reader#hitoshi shinso x y/n#hitoshi angst#my hero x reader#my hero academia fanfiction#my hero academia headcanons#mat’s shinsou#my writing#mat’s writing
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As Weak as You are Strong
Part 2 of Mutually Assured Disaster, as usual this isn’t edited so if you see any errors let me know!
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Training Danny did not go the way that Hood had expected it too. First off it started way sooner then he had expected or wanted, he had wanted Danny to rest and fully heal before they started anything, maybe settle in fully to Gotham. But by the end of the first week he had realized that keeping the boy still was a fucking impossible task, he was so fucking restless! Jason attempted it for another four days before realizing that he had to give Danny something controlled and safe to do before sitting still drove him crazy and he did something stupid.
The easiest way to do that just then was to start training Danny, he was able to put it off a few more days by telling Danny he wouldn’t start training until he was signed up for school because the teen didn’t want to go back to school. But it was only a couple days before he seemed to decide that even school would be better then nothing.
Danny accepted being given a new identity, Danny Nightingale and let Hood forge paperwork to have legal guardianship and then enroll him in a decent school. Though he wouldn’t be starting till next semester to give him a chance to settle in to his new home. Jason wasn’t entirely sure when he’d decided Danny belonged with him, but he had, and was looking into bigger apartments for him and his new ward. After all it was official now.
“Okay the first step will be for you to show me what you can do to get a baseline, so we’ll go to gym I usually use after breakfast,” Jason finally said one morning as pulled a bottle of milk out of the fridge. Usually he cooked breakfast for them but it was a bad idea to eat to heavily before a work out, he’d take Danny out for lunch afterwards instead.
He heard Danny pause from where he was digging around in the cupboard grumbling about how healthy Jason’s cereal options were, as if he wasn’t the one who’d already eaten the box of sugary shit Tim had left here. The silence went on for too long and Jason scowled, turning to put the milk down on the counter and stare ad Danny hard.
“What’s the issue Wisp?” Jason asked sounding more annoyed then he actually was.
“Well, it’s just, I’m really strong and I have, like, a lot of powers? A Lot, I don’t even remember all of them half the time! I think it might be better of we leave town for me to show you? Like, if you want to see my most powerful ability that’s my Ghostly Wail, which is a pretty powerful sonic thing I don’t have great control of and I’m worried if I tried to do it inside I might bring down the building.” Danny rambled as casually as he could while he went back to digging for cereal and brought them over to the table.
Jason blinked as he processed that and then nodded slowly. “Okay, we haven’t talked about this much, what powers do you have?”
“Well, the sonic scream I mentioned, super strength, flight, intangibility, I can make and control ice, I have enhanced senses, I can shock people though that’s a hands on attack… Oh, I can sort of hypnotize people, I can possess people as well but I don’t like doing it… I can shape shift a bit though I’m not very good at it yet.” Danny said, counting them out on his fingers and looking a bit unsure as if he might have forgotten some.
“Damn Spooks what Can’t you do?” Jason asked, making light of how genuinely shocking Danny’s power level was.
“I think eventually I’ll learn how to shoot lasers.. Oh! I forgot my ecto beams! I can shoot ecto from my hands with some force, it’s corrosive to humans. And I can’t duplicate yet, the one older member of my species I met could so I assume I’ll learn eventually? I’m not really in a rush to learn though, I already kind of scare myself,” Danny admitted, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Alright, can you show me everything accept the wail inside?” Jason asked tapping his fingers absently against the table, before Danny shoved the box of cereal across the table to him and he remembered they were supposed to be eating.
“I think so, as long as I’m careful. But if I break anything you’re paying for it,” Danny joked around a mouthful of cereal, pointing his spoon at Jason.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Jason said automatically, forcing himself to power through the realization he was fucking parenting this kid. “If I have to pay for anything you’re grounded.”
“You can’t ground me, you’re not my dad,” Danny shot back with an exaggerated pout, at least his mouth wasn’t full this time.
“So you’re not living under my roof, eating all my food, and asking me to train you?” Jason asked, raising his eyebrows, Danny stayed silent, pouting and poking at his cereal, steering the last few bits around the bowl. “If you have so little control of your power that you would break something you might seriously hurt a human in the field even if they don’t deserve it, and we don’t want that so if you break anything you’ll be grounded and it’ll be longer before you get into the field. Until we’re both confident in your control,” Jason explained firmly, he watched Danny consider that then deflate and nod.
“Fine,” He mumbled, drinking his cereal milk and bringing his bowl to the sink, washing it quickly.
Jason let it go, he knew Danny didn’t want to hurt anyone, he was a good kid, he was just disappointed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had a shit attitude when he was Danny’s age as well. Jason finished his breakfast quickly, cleaning up before he grabbed the keys to his bike. “Alright let’s get to the gym, I already made sure it would be kept empty for the morning, so no one will see what we do.” He had been going to this place for ages and no one had found out he was Red Hood after all, in Gotham businesses that catered to vigilantes and rogues were deeply valued.
Danny nodded and grabbed the helmet Jason had bought for him in the first couple days. He left the apartment and went down the stairs ahead of Jason as he locked up. Danny bounded down, jumping a flight of stairs at the time and waiting on the landing for Jason to catch up before leaping down the next one. Jason didn’t understand why he was doing but he had learned gravity didn’t affect Danny the same way as most people did so jumping that way wouldn’t hurt the kid. And if it made him happy Jason didn’t give a shit, he just hurried to keep up.
Danny sat on the back of Jason’s bike, making him think about how he should really look into getting a sidecar or something, even though Danny seemed to enjoy riding on the back. Actually, it was the first time Jason was genuinely considering switching to a car for regular use, that would be safer right? And what if Danny wanted to have a friend over once he started school? Jason couldn’t bring both Danny And a friend home like this. Ya, he should definitely get a car.
God fucking damn it, he was a dad.
They reached the gym no problem and Jason lead the way this time, Danny hanging back just a little, clearly nervous. Jason marched on ahead, leading by example that there was nothing to be afraid of, and Danny hurried to keep up. There were a few people there still there so Jason whistled loudly and reminded the room at large the gym was privately booked out for the next couple hours and it was time to clear out. There was some grumbling but everyone went, it wasn’t exactly the first time this had happened.
“Okay the first thing is a test of strength, help me move all this shit out of the way,” Jason said, he was joking really but Danny didn’t seem to notice. He nodded firmly and went and grabbed one of the pieces of exercise equipment, lifting it and all the weights attached with no trouble at all. Jason had to pause to process that, watching as Danny moved it off to the side. “How much exactly can you lift?”
“I don’t know, I lifted a bus once and it wasn’t to hard,” Danny told Jason casually, as if that was fucking normal! Jason really had his work cut out for him with this kid. He sighed at Danny and then went to grab some targets since Danny had mentioned some sort of blast.
“Alright now that we have a clear patch show me what else you can do,” Jason said once he’d set up the targets. Danny nodded with a determined set to his jaw and in a flash of light that made Jason blink Danny had changed, his hair turning white and his eyes a green that would have made Jason’s stomach turn if he wasn’t already half used to Danny’s eyes flashing that colour randomly.
Over the next hour he watched as Danny blasted the targets with green beams that seemed to melt through what they hit and then eat through the rest, shock, freeze, and fight. When Jason told him to hit a punching bag as hard as he could Danny fucking broke it! The chain snapped and the bag flew across the room.
“I’m so sorry!” Danny yelped as soon as he realized what he’d done, before Jason had fully processed it. “You told me to hit as hard as I could! I should have known to hold back a bit but-“ Danny cut off on his justifications, ducking his head and biting his lip.
Jason took a deep breath, watching the sand that spilled from the split in the punching bag and trying not to think about what that force could do to a human body. “It’s alright, I did say to hit it as hard as you could. Now I need to see if you can punch just hard enough to drop a person without hurting them badly,” he said, ushering Danny over to a bag that wasn’t broken. He wanted to spar with Danny but he needed to make sure it wasn’t overly dangerous to his health first.
“I can do it in my human form,” Danny offered, eager to be helpful. “I have some access to my powers when I am but they’re much weaker when I am so it might be safer.”
“Safer for others but what about for you? You’re more vulnerable when you’re in your human form right?” Jason demanded and Danny winced, nodding reluctantly. “Alright then we’re going to work on you being able to control and restrain your strength in this form. You should be able to do that anyway, pulling a punch takes just as much strength as following it through and the control is even more impressive.”
“This is going to take forever,” Danny groaned.
“Well then we’d better get started then shouldn’t we?” Jason said, repressing his smile in case Danny thought he was making fun of him.
Danny groaned dramatically again, wallowing but only for a moment before the determined set to his jaw returned and he nodded. “Good, do you think you can spar with me without throwing me into a wall?” Jason joked, Danny wouldn’t want to hurt Jason so it really was the best way to help him practice.
Danny barked a startled laugh and grinned. “Oh ya! Don’t worry I’ll go easy on you~” Danny teased making Jason laugh in return, the kid really liked to banter.
“Don’t hold back to much, I’m plenty strong,” Jason shot back as he lead the way to the mat. “After this though I’m taking you to the shooting range. A gun with rubber bullets will be a good way for you to have a ranged attack without shooting fucking acid, and it’s a lot gentler then you can hit. The last thing we need is for you to get worked up or spooked in the field and really hurting someone by accident.”
“Turns out I’m not a gun, I’m much, much worse,” Danny joked and Jason rolled his eyes at the movie reference.
He dropped into a fighting stance once he reached the mat. “I’m on the attack now, I just want you to show me how well you can dodge and block Without using your powers.” Once he had Danny’s confirmation and the younger man was in his stance Jason lunged without a count in.
Danny wasn’t bad for someone who didn’t have any actual training, he was quick and his reflexes were good but he was clearly used to relying more heavily on his powers and took a couple pretty hard hits. Just as importantly though he took those hits, stumbled, recovered, and kept going. They could never avoid every hit, being able to keep going in spite of it was a crucial skill in this line of work.
Jason pushed it until he could see Danny starting to get frustrated so Jason had a good measure of both his abilities and his capacity and then backed off. “Alright we need to work on that, and your patience,” Jason said as he left the mat for a moment to grab their water bottles.
“Why?” Danny asked, maybe a little petulantly, he was eager to get out on patrol and he had always been able to rely on his powers before. Still Jason chose to answer the question in good faith.
“What if your attacked as a civilian and need to hide your powers? What if some day you’re up against something who Can actually hurt and hit you? They obviously exist given how you found me. What if some day you lose your abilities?” Jason pointed out. “Your life is the most important thing so if you have to use them so be it but we need to make sure you can handle yourself decently without them.” He handed Danny his water bottle and they both drank while Danny processed and valiantly attempted not to sulk, he was still a teenager after all and a bit immature.
“As for your patience, you don’t have anger issues like mine but if you lost your temper you could do a lot more damage.” Jason noted the way that made Danny flinch, he’s ask about that later.
“Alright now your turn to attack, show me how you fight without those powers of yours. You can turn back now if you want to, though I think you should patrol in this form so you should learn to control your strength like this. It’ll help keep your identity secret too. Though if the people in this city haven’t figured out who Nightwing is their obviously fucking idiots,” Jason told Danny as he put down his bottle and returned to the mat.
“I don’t have a lot of practice fighting humans, just other ghosts, so until I get a better feel for that I think I’d rather spar as a human as well. I mean, I’m still strong like this,” the same flash of white light around Danny and he once again had black hair and blue eyes. “But not as strong so it’ll be a good way to ease into it right?”
“Sure that makes sense, come on,” Jason said beckoning for Danny to come at him. Which he did, sloppily. He was fast, but he was untrained, his strikes were wide and telegraphed, Jason dodged and grabbed Danny’s arm, flipping him and putting his back on the ground before letting him up. Danny stood up again, looking a little more wary this time, he took a moment to consider Jason before attacking again, his attacks a little more considered and precise, but still pretty damn obvious.
Jason blocked and dodged mostly, letting Danny land at least one hit to see how hard it would be, he pulled it pretty well actually, it might leave a bit of a bruise but it didn’t even knock Jason over. Jason took Danny’s moment of triumph for landing a hit as an opening to put Danny on the ground again with a chuckle, he had to keep the kid humble after all right? He offered Danny his hand to help the boy up giving him a warm smile.
“Alright, not bad but there’s a lot you could learn. I think we’ve got a good baseline of what your capable of, and I’ll start training you in MMA and other fighting styles tomorrow, and shooting lessons this afternoon. First lunch, what do you want to eat?”
#jason todd#danny phantom#danny fenton#dc x dp#Danny never learned to fight like a human#humans are very squishy#op danny phantom#red hood#This is not my best work but I still think it's funny#fanfiction#unedited
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Dreamling - Comfort given freely - 691w
Dream has a hard time accepting all the succor he had received from Hob since his return in 2020.
▾▾▾
"Why?” Dream asks.
“I knew you needed it” Hob smiles at him “and I could give it, so what’s the harm in that?”
Dream averts his eyes, pride and hurt fighting inside of him. He does not wish to be so, he wishes not to be depended on anyone’s pity, on anyone’s scrapes of empathy— but oh stars, how he does need it, how much the empty spaces of the fabric of his soul crave it, want it.
He cannot face this man, cannot look him in the eyes and let him know that he had won. Won where others did not. Many had gained his affections, some had gained his love, but Hob....Hob had won his trust. He had won his trust and he had won him over.
He has the power over him, one of the Endless.
Something that should not be, shouldn't have happened.
“Morpheus?” Hob asks, a short silence, and closer “Dream” he says, gentle, gentle as if talking to a wounded thing, a hurt thing.
Is there no end to this man’s pity?
Dream’s insides twists, for he knows that Hob is honest, and that Hob is true. He knows that he means it, means this care of his. Dream wonders if he should leave, if he was mistaken for questioning it. Perhaps he should accept it, allow his pride some rest. And yet—
“I love you.” Hob says.
Dream looks up, sharp, alert.
“What?” he says, though he had heard him quite well.
“I love you.” Hob says with a shrug, kind eyes looking sad “You don’t need to think so hard about it, there’s nothing to it other than that, I love you, I love you and I’d do anything for you” Hob finds his eyes, and smiles again, there's a deeply rooted fondness in that look.
For a moment, Dream's shadow distorts, the lights in the room flickering. He notices that as he notices the heat in his chest, at his neck, on his face. This body of his, this image he presents to the world, should not do things he does not choose to show.
Words that are his to command, that come so easily to him at most days, are lost to him now as he opens his mouth and no sound comes out in response to Hob's confession.
Love. He knows love. Bright and passionate, strong and wild, worlds consumed, galaxies worth of feelings— love is not this, not the calm patience of a friend, not the endless devotion, not the... soothing safety he feels in Hob's presence.
“You confuse.” Dream answers at last.
“No I don’t” Hob’s light reply comes without a hint of argument.
“Hob Gadling, you—”
“—love you?” Hob completes, this time smiling.
Annoyance ignites whitin Dream, the heat on his face deepening.
“Do not mock me.” he starts, voice raising a fraction, deepening a bit. He will not allow this. He will not stand here as a mere human makes mockery of—
“Dream, I don’t.” Hob reaches a hand— hesitates only a second— and takes a hold of Dream’s tense hand. “It’s okay if you don’t, I don’t expect you to, but this..” he presses their joint hands across his own chest “...is how I feel. I’d do crazier things for you than just care for you, " he stops as if he swallowed one last word, looking mildly bashful but with an unashamed smile on his lips. “tis just how it is” he says and squeezes Dream’s hand firmer against his chest.
Dream can feel the quick rhythm of his heart, can feel the roughness of his hand, can sense the human warmth of him— he can feel his love.
"I...understand." he says, and this is not true, he does not.
He does not understand this form of love. Does not know how to experience nor how to express it. Yet he finds himself wishing for it. Finds himself wanting not for the scorching heat of a dying star but for the soothing tranquility of a spring lake. Something calm, something without waves to drown him under. Something...safe.
Something that might just be Hob Gadling.
#I found this thing from back in november‚ to the most part I left it unedited however I did add a bit to it :)#Dream's type of love is very... hectic. He had great and full of turmoil romances. Makes sense he'd miss out a different type.#Dreamling#Dreamling fic#The sandman#dream of the endless#hob gadling#dream#hob#buns.w#buns.all#I need to be asleep actually lmao so I don't have time for a final re-read hope y'all feel the softness though~ Hob's unconditional love!
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happy new year's eve @luminousbeings-crudematter, here's another version of the purge au (4k) that i forgot i finished in the process of trying to get the first one done lol
(also when i said "it's essentially the same thing but with different smut" i meant... no smut. i didn't post this one bc i couldn't figure out what to do with the smut. but this has some kidnapping and overall rough creepiness!)
cw: noncon touching, kidnapping, graphic murder, blood & violence, unedited bc im lazy
The soles of your feet burn against the hot asphalt, even though the sun’s been set for hours. The flames roaring from the burning high school alongside you are enough to heat the ground, enough to leave you wincing with every step and trying your best to walk on your toes.
You’re not sure if the wetness on your cheeks is tears or blood, or some sick combination of both. You’d wipe it off to see, but your hands are covered in red, and you don’t want to smear it across your face.
It’s impossible not to flinch at the sudden sound of cackling laughter, some indeterminate distance away but clear as a bell. The laugh cuts off abruptly, followed by a high-pitched scream that makes you wince. You speed up as much as you can, breath shuddering in your chest. You feel a few tears slip down your cheeks, just adding to the tacky mixture already covering your face.
The street is crowded with Purgers, people wearing all sorts of different gear to make themselves seem as terrifying as possible. You’d feel lacking in your black pants and shirt, if you wanted any attention like them. Instead you pray that whoever’s looking for fun won’t focus on you, that you’ll disappear with so many other distractions out tonight.
The sound of a chainsaw revving makes you shudder, and you tuck your arms close to your chest.
You can’t believe you were stupid enough to come out on Purge night, but there’s no use dwelling on that now, not when you’re still blocks away from home with absolutely no way to defend yourself.
You should’ve known your friend - your now very dead friend - didn’t have good intentions. She’d invited you out with her to vandalize your most recent ex’s house, and like an idiot you’d agreed and walked yourself right into a trap. Your only defense is that you’d had a few drinks before leaving your perfectly safe apartment, in hopes of forgetting all the screams you’d hear outside. It’s the only reason you can think that you were so quick to agree when you’ve got absolutely no way of defending yourself.
Her blood is still wet on your hands. You don’t feel bad about her death, and that makes you feel sick. You’d never thought you’d be the kind of person to actually partake in the Purge, let alone kill during it, but here you are - stumbling home covered in blood with two deaths on your hands. The fact that it was self-defense isn’t nearly as much of a comfort as you need to make your heart beat less erratically, to make the blood stop burning against your skin.
The quick flashes of their deaths won’t stop playing on repeat in your mind - you would’ve died if you’d been any less lucky, and you doubt your piece of shit ex would have made it quick.
If you hadn’t caught them together - your friend fucking him in the bed you used to sleep in, that fucking bitch - you might not have had the anger necessary to kill them. Might not have had the rage, the energy, to stab them both until they stopped screaming.
Your arms already ache from the force you’d used. You can’t stop seeing your friend’s face, torn to shreds beneath you, blood splattering up onto your own face and neck while your ex’s corpse cooled beside you. You’re not sure if you’re hearing her screams still, or if someone nearby is suffering just like she had.
The only thing you can bring yourself to regret is leaving behind the knife. It would come in handy now, as you walk alone down one of the poorest neighborhoods in your city.
It would come in especially handy as a hand grabs your shoulder, yanking you to the side and into an alleyway, shoving you against rough bricks and ignoring your yelp.
“Well, well, look’it you…” the man drawls, his face hidden by a bright red skull and a black hood covering the rest of his head. “Wha’s a bonnie lass like you doin’ out tonight, all alone?”
You can’t speak, heart thudding painfully at your ribcage as you blink up at him. He’s all you can see, just a bright red skull floating in place.
“Please,” you manage to gasp, hands shakily raised in front of your chest.
“Please? Please what?” His words are sharp, almost bitten off, and he leans closer. “Haven’t even threatened ye yet, pretty thing. What’re you beggin’ for?”
You whimper as he leans closer, hardly inches away from your face, and a loud boom from somewhere nearby shakes the wall at your back. You still can’t tell if it’s blood or tears dripping down your face. You jump at the sound, and your chest hits his. Before you can move back, his hands are on your shoulders, keeping you pressed to him.
“Oh, did that scare you?” He coos, patronizing and mean. “You a little scaredy cat, all alone and afraid?”
You sob, hands pushing at his chest, and he makes a sound somewhere between a hum and a laugh, pushes you against the wall without pulling even an inch away.
“No, no, you’re not goin’ anywhere. ‘S not safe out there for you, kitty. It was so easy to grab you, you want someone else to get a hold of you? They won’t be as nice as me, I can tell you that.”
“Get- get off!”
He laughs, loud and rough, right in your face. “Oh, I’ll be gettin’ off, kitty. Might take some teamwork, huh? A good way to get to know my new friend-”
He cuts himself off with a sharp Oh! as your knee jerks up into his crotch, the man doubling over in pain and groaning as his head comes to rest against the wall by your face. You barely have enough sense left in you to duck out of his way before his body goes limp against the wall, hand cupping your target.
“Fuckin’ bitch,” you hear him hiss, right before you stumble away, legs weak as you put all your energy into not tripping over your own feet. Your only thought is getting out of the alley, even though being more exposed is probably riskier than just taking your chances with the man in the red skull. Still, there’s some instinct at the back of your mind telling you go, run, and you’re not stupid enough to ignore it.
You hardly make it five steps away before you hit a wall - no, not a wall, a person.
It’s almost comical, the way you bounce off of him and stumble backwards, losing your balance on weak knees and sending yourself straight to the ground. He’s a monolith above you, a massive figure clothed in all black, the light from the flames behind him almost making him glow. He’s all black cloth and white mask, a skull hovering well past six feet in the air.
The sight of him makes your heart stutter, brings everything into acute focus around you, slowing the world down to a near stop. That same instinct at the back of your mind tells you this man is worse than the last, that you should’ve taken your chances with the red skull.
You’re jerked back and to the side, shoved roughly against the brick wall. Your face scrunches up at the rough texture against your cheek, your torso flush against the wall and the first man flush against your back. You manage to open one eye and track the new man, your other forced shut from the way your head is angled.
The white skull tilts, and its wearer steps closer. You can’t help the small cry you let out, the way you flinch back into the first man like he’ll do anything but expose you more. His hands are rough on you, one hand locked around the back of your neck and the other harsh on your hip.
The body behind you laughs, push further into the wall regardless of the stinging pain as the white skull steps closer. He stops hardly a foot away, when your vision is eclipsed by only him. You try to struggle against the hands holding you, whimpering when they dig in more harshly.
“You got her?” A voice asks, and it takes a minute for you to realize it’s the new man in front of you.
“Yeah,” the first man pants, holding you close and alleviating some of the pressure against your cheek. “Woulda caught her without you, y’know. She just caught me off guard.”
The white skull rumbles low in his chest, a rejection. You’re not sure if he’s got faith in your ability to escape, or doesn’t trust his partner’s ability to chase. He’s close enough that you can only see the black of his chest, close enough that you can watch him breathe.
“I’m sure. You got a good hold on her?”
The hands squeeze, you can’t help but make a sound disturbingly close to a squeal, and- “Yeah, course, got her tight to me, Ghost. She’s not goin’ anywhere.” There’s an air of desperation in Red’s voice, a strained tension underlying every word. He’s almost eager, but it’s all directed towards the man in front of you - Ghost - instead of towards the prospect of hurting you.
Ghost doesn’t respond, but he steps close enough to press his chest against your shoulder. The three of you are all less than a foot apart, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to get away. Another tear slips down your cheek.
You can feel Red’s chest heaving behind you, and at first you can’t understand why - he hasn’t had to chase you, hasn’t had to fight, there’s no reason for him to be out of breath.
It hits you when you feel the hard plastic of his mask press into the top of your head. He’s eager, and it’s making him pant like a dog. You’d bet he’s drooling behind the mask and the thought makes you shiver.
You flinch when a gloved hand cups your chin, tugging your face up so you’re staring into the eye sockets of the mask.
His eyes are dark brown, so dark that you almost can’t see them past the shadows and the paint over his skin. The flames roar behind him, giving him a monstrous glow.
“Pretty thing,” he hums, chest rumbling against your side. You try to push away from him, but there’s nowhere to go. “You’re gonna be our little toy for the night. Things’ll get worse for you if you try to run. You hearin’ me?”
It’s pure instinct to nod, to give this man what he wants, but you know you’ll still try to run the second they look away.
“Alright then. Let’s get you home. Johnny,” the man steps away, jerking his head in clear instruction for Johnny to follow and turning away. “Come.”
“Right behind ye,” Red - Johnny - assures, that same eagerness in his tone as he tugs you away from the wall, trotting behind his partner. “It’s gonna be a great night, lass. You and I are gonna have fun.”
You can’t help but whimper at that, letting your body go nearly limp as the man drags you by the elbow. You can’t even fathom the horrors they’ve got in store for you, what fun is to two men hunting for lone girls on Purge night.
You try to let your feet drag, but they hurt too much for that to last long. You consider going limp, making them carry you, but you’re too scared that they’ll just drag you across the concrete and let you bleed.
You only manage to keep up with Johnny because he doesn’t give you another choice. You’re practically hobbling from the pain in your feet, forced to walk on the balls of your feet and lean your weight into his hand where it’s wrapped tight around your arm. He doesn’t give you any slack, doesn’t even seem to notice when you struggle to match his pace.
The three of you have walked several blocks - you can’t quite focus enough to count - keeping to the sides of buildings and dodging other people, when you’re tackled to the ground out of nowhere.
It’s impossible to stop the blood-curdling shriek from leaving your throat. Your bare arms feel torn to shreds as you slide across the ground, head bouncing off the ground and leaving you with black spots dancing across your vision.
You’re hardly able to blink, body alight with pain, and the heavy weight over you only serves to make your panic worse. You moan as you roll your neck, staring wide-eyed up at the dark sky and praying the ringing in your ears isn’t permanent.
Your vision is just starting to clear when the man on top of you - and he’s definitely a man, he’s not even wearing a mask and his expression is mean and you find yourself glad you can’t hear what he’s saying - jerks back, his head pulled back until all you can see is his bared throat.
You can hardly even register what’s happening in the next few seconds. Some distant, detached part of you can recognize that someone slits the man’s throat, that his blood comes gushing out and covers your face.
The first sound you can hear again is your own screaming - it’s an ear splitting sound that melts from the ringing in your ears. When you gasp underneath the man, the corpse, you can feel his blood falling into your mouth. Every breath tastes like iron, and the world is tinted pink from the drops of it falling from your brows.
You can do nothing but pant and shake when the corpse is thrown off of you, replaced immediately by Johnny. You can hardly focus on him, are only really aware enough to know he’s there.
“Hush, bonnie, yer fine,” he scolds, one big hand coming up to cover your mouth, pinky and ring finger holding your jaw shut. “Wanna draw people over? Ye wanna see me and Ghost kill someone else for you, ‘s that it?”
You shake your head on instinct, tears running down your temples, dampening your hair. Your chest aches with the force of your breaths, nose congested from all the crying.
“Then hush,” he hisses, face so close that you can feel the breaths from his nostrils. You flinch at the loud sound of gunshots disturbingly nearby, desperately pushing against his body to try and see what’s going on. You can hear grunts and moans, the sound of something heavy hitting the ground, and your heart races.
Then, the sounds stop. It doesn’t go silent - not with other Purgers still out, still killing - but the area you’re trapped in is quiet again. Johnny drops a little more of his weight onto you, making it even harder to breathe.
You have to focus on every breath, deliberately making sure you get enough air so that your lungs stop aching. You only notice the movement on top of you after nearly a minute of slow breathing.
Johnny’s hips grind slow and steady against your stomach, and it makes you sick to realize you can feel his erection through his pants. His chest rises and falls with harsh breaths, and his movements are just harsh enough to force your body to move with his.
There’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. Not with shock settling in, his weight holding you pinned to the ground, and the pain in your head shifting to something closer to a migraine. All you can do is focus on your breathing and stare up at the stars.
“Johnny,” Ghost eventually calls, and you can hear him kick what you can only assume to be a corpse out of the way. You can’t help but whimper when he crouches nearby, his boots splattered with blood. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Need-” Johnny gasps, hips stuttering against you before working even more quickly. “Needed to feel her, fuck, Ghost, she’s so fuckin’ soft. Can’t wait to be inside, to fuck her full, feel her squeeze-”
You whine against the hand over your mouth, trying to pull your face away from his grip and only succeeding in dragging your sensitive head across the harsh concrete.
“You’re gonna fuck her out here, where anyone can see? Doubt you’ll be able to keep her safe when you’re pussydrunk.”
Johnny moans above you, dropping more of his weight on each thrust. “Tha’s why you’re here, yeah? To keep me and the lass safe?”
Ghost grunts, fisting a hand in the strip of hair left revealed by Johnny’s mask. “Don’t be a fuckin’ brat, Johnny. You know I don’t have to do shit for you - either of you. Maybe I want to see my mutt get all defensive, growlin’ over his girl. You ever think about that?”
The whine that slips from Johnny’s throat is nothing less than pathetic, his pace becoming uneven as his eyes screw shut behind the mask. “C’mon, Ghost, I’m close, just let me… just watch for another minute, yeah?”
The scoff from Ghost is mean, and even you feel the absurd desire to try and placate the man. He stands abruptly, stepping away from where you’re pinned and leaving you staring at the cooling corpse of a man you don’t recognize.
“You do whatever you want, puppy. Stay here and get yourself off or behave and heel. You know what you’ll get either way.”
You can’t help but furrow your eyebrows as Johnny hisses out shit above you, hips working desperately against you for a few long moments before he drops his entire body weight onto you, knocking the air out of you.
“Okay,” he whispers, seemingly to himself. “Okay, alright, it’s fine. It’s fine.”
He pulls himself away from you with a long oan, pushing up until there’s no place the two of you are touching but you’re still entirely caged in by him. He takes his hand off your mouth to hold himself up and you wince at the string of blood between his hand and your lips.
“Not gonna fuck ye yet, kitty,” he tells you, staring into your eyes with an intensity you don’t quite know what to do with. “Ghost’ll make the both of us regret it, and ye don’t deserve that on your first night home.”
You hardly manage to bite back a whimper. “Please…”
His eyes crease, like he’s smiling beneath the mask. “God, yer so scared, aren’t ye? I can fucking taste it in the air, kitty. It’s delicious. Cannae fuckin’ wait to have you on my tongue.” You shudder, eyes dropping to his neck when his gaze becomes too heavy.
He forces you to stand before you’re ready, leaving you to lean on him if only to avoid crumbling to the ground like a ragdoll. You ite your tongue against a sob at the sight of three corpses around you, a twisted sense of appreciation and disgust warring in your mind.
Johnny herds you like a dog, pushing you by the small of your back and your shoulders as he tries to catch back up with his partner. You’re left stumbling in front of him, unsure and terrified, not quite strong enough to think running away would be a good idea. It doesn’t take long for you to spot Ghost’s large back on the street in front of you, and a part of you resents the fact that he’s already so recognizable.
He’s an overeager shadow, unable to decide if he wants to tug you forward or chase you from behind. He ends up almost circling you, shifting from your back to your side to your front and back again, always moving, always rushing. It leaves you unstable and nervous, unable to predict what he'll do next.
Chills run down your spine at the thought of this man… taking you. If you’re this terrified of him fully clothed, you’re loath to think of how you’ll react when he gets you where he wants you.
The two of you only manage to catch up to Ghost because he stops for a cigarette. His pale jaw is exposed when he tugs the mask up enough, and you try your best to memorize the scars covering his face, telling yourself that you’ll remember him, that you’ll never let him near you again once this night is over.
The look he sends Johnny is approving, the look he sends you is distinctly smug. It makes your teeth grind, makes you really wish you still had that knife so you could lurch forward, thrust the blade into the solid center of him and twist, pull out again and aim a little higher, then again, then again, then again-
“Made your choice, then?”
“Yes, sir. Wanna be good.”
Ghost hums, flicking the butt of his cig then dropping it to the ground, the cherry still glowing. “Settin’ a good example for your girl, huh? That’s my boy.”
The sound Johnny makes is animalistic, and despite the harsh grip he’s got on your arm you try to lean as far away as possible. There’s a building energy under his skin, a twitch in his fingers, that unnerves the animal part of your brain in ways Ghost doesn’t.
“‘Course. Gonna teach her how to be good, too, gonna keep her perfect for us.”
Ghost is completely stoic with the mask tugged back over his face, nothing but his heavy gaze as he stares you down. It’s hard not to jerk away from Johnny and run, no matter how futile you know the effort would be.
He reaches out a big, gloved hand towards your face, moving quickly enough that you can’t fully flinch away and hide your face in your shoulder or chest. His thumb strokes across your cheekbone, smearing the sticky mess of liquid across your face and huffing a sound just loud enough for you to hear.
“Cat got your tongue, girl?” He rumbles, a faint note of something in his voice lost in the sounds of anarchy behind you.
You try to shake your head, unable to manage anything more than a, “Please.”
Johnny scoffs beside you, wrapping both of his massive arms around your shoulders and holding you close. “Broken record, this one. Hasn’t said much else since we nicked her.”
“That’s alright,” Ghost rumbles, give Johnny one firm stroke over his mohawk. “I’m sure you’ll drag all sorts of pretty sounds out of her tonight. Now, let’s get goin’. Don’t want your little toy gettin’ her nerve up and earnin’ herself a punishment so early in the night. Come, now.”
Johnny laughs, loud and harsh as he tugs you to follow him and Ghost. You know you should be upset about what he’s said, know he should be doing exactly what he warns against and try to get away.
But you’ve got no energy left to fight. Everything hurts, your system is overrun by fear and just the tiniest drop of adrenaline, and your best chance of making it through this night is passing out and forgetting any of it ever happened.
A few tears, stragglers, drip down your cheeks when Johnny tugs you beside him. The places his fingertips squeeze against your arm have gone numb, and your feet feel like they’re on fire. Your arms are sluggishly bleeding and you’re not convinced you don’t have a concussion.
It’s hard to hold back sobs when you think of how much worse it’s going to get. Staring at the broad back of Ghost, feeling the feral energy of Johnny hardly contained by your side, all you can hope is that they let you survive the night.
You close your eyes as Johnny guides you, take a deep, steadying breath, and pray for your own strength. You tell yourself that maybe next year you can seek them out, find them at the very start of the Purge and get your revenge.
It’s a comforting enough daydream to lessen the aches of your body, to shine a spot of light after the hurricane of your future.
#this might very well be incomprehensible#when i say unedited i mean i haven't read this since i originally gave up on it#i just remember liking the way i wrote johnny and being said i wouldnt get to post it LMAO#anyways. no one say anything mean about it to me if it sucks#remember that this is not the first version i posted lmao#ghoap x reader#bo writes#dark fic#also sorry for the random tag lumi lmk if you want me to untag you lol
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your boyfriend has been doing timeloops every time he dies and i promised to help him figure out the right path to take, but i neglected to mention that i would force him to endure every other possibility first to satisfy my own curiosity, and now after suffering death in 100 million different realities hes unbelievably fucked up sorry
this post is about him btw
#(specifically echidna talking abt him to emilia)#idc if ppl incorporate the unedited version to other characters tho! have fun w it!#but it broke containment and i want everyone to know it was about this specific very fucked up guy lol#and that its not hyperbolic this really does all happen to him in the greed route#re:zero
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