#got another labyrinth mention in there

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

How You Turn My Word; Chapter 2

The day continues, and this time you find yourself in an entire new world... a world called The Underground.

Character; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, more shenanigans, reader isn't happy

Content Warning; Intoxication (Lilia), swearing

Word Count; 2.7 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Don't put my work into AI; I'll make sure you end up in the Bog of Eternal Stench.

Lilia’s night was not going according to plan and he was mentally cursing himself over it.

Thing Lilia did not plan for #1; he got lost. To be fair though, many a thing had drastically changed since the last time he romped around the mortal realm. A few hundred years would do that though. Humans now seemed to live in tall metal boxes rather than the humble cottages of ages past. 

Thing Lilia did not plan for #2; a red flower deceiving him and containing something akin to liquor. So he was flying around lost while under the influence, which only worsened his situation. (Lilia did not know it, but the red flower was in fact a hummingbird feeder with sugar water which had been left out in the sun for too long and had fermented. Make sure to change your hummingbird feeder often on hot days so you don’t cause a nectar-loving friend to fly while wasted) 

Thing Lilia did not plan for #3; getting himself stuff in one of those tall metal boxes, and he was now stuck inside some cursed metal labyrinth. At least it was not iron or silver, as it did not burn, apparently, humans no longer fortified their abodes with those metals. Perhaps the times have changed for the better?

But Lilia finally escaped the infernal metal labyrinth, perhaps luck was finally on his side tonight after all! He bumped around a few corners. My my, what a small hovel. Perhaps things have not changed all that much from the last time I was here… But Lilia was rudely pulled from his thoughts when something swatted him clean out of the air. And the culprit? A rather rotund grey cat with large blue eyes, which was now carrying Lilia into its lair, most likely to play with him for a bit before deciding that it had had it’s fun and ultimately put him out of his misery.

His night went from a jolly and somewhat embarrassing tale he would regale about at the local tavern, to a bedtime story parents would tell their children about the dangers of going places that you really shouldn’t. Should he get out of this sticky situation Lilia would not live this incident down. 

The cat placed Lilia in a collection of socks and then sauntered off, calling out at the top of its lungs. Great, it's getting company for supper, and I’m the appetizer. How lovely. But Lilia knew he would have a better chance of getting out of this situation if he stayed calm and waited for an opportunity to escape. Even while tipsy, he could keep his cool.

And the feline was back and yanked Lilia out of the sock hole. Cracking open his one eye he saw that the cat did not come back with its hungry friends, but rather, a human. That was both good news and bad news. Good news; he most likely was not going to be eaten tonight! Yippee! Bad news; the last time he was in bat-form in a human’s abode, he was chased around with a torch, which he really did not want to go through again. So his best course of action was to play dead in this situation.

When the human left the room though, he took his chance and took flight once again, trying to find a way out. The cat was trying to catch him again, but Lilia knew of its tricks this time and dodged every swipe it sent his way.

But he was pulled out of his thoughts when the human screeched at the cat, “YOU CAUGHT A FUCKING BAT?!” 

Oh yeah, they did not sound happy, not at all, but it seemed to be directed more at their feline companion rather than him.

As he was busy flapping around, trying to find an escape but to no avail, he also heard the human whispering to him. “Don’t fly towards my head, bat. I’m just trying to get you back outside. You’re a nice bat, right? Nice bat, nice bat.”

Were he not preoccupied and in a better state of mind, Lilia would have been amused by this. Currently, though he was occupied with trying not to be eaten and finding a way out of this cursed place. He was not in a laughing mood. All Lilia wanted to do was get back home, pass out in his bed but he would also be happy with his sofa as well, and pretend that this was nothing more than a bad dream after a night spent tavern hopping. Dealing with a horrid hangover would be better than this… and he was most likely going to have one of those anyways. Tonight really wasn’t Lilia’s night, not at all.

Then the human grabbed the cat, and Lilia was finally left alone. The window was open, but he didn’t know that, as his mind was too preoccupied with you know, not dying, that he hadn’t noticed that the human had opened it for him. So where did Lilia go? Well, he went back into the metal labyrinth (air duct), and fumbled around until he tired himself out. It wasn’t the most ideal of spots to crash for the night, but it was better than going back and possibly being eaten, Lilia would rather avoid that. So this was going to be his bed for the night, a lonely quiet corner of the air duct system, where he could hopefully wake up sober tomorrow. But he yearned for his warm quilts that awaited for him back at home, back in Faerie, or as some call it, the Underground.

Lilia wasn’t even supposed to be in the mortal realm in the first place, but curiosity had won him over, and he even ignored the travel advisory that was in place. Some crow fae had travelled there about a century or so ago and had yet to return back, hence a travel advisory. But yet here he was in the mortal realm, tiny, drunk, and utterly lost. His bad decisions could be looked into further detail once he got some shut-eye. So he wrapped himself in his wings and passed out in the corner of the air vent. Hopefully, when he woke up he could turn this disastrous day around.

…

Upon waking up, Lilia groaned — or rather, in this case, squeaked — and stretched his wings out. So the wretched metal maze and last night's fiasco was not some liquor-hazed dream; how lovely. Utterly delightful.

At least the strange maze echoed sound quite well, so he knew what exits to avoid. Not that one, he could hear a dog barking, and the feline encounter was enough for him. No, not that one either, he could hear children screaming.

Finally, he came to an opening, there was some quiet chatter, but it was far enough away where Lilia felt comfortable enough to explore this potential escape route. 

Why does this look familiar? AM I BACK IN THE BUILDING?! Yes, yes he was. At least there was no sign of the ca–

“Mrp?” Speak of the devil.

The cat got out of its den and lept at Lilia, who dodged the attack, and the cat pushed some books off a desk. The cat was also screaming at him, and causing an all-around ruckus. Lilia managed to outmaneuver the feline, but soon a brand new human came into the scene.

The new human took one look at Lilia and backpedalled out of the room. But the human had just created another escape route for him, and Lilia flew, well, like a bat straight out of hell for it. Too bad the next room contained two more humans, including the one he had encountered from last night… maybe they would be nice again and spare him for trespassing on their small abode?

In the midst of the chaos, the human from last night knocked him out of the air with a broom. Okay, that hurt little Beastie. But that swing and the crash landing into a table caused Lilia to shift back into his human form, which also caused sparkles to happen. Did humans still think magic was evil? Well, he was about to find out.

Everyone remained silent, and after the sheer noise of the chaos, it was deafening, even the cat was quiet. And Lilia stared at the human that had knocked him out of the air, you. And you were staring straight back at him, looking utterly baffled. Well, this is awkward… I think I have overstayed my welcome… 

Lilia snapped his fingers, and he started to disappear into sparkles yet again, this time going home since he wasn’t able to use his magic when stuck in bat form. And it was happening without a pinch, but you seemed to trip on thin air and crash landed on his feet, disappearing with him; a stowaway coming to Faerie. 

… Well this is no good now, is it?

…

…

…

 When the green sparkles subsided, you found yourself sitting in some sort of bog, and the water had made it into your mouth by some twist of fate. While you were busy spitting the bog water out of your mouth, the stranger was standing by the bank, dry, without any sulfuric-tasting water in his mouth, and looking better for wear.

Pulling yourself out of the bog water — eugh, you smelled like eggs now, great — you pointed an accusatory finger at him, water dripping from the end. “Where,” you spat out some extra bog water from your mouth, “am I? And why does it reak of eggs?!” You would have looked and sounded more imposing, but you were sopping wet, covered in mud, and spitting out coughs trying to get the bad taste out of your mouth; which wasn’t really commanding any sort of respect.

The stranger, Lilia, snorted before letting out a cough, trying to hide his amusement very poorly. He waved his hand, green sparkles surrounded you and you were now dry, still covered in mud, but dry. “Faerie, although some call it the Underground.”

You opened your mouth, but he wagged his finger at you. “And before you blame me for bringing you here, you have no one to blame for this but yourself!” Despite the cheeriness, there was something cold and off putting in his eyes, like he was calculating something. But that moment passed, and the almost annoying cheerful facade came back in full. “As for the smell? That so happens to be The Bog of Eternal Stench!”

“Like eternal eternal?” You really didn’t need to smell like rotten eggs for the rest of your days.

The stranger just chuckled, “Fret not, Beastie, I decided to return the favour, since your feline friend decided not to eat me. But it is indeed ‘eternal eternal’ if you don’t have the means to get rid of it.”

Beastie? “Uh, okay.” not the most eloquent of things to say, but really, could anyone blame you? You just fell through some kind of portal, magic(?) was real, and oh yeah, so were fae/faeries or whatever the hell they called themselves. So ‘Uh, okay’ was perfectly fine in this situation.

Mr. Sparkles — if he was going to call you Beastie, he deserved a dumb nickname — just gave you a smile, exposing the barest hint of his fangs; despite his small frame, he was still dangerous, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. It was as if he was assessing you, to see if you would be worth the trouble to help. You didn’t know if either option would be good by the way his magenta eyes twinkled with mischief.

He let out a huff and started walking away, and you followed. “I wouldn’t recommend following me, Beastie,” he hummed, and you tripped over a rock, vines keeping you to the moss. “The court would not take kindly to you.” 

You glared at him and tried ripping the vines off of your feet, but they didn’t budge. “And why should I listen to you?” 

Mr. Sparkles booped you on the nose, “Well, it would ensure that you made it out of here alive, which I believe you would find beneficial and all.” 

Obnoxious prick. But he did have a point, you would rather make it back home alive rather than fucking around and finding out (aka dying). “So what? Are you going to just leave me here? No welcome brochure? Thanks.” 

You were being sarcastic, since it was either sarcasm or having a full-on existential crisis, since hey, magic wasn’t real in your world! Dimension? Galaxy? Where the fuck was this place?! How the hell did you end up here?!

“Hmm good point…” he snapped his fingers and there was now a book sitting in your lap. “This should suffice, do be warned though, Beastie, I may call on you later to return the favour. For now though,” he started to turn into green sparkles, “toodaloo!~” And he turned into a bat, flying off into the sunset, leaving you alone at the edge of the swamp with the only things to your name being the clothes on your back and a book in your lap.

How to Survive the Underground; For Humans! … Did he just give you this world’s equivalent of a For Dummies book? What the fuck? Was this kind of sick joke to him?

…

…

Once some of your ire had subsided, you decided to sit down on a boulder and read a bit of the book while there was still some sunlight out, but it was dipping into the horizon fast.

How to Survive the Underground; For Humans! By Yelworc Erid Preface …… i - iv Chapter 1; Surviving Your First Night…… 1 - 10 Chapter 2; Edible Food for Humans …… 11 - 31 Chapter 3; The Basics of Fae Etiquette …… 32 - 35 3.1; Species Specifics …… 36 - 146 3.2; Government Specifics …… 147 - 169 Chapter 4; Help! I Have Been Indentured to a Fae! …… 170 - 200 Chapter 5; Adjusting to Fae Social Life …… 201 - 224 Chapter 6; Transmittable Illnesses & Diseases …… 225 - 261 Chapter 7; Fae Courting Practices …… 262 - 264 7.1; Species Specifications …… 265 - 366 7.2; Government Specifications …… 367 - 389 7.3; Accepting a Courting Proposal …… 390 - 393 7.4; Refusing a Courting Proposal …… 394 - 401 Chapter 8; How to Handle Fae Children …… 402 - 452 Chapter 9; How to Leave the Underground … 453 Chapter 10; Adjusting to Life in the Underground …… 454 - 482 Acknowledgments …… 483 - 485

Looking back up to the horizon, you quickly turned the pages to Chapter 1; Surviving Your First Night.

“If you are unable to find yourself some suitable shelter, one should find themselves safe by camping out in a rowan tree. These trees can easily be found by their vermillion clusters of berries. They keep away all native species of the Underground,” you read out loud, turning your attention to the trees nearby, searching for those berries. “Rowan tree, rowan tree–”

A loud screech coming from the undergrowth only pushed you further. 

Nope, I do not want to find out what THAT was! Nope! NoPe! NOPE! 

Finally, you found a tall enough tree and you hauled your ass up it like there was a fire below you, and you were up in the canopy, far enough up that nothing could reach you, but also high enough where you needed to be careful, since you didn’t want to meet an early death because you made a wrong move. But for now, you were safe.

“Nice try buddy,” you muttered to yourself, trying to get comfy. Wood wasn’t the comfiest thing in the world, but you weren’t really in the position to be complaining. “I am not on the menu.”

The screech came again, this time closer; yeah, you weren’t sleeping tonight. The sun was now beyond the horizon, and there was no moon, the only light coming from the stars above; it was very pretty, but you could see jack shit. This was going to be a long night… and not a fun one, since you could also see the glowing eyes of unknown creatures which were, quite frankly, freaky as fuck. So yeah, no sleep for you.

“This fucking sucks,” you grumbled, and a chittering from the bog seemed to mock you. “This really fucking sucks.”

…

…

…

…

Tags; @busycloudy, @eynnwwyjth, @identity-theft-101, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @lucid-stories, @ryker-writes, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

~~~~~~~

Author's Note; This chapter is shorter, but it felt natural to end the chapter like this. This chapter, and the previous one, were both rewrites of an old WIP, so from here on out I don't have to rewrite! YIPPEE!!! Rewriting takes me forever, so we shall see what I come up with next.

If you liked this, do check out my masterlist for more content!

#twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge x gn reader #still building up that aspect; yeah it's gonna be a while but that allows for some yearning #got another labyrinth mention in there #i decided to be nice to reader where they don't end up smelling like rotten eggs for their entire stay in the underground; #; it would be funny but reader has been through enough without needing to smell bad on top of that #twst labyrinth au #gilf enjoyers rejoice #why does rewriting take me so damn long? i even deleted scenes that i didn't feel like keeping #writing is pain and suffering yet it brings me immense joy... not gonna elaborate on that #not a bunch of fun stuff hidden in the tags this time but oh well

[almond-tofuuu]

❄️Can't lose you❄️

Zayne x reader

Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries but nothing is detailed, a little (lot) of angst, happy ending tho (kind of)

Word count: 600

Zayne's familiarity with injuries ran deep, forged through years of serving as a doctor and navigating the horrors of a war zone. His resilience, honed over time, stemmed from his ability to maintain composure in the face of chaos, a trait that set him apart as an exceptional surgeon. Yet, as he stood before you, your body drenched in a pool of crimson, his usual calm facade crumbled.

The ER exuded an eerie tranquility that night, a stark departure from its usual bustling pace. Zayne couldn't shake the unease gnawing at him, amplified by your absence. It had become a routine, a cherished moment – your brief visits to his office on your way home, a shared tranquility interrupted only by the relentless summons of emergencies. Initially, he brushed off your delay, perhaps you'd been sent out to deal with a group of wanderers, or maybe you simply missed the train again, it wouldn't be the first time, but as time stretched on, apprehension crept in.

The shrill beep of his pager interrupted his thoughts, summoning him to yet another crisis in the ER. Suppressing his concerns, Zayne hastily navigated the labyrinth of corridors, mentally bracing himself for the unknown ahead. Yet, no amount of preparation could have steeled him for the chilling sight that awaited.

There you lay, motionless upon a stretcher, a crimson tide seeping through your shirt.

Zayne's world ground to a halt.

In that moment, a profound uncertainty gripped him, eclipsing the clarity of his usually sharp mind. Fear and panic coiled around him, suffocating his every thought, rendering him powerless in the face of the unthinkable.

The room pulsed with frantic activity as medical staff swarmed around your motionless form, their urgent voices blending into a disorienting noise. Zayne, usually the epitome of composure in the chaos of the emergency room, found himself frozen, his years of expertise rendered moot in the face of your battered figure. Amidst the chaos, a distant announcement pierced through, signaling the preparation of the operating room, but it was the firm grip on his shoulder that momentarily yanked Zayne from his spiralling thoughts.

Turning, he met Greyson's gaze, a silent understanding passing between them amidst the chaos.

"We're taking her to the OR straight away... You should return to your office. I'll update you as soon as there's any news," Greyson's words were a lifeline in the storm.

Unable to find his voice, Zayne simply nodded, watching in silence as they wheeled you away, his heart heavy with unspoken fears.

Alone in his office, Zayne paced with restless anguish, the image of you haunting his thoughts. He, who had never been one to seek solace in prayer, found himself pleading to unseen forces for your survival. Despite his unwavering trust in Greyson and the medical team, his mind betrayed him with a torrent of doubts.

What if the worst were to happen?

What if your injuries were too severe?

What if he never got the chance to gaze into your beautiful eyes again?

His fingers raked through his disheveled hair, a futile attempt to anchor himself amidst the dark thoughts consuming him, unwilling to confront the unbearable prospect of a world without you.

After what seemed like an eternity, a gentle rap echoed on his office door. Ignoring his own disheveled state, Zayne hurried to greet the visitor, his heart hammering in his chest as he swung the door open to reveal Greyson's fatigued figure. The weariness etched on Greyson's face spoke volumes of the arduous surgery.

"Is she..." Zayne started, his voice faltering as he couldn't bring himself to complete the question.

Greyson's reassuring touch on Zayne's shoulder brought a wave of relief, his gentle gaze offering solace as he delivered the long-awaited news. "She's okay, Zayne. Just breathe... she's alive."

With a shuddering exhale, Zayne released the tension he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his eyes brimming with tears of gratitude as he whispered a heartfelt "thank you" to Greyson.

Gathering his composure, Zayne met Greyson's gaze once more. "Where is she? I need to see her."

Understanding the urgency in Zayne's request, Greyson provided the room number, observing silently as Zayne bolted down the corridor, propelled by a mix of hope and desperation towards you.

Entering your room, Zayne is engulfed by a tempest of emotions. His heart wrenches at the sight of the resilient hunter he holds dear, now lying vulnerable in the hospital bed, yet an overwhelming sense of gratitude washes over him knowing you're still breathing. Drawing closer to your bedside, his eyes meticulously trace the remnants of your ordeal etched onto your skin—every scratch, bruise, and cut a testament to your resilience. Tenderly, one hand reaches out to cradle your cheek while the other gently clasps yours.

"...I thought I lost you..." Zayne's voice quivers with raw emotion, tears finally breaking free as he surrenders to the flood of relief and fear that had been bottled up inside.

Bowing his head, Zayne tenderly plants a lingering kiss on your forehead, his touch conveying both love and resolve. Pulling back slightly, he murmurs softly against your skin, his voice unwavering, brimming with determination.

"I swear, I will never let anything or anyone hurt you again.... You mean too much to me. I-" he pauses, gathering his thoughts. "I should've said it sooner, but I was too afraid... Now I realise that living in a world without you is far more terrifying.... You mean more to me than you could ever know.... Losing you, would be the equivalent to someone ripping my heart out of my chest.... And when you wake up, I'll make sure you know just how much I love you...."

#love and deepspace #zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #dr zayne

[midnightarcheress]

and they said speak now

we’re meant to combine. to heat each other up, to become one. pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader cw: angst. no comfort. angry yearning simon. mentions of cheating. reader is part of tf141. no use of y/n. part 1 | part 2

you and Ghost have never been friends.

sure, you are acquaintances, colleagues, teammates. but friends? no. it's more of that weird position where you'd take a bullet for each other if necessary, but would never, ever, stand in the same room without a dense fog of tension circling your bodies, limbs trembling with pent-up unjustified fury.

it's been like this ever since you joined the task force. when Price announced a new member to the group, Ghost silently protested; in his head, four was more than enough people to cover their intricate missions, so making it an odd number would only throw off their balance - in and out of the field.

the first few days were surprisingly easy. being the new member was already hard, so you just kept to yourself, did as you were told, and stood out of everyone's way. but soon enough, you and Ghost started clashing. snarky comments evolved into name-calling, finger-pointing, and complete disregard for decorum. for any poor bystander that got caught in the cross-fire, it'd seem like two petty children throwing tantrums at one another, not two well seasoned soldiers of a special ops task force.

years passed, and it never got better. the hatred between the two of you was intense. palpable. frustrating. arousing. full of unspoken words that could never dream of coming out of your lips. even when you're spitting venom at each other and barking death threats - unfunded, in most cases - there was an undeniable spark underneath it all, simmering its way to the surface at every stolen glance during briefing, a pub visit, or a blood-filled battle ground.

he didn't want to admit it, but you worked well together. the minute you'd step in the field, a switch would flip in your minds and there wouldn't be any traces of hostility left, only a deep connection the transcended the need for talking. you'd understand what he needed just by looking in his eyes. his beautiful brown eyes. usually unreadable, but in action, they were the vessel for an obscure language you were oddly fluent on.

in missions alongside you, despite the constant pump of adrenaline coursing through his veins, he felt peaceful. the emotional turmoil in his brain regarding your existence would quiet down, being overruled by a sense of admiration and a strange vulnerability. he knew the range of your skills, but he couldn't help being amazed by your stance, your swift yet precise moves, your mindset. how could a person be graceful while stabbing another?

it was conflicting. the push and pull, the tiring tango that would go on and on with a song that never reached the end. a dynamic that drained the both of you but a dynamic that neither had the will to change. it was something. something that filled your dull lives, a flesh-eating flame that licked your skin every time your arms brushed, that somehow just kept burning brighter.

Simon could feel it. he felt it when you were stranded in a ruinous safe house during a snowstorm and had to cling into his chest to not freeze to death. he felt it when he saw your eyes sparkling as you gasped for air after hearing one of Soap's terrible jokes. he felt it when your blood stained his hands and your consciousness almost slipped out of his reach forever.

you could feel it too.

that's why the news of your engagement ripped his heart out of his chest. the heart he kept hidden behind a fortified wall, stranded in an island not even the bravest sailors dared to reach. but you, with all your stubbornness, got inside. maneuvered in the labyrinth of cracks of his heart and made yourself a little spot. a spot you were oblivious to.

for some delirious reason, you invited Ghost to the wedding. maybe you wanted all of your trusted teammates with you. maybe you wanted to be a little smug about your happiness. either way, you're a civil person, so handing him the invite was the sensible decision; giving him at least a choice.

he didn't like your fiancé. in fact, he despised the guy. it didn't matter that he was a well-known officer, full of achievements and medals, beloved by many, respected by all. in his eyes, the bloke was no more than a frail bastard looking for a doll to show off. how could you get married to that selfish prick? how could you subject yourself to the wishes of a man who only saw you as a prize? why does he care?

for an even more delirious reason, Simon decided to go. worst fucking idea.

his nerves were through the roof. fighting with the necktie like he was the one about to get married, but ultimately tossing it aside. he didn't want to go, he didn't need to go. but he also didn't want to give you the satisfaction of winning the round, he wanted to be the so-called bigger person and show you how he can put differences aside. celebrate your happiness. so he took a seat on the bench, waiting for the inevitable death march.

it was a small event. a few friends, barely any family. he watched as you floated down the aisle, draped in white satin and bearing the brightest smile he has ever seen. he was so accustumed to seeing the harsh expressions you would make at him, that he couldn't help standing in awe as the final fleckes on sunlight danced on your skin, shining on your face and nearly casting a halo over your head. all for the stupid dumbfuck standing at the altar.

Simon couldn't pay attention to the ceremonialist; his mind was too consumed by the disorientation of seeing you. seeing you as a bride. seeing you as a bride in the altar. seeing you ready to live the rest of your life with someone who's not worth one second of your time. he just sat there, transfixed by the scene and only concentrating on you. your beaming eyes, your plump lips, your soft hair, your fingers intertwined with your fiancé's.

the type of focus that made him not register the involuntary movement of his feet to the corridor after the priest said "...speak now or forever hold your peace."

"don't do it." Simon's gruff voice echoed in the small chapel, reverberating on your eardrum like a violent outburst.

confusion shaped the faces of your loved ones. everywhere you looked you saw grimaces, wide-eyes, and parted lips. the sound gasps followed by murmurs of disbelief, the atmosphere thickening by the second, making it impossible to breathe. but for you the room was quiet. too quiet.

"please, you can't-"

"Ghost." you interrupt, dropping your fiancé's hand and glaring at the man who had the nerve to taint your wedding. your mind was racing with a million thoughts. it must be a cruel joke on his side, creating a spectacle out of this, you think.

before you realize it, your hands are dragging Ghost by the arm to the back of the church, stuffing him inside of what looks like a storage room, full of antique paintings and candles.

"have you lost your mind?"

"i think i have," he answers, taking a deep breath, "i must be batshit crazy, i know. but you can't marry him." your eyes narrow, looking for any indication of it being a bluff. why is your half-colleague-half-enemy objecting at your wedding?

"this isn't you. him," he scoffs, gesturing to the man on the other side of the door, "isn't who you are. you're not the type to be controlled by a man, giving in into his act, calling it love.

"what?" you ask, utterly thunderstruck by his words, "calling it- i'm not being controlled, Ghost. i know you're not familiar with the idea, but people can actually love and respect each other."

he dismisses your comment. "do you truly love him?" Simon knows what love is, knows it a little too much and that's what keeps him distant from people. it never ends well. "can you seriously tell me that this isn't a desperate attempt to fill the void in your heart? you're not happy with him."

"i'm not getting married out of necessity, Ghost. and who are you to say that i'm not happy?"

Simon paces in the room, footsteps creaking the hardwood floor. he knew that he was only digging himself a deeper grave, but he couldn't back down now. he won't allow you to commit such a terrible mistake. "i know you. i've watched you ever since you started dating that mutt," he says, studying your face, "you look different around him. almost small. frail."

his words are sharp, cutting through the air like a scathing blade. you feel the anger in his tone, but there's something else beneath the surface. he's almost... tender?

"you reduce yourself beside him," he adds in a matter-of-fact way, taking a step closer to you, "you're a force of nature, a beast, a goddamn hurricane, not-" he glares you up and down "this."

"i don't reduce myself!" you suddenly shout, eyes boring into his skull, "you think that because i'm getting married i'm throwing myself away? i'm a fucking soldier!"

"i know that!" he shouts back, taking a towering stance over you, "does he know that? you know damn well that the minute you sign those papers he's gonna begin persuading you into retiring, into being a perfect little trophy wife he can parade to his buddies."

you laugh. a dry, dull, hollow laugh. you don't know if it's due the absurdity of his statement or the shocking concern laced in each word escaping his mouth. it's one of those moments you're certain you dipped into a parallel universe, because the reality of it all seems too insane to believe. you stand in front of him with arms crossed, pondering your next move in this godforsaken argument. of course he wouldn't give you a break, not even in your wedding day.

"come on, be serious with me for one moment. he doesn't care about you. the real you," Ghost grits his teeth, "he cares about having your warm body by his side, but he doesn't see the vulnerability hidden behind your eyes. the part you keep a secret, tucked away from the world."

you clench your fists, battling against the desire to punch his gut. you're too proud to ever confess, but his words are slowly getting to you, clouding your brain with doubt. "i'll admit, it's not entirely his fault. he's too shallow for his own good, only knows what you show him. but i see what you try to hide." he says in a quieter tone. luring you in, trying to dissipate the tension.

"it has crossed your mind, hasn't it?" you tilt your head, confused by his question, "us. you've wondered about it."

you scoff, "no, i haven't." lie.

"don't lie now, darling." the pet name should make your skin crawl. but it doesn't. he didn't say it in his usual condescending mode, the one he employs whenever he's mocking you. there's no poison in his tongue, it's... sugary. drips like honey over you.

"you feel the heat between us, the suppressed fire itching to make us combust," he steps closer, still lingering a few inches from your body but too close for comfort, "you know how good we are together. everybody sees our synchrony in the field, how perfect we work," his gaze remains unwavering on your eyes, "tell me truth."

"the truth? the truth is that you're a lunatic-"

his fingertips dig in your skin, burning a hole to your bicep. your breath hitches on your throat, startled by the unexpected use of force. his jaw tightens at the sight, muscle twitching and threatening the remnants of self-control that prevents him from kissing you.

your head spins. his face is close. his scent fills your nostrils to the point of dizziness, intoxicating your lungs and sending shockwaves through your nervous system. "fine!" you blurt, "i might have thought of it, but it doesn't mean anything. just because we work well together it doesn't mean we're made for each other, Ghost."

"but it means something."

the air is full of anticipation, tension, energy. it's the moment before a lightning struck. as the space between you decreases, the shield insulating your opposing charges falters, resulting in a rapid electrical discharge that jolts your heart to life. he pulls you into a kiss, daring you to push him away.

your lips meet with a boiling intensity, the fusion of desire, rage, and something more. time stands still as his tongue finds yours, softly massaging it with both tenderness and passion. his touch is eager yet deliberate, the loud thumping of your heart fades into a ringing on your ear as his hand moves from your arm to your waist, pressing you even closer to his body.

"no, stop!" you push him, catching your breath as he stumbles back into the wall, "what's wrong with you?! what's wrong with me? i have a fiancé waiting as i waste my time here with you!"

"god, you don't get it, do you?!" he yells, "he doesn't deserve you! you put him in a pedestal, and while i'm stuck dreaming about you every fucking night he's out there-" he stops himself, giving you a unfamiliar deer in the headlights look.

"he's what?"

silence.

"Simon, finish your sentence."

"look, i," for the first time in the whole exchange, Simon is stumped. he didn't want to bring up the topic. he curses his mouth for flowing with his anger and talking too much, "i didn't want to tell you, i wanted you to see with your own eyes how much of a dipshit he is, but," he gulps, "he's a fucking cheater. i've seen him at the pub a few times with different girls, hands all over, drunk kisses-"

"you're lying," you retort, holding back the tears that start creeping up the corners of your eyes, "he wouldn't do that."

"i really wish i was lying. i'm so sorry."

you lean back on a chair, trembling as your breathing quickens. you don't wanna believe what he says, he's just letting his jealousy speak. but deep down, you know. all the times he came home with a smudged red mark on his neck, a wrinkled phone number in his pocket he rapidly dismisses. it's so typical, isn't it? no matter how devoted you are to a man, they will always search for more. the insatiable need to desire.

Simon frowns at your quivering figure. his heart aches when the small tears make their way down your cheek, staining your white dress. he crouches in front of you, a hand on your knee trying to convey his support, his guilt for being the bearer of the fact, his love. give me your pain. i can handle it. you're not alone, my darling.

"don't touch me." you hiss, raising your watery eyes to his. the look of hurt in your gaze pierces through him like a sword. he wants to say the right words, to protect you, to give you a new reason to love, but his mind is incapable of forming a remotely comforting phrase.

the tears on your face are hot. the salt streams sting on your skin, but nothing compares to the sorrow that filled your ventricles. you can't stay like this, you can't let him win. you're stronger than this. you're stronger than him.

Ghost jumps when you suddenly stand up. the pain in your irises are now accompanied by the unmistakable wrath he's used to deal. only now, you don't direct it at him; instead, you open the door and stomp your way to the altar again, followed quickly by Simon, worried about what you're going to do.

"it's over."

"babe? what?" the fiancé looks down at you, bearing a disgustingly sly smile, not quite believing your words, "you're kidding, right?"

you don't weaver. despite your tear-stained face and obvious hurt state, your resolve is clear. he truly doesn't care about you. he never even went to check on you after you disappeared in a room with Simon, never felt a ting of threat because he believes the control he has on your soul is enough to keep you tight on the leash. "i said, it's over."

the grin in his face fades when he realizes your certainty. he glances at the tall figure in the back, ready to throw hands if he ever so slightly thinks about laying a finger on you. "of course. you." the man says, rolling his sleeves and making his way to Simon.

only to be stopped by you.

"he has nothing to do with this," you state, blocking his path and pushing his chest with a strength you didn't know you had, "this is between your cheating ass and me. i'm not gonna play into your game anymore. there's no wedding, it's over."

the glare he gives you is bone-chilling, and for a second you see his will to pounce at your throat. without any doubt, Ghost moves you aside and shields your body with his, eyes making all the communication. try me. one step closer and i'll kill you.

even with his conceited persona, he knows better than to actually pick a fight with Ghost. he wouldn't hesitate to snap his spine bare-handed, not even inside a church, so he backs off. it really is over.

in the meantime, you're already halfway out the door, breathing in a deeply needed huff of fresh air. it's the classical movie scene with a runaway bride after the big climax - but in this film, the bride is alone. not with the pining romantic counterpart that just poured his heart out.

your name falling from Simon's lips lead your soul back to your earthly form, the reality dawning on your head one more time.

"leave me alone, Simon."

"but," he stops in his tracks, taking in your scorched-earth appearance, "i don't want you to be alone, please, let me-"

"no," you cut him, "i don't need you near me right now. or ever, for that matter."

straight to the core. a gunshot would hurt less, he thinks. "you don't have to do this on your own. i know that our history prompts you to not trust me," he sighs, pondering for a moment if he should really speak what his spirit desperately long for, "i wanna change that. let me prove how much i love you."

his words find their way to your bleeding heart, contaminating your mind with the possibility of being loved by him. for someone who maintains his feelings at bay, kept under lock and key, he sounds sincere.

"love?" your scoff intercuts the rhetorical question, "the Ghost i met doesn't know love. he knows anger, knows disgust, disdain."

he watches your lips quivering, tears threatening the edges of your waterline once again. he wants nothing more but to reach for you, wrap his burly arms around your body and never let go. whisper comfort into your ears, sweet promises of devotion, and give the solace you yearn for.

"i need... time."

Simon looks up to your eyes, locking his gaze and quietly nodding. he understands. he isn't fond of leaving you in this state, but he knows you won't have a change of heart minutes after a love confession. not when he spent years showing you nothing but hate.

it pains him to see your sorrowful grim. pupils following attentively as each of your steps put more distance between your bodies, planting new cracks in his heart. it's only for a while, he repeats to himself as a mantra, cursing silently for treating you with such a freezing-cold demeanor, when all you did was warm his soul.

it was true. Ghost only knows the bad, dreadful emotions. only served you hate and didn't bother to change.

but the thing is, Simon has never hated you.

it's my first time writing like this so i'm a little self-conscious, but i'm also proud of myself <3 hope you like it! i wanna make a part 2, but idk.

little note - i had to edit it on my phone so it was kinda awful lol sorry for any mistakes

#cod #simon ghost riley #cod angst #simon riley #hurt/no comfort #tf141 #ghost angst #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #enemies to lovers #fem!reader #ghost cod #cod mw2 #ghost x you #oneshot #nyx writes ☾ #midnightarcheress

[emeraldborealis]

It's The Same Things

Pairing: Ex-husband John Price x GN!reader

TW//CW: Angst? Anxiety, mention of manipulation, fluff if you squint, John is still trying to change, gender neutral pronouns but use of wife like two or three times.

A/N: I was sad I probably wouldn't get to participate in @glitterypirateduck 's O' Captain! Challenge but coincidently this works with scenario 7, Date night

Words: 7,375

You are currently reading Chapter 2

The Do-Over Series Masterlist - Chapter One - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five

"Yes, let's get started." He took a sip of his drink, licking his lips after. Why did he have to do things like that? He knew. You knew he knew. And he knew you knew he knew. "Question one; given the choice of anyone in the world, who would you want as a dinner guest?"

"Did you memorize thirty six questions or are you pulling these out of your ass?" You chuckled, adjusting to sit crisscrossed, slowly getting more comfortable.

"Admittedly, I memorized them." He leaned back into the couch more, manspreading. Getting himself more comfortable as well. "Now, answer the question."

"Let me think." You pondered it for a moment, thinking of all the people you could, why you'd want to have them as a dinner guest. Who's cooking this dinner? Is it just dinner? Do they have to be alive? "Um, I don't know. It depends on my mood I guess. How about you?"

"You. I'd want you to be my dinner guest." He sounded so sure of it, like it was the obvious answer. You couldn't tell if it was sincere or flattery. You couldn't fathom why out of everyone in the world he'd want you. He seemed to notice your puzzled expression. "Don't look too far into it, I just think you're good company. Entertaining."

"Alright. What's the next question?" This could be fun, this was fun. You loved questions. Loved asking them, loved people wanting to hear your answer. You need to be more optimistic, have fun with this, but remember what John is.

"Would you like to be famous? In what way?" He sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees, curious about your answer.

"I've always thought it could be fun to be an actor. Have fans and go to conventions and be asked questions. It just seems kind of fun, for the most part at least." You shrugged, putting your arms back on the cushions of the couch. "You?"

"Don't want to be famous. Seems like a hassle. If I got famous in my career that would probably mean something bad." He leaned back again, finishing off his drink and putting the glass down on the coffee table. "Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?"

"Every time. Like, every time. I have anxiety." He'd known the answer to this one, he'd watched you do it several times while you were married. It was another thing about you he thought was endearing.

"I don't typically rehearse, but I do collect my thoughts before making calls. There's no point in calling if I'm not going to get to the point and waste time with being a blubbering muppet." That checked out. He was never one to beat around the bush.

"I miss having you order for me at restaurants. That was nice. Or when you'd ask people where things were for me." The previous tension was dissipating, things were quickly feeling like old times. Walls be damned, he was busting through. You were thankful for the layers and labyrinth of defenses you'd learned to build.

"I remember doing that. You were such a nervous thing in public, funny you would want to be famous." He chuckled, recalling all the ways he'd served you and tried to make you comfortable. "What would constitute a perfect day for you?"

"Like a normal day or an activity filled day? Are we talking my perfect mundane day or my 'if money was no object' day?" You asked to clarify.

He thought for a moment, thinking it through, considering how he would like to answer the question himself. "Somewhere in between."

"Okay." You fiddled with the hem of your shirt while you thought. "It'd start with sleeping in, but not too much. Then I'd have breakfast with someone I care about, and leisure around, then go to a park or for a walk or something where I can just talk and spend time with someone, maybe play games, any game would be fun. Just not Clue. Then a scenic drive with good music, if the weather permits, with the windows down. And I'd like to end the day snuggled up in a blanket watching fireworks or stargazing. That would be an achievable perfect day for me."

"Sounds like a good day." He hummed, nodding his head softly. "My perfect day would just be spending time with someone I care about, doing what they want to do."

You laughed at his answer, not taking it seriously. Making him frown softly. "You not caring about what you're doing? Last I checked, that was your nightmare. Not having a plan or control."

"A lot about me has changed. I don't need constant total control anymore. I'm learning to let someone else decide things, to have a say in what goes on when I can. I've found it's really freeing and destressing to not be in control and go with the flow." He defended his answer, nudging your shoulder to try and keep things light. Understanding your reaction.

"Okay, okay. A lot of time has passed. People can change. So, I'll accept your answer." You still found it a little hard to believe, but you've changed a lot too. Maybe he did enjoy being pulled along now, not having to have his brain on all the way and on high alert. Taking joy from some little things. Domestic loving things.

"You'll accept my answer? I wasn't aware you had a say in my answers." His chuckle rumbled through his chest again, making you laugh along, when you did he couldn't stop the smile from creeping up his face. It'd been so many years since he'd heard you genuinely laugh.

"Surprise." You pushed his knee teasingly as you kept laughing. He tried his best to memorize every detail of you in this moment. Tried to remember everything about the second first date with his future wife. There was no way he'd mess this up again. No way he'd let you be the one that got away.

"When did you last sing to yourself and to someone else?" He asked the next question, offering you his hand to help pull you up onto the couch, noticing you weren't very comfortable on the hard floor. There was plenty of room on the couch, he'd remember his manners. He wouldn't bite.

"I sang to myself while I cleaned the house today. I don't recall when I last sang to someone else, definitely in the last few weeks. I think." You were never one to sing for others, whether or not they thought you sang well or not.

"I miss when you'd sing to me. In the car, or late at night when neither of us could sleep, when I'd curl up with my head on your lap and you'd play with my hair and sing to me. I miss having that privilege to enjoy that part of you." The way John would recall things to you always made them sound more pleasant than they really were. More special.

Maybe that part of your relationship was special.

Worthy of being sacred and kept away from the rot of bad memories and hard times that took over the relationship. The pain and ache that seeped into your bones that would act up whenever you were around him. Like he was a storm, you knew when he was coming from the preemptive pain, the warning in your joints.

You couldn't even remember why you ever trusted him that much. Actually gave him those pieces of you. Gave him every piece of you. You were so naive to the ways of the world. When you are born in a burning house you think the whole world is on fire. Think it's just the way life is, to burn and let yourself be consumed by that fire.

But the whole world isn't on fire, and you know now you don't have to live your life suffocating in the smoke of a fire someone else started, that someone else is feeding.

You don't have to burn to prove that you're alive. 

"What about you? When did you sing last?" You asked curiously, trying to remind yourself why you need to keep John at a distance.

"I sang to myself last night. I think the last time I sang to someone else was you, at least the last time I remember singing to someone else. You know I don't sing often." John's singing was a little treat only you were ever given the privilege of hearing, and it really was a privilege.

"What'd you sing to yourself last night?" You were curious, couldn't stop yourself from asking. Even if you had a feeling he was baiting you into asking.

"I sang that song you were always singing to me, no matter how much I look I can't find a version that sounds like how you used to sing it. However, I know the words by heart, so whenever I need that calming memory I sing it to myself." He was trying to show his new effort he was willing to put into your relationship, he was trying to confide in you and admit how much you meant to him.

"You do? Really?" The entire idea didn't make sense to you, it completely went against the mental image of John you'd learned to view in your mind's eye. It didn't feel right thinking he was human too.

Though you'd always known he was human, nothing more nothing less. You'd learned to view him as less. It was easier to justify a beast's actions when they're cruel than a man's, a man who was supposed to be soft and gentle, a man who was supposed to love you how you needed him to.

"Love, I can recall just about every time you sang it for me." His eyes were so soft, you had to remind yourself that that was just the way they were shaped, his features in general were just soft. He was molded so perfectly into a man who looks like being loved by him would be a gift. It wasn't.

It was like performing CPR on someone who's been dead for several days now, rigor mortis had already set in and passed, with each passing moment more dirt was being put atop the grave of what used to be, and if you weren't careful you'd both be buried with it trying to bring it back to life. 

Dead things needed to stay dead.

"I didn't know it meant that much to you." Your admission forced you to think about it more, to remember how he'd be able to breathe deeply, how you could watch him visibly untense and relax, how he'd hum along. How deep his voice would get in those quiet, secret moments.

"If you were able to live to the age of ninety and either retain the mind or body of a thirty-year-old for the last sixty years of your life, which would you choose?" His next question brought you out of your sudden wandering of thoughts into memories.

"Probably body, my bodies already got enough issues, not really looking forward to seeing how it continues to degenerate with age." You forced a small laugh, trying to stop viewing him how you once viewed him. He's changed now, you need to view him as he is now. See him as a new person.

A new person with a history you couldn't just erase from your mind.

"I'd keep my mind. I can endure anything as long as I'm still aware of who I am, and who the few people I care about are. I don't want to forget the things I love." John was still a man who liked control, he needed to maintain some semblance of it, needed to know that at any moment he could take the reins. Most importantly he needed to be in control of himself, who he is, who he was, and who he will become.

"We'd be a funny combination to see, a young fellow with an old man, the old one being the conscious of the two." You chuckled, imagining how funny it could be, but then you started thinking about it more, a fear blossoming in your chest. "I don't want to get old. I don't want to forget things, I don't want to be aware of my body dying and giving out. Not being aware of it almost sounds worse though. Dying isn't really scary to me, but the things that come with age do. So, I hope I die before then."

"I'd take care of you." John put his hand on your knee, he wasn't trying to push boundaries, he was just trying to comfort you. Put pause in your racing thoughts. All your doubts, all your fears.

"You'd probably be dead by then." You pulled away from him, removing his hand from your knee. You couldn't let him close again. You didn't like the thought of him being there when you weren't mentally. So, you removed him from the mental picture. Anyway you could.

He couldn't be in control of you, he couldn't make decisions for you. He couldn't choose what was best for you. He wasn't allowed to decide to end or prolong your life. It was your life. You didn't want to think about the choices he'd make for you. He wouldn't be there. He'd be dead. He wouldn't be left with the home of your soul but not your mind.

"I think we should skip the next question." He rested his hands on his knees, he seemed almost small in this moment. His voice carried a meekness you'd only heard a few times before. He was hurt.

"Okay, then what's the next question you'd like to ask?" You hadn't meant to hurt him. You hated hurting people. Hated knowing you were the cause of someone else's pain.

This was once again not going well. You didn't have to look hard for the reasons this wouldn't work out. There was just too much history to be able to ignore it. Too much you'd both done.

"Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common." He seemed a bit more hopeful with this, a turning page, a way away from what the last question had dug up. A step away from the skeletons and fragments of wooden casket left from your last relationship.

He wasn't trying to resuscitate your past relationship, he was trying to start a new one. A new relationship with someone he already loves, someone he already knows how to love.

"Three? Okay, let me think." You pondered it, trying to think of things you had in common. "We both prefer to watch movies over sports, we both hate when people rub it in when we lose, and we both like games where everyone works together against the game to win." You smiled softly when you successfully thought of three things, it was a little easier than you thought it'd be. You just had to remember the good moments you had.

"Game nights with your family were actually a nightmare. I've had missions that have threatened my life less." His small smile was back now, his cheeks soft and round, his facial hair making his cheeks look bigger. He looked so harmless smiling like that. You knew better though.

"Oh please, they were only that bad sometimes." You rolled your eyes at him. "You get used to it, it doesn't phase you after a while. Besides, that's why I moved away in the first place. One visit every year or two is manageable. Gives time to allow distance to let fondness grow. It's your turn to answer the question." You nudged his shoulder, curious about what he would come up with.

"Alright, let me think. We both liked when you'd dump info on me about the plots of things you were into." He adjusted on the couch to fully face you, his arm resting on the back cushions, his head resting on his hand.

"You liked that? I thought you would get annoyed with me sometimes when I'd do that." His answer was surprising to you, you'd never known he'd enjoyed when you'd ramble on and on to him. You adjusted, matching his position, mirroring him.

"Hindsight is twenty twenty, my dear. I look back at it fondly. Didn't you just say distance brings fondness?" He had the audacity to use your words to prove his point. "More than once Johnny or Kyle have been saying something and I've only understood it because of you."

"Who's Johnny and Kyle?" You ask curiously, not following, but finding it somewhat sweet that in a roundabout way you've helped him bond with people.

"My boys, my team." He explained, with how soft his expression was you could only imagine how much he cared for his team. He'd always been one to get attached. "You made me a better soldier by helping me remember my humanity."

Taking in his words a piece of yourself felt a little bit better, a warmth in your heart, like it was remembering how to beat properly. Beat with a sense of pride. "What are the other two things we have in common?" You didn't plan on letting him stop at three, you were too curious about what he would say.

"We both like live music, and neither of us like to sleep with socks on and are adamant about it." He listed the other two things, teasingly grabbing your foot and shaking it before letting go, playing with you, swatting at his hand, you returned the playfulness. "What do you feel most grateful for in your life?"

"Probably the people who have helped me learn and grow, the people who have supported me and made me feel of worth." Your answer seemed a bit basic to you, but it was truthful. 

"I'd say the same." John agreed, nodding his head softly. "If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?"

"That's a really deeply personal hard question." You weren't sure you wanted to answer it, weren't sure if you could pick just one thing, weren't sure you could stop yourself from spilling out too much of yourself to him again. He knew the story of your childhood and youth, nothing had changed. 

"You don't have to answer it if you don't want to." His reassurance almost caught you off guard, he seemed more understanding now than he used to be. He didn't want you to have to dig up anything painful for you.

You took a deep breath, letting out a heavy sigh. "It's okay, I'll just be brief. I would have liked to have more friends around my age, to have been properly socialized. Not just have adults to talk to or try to play with. I wish that part of my development had gone better, instead of how it did. It's just something I have to live with everyday. Seeing people but feeling like there's something between us, like a glass barrier. Like everyone knows I was the kid no one wanted to talk to. The weird kid in the weird family." 

John's hand reached for your knee again, but he stopped short, letting it fall on the cushion between you two, there if you wanted it, but at a distance. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." You put your hand over his, he turned his over and held yours gently but reassuringly. 

"Even still." He squeezed your hand softly. "I wish I'd had someone to tell me that they were proud of me, that I was doing well." His words made a part of you hurt. He'd never had support in his youth.

"I think we could have worked out, like really worked out, if I just wasn't me, and you weren't you. If we weren't children raised like adults. If we'd been given a better start, a fighting chance. If we knew how to be healthy for ourselves, we could have been healthy for each other." You squeezed his hand back before slipping out of his grip, pulling your hand back. 

"I don't want to answer the next question, so we'll skip it." He looked down at his now empty hand, the feeling of you pulling away again eating at him. He needed to be able to keep you. He was nothing but an empty cage without you.

"Then we'll skip it, whatever it is, we can skip it. We can make the rules to this game, we don't have to do anything either of us don't want to." You gave him the same out he'd given you. Frankly, if it was a question he didn't want to answer you didn't really want to know what it was. 

"If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?" John asked another question, a small smile coming to his face as he adjusted once again on the couch, scooting slightly closer to you. 

"Telekinesis would be super useful." You didn't even have to think about it, but then a sudden embarrassing realization hit you. "Or.. did you not mean a superpower?"

He chuckled at your eager answer. "I was more so thinking of a skill, but superpower works too, love." 

"Well, if it's a skill I'd probably pick something like learning an instrument or being able to create something useful. Or like how to fix something." You gave him another answer, still feeling a little stupid for taking it wrong.

"I think invincibility would be a very useful superpower." He smiled at you, giving his answer, he didn't want you to feel like an idiot for taking the question another way. "But skill wise, I've always thought sculpting looks fun, or woodwork. I watched a man carve out a canoe from a big piece of wood in a documentary once."

"Not you and your documentaries. Gosh, those were all you'd watch when I didn't pick a show or movie. That and those survival shows." You laughed, teasing him.  

"Knowledge is power, my dear. You never know when you'll need to know something." The possessive pet name made your chest feel tight. You could feel John breaking through another wall, making his way through the labyrinth of your defenses. He wouldn't stop till he held your heart again, or died trying to.

"Okay, well when I'm lost in the woods and need to know how to survive and build a canoe I'll call you." You moved to be sitting on your legs, moving closer to John in the process, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.

"If you're lost in the woods and call me I'll just come get you." He chuckled, his eyes taking in your new sitting position. "If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?"

"'Am I genuinely a good person?' Or, maybe something like 'what is a simple thing to do or change about me that would positively impact those around me?' there's also you know... more materialistic thinking of 'what can I invest in that will make me rich beyond my wildest dreams?'" You listed off a few things, finding this question a lot of fun.

"I would ask for guidance on how to fix my wrongs." He seemed genuine, if not a bit sad. He really had changed, and he really was still trying to change. He wanted to make amends.

"I think most people would like an answer to that." You nodded in understanding. "Do you think all wrongs can be fixed? Be forgiven?"

"I'd hope so. If not, there's still a point in trying, don't you think?" It was a sad thought thinking you could never right some wrongs, that all the bad things you've done would just always be there, always haunt you. 

"Yeah, I'd hope so too. I think there's always a point to try and become better. Even if you're not forgiven." Forgiving yourself for the wrongs you've done was half the battle, allowing yourself to move on. Letting yourself let go of some of the weight and burden of hating yourself for something that you'd done.

He nodded, seeming to think it over for a moment. "Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it?" 

"There's a lot of things I've always wanted to do, sometimes life, money, and even other people get in the way. Maybe one of these days I'll be able to get a few things off my bucket list." You felt like a lot of people had things they dreamed of doing, some things just needed to find a window of opportunity to actually do. 

And sometimes some things just aren't meant to be, life's rejections are sometimes protection. You tried to remember that.

"Can I tell you something stupid?" He leaned in closer, a mischief to him you'd only seen a few times. When you nodded he continued. "I think it would be fun to swing on a chandelier, but I wouldn't want to break one." His confession made you burst out laughing. 

"I've always wanted to do that too! But yeah, I don't think it's 'socially acceptable'." There were lots of things you would do if you wouldn't be judged for them. "If you ever find a chandelier on a deployment you could do it, I mean no one would know if you broke it or if a stray bullet did."

"I don't mess around in the field. Learned my lesson a long time ago." He shook his head softly. "What is your life's greatest accomplishment?" 

You tapped on your lips in thought, trying to think about it. "That's a hard question, maybe sticking with things? Seeing them through till the end. I don't want to choose just one thing, since I've done a lot. But none of it would have been possible without the desire to finish them. So, my resilience?" 

"Works for me." He smiled. "Sometimes I wonder how I was ever able to get you to marry me in the first place, so I'd say that. Even though we didn't last forever, I still had you for a time, and I think that was my life's greatest accomplishment."

"Not being captain? Or any of the medals or anything?" You were surprised that he saw his time with you as his greatest accomplishment. 

"No. Being with you proved I at least had good taste once." He was trying to flatter you, it was working. A warmth spreading through your chest, you could feel it creeping out through the rest of your body, he seemed proud of himself for getting this reaction from you. "What do you value most in a friendship?" 

"Communication and understanding." You'd thought about this a lot over your life, took notice of what worked and what didn't work in past and current friendships. "Also, you know, I appreciate when people don't become my friend because they want something from me."

"I agree, those things are what I'd say are most important." He gave a little nod, happy you were on the same page about this. "What is your most treasured memory?"

Your face lit up as you remembered something. "Do you remember when we went to the theater to watch that movie? I don't remember what movie it was, but it was awful. Like really bad. And so we ended up talking through it, whispering and laughing back and forth."

"Yes, I remember that." He softened, recalling the date with you.

"I remember it was just us and one other person in the whole theater. And he got up and he complained about us, and we got kicked out of the movie. I remember being so grateful because I did not want to watch that movie anymore but I didn't want to say anything." You continued to recollect your past date. 

"Why didn't you say anything? I would have been okay with walking out. It was a cheap showing." He laughed, finding your eagerness in retelling this story to him despite the fact he was there cute.

 "Anyways, then we went and we got ice cream together, and we drove out to the secluded park with all the trees and we parked there to make out in the car like teenagers. Then that police officer came up to your window, tapped on it a few times. And he said that we can't be doing what we were doing in a public place, it was 'indecent'." You rolled your eyes at that.

"I was so mad. I was not going to be very nice to him, but I restrained myself, as far as I remember." John was enjoying watching you get so animated about this.

"I don't think I'll ever forget what you said to him, you said 'I spend enough time away from my wife, I'm not going to waste a single second not loving them when I'm with them.' I knew then that I would love you forever. But somewhere between then and our divorce, you stopped loving me like that. And I knew it was time to say goodbye. Knew we were already over." You looked down at your hands, the memory turning sour.

"I never stopped loving you like that. I just- I forgot how to let go of myself to remember how to treat you like that. Things got tense between us. I'm sorry for perpetuating that rather than fixing it." He was so sincere in his words, in his regret. 

"What about you? What's your favorite memory?" You let it go, you didn't want to rehash things.

"It was right after I'd gotten home from a longer deployment, I'd gotten home in the middle of the night, and you were so tired. You'd slept in till noon, head on my chest. I didn't feel like I could sleep yet, still too stuck in work mode. I committed your face to memory, the way your mouth was slightly open, drooling on my shirt. You soaked right through. I'll never forget the feeling of that damp spot from your drool on my chest." He seemed to think of this fondly, but you were horrified. 

"I drooled on you? And you let me? I'm so sorry, that's so gross. Why didn't you move me? Didn't you think that was gross?" You couldn't stop wondering how often you drooled in your sleep now, how often you'd drooled on him. 

"You were asleep, it's not as if you did it on purpose." He seemed so unfazed by it, like it was perfectly normal. Which only added to your horror. How many times had you done this? Why did his favorite memory have to be one where you were so... human. 

"Out of everything that's really your most treasured memory?" You couldn't fathom why.

"Yes, it was a very simple relaxing moment. You were safe, I was safe. It was just us two in our bed. No one else, nothing else. Everything was at peace. Because of you I was at peace." You hadn't thought of it like that. "What is your worst memory?"

"What the hell kind of question is that? Let's bring up something happy and then immediately bring up something so traumatic and mind altering it's to the point it plagues your consciousness." You made fun of the question, making John chuckle and shake his head.

"You don't have to answer it." He reminded you. 

"Well, it's too late. I've already thought about it." You sighed. "When I was around thirteen I just wanted to fit in, be like the other kids. I was tired of being seen as weird. I was tired of wearing second hand clothes, so I asked my mom for something in style, she got upset, I mean money was tight. I understood that. But, she looked me dead in the eyes." You paused, closing your eyes for a moment refusing to let yourself get emotional.

John took your hand, squeezing it softly, he'd never heard this story before. "And?" He prompted softly. 

"And, she told me that I did not deserve nice things, that I wasn't worth nice things." You finished. "I know she just meant clothes, or something. I don't know. But it's always stuck with me, more than any other hellish thing people have said to me. It's weaseled it's way a little too far in my mind. Spread into everything. Poisoned my perception of what I'm allowed to let myself have." 

"Love, look at me." He gently tipped your head up to look at him, looking into your eyes. "You are worthy of nice things. You deserve nice things. You deserve whatever is best for you. I'm sorry. I'm sure there's more to that story or ideation than you said, but you don't have to tell me. It's okay."

"I guess it's your turn to tell me your worst memory. Maybe we should have skipped this question after all." You laughed a little, trying to pretend you weren't just getting emotional, trying to not let it hurt again. 

You were trying not to let something that would hurt him slip out of you. You couldn't say more, if you did you'd be too honest. You'd twist the knife you were sure you'd already left in his heart. 

"When you handed me the divorce papers. I remember that day in such vivid detail. Fuck, I'm sorry. For everything. All the things I said when I realized it was over, there's no excuse for it. I'm sorry. I don't even remember all I said, I just remember this buzzing in my head, and your face. I remember your expression." He stopped himself from saying more. Too much guilt eating away at him. 

"We should have skipped this question." You decided, looking away from him for a moment. "What's the next one?"

"Um, what does friendship mean to you?" You were surprised you actually got John to a point where he used a filler word. He never used filler words, you were sure for so many years that he was incapable of using them seriously. That he had trained himself out of using them.

"It means everything, I believe any successful healthy relationship should first be built upon friendship. How can you be with someone who isn't your friend too?" Sometimes the thing you missed most about John was his friendship, he was a good friend, your best friend at one point. 

"Trust often comes with friendship, so it's really important to me. I need people to trust me so they'll listen to me." He collected himself once more, standing up he took his glass into the kitchen before coming back with it half full, probably all that was left in the bottle.  

"That makes sense, I can see how it could affect how well the job gets done without that level of trust." You nodded, letting him settle back into his spot on the couch. "Do you consider your team as your friends?"

"I'd say so, they're good lads. Stressful, reckless at times, they keep me on my toes. But yes, I'd say they're friends. To a point. Not people I'd go to about my personal life." He explained their relationship, taking a sip from his glass. 

"Do you have any friends you can talk about your personal life with?" You were curious if he had any kind of actual support system, he was never the best at those kinds of friendships. He saw the allies he could call for help in a fight as close enough to that. 

"No. I don't." You couldn't view him as your responsibility, couldn't offer yourself to him in that way just because he didn't have anyone else, but that horrible part of yourself that needed you to give yourself away and fix people was begging for someone to take care of. People aren't projects, you have to remind yourself that. 

Especially not John. The only person capable of fixing John was John. If you ever tried he'd tear you apart, the last time you tried you were the one who needed the fixing. Or maybe you needed fixing the whole time. It's hard to say.

"I'm sorry. I try not to talk to people about my issues, I always regret it after I say something. People talk, views change, it's more trouble for me than it's worth. But I know you're more social than I am, I know you like to talk to people, even if it's not necessarily about your problems, you just like talking about life." You felt bad for him, you hoped he wasn't isolating himself.

"It's alright, love. Not your fault." He pat your shoulder, making you playfully roll your eyes. You were about to say something, but he cut you off. "What roles do love and affection play in your life?"

"Every role? I try to love everyone, try to understand they're human and flawed, just as I am. I love the idea of love, I like loving people. And you know I'm an affectionate person." You picked at your nails a little as you answered.

"Your version of affection is a bit unconventional, but it's still endearing." The jest in his voice did little to amuse you.

"Gee, thanks." You were deadpan with him, making him chuckle and shake his head, before finishing his glass and putting it down. "Just answer the question."

"It was supposed to be a compliment." He clarified. "Love and affection don't play as much of a role in my life as I would like. I would like to love more than I ever have, and I'd like to actually express that love rather than assume it's just understood without action."

"Maybe you should love 'your boys'." You snickered, hiding your mischievous smile behind your hand. 

"I suppose you think you're terribly clever." He scooted closer to you, testing how comfortable you were with him getting closer. 

"I don't think-" He cut you off before you could finish your sentence.

"Clearly. Completely hollow up here" He softly knocked on your skull, making you scoff in mock hurt, laughing from his unserious attack. 

"Okay, rude. What's the next question?" You absentmindedly scooted closer to him, when he put his arm on the back of the couch you came closer, sitting on your calves and facing him.

"It's more of an activity, we're supposed to take turns sharing positive characteristics about the other." He explained. "I'll go first, you're one of the fastest learners I know."

"I thought I was stupid?" You teased, a bit smugly. 

"I lied." He sighed, but he didn't actually seem annoyed or upset. 

"So, now we're lying?" You pushed, making him give you a look of warning not to go there. "Okay, okay. You're charming. In your own way."

"That sounds like a backhanded compliment, but I digress. You're passionate about things you like or care about."  He relaxed again, moving slightly closer, your knees touching his thighs now. The touch was distracting you, how right it felt. How wrong you've felt going so long without him.

"You are too." It was an easy answer, one you didn't have to think about much, a cop out. But still an honest answer. 

"You are a calming person, you're easy to be around." You smiled softly at his words, leaning into him a little.

"You never give up, you're persistent and you achieve your goals." Both of you were more relaxed now, sinking into each other. Getting ever closer. You couldn't even hear the alarms going off in your mind, choosing to ignore them to just have a nice moment. 

"How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?" His question ruined everything, reminding you to keep your guard up, to remember this was still the same John Price you were once married to, even if he wanted to act changed.

"Really? We're bringing up my mother again? Okay, it's complicated. I still love her, and I understand that she was the way she was while I was growing up because of her own trauma, but at the same time, I was just a kid and didn't deserve the things I went through because of her." You sat up more, pulling away from him, keeping your knees touching his thighs. 

He didn't say anything about you pulling away, he tried not to show his disappointment. "It's just the next question. I'm answering it too. I love my mother, she worries about me a lot. But we're not close. Never have been overly close."

"Okay, fine. Next question." You just wanted to move on, family was a hard topic, you didn't like to linger on it. 

"There's only a few questions left, most of them are like the characteristic activity, which we can skip. The next question is, when did you last cry to someone else and when did you last cry to yourself?" He didn't really think this question was any better than the last, he still asked it though, these were questions that were supposed to bring the two of you closer. They were supposed to make you fall in love again, or at least maybe help resolve something. 

"I don't know when I last cried to someone else, I try not to do that. It's been a while since I've cried in general. I think I've been suppressing my feelings and emotions. I don't really know how to stop though." You confessed, confiding in him. 

"That's okay, you'll cry when you need to." He pat your shoulder comfortingly. "It's been a while since I last cried to myself and even longer since I cried to someone else."

"The day we learn to feel our emotions properly is probably the day the world ends." You joked, making him chuckle.

"Probably. Alright, love, what, if anything, is too serious to joke about?" He asked curiously.

"Dark humor has its time and place, and of course coping through humor is a thing, context is also important. However, human trafficking is hardly ever funny, in any time or place. You know, like the really serious stuff like that I don't really find funny." You felt that was a pretty reasonable answer.

"I can't argue with that." He agreed. "Last question. Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?"

"Just one thing? Probably my keepsake box, it has everything important to me in it. It also has  my birth certificate and that kind of stuff in it." There was so much importance in one small box, losing it would be the worst thing ever. "And you?"

His face softened as he thought about it. "My ring, I would want to go back for my ring." 

"You still have your ring?" Your voice was soft as you asked the question. It shouldn't have been as surprising to you as it was, a part of you was internally preening, but another part of you was devastated by hearing that.

He still had his ring, he was still holding on to what was. He was still holding onto you. John Price still saw you as the person he promised to love, to have and to hold, for as long as you both shall live. 

"Do you?" He asked curiously, leaning in a little closer to your face, trying to read every possible emotion and thought you could be having. 

"Maybe somewhere, it was really nice, so it's probably in a box or something. You know I struggle with getting rid of nice things." You fiddled with your fingers a bit nervously, you weren't expecting him to turn the question back on you and had to scramble for an answer. 

"I remember well how much you struggle with getting rid of nice things." He chuckled a little, watching your hands fiddle. When you were married you'd play with your wedding ring, but you hadn't made a habit of wearing rings since the divorce. 

You perked up a little at the thought of a question coming to your mind. "Okay, you've asked me many questions, and we've both answered them. Now, I have just one question for you, when we ran into each other again, was that really a coincidence? Be honest."

John contemplated it, running his hand over his facial hair. Thinking about how he wanted to answer this. What truth or deception could give him in the long run. Whether or not he was ready to give you this answer yet. Honesty was important, more now than ever.

"No."

Tags: @waiting-so-long @little-laamb

#ocaptainchallenge #x reader #oneshot #reader insert #gender neutral reader #cod fandom #cod #angst #cod fanfic #john price #john price cod #captain john price #captain price #captain johnathan price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader

[sweeterlovers]

LABYRINTH / FERNANDO ALONSO

fernando alonso x female singer reader / SMAU FIC

FACE CLAIM / TAYLOR SWIFT

WARNINGS / badly google translated spanish

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ynupdates in a recent interview for the upcoming release of YN/LN’s feature on vogue, when asked if she has anything coming up YN responded saying, “funny enough i actually have been writing some music lately. so i’m thinking about releasing a song about a special someone” what do we think about this? new boyfriend? new love song? let us know!!

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user7 she served that photoshoot

user2 seriously she ate it up

user07 i’m excited to get the magazine!!

user32 i wonder what the song is about?

user44 well she did say it’s about a special someone soo.. maybe a boyfriend or a friend 🤷🏼‍♀️

user08 well the last time YN has gone public with a guy was in like 2016 with harry styles so it seems unlikely and likely at the same time

user26 her hair looks so good !!!!!

user43 what i’m personally surprised about is that she mentioned her love life. usually YN is very secretive about her personal life so maybe she is very serious about this guy

user082 that makes sense. hopefully the song will give us more details 😅

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liked by fernandoalo_oficial, voguemagazine, and 789,065 others

yourusername super excited to announce that tonight (may 17th) at 12pm i’ll be releasing a brand new song titles “labyrinth” this song is about a very special someone in my heart 🤍 i hope you all enjoy it (and have fun guessing who it’s about)

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user26 AHHHHH!!!!!

user0052 i’m so excited 😆

user538 who else will be staying up 🔽⬇️?!????

user2 meeee

user06 ME TWO

user03 me threeeee !!!

user87 already taking my nap 😴

user1 she looks pretty

user8 the theme is very lilac yk

user78 AN THE GUESSING GAME STARTS NOW 👏👏👏

user6 can’t wait for the crazy predictions

user53 i’m guessing it’s about a new boyfriend

user51 right but whoo…

user5878 i doubt it’ll be another actor or singer soo maybe an athlete 🤷

user4 labyrinth out tonight!!!!!!!!!!

user70 can’t wait 😝

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POST RACE INTERVIEW WITH FERNANDO ALONSO

Interviewer: Fernando congratulations on P2!

Fernando: Thank you! It was a bit tough but we got through it. So ultimately I’m very happy with myself and the team!

Interviewer: Do you have any plans tonight to celebrate? Perhaps some dinner with the team or some partying? Hm?

Fernando: Well I was planning on listening to YN/LN’s new song but after that I may go out to dinner with a special someone.

Interviewer: Special someone? Girlfriend perhaps?

Fernando: Eh we’ll see.

Interviewer: Mysterious as always Fernando.

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TWITTER

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liked by landonorris, lance_stroll, and 566,287 others

fernandoalo_oficial celebrated my podium with the only other person i would want to be with. thank you for all the support from the fans and the team!

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user6 FERNANDO WHAT

user4 i’m not even surprised anymore 🤦‍♀️

user061 i wasn’t familiar with your game

user77 have you seen the man???????

user605 seriously, i’m a married man with kids but i’m gay for fernando alonso ✊

user15 real

user80 a blondeeeee i seee 👱‍♀️

user74 the cartier bag with the flowers 😍😍

user95 seriously tho!! go off mr alonso

user026 i would die for a man to get me that

user186 super cute

lance_stroll congratulations man! you did an amazing job 👏 tell her i said hi as well please!

fernandoalo_oficial thank you lance! she says hello as well 😅

user60 lance what do you know????????????????

user5 LANCE TELL US WHO SHE IS

lance_stroll sorry i’ve been sworn to secrecy 🤐

user520 if i was being sworn secrecy by fernando i would listen, that man scares me

*liked by fernandoalo_oficial*

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ynupdates YN has been seen in spain recently!! 🇪🇸 ❤️ any thoughts on why she is spain?

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user6 spain?????

user142 hmmm maybe just a vacation 🤷🏼‍♀️

user9 she looks good

user1 yeah i love her too!! the flowers are cute

user1347 🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸

user14 i have a theory but i will be called delusional…..

usee096 SAY IT RN! BE DELULU

user365 delulu is in fact the solution

user14 OK FIIINEE! the reason she is in spain is because she is visiting her boyfriend. you may ask why is she visiting her boyfriend in spain? the reason why is because she is dating SPANISH DRIVER FERNANDO ALONSO!!

user5 pls take your meds

user14 i’m right guys don’t even because why else has fernando revealed that he has a girlfriend?? hmmm and on top of that in a recent interview he said that he has been listening to YN!!!

user653 i see your point butttttttt it’s quite far off

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yourusername a year with you my love 🤍 thank you for supporting me throughout my career and my writing and most of all thank you for being my muse 🤍🤍 i love you fernando! your my champion :)

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user6 power couple fr

user674 this is so random lmaoo

user8 i mean yeah but they are pretty cute together!

user22 this makes a lot more sense on why she was in spain

fernandoalo_oficial mi amor y mi tesoro, te amo mucho, eres mi mujer [my love and my treasure, i love you so much . your my woman]

yourusername fernando no words can express my love for you. there is no one else i would rather be with ❤️

fernandoalo_oficial your the only one in my heart ♥️

user55 😭😭😭😭😭😭 so so so so cute

user1 “my love and my treasure” i’m so down bad for them

selenagomez you guys are adorable 🥰

yourusername thank you babe :)))

user51 can’t wait to see them together!

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TEAM RADIO / SWEETERLOVERS - thought this would be funny considering taylor’s new song!!!! taylonso will live forever ✊

#formula 1 #f1 smau #sweeterlovers #f1 fanfic #formula one #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #husband fernando alonso #fernando alonso x y/n #fernando alonso smau #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso au #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x wife #fernando alonso x oc #smau

[agroteraa]

The Wrath of the Stag

Chapter two (the finale)

Oliver Quick x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Part 3.2.

Part 1: Actaeon

Part 2: Artemis

Part 3.1: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.1)

Warnings: smut, dubcon, fingering, choking, penetration sex, mentions of drugs, almost?onesided!Felix, dark!Oliver, character death, angst.

Word Count: 4K

So, you and Felix had reached the labyrinth.

Lush and blooming in daylight, it seemed hazy and darksome at night. But still, it was the same maze in which you used to love playing hide-and-seek and catch-up with Felix. You could never catch up with him, no matter how much you wanted to, which made you childishly angry, and he laughed and teased you all the time. Now it seemed somewhat symbolic to you.

"So, what did you want, can you finally say, please?" he wondered with a smile. He was already drunk enough, too, but you started sobering up a little from this long walk.

"You were right. Oliver can be weird. I thought we would talk, but he brushed me off and started dancing with one girl, then another... and then he and Venetia..."

You couldn't hold back your tears. Felix hugged you, comforting you. His warm embrace protected you from the cool air and sense of desperation. It seems as if he was covering you not only with safe arms, but also with his angelic wings.

"Hush, sweetie, hush," he said, quietly asking after a while, "...is it getting better?"

You nodded, looking up at him with tear-stained eyes.

Felix smiled slightly, gently wiping the tears from your cheek. Raising his eyebrows, he looked at you expressively, there was a pause in the air. Felix bent down and reached for your lips. You started answering without fully understanding what you were doing. All this alcohol, torn feelings, Oliver's behavior and, of course, the unrequited love for Felix buried deep inside you for several years, made you try to experience this feeling at least once. You enjoyed his warm, soft lips, hugging his shoulders, until it completely dawned on you. No, you couldn’t do that. Feelings for Felix were long in the past, and Oliver was in the present. The situation might be terrible and confusing, but at least you need to talk, and only then make such decisions as how to respond to someone's feelings or not. Especially since your feelings and thoughts now actually belonged to Oliver.

You gently pushed the guy away from you, "I'm sorry, Felix. I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"I'm... thinking about Oliver now."

"What?" he couldn't believe his ears, "Are you really ready to forgive this freak, even after everything I've told you?"

"We should at least listen to his side... and besides, I have... feelings for him," you finally admitted.

"Y/N, what should we listen to? He's a liar and a creep, that's all! What feelings? Oh, don't make me upset, please. I wouldn't want you to choose anyone over me, but if it's Oliver, then it's some kind of insult even!"

He grimaced, and you got angry, "Well, then don't be offended and better choose your own friends next time. Or, as your sister says, "toys"! But it's not for you to tell me who I should or shouldn't be with!"

"Fine. Have fun then! But I assure you, Oliver is unlikely to stay here for long..." Felix threw up his arms, and in a fit of anger turned around and left the maze.

* * *

Not far from the house, he plopped down on a bench, where Farleigh approached him with some two girls. Felix moodily lit a cigarette.

"Hey, buddy, what’s with the face?"

Catton Jr. said nothing and only frowned more, rolling the cig in his lips. Farleigh gave him a drink from his bottle, and then, turning around, quietly suggested, "Coke?"

* * *

You were wiping away the remnants of tears, leaning on the statue of the Minotaur and inhaling the sobering cool air. Looking up, you met the gaze of a horned monster. Despite the intimidating appearance, his eyes were plaintive, like a gentle cow's. You always paid attention to this detail, ever since you had noticed it once as a child, it helped you stop being afraid of the statue when you were running with Felix and Venetia in the maze. Any thing or person, if you look at them closer, does not seem as intimidating as at first glance. Perhaps even worthy of pity.

A familiar horned silhouette appeared in the maze.

"Oliver? How did you..."

"How did you like the party, Y/N? It seems that you completely abandoned your birthday boy tonight," he was slowly approaching you from the darkness. Up close, Oliver looked even more amazing in this suit. You involuntarily looked him up and down, lingering with your gaze on the naked torso peeking out from under the jacket, on which again hung only one chain reflecting the light of the moon. His summer-tanned skin contrasted so well with the glaringly white suit. The pebbles creaked softly under his feet as he came up to you and gently stroked your neck. Your skin covered with goosebumps. You swallowed, pushing those thoughts aside.

"Are you kidding me now? I didn't leave you for the whole evening. And it wasn't me dancing with some random girls and Venetia."

"Oh yeah? But it wasn't me who kissed one of the Cattons this evening!" his fingers closed palpably around your throat.

"Oliver... what are you doing..." he let the grip, and you continued, "Are you crazy? Why the hell were you following us? You're really doing this, gods… Just like Felix said... "

"Said what?"

"That you were watching Venetia and me and that you... did obscene things and told him that you... liked both of us."

He narrowed his eyes, "What else did Felix tell you today?"

You frowned, "That's all," he continued to look at you silently, "That’s enough for me, isn’t it for you?"

He pinned you at the pedestal of the monument, enclosing you between his strong arms. He looked at you with unblinking, darkening eyes and asked, "So, why the hell did you kiss Felix Catton?"

"He kissed me! I've been wanting to talk to you all evening, and you brushed me off... and then you started dancing with some girl.… And then with Venetia… And that's after everything Felix told me.… He tried to comfort me, but I... refused him. I wanted to talk to you first," hot tears rolled down your cheeks again. His face seemed to soften a little.

"First of all," Oliver said, "calm down, my dear. Secondly, you don't know anything. Thirdly," he runs his thumb over your left cheek, wiping away tears," This is still not a reason to kiss someone else. I'll explain everything clearly to you now."

Without warning, he got under the hem of your dress and inserted one finger into you. You exhaled sharply.

"About the window case... yes. I was looking at you, just at you, unable to look away. I will not apologize for this, although it is a pity that Felix and, in the end, you misunderstood me because of him. But these are his problems. Are you going to be mad at me for not being able to resist your beauty? Don't be silly, Y/N. Did you see yourself lying in a swimsuit under the hot summer sun? I did. I'll tell you, it's a sight that you can't handle yourself. Or rather, it was only my hand that could somehow handle it."

He added a second finger and slightly accelerated the pace.

"What about the party… I was in a bad mood, I needed to talk to Felix and explain about this situation so that he wouldn't upset you, but I couldn't find him anywhere. So, I asked his friend first, and then his sister. The fact that they were both drunk, high and desperate for any male attention is not my problem either. I don't know what you’ve imagined..."

The pace of his fingers became ruthless, Oliver also added a third finger, and it almost caused you real pain from the suddenness of everything that was happening. Another tear involuntarily rolled down your cheek.

"...but I've been hoping all evening that after talking to Felix that I'll finally get, as you said, my main gift..."

He licked your hot tear off your face with his even hotter tongue.

"You."

You almost came from a mixture of fear, excitement and arousal.

"I saw you walk past me, holding his hand and not saying a word to me. Of course, I followed you, especially since I needed to talk to him. And what do I see? How he. Kisses. My. Girlfriend."

It was the first time he had said "girlfriend". In a different environment, you'd been absolutely happy, but now a feeling of unknown anxiety had been added to this feeling. Oliver himself would prefer announcing it in different circumstances, but there we go. He pulled out your fingers, which glistened in the dark. You were panting a little. He ran his digits lightly over his lower lip.

"Tell me, is my name Felix Catton?"

You were silent. He couldn't be serious, could he?.. But Oliver leaned over to you and almost whispered his question into your lips, "Is. My. Name. Felix. Catton?"

"No..."

"So, what is my name?" he asked, staring intently into your eyes so that you wanted to sink through the ground. His hands squeezed your forearms painfully enough.

"O-Oliver..." you answered almost soundlessly.

"I can't hear you, Y/N. Say it a little bit louder, please."

You were silent, shaking slightly. It was like the air has left your lungs. Oliver sighed.

He took you by the hips and pulled you to him, turning you over with your chest and stomach on the pedestal of the monument, your front parts of your body were not used to the cold of the stone and immediately became covered with goosebumps, just like your palms and elbows, which you had to lean on now. He bent you and spread your legs wide apart, lifting the hem of your dress.

"You have a very beautiful outfit today, darling. I'm sorry I was out of sorts and didn't say it sooner – you look amazing tonight. Of course, I noticed it right away," you heard the sound of a belt slowly unbuckling, and then the sound of a fabric coming down, "So, who is this? Helena? Or Hermia? Oh, it must be Hermia, isn’t it? How ironic. I hope in this version of the story she won't have to choose between Lysander and Demetrius?"

Oliver, holding your hips, bent down and left a few kisses on your neck, going down to your shoulder blades.

"She won't have to."

With those words, he entered you, abruptly and without warning. You exhaled in a little shock. Oliver entered and fill you up completely at once and, almost without giving you time to get used to it, began unhurried, but nevertheless impatient movements with his hips. You started to sigh and whine, feeling yourself getting wetter by the second. He smiled, feeling it, "I didn't expect anything else. So, tell me, dear, what's my name? Only louder this time."

You let out a moan in response, and Oliver picked up the pace, "I'm going to bang those words out of you."

Your eyes were watering, but he watched the way you were twisting and panting. You liked this. He could see it in your face, which was slightly tilted to the side, could feel it within his core. He continued thrusting, his hips meeting your ass with each movement. He reached up, wrapping a hand around your neck and pulling you closer, the sensation restricting your breathing ever-so-slightly turned you on even more.

"So... what's my name?"

"Oli...ver..." you moaned, stumbling because of his strong grip and the rhythm he had set.

He practically went in and out of you completely with every move, the stone of the pedestal seemed to melt under you. The feeling of a little fear and anxiety completely turned into a pleasure that overshadowed everything else. Oliver took his hand off your throat and moved it to your hair, burrowing into it slightly.

"Oliver… Oliver!" you said louder, breathing heavily, the words turning into moans again.

"Good girl, that's exactly my name. And all the other names, and even more so lips, hands, and so on, you must forget. This is my wish for my birthday."

You looked back and your eyes finally met. His eyes were completely dark with lust, and his lips crooked into a satisfied smile when he caught your gaze. He was horned and you were incredibly horny. Heck, he was horny too, of course, not to say more.

You gasped every time as he was pushing inside you. You were so fucking tight, still so tight, you were need to be fucked more like that sometimes, he kept thinking to himself as he gritted his teeth, feeling your body pulsating around him.

"Fuck, girl, making such a mess over me," he groaned. His head fell back and his grip on you was tightening.

The moon casted a shadow of the two of you on the ground. Oliver's horned silhouette was crashing into you, and a horned monster was looking at it all from above. You were close to the end.

You were mewling, bucking your hips, wanting to take him deeper, the tip of his cock brushing against your most pleasurable spot with every thrust. He drove into you harder, holding you tighter, clenching his jaw. His pace was absolutely merciless and was already just abruptly knocking the air out of you instead of any screams.

"Oliver!.." you came around his cock, and a minute later he followed you, piling on top of you. He was breathing heavily, and then he kissed you on the shoulder, then on the neck, after that he turned you over and sat you on the pedestal of the statue, straightening your dress.

Buttoning up his white pants, he knelt down, gently wrapping his arms around your leg, kissing your knee and looking deep into your eyes. The feel of his warm fingertips against the slightly cold skin on your calf gave your chills. Then he took your hand, kissed it and pressed his face against it. Closing his eyes, he began to rub his cheek against your hand, burrowing his face into your palm. It was an act of adoration after the act of forcibly asserting his authority.

He was again just a mere stag by his Artemis’s side.

You stroked his dark soft hair, and then you began to grope his antlers. Sharp and hard, now you were stroking them securely, although it seemed that a moment earlier Oliver could stab someone with them out of rage. Maybe even you. Any thing or person, if you look at them closer, does not seem as intimidating as at first glance. Yet maybe not quite any.

He rose from his knees to the level of your face, and leaning on his hands next to your hands, he asked softly and hoarsely, "Are you mine, Y/N?"

His piercingly blue eyes were glowing in the dark along with his suit, which seemed almost luminescent white in the night.

"Yes, Oliver, I am yours," you replied, sealing your promise with a kiss.

* * *

You walked silently back to the house, out of the maze, through the garden, past the pond. The small pebbles crunched under your feet. The fresh air, all these wild experiences and emotions today and their passionate resolution made your legs feel wobblier with every step, and your eyes began to feel weary.

Upon entering the hall where the party was going on, you were greeted by loud music again:

One, two, three, four

Let me hear you scream if you want some more

Like ah, push it, push it

Watch me work it

I'm perfect

Oliver kissed you on the stairs. Few people paid attention, but he knew that Felix would most likely notice if he was here. And he was here, and he noticed. You turned around and saw that Felix was already dancing with some girl and was clearly having a good time with her. You were upset. It didn't last long, you thought bitterly. Even though he probably had a lot to drink, it was no excuse to forget his intentions so quickly. But you didn't know that he had been high for a long time on top of everything else.

"Can you get me something to drink?" you moaned.

"Baby, haven't you had enough for today?" Oliver began mockingly, and then, seeing your frown, added, "The wishes of the birthday boy’s girlfriend are the law," and left for cocktails.

That's right, I'm a superstar

Everybody wanna come up when I'm at the bar

All the people wanna try

It's like, give me some more

Try a little harder, honey

Give me some more

You were looking at Felix and the girl in the fairy costume again. He could not take his hands off her, then bent down and began to whisper something to her, or maybe not only whisper, which made her giggle.

Perfection… ha-ha!

The female singer's voice seemed to mockingly comment on the situation.

Your heart has almost broken once again this night. When you saw a drink nearby on a nearby table, you knocked it over without looking at the contents. Damn, it seemed like it was something very strong. Oliver returned with two cocktails, blocking you in every sense from this view. Smiling, you downed another cocktail in almost one sitting. Your head began to spin pleasantly again, pushing out unnecessary thoughts. You and Oliver danced a little. How fabulous he was in that outfit, your birthday boy. The music seemed to disappear for a while when you enjoyed this moment of dancing, without taking your eyes off each other.

Then, the music almost abruptly hit you with a throbbing headache and a heaviness in your eyelids and legs. It seems that fatigue and a sense of stress have returned, multiplied by repeated alcohol intoxication. Oliver led you through the entire crowd and all the rooms, almost every one of which had its own mini-party, until you found yourself on your floor. He carefully helped you undress and put you to bed. Your body ached pleasantly, feeling the soft mattress underneath and the duvet above.

"Good night, Ollie."

"Good night, Y/N," he said softly, "And... Sorry for everything."

"We sort of settled everything," you assured him, being sure that he was only talking about the events of the evening, and not about anything else, "Everything will be fine."

"Everything will be fine, that is for sure."

* * *

Oliver returned to the hall, a bottle of wine in his hand. Felix never let talk to him, literally sent him away, and Quick wanted to give him another chance. Or maybe he didn't want to anymore after Felix laid his eyes and not only the eyes on Y/N.

Catton Jr. danced merrily with his fairy, and then at some point took her by the hand and led her across the hall, outside. Oliver watched all this closely, gloomily drinking from a bottle, leaning against the wall.

Felix's clouded mind told him to finish the job, his regrets almost completely blocked by drugs, alcohol and the desire to lick his wounded ego. Therefore, his almost mindless brain led him down the road that he already knew well. Into the maze.

Oliver followed, his wrath building with each slow but firm step as he was running through all the events that had happened. Going to his parents without warning, ignoring his requests and pleas to stop, turn around, or at least not go with him. The discovery of the truth, the way Felix pushed him away, calling him a fucking liar, yet he had nosed into Oliver's life himself. The way fear and contempt were read in his eyes, mixed with an inner struggle whether to tell it all to everyone or not. To tell it to Y/N or not. The way he started turning Y/N against him. The way he started hitting on Y/N, especially now, knowing it all. And how he immediately traded you for some random girl. And all this was on the date of his birthday celebration.

No, there won't be a second chance, Oliver thought to himself as he poured a huge dose of the drug into the bottle.

It was tempting to say that Felix flew too close to the sun, but he was actually the sun himself. So dazzlingly bright and inviting. It was all the others who were too close to him in the rays of his destructive splendor and the hopes of living the same incredible life as his that endlessly flew up and burned. Besides, it was the middle of the night in Saltburn, so the allegory would be completely missed. However, in addition to those infamous wings, Daedalus created something else - the labyrinth of Knossos, where the Minotaur dwelled and suggested a horror, devouring beautiful young men.

Which meant that Icarus was destined to die anyway from the creation of Daedalus.

The dark antlered silhouette followed the winged youth with the confidence of a predator.

By stepping into this labyrinth, carefree Icarus himself signed the verdict of his fate.

* * *

It still seemed to you that all this was a terrible foggy ill dream from which you still could not wake up from. The scream that Felix had been found with was still ringing in your ears sometimes.

It had been a few days now, and you still couldn't believe that he was gone. No matter what, he was an angel. Childishly selfish, but still generous, open-hearted and always ready to help and support. You remembered his costume at the party and smiled bitterly. Really an angel. And even more so now.

You were so regretful that you didn't speak to him again that night. Were so sorry that you went to bed early and didn't see much. That you never knew that Felix and Farleigh were taking some drugs that night, to the point it was too much and too late, and Farleigh was anyhow to blame for it and he couldn’t save him. That you couldn’t save him.

You went into Oliver's room, but he hadn’t come yet. While waiting, you began to walk around the room, and suddenly saw a book by his bedside table, your birthday present. You sat down on the bed, picked up the book and began to look at it again. Icarus with golden wings, falling away from the sun. You ran your finger over the gold embossed cover. Tears welled up your eyes. Gods. You started crying uncontrollably, hot tears dripping right onto the cover of the book. Gently throwing the book on the bed, you buried your face in your hands and bent over in sobs.

"Y/N, what are you..." Oliver came into the room and rushed to hug you.

"Ollie... the book... I..." you spoke barely legibly through sobs. He began to calm you gently, squeezing you tightly in his arms, "I'm here, my darling, everything is fine."

He wish he could take away this pain that you were experiencing right now, but it was impossible to take away what he had caused himself. Yet he was sincerely comforting you, hugging and kissing you in the most caring way possible, "I'm here and I'll always be there, no matter what happens, you'll be safe and sound with me," his whispering was hot and assuring.

Oliver used to think that there was nothing better than the feeling when you comforted him. However, the way you looked at him with your eyes full of tears, trustfully snuggling closer, searching for his support and his consolation, it turned out to be a feeling on a completely different level. The way you needed him, him and no one else. And only he could grant you any relief. At that moment, he felt that he was close to the deity. Your personal deity.

And Oliver was ready to arrange a hundred more accidents to experience this feeling again.

A hundred? This was, of course, too much. But it was in his power to do a couple more.

He took a deep breath of your scent, burying his nose deeper into your hair and holding you closer. Besides, Saltburn looked like a lovely place for your future shared happily ever after.

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[justsomerandomfanfic]

Look At You - Eddie Munson X Female Reader

Title: Look At You

Eddie Munson X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's friend, Hellfire Club (Mentioned), Reader's mother, and Chris (OC)

Loosely Inspired By: One Of Your Girls by Troye Sivan

WC: 11,764

Warnings: Parties briefly mentioned, vomit briefly mentioned, alcohol (teens mentioned drinking), drugs, Reader's a bit shy in the beginning, movie references, nicknames, Reader's mother is emotionally/verbally/mentally abusive, fear of needles, friends to lovers, yelling, crying, cursing, teasing, banter, flirting, very brief mentions of food issues, angst, and fluff

You scrunched your shoulders closer to yourself, your hands clutched your book to your chest with an iron grip as your friend dragged you into some party. Your senses were overwhelmed by the loud pulsating music rattling the entire house, echoing and reverberating throughout your body as you pushed through the hordes of drunk teenagers; the smell of vomit and alcohol made you scrunch up your nose in disgust.

It was the perfect combination to make the night miserable; the smell, the noise, and most importantly, the people. You were not very much of a people person. When meeting someone, or talking to someone new, you were quiet; shy. But, once you grew comfortable with the person, you would talk and talk. 

Parties were the bane of your existence, and so was your friend. You loved your friend dearly, but you hated when they convinced you, more like peer pressure, you into going to dumb parties. You got out of them somewhat, faking an illness or your need to finish your homework, but that would only help you for so long. You could've been home, eating junk food, watching ‘Labyrinth’ for the ten millionth time as you idolized Jennifer Connelly.

Your sweet daydreams were quickly cut short though as your friend pulled you into the main room full of sweaty teens, dancing wildly around each other as the lights from the ceiling threw shadows all over the place. You cringed at how much louder the music had gotten as ‘You Spin Me Round’ played from a large speaker in the corner of the room. 

Your friend's hand around your bicep shook, gaining your attention. You turned to them, seeing the bright smile on their face and the excitement in their eyes. You'd feel happy for them, but you were very overwhelmed and uncomfortable at that moment.

"Hey!" They called over the music, their body already dancing to the music slightly. "I'm going to say hey to Brian and Allison. Go to the kitchen and get a drink, you need it! Loosen up and have fun for once!"

You had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes as you watched your friend leave you, rushing to a small group of teens, red solo cups and beer bottles in their hands. You felt fear engulf you, your whole body growing cold as you looked around the room rapidly, your eyes darting at the dancing teens and the bright party lights. Your heart began to race in your chest, you couldn't breathe, and it was all becoming too profoundly difficult to stay in that room. You mustered up the strength to push through the crowd, as if going through a maze of people you tried to squeeze through; finally making your way out the back sliding door.

Breathing deeply as you stood outside, you let out a breath of relief. Your head spun a little bit, feeling dizzy at the sudden change in environment, but you tried your best to stay calm. Looking down at your hands, you let out another breath, glad your book made it out of that warzone without a rip or tear.  

"You okay?" You heard a voice speak up, much louder than the music pumping behind you; muffled by the sliding glass door. You quickly turned to the voice, seeing a guy leaning against the wall of the house, knee bent and foot pressed against it; his hands stuffed in his pockets. He was looking up at the sky, not even looking at you. You stared at him before you looked around you, no one else was outside, aside from you and him.

You swallowed thickly, "Me?" You asked, turning back to the young man, slightly shrouded by the awning; casting him in a dark shadow.

"You're the only one out here with me, correct?" He asked, pushing off of the wall to turn and finally look at you. "You looked pretty frazzled when you came out." He then added, making you narrow your eyes at him slightly.

"Why do you care?" You asked, normally you were so forward when talking to new people, but you were really annoyed, tired, and wanted to go home.

"I'm not like those brain dead zombies in there," He said, stepping into the light, finally allowing you to see who you were talking to. "I'm Eddie."

He had long, curly dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a rockstar type of style. You watched as he pulled his hands out of his black ripped jeans pockets, noting the rings adorning some of his fingers as he crossed his arms; noticing his leather jacket with a denim vest over it. It looked homemade, with rips and tears; patches of rock bands and pins. He was cute, you'd give him that. Looking back up at his face, you realized that you should've been talking a while ago.

"I- I'm Y/N." You introduced yourself, noticing a small tin box of some kind hanging from a clasp from his belt loop. "And I'm fine."

This... Eddie, just smiled at you, chuckling, "I'll believe that when I see it. You're shaking like a leaf." He mentioned, making you look down at yourself, seeing that you were in fact shaking. Well, mostly your hands. You clutched your book tighter, trying to stop them.

You looked up at the sky, or what you could see of it, away from Eddie and the partygoers. "I'm fine." You repeated softly, and Eddie hummed, looking you over.

"Not a party person?" He asked, and you remained silent as he continued, "Or people person? I mean, I get that. I don't care for it either." He shrugged as you looked at him again.

"Then why are you here?" Only to watch Eddie smirk, leaning his side against the side of the house.

"I could ask you the same." He said with a laugh.

"Touche." You mumbled as Eddie sighed softly, glancing off to the darkened yard before looking back at you.

"I'm here on business, but you... What about you?" He asked, and you sighed, looking back up at the night sky; seeing a few stars past the dark clouds.

"My friend dragged me here." You began, biting your lip briefly, "I didn't want to go, if they didn't take me I would-"

"Be cuddled up in a comfy blanket, watching a romcom or something?" Eddie interrupted you, and you shrugged one shoulder up.

"More or less. That is usually my evening. Relaxing or doing homework." You answered, growing more and more comfortable with Eddie as you talked to him. “But I’m not really a romcom kind of girl.”

Eddie hummed, before he grabbed the tin box at his hip, opened it, and pulled out what you assumed was a blunt. You assumed right as he brought it up to his lips, pulling out a lighter from his back jean pocket. He flicked it open with his thumb, before pushing down the thumbwheel. He did it a couple of times, with no luck of any flame. Sighing out his nose, he leaned his head back against the wall, frustrated. You stared at him, pursing your lips as you slowly dug into your pocket, pulling out your own lighter. Testing it, you pushed down the thumbwheel, sending out a little orange flame. 

Eddie looked up at the sound of your lighter, "Wow, do you think you could give me a light here?" He asked you as you shut your lighter, pushing your finger over the metal cover, feeling the engraving.

Walking over, you moved your book under your arm as you stopped in front of Eddie. Flicking open the zippo lid, you created the flame as Eddie reached down to grab your wrist. You were surprised at how gentle he was as he raised your hand up, moving the end of his blunt to the open flame. Standing so close to him, he already smelt like cannabis, but also, surprisingly, strawberries. Letting out a puff of smoke through his nose, Eddie let go of your hand. You immediately missed the warmth, as the cold autumn air chilled your wrist. You quickly pushed that thought out and took a step back.

"Thanks, babe." Eddie winked at you, making your face warm up at the sudden nickname.

He then took another deep breath, letting out the smoke into the night air; you watched it swirl into nothingness. "You smoke?" He asked abruptly, breaking the silence between the two of you as if he didn't feel the awkward tension that you felt crawling down your spine.

"Ew, no. No. It's my father's." You explained swiftly, and Eddie nodded.

"Wicked," Eddie nodded, taking another drag from his blunt. "Better than my lighter for sure. Broken shit. Gotta get a new one." He mumbled to himself as you watched him.

"You know that's, like, bad for you, right?" You spoke up, “It could kill you.” Your nose scrunching up at the terrible smell as Eddie shrugged.

"Eh, that's just what society tells everyone.” He countered, “Besides, it calms me down, and believe me. I need to calm down." Eddie laughed out before he paused and turned to you, twisting the smoking blunt between his fingers. "I can put it out if you're uncomfortable though... Smoke and all." He offered and you shook your head. You didn't really care that much, you'd probably leave soon anyway; try and find your friend before they get too drunk and go home. Eddie let out the last bit of smoke before he dropped the dead blunt to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his white Reebok sneakers. "So," He began, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets again. "Tell me about yourself, Y/N." 

You turned to him, bewildered that he was still trying to talk to you. You didn't mind it, but normally people didn't talk to you long. Either getting bored of you or the conversation. And normally, you wouldn't be talking to strangers, especially guys. Especially a guy that you barely knew. And who was cute, but that was beside the point. "What's there to know?" You asked skeptically, watching as Eddie shrugged again, his head tilting to the side a bit.

"Well, I've never seen you around school before, which is crazy since I feel like if I saw you, I would've remembered meeting you." He stated, “Plus,” He added, “You seem like a fun girl to talk to." He pointed out, taking you back slightly. "I'd like to get to know you; if you’d let me." He finished, making your cheeks flush in shock and embarrassment. 

"You... You want to get to know me?" You asked, bewildered and beyond dumbfounded as you watched Eddie nod his head with a smile on his face.

"I think you're pretty cool, so yeah... I'd like to get to know you." Eddie repeated, and you shook your head.

"I'm not that cool. I mean, we just met, like, ten minutes ago. How can you think I’m cool in that short amount of time?" You asked, making Eddie sputter out a laugh.

"Not cool? Impossible. Your style alone is cool, babe." He gestured to your attire with a hand before stuffing it back into his pocket; it was getting colder, but you didn’t seem to notice.

You looked down at your clothes, your rainbow-striped sweater, blue flared jeans, white socks, and your red hightop Converse. Nothing special, it wasn't like you looked as cool as him. Him and his punk leather, rockstar attitude. He was probably in a band or something. You looked back up at him, clutching your book as you spoke shortly, "Thanks. I like yours too."

Eddie's eyes widened slightly before he gave you a toothy grin, "Why, thank you, my lady." He bowed, making you laugh - a snort escaping - covering your mouth with your hand as his eyes lit up and he stood back up straight. Bringing a hand up, he ran a hand through his hair, his jacket sleeve moving up as he did so. Your eyes widened as you saw his arm, seeing a tattoo on his skin. 

"You have a tattoo?" You asked in awe, as Eddie nodded.

"I actually have five." Eddie corrected, pulling down the collar of his band tee to reveal a tattoo on his chest, near his collarbone.

"Five? Wow," You replied, "I've always wanted a tattoo, but my mom is really not okay with them."

Eddie watched as you walked over, leaning against the wall beside him. "Really?" He asked, amazed by you as you nodded, a small smile on your face.

"Yeah, she thinks that it’s devil crap or something. I just think she needs to be more open minded." You replied, before looking up at Eddie. “And it may sound silly, but I never really knew what I would get if I got one… I just knew that I really wanted one - Something - anything.” You shrugged, shuffling the soles of your shoes on the patio concrete before continuing, "If I may, could I see the one?" You inquired and Eddie was happy to answer, pulling his sleeve up to show you his bats. He watched as your eyes lit up, your hand reaching forward, but freezing. You look up with your big eyes, looking right into his brown ones with uncertainty. "May I touch it?"

Eddie just smiled, "Go for it." 

You reached out, before pressing your pointer finger along the small bats, outlining them. Your warm touch sent a shiver down Eddie's spine making him hold his breath as he watched you carefully. His brown eyes followed every movement of your finger, goosebumps appearing as your finger brushed against his skin. You were so gentle, kind; it made Eddie's chest feel warm. 

"Did it hurt?" You asked, bringing your hand back to your side as you sputtered a short laugh, "Of course it had to of had to, silly questions."

Eddie shook his head, clearing his throat as he slid his sleeve back down. "No, not silly at all. It did hurt, especially my puppet master one, but the least of all was the bats."

You hummed with a small smile, "That's the one thing I'm scared of. I'm not good with pain. Needles scare the crap out of me." You admitted and Eddie’s grin widened, one of his shoes gently knocking into one of yours.

"Well, if you ever want to break some rules, I know a place. And, I'd be happy to tag along." Eddie softly offered, making you pause for a second, before nodding your head.

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind." You laughed, making Eddie’s grin soften slightly. You looked down at your wrist at your watch, seeing the time, your eyes widened, "Oh, goodness. It's very late. I need to get home."

"Need a ride?" He was quick to ask, not wanting your conversation to end, as you bit your lip, glancing inside the house through the glass sliding door; you were unable to find your friend in the crowd. You didn't want to have to go in there and find them. So, weighing your options, you looked up at Eddie. 

"Yeah, a ride would be great."

~~~

From then on, you and Eddie were inseparable. Joined to the hip. At school, you ate lunch with him and his club friends, your chair incredibly close to his as you laughed along to something Eddie had said. You even stayed after school when Eddie had his Hellfire club, watching beside him - usually sat upon the cushioned arm of his throne, as he looked over his game as the game’s Dungeon Master.

Every day was a new experience for you. Spending time with Eddie made you forget all about your problems and worries at home. You found it easy to slip into normalcy, laughing with him and joking around. You never thought you would find someone who made you so happy, someone who made it so easy to just be yourself; without the fear of judgment or disappointment.

Eddie had such an easygoing nature about him, always having fun. There was something different about him that made you feel comfortable. And it wasn't long until you realized you had feelings for him. Which really scared you. These feelings... They were dangerous. But… You couldn't help it. 

However, it did land you into some inner tumoral. Sometimes, your mind would begin to blank, your thoughts dwindling until all you thought about was how you wanted to run your fingers through his hair or press your lips to his. But just being able to simply sit next to him, listening to his voice, feeling his presence; was enough. That was enough for you.

~~~

Eddie pulled into your driveway, turning off the engine once parked. Turning to you, he watched as you unbuckled and grabbed your bag from between your feet; double-checking your bag to see if you had everything. You then turned to Eddie, seeing that he was already looking at you, startling you slightly, but making your cheeks flush.

"You got everything, babe?" He asked and you nodded, leaning over the middle console to press a kiss to Eddie's cheek.

"Thank you for driving me home, Eds." You replied and Eddie rolled his eyes jokingly.

"Y/N, baby, no need to thank me. It's what best friends do. I’ll call you when I get home." He shooed you along, making you laugh as you opened your door and hopped out. 

Walking backwards, you waved goodbye as Eddie pulled out of the driveway, a bright smile on your face. Once he was out of sight, you let out a happy sigh, turning around and heading up the steps to your home. Finding the door already unlocked, like it was most days, you walked on in with a smile on your face. Kicking off your converse, you dropped your backpack at the stairs before passing the living room and heading to the kitchen.

"Y/N." Your mother's voice rang out, making you pause midstep, going back to the living room where your mother sat in her armchair, book in hand. She took her reading glasses off the bridge of her nose, closing them, and placing them on the small table beside her. She then stared at you, a frown on her face, her hands interlaced in her lap, "Have you been with that boy again?" Her tone was stern and demanding, making you bite your lip nervously as you looked down at the ground.

"Yes... Mom, I—" Before you could continue, she cut you off with a wave of her hand.

"Don't 'Mom' me. That boy is bad news. I told you to stay away from him." Her voice rose slightly in pitch and volume with each sentence.

"But-"

"And don't tell me how you feel about this, he's the devil! Playing those- those demonic games-”

"He's not the devil!" You shouted suddenly, causing your mother to jump slightly and stare at you. "I like him, okay?! I like him more than anyone I've ever met! He's my best friend and I can't just not hang out with him anymore." You finished your voice breaking as tears formed in your eyes.

Your mother blinked several times before standing up, walking over to you.

"Oh, my darling honey," She began as she cupped your cheeks in her hands, "It's not safe for you to get involved with those types of boys.” The cadence in her voice sounded like she was speaking to an errant child. “Now, I better not see you around him any longer or we might have to move again." She ended the conversation, pinching your cheek before she left for the kitchen.

You watched her leave, tears streaming down your face, completely heartbroken as you rubbed the cheek she pinched. She didn't understand Eddie, and she never would. But her threat frightened you. You knew that if she caught you with Eddie, she would move the two of you away again. She did it once, she’d do it again. 

Grabbing your backpack, you headed straight to your room, forgetting about that snack you wanted as you shut your door. Dropping your bag, you finally let go, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you fell onto your bed. Laying on your stomach, you smashed your face onto your pillow, letting out a small, muffled sob as you began to cry. What else could you do? Before you could even start brainstorming ideas, you jumped slightly when you heard your phone ring, reaching over you, grabbing it, and bringing it to your ear.

"Hello?" You asked, clearing your throat and hoping you didn't sound as sad as you were.

"Hey! Babe! How's my favorite girl doing?"

Eddie.

Of course, it was Eddie. He said he was going to call you.

Your eyes widened as you struggled to sit up straight, "Eddie, you have to be quick, my mom could be listening." You whispered, hoping your mother ignored the phone but you still felt uneasy as you clutched the phone with a death-like grip.

Eddie pursed his lips in thought as he leaned against the wall of his trailer by the wall-mounted phone. You had only told Eddie about your mother once, but Eddie could tell from that one time that your mother was a tough subject for you, so he never pressed you further. Even though he had a lot of questions.

"Okay, okay! Don't worry, babe, alright? I'll be quick. Promise." Eddie assured, hearing movement on the other side of the line, "I just wanted to let you know that the meeting next week has been moved to five. Henderson has a dentist appointment or something after school."

You hesitated, biting your lip. "Okay, that's good to know. Thank you, Eddie." You spoke out with a breath.

Eddie began to twirl the phone cord between his fingers, his eyes staring at an old, discolored spot on the floor by his feet, "Are you okay?" He asked, and it seemed like a dumb question to him. Of course, you probably weren't okay. The way you sounded over the phone, he could hear how upset you were.

You paused, biting your lip, trying to think of anything, anything, to say. "What makes you ask that?" You replied. You hoped he wouldn't notice the slight shake in your voice.

"You sound kind of down," He replied, his voice low, his eyes focused on the discoloration, "I know I can't see you right now, but I bet you got a frown on that pretty face of yours." You sighed, and even though you still felt pretty terrible, hearing his voice, and just him in general, was enough to lift your spirits a little. You didn't think that you would fall even deeper for Eddie, but there you went. It was like your heart belonged to him already. You heard a bit of shuffling on his end before he spoke once more, "I know I said that I'd be quick, and I will, so... I'll see you tomorrow?" You could almost hear the hopeful tone in his voice; though, there was a hint of unsureness lingering there.

"Yeah..." You muttered, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, babe."

You let a small sigh escape you, "Goodnight, Eds."

Hanging up the phone, you hoped to god that your mother wasn't listening in as you slid yourself further onto your bed, your back pressed against the headboard. You wrapped your arms around your knees, resting your chin on them, your bottom lip trembling. Tears slowly began to trickle down your cheeks, leaving tracks in their path, and you buried your face in your arms, allowing yourself to become engulfed in darkness.

~~~

The next morning, you woke up groggy. Clearing the little crust away from the corners of your eyes, you sat up with a small groan. As you got ready for the school day, you tried to remember when you fell asleep last night, but you couldn't remember. Walking to one side of the room, you opened your small dresser, grabbing a pair of pants before starting to really get ready for the day.

You sat on the edge of your bed, fixing the cuff of your red jeans as you leaned to the side slightly, peeking out your bedroom window. Seeing your mother's car gone and missing from the driveway, you let out a small breath of relief, your shoulders dropping. 

Sliding your black studded belt through your belt loops, you walked over to your closet. Shuffling through your many hanging shirts of various colors, your hand paused on one, near the back of the closet. Pushing the shirts on their hangers to the side, you pulled the black shirt off the pole and towards you. Holding it up, you couldn't help but smile, your free hand coming up to grasp the soft fabric; rubbing it between your fingers. 

The shirt was black with the main print being a graveyard. Rows and rows of cross-shaped tombstones stood, a pair of red hands loomed above, holding strings that dropped down and connected to some of the tombstones. The words, 'Metallica' was in silver in the middle of the shirt, while 'Master Of Puppets,' was printed at the bottom of the illustration.

It was Eddie's and you may or may not have stolen it from him one of the times you visited him at his trailer - and he didn't mind. You usually wore it to sleep, but the scent, which was so perfectly Eddie, had begun to fade, which made you sad. Slipping it off the hanger, you replaced your nightshirt with the band tee, feeling a wave of comfort wash over you as it covered your body. 

Grabbing your backpack from near your bedroom door and your denim jacket from the hook, you headed out into the hallway, and down the stairs. As you slid on your black Converse, you side-eyed the clock on the wall, seeing that you did not have enough time to eat before you began your trek down to the high school. And so, with a hungry stomach, you slipped on your backpack and headed out the door.

~~~

As the school day went on, you felt as if you were drowning. Your classes were boring and monotonous as the teacher droned on about the Civil War, giving no real attention to the class except for a few snickers from the students behind him as he wrote on the chalkboard. When the bell finally rang, you quickly packed up all your things and rushed to leave the classroom, eager to get out.

Unfortunately for you, the halls were packed with students, meaning that you could not make your escape without brushing against others. You sighed, running your fingers through your hair as you looked around, hoping to find an opening to get through.

Finding a small opening, you took your chance, speeding through, you maneuvered through the crowd as people gave way to you. Your heart rate increased as you pushed through everyone, making your way towards the cafeteria. Once inside, you let your eyes scan the room, quickly spotting Eddie sitting with his club members. Making your way over, you couldn't help but feel giddy as your legs carried you over to him, unable to hide the huge grin forming on your face.

Turning his head, Eddie's eyes met yours, they brightened, a smile growing on his lips. Standing, he met you halfway, letting out a small grunt as you threw yourself into his arms. Eddie hugged you tightly, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground as he spun you in circles; making you laugh as you held onto him. When you both stopped spinning, Eddie set you back on the ground. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to enjoy this moment, savoring the warmth he provided as he held you close to your chest; rubbing your cheek on his denim vest and leather jacket combo. 

Looking up at him, he was already looking down at you, his eyes roamed over your face. You gazed right back into those chocolate-brown eyes of his, feeling the anxiety and sadness just melt away instantly. "Hey." You breathed out quietly, smiling as he pulled you closer to him, his hands finding their place on your waist.

"Hey, there, babe," He spoke softly, moving a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "Looks like somebody missed me." He teased, earning a light slap on his upper arm. 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you pouted, "Of course, I missed you, Eds." Eddie chuckled as he nuzzled his nose into your hairline, breathing in the sweet smell of your coconut shampoo.

After a moment, you felt the side of your face buzz, feeling eyes on you. Looking over, you huffed, gaining Eddie's attention. Eddie followed your eyes, seeing his club members staring at you and him. Half of them were trying to muffle their laughter, making Eddie glare at the group. 

"What are you airheads looking at? Get back to eating, nothing to see here." Eddie spoke out, his gaze never leaving yours. His tone was firm. With a shrug, the group turned their heads back down to what they were doing, not wanting to draw any more attention than necessary. "Come on," Eddie spoke softly, only to you, "Let's get out of here." You nodded your head, following beside him as he led you out of the cafeteria.

Stepping outside, you and Eddie walked out into the woods by the school, stepping over tree roots and walking around bushes and trees, you finally spotted the old picnic bench. Sitting down, you tucked your legs under the table as Eddie sat down with his legs on either side of the bench; facing you.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Eddie smiled over at you, "Look at you. You look beautiful today. Especially in my shirt."

You laughed lightly, feeling your face flush, "Thanks, Eddie."

"No, I'm serious," He continued, scouting a smidge closer, "I should give you my shirts more often… Actually, just take all my clothes. I don’t need them.”

You shook your head, grinning as you glanced around the woods, "You wouldn't get them back if you did that." You pointed out with a laugh.

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head a bit, his bangs falling into his eyes slightly, "Maybe, maybe not." Eddie replied, turning his body so that his arm was leaning against the table, propping his head up on his hand, "But you do look beautiful today."

"That's the second time now. How many times are you going to compliment me today?" You asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Well," He chuckled, his mouth twisting upwards in amusement, "I can't seem to stop myself."

Your eyebrows raised slightly as you stared down at your lap, you bit your lip. You could feel your heart beating faster, pounding loudly in your chest, your ears feeling slightly warm. You doubted that you would ever get used to hearing him say those things to you. You cleared your throat, glancing back at him, "So," You trailed off, "How was your morning?"

He grinned, chuckling, "Boring, without you." He huffed, "I wish we had the same classes."

"Me too." You nodded your head, "I think History would actually be fun if you were in my class." You muttered, shrugging a shoulder, "I could hardly pay attention."

"Well, you wouldn't pay attention if I was in class with you." Eddie joked, causing you to chuckle slightly.

"You're right." You giggled, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap, watching as the wind blew through his dark, curly locks. "You're such a bad influence on me." Immediately as you said that, your smile slipped, turning into a small frown. Even though you were joking, that was what your mother thought he was.  

Eddie leaned forward in his seat slightly, his elbow resting on the table, as he watched you intently, studying the expression on your face, "Y/N? Hey…" Eddie questioned quietly, reaching out and taking your hand in his. "What's wrong, babe?"

You swallowed hard, trying to avoid his gaze as you answered, "Nothing," You cleared your throat, "I'm fine."

Eddie pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes, "I know you're not." He scooted closer, interlacing his fingers with yours, "What's going on?" You looked up at him, you returned to biting your lip. "Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked. 

"It's my mom..." You replied softly, running a hand through your hair, "She doesn't like you."

"A lot of people don't like me, sweetheart." Eddie replied nonchalantly, squeezing your hand lightly as he gave you a lopsided grin.

You huffed, "I know. But, she doesn't want me to hang out with you anymore. And when I told her I wouldn't stop spending time with you, she got all mad. She told me that I shouldn't be friends with someone who's... The devil. That you’ll brainwash me." You whispered, looking down at the table, "I- I don't know what to do... I mean, she made me move that last time I made friends with someone she didn't approve of... I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave you." Sighing deeply, you shut your eyes, tears burned behind them as you finished, "It hurts, Eddie."

Silence filled the air between you two. A minute passed before you heard a sigh escape his lips. Opening one eye, you glanced up at Eddie, his brows furrowed in frustration. Leaning forward again, you watched as he reached out, brushing his hand across your cheek; wiping away the lone tear that managed to escape your eye.

"Y/N..."

"And- And, I don't care what she thinks." You whispered, shaking your head. "I just dont- I don't know what I'd do without you." You admitted, sniffling slightly as you stared at him; your brown eyes meeting his chocolate ones.

The corner of his mouth curved upward, a genuine grin spreading across his face, "I don't know what I'd do without you, babe." As he spoke these words, he brought your hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the center of your palm. "You make this shit town a whole lot better."

You blinked a few times, noticing how close you and Eddie were to each other, your cheeks flushed as your heart started racing once more. Licking your suddenly dry lips, you opened your mouth slightly, but no sound came out.

Eddie's eyes were trapped as he observed every detail in your face. The slight hint of your freckles, cheeks, and back to your bright, shimmering eyes; your lashes still wet from your prior tears. His half-lidded gaze then flickered down to your lips, and his tongue traced his bottom lip nervously. As Eddie's gaze lingered on your lips, a mix of emotions swirled in his eyes. Unbeknownst to you, Eddie had always harbored a special adoration for you ever since the night you both met at that dreadful party that you'd been dragged to. He had never met anyone like you before.

His heart would flutter every time you bantered back and forth and the way you would shyly smile in his presence only fueled his hidden affections. In those stolen moments where your eyes met and sparks seemed to fly, Eddie couldn't help but wonder if you felt the same way, buried beneath the layers of playful teasing and genuine friendship.

As you sat there, hand in hand, Your breath hitched as the atmosphere between you and Eddie crackled with an undeniable tension as you sat there, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air. In a moment of daring courage, you both leaned in, hearts pounding in sync, unsure of what the next second would bring.

As your lips drew closer, a mix of nerves and anticipation enveloped you. Eddie's gaze softened, his usually mischievous eyes now filled with a vulnerability that mirrored your own. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, suspended in a moment that felt both surreal and inevitable.

And then, in a flutter of breath and hesitancy, Eddie's nose brushed the side of yours, his hot breath caressing your cheeks. Your hand shook slightly as you brushed the tips of your fingers against his cheek, your eyes fluttered as your lips met in the middle; your hearts beating frantically in unison.

Your lips moved together slowly, gently moving against each other as you both explored the taste of each other, each moment was perfect. Every sensation, every smell, every sound seemed amplified. It felt like you were floating in a bubble of bliss, forgetting about everything but each other.

Pulling away, you kept your eyes shut as you pressed your forehead against his, feeling his bangs brush against your eyelashes, a giddy smile finding its way to your features, “Were you serious when you said you give me more of your shirts?”

Eddie chuckled lightly, “If it means I get to kiss you again, then sure.” He mumbled against your lips as his left hand cupped your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his nose before pulling away slightly, your eyes gazing into each other. "Can I have that other Metallica one? The one with the electric chair?" Excitement was clear in your voice as Eddie chuckled, nodding his head, you grinned widely, your eyes sparkling with happiness. 

"Look at you…” He muttered, seeing your smile before answering your question, “But, of course." He winked, causing your smile to widen as he leaned forward, his mouth barely grazing over yours, "Anything for you." He murmured before closing the distance between the two of you once again.

~~~

"Are you sure about this, babe?" Eddie asked, his hands holding the steering wheel tightly, driving his van in the next town over from Hawkins. "I mean, you don't have to do this just to piss off your mom." 

"I'm not just doing this," You shrugged a shoulder, glancing over at him from the passenger seat, "Don’t you remember me telling you how much I’ve wanted one when we first met?”

"Do I remember?" Eddie asked himself, a small grin growing on his face as he glanced over at you, your eyes meeting his before he turned back to the road, "The way you looked at me when you saw my tattoos... How your eyes lit up, and the smile that crossed your face... The way your lips parted... The way they looked so soft..." Eddie trailed off, "Yeah, no... I don't think I remember." Eddie shook his head as you felt your cheeks burn from his words, making you shake your own head, biting your lip. Oh, how he teased you...

Watching as the many trees passed by, you hummed before continuing, "It sounds like you weren't even paying attention." You answered, amused, resting your elbow on the van's door armrest, holding your head up by the palm of your hand. 

Eddie smirked, "Maybe I was too caught up in you to listen to what you were saying," He countered, raising an eyebrow as he glanced over at you for a brief moment, watching as you rolled your eyes, amused.

"If that's true then I doubt you've been listening to anything I have been saying. I swear I have to snap you out of staring at me every five seconds, Eds." You laughed lightly, your eyes falling back on the window as you continued humming under your breath.

"Not my fault you're so beautiful that I can't take my eyes off you, baby." He muttered flirtatiously.

"Shut up," You giggled, throwing your head back against the van's headrest, "You’re making me blush!"

Eddie didn't say another word, a large grin on his face as he pulled up to the familiar tattoo parlor. 

As you unbuckled yourself from the passenger seat, Eddie quickly got out and rounded around the front of the van. Opening the passenger side door, Eddie dipped into a low bow, stretching his free hand out to the side as he gave you a grin, "My lady," He spoke in a rather posh voice.

Placing a hand on your chest, you placed your free hand on top of his as you batted your eyelashes mockingly, pretending to gasp, "Oh, my," You spoke, mimicking him, "What a gentleman." You said as you stepped out of the van.

"Only for you." Eddie answered back, your hand staying in his as the both of you began to walk to the front, glass door.

As you both walked a couple of feet, you stepped up onto one of the curb stops, walking carefully so as not to fall; Eddie's hand in yours, watching you as you stepped toe to toe on the cement block. "What are you thinking of getting?" Eddie then asked, as your eyes stared down at your feet.

"I think I'll keep that as a surprise until this artist friend of yours asks..." You muttered with a small smile, coming to the end of the curb stop, stepping off, and looking up at Eddie as he grabbed the door handle of the parlor door.

"Well then," Eddie opened the door, the bell above it jingling, "I'm excited to find out what it is." Entering the parlor, Eddie waved at the man behind the counter. The man was tall, in his late twenties you assumed, and had a remarkable similarity to Kurt Russell from that 'Escape From New York' movie. "Hey! Chris!" Eddie exclaimed as this 'Chris' just gave Eddie a grin, pressing his palms against the counter.

"Hello, Eddie. Brought a friend, I see." He turned his bluey gaze to you, offering his hand as the two of you stopped before the counter, "Hey, name's Christopher, but you can call me 'Chris,' He spoke as you shook his hand, "I can only assume either of you came to get a tattoo. Unless you missed me." He joked, making Eddie huff, his eyes rolling as he flopped his arm over your shoulder. 

"You assumed correct, Chris," Eddie spoke, pulling you into his side, "My lovely girlfriend wants a tattoo."

Christopher hummed, nodding his head, "Well, you came to the right place." He clapped his hands together once before pressing them back against the counter before him, his eyes turning back to you, "What did you have in mind? Flowers, some sort of animal, a quote? I can do practically anything."

You just smiled, your mind already picturing the tattoo image that you had in mind. "I want bats." You answered simply, the side of your face burning as Eddie's head turned swiftly to stare at you wide, surprised - and in awe - eyes. 

Chris's grin curled into a mischievous one as he quickly glanced at Eddie and back to you, "Bats... Hmm, yeah, I can do that. Let me quickly come up with a sketch." He then spoke, sitting down in the chair behind the counter and pulling out a small sketch pad and pencil.

Eddie just continued staring at you, "Bats..." He muttered softly, "You want bats?" His question was filled with disbelief.

You shrugged a shoulder, your hand coming up to hold his hand from your shoulder, "I like bats."

"You like my bats," He whispered proudly, emphasizing on the third word as you smiled coyly.

"I love your bats," You repeated teasingly, squeezing his hand in yours before releasing it to reach up and push a strand of hair behind his ear, "I feel like you should've seen this coming."

Eddie just huffed, raising his free hand to grab yours from his hair, cupping your hand to his cheek; continuing to stare at you adoringly as he nuzzled his cheek into your palm. "I thought you were going to get something from that movie you like or something..."

"Hmm," You hummed, your thumb brushing against the soft skin of the apple of his cheek, your eyes drifting, spotting the little freckles that were dotted there, "That might be a good second tattoo idea."

"You really got the key to my heart, babe," Eddie spoke, his voice sounding full of what you could only think was a deep sense of love as his warm brown orbs gazed into yours, causing you to let out a small giggle, your thumb rubbing circles around his cheek.

"And you got mine, Eds." You mumbled as his eyes dropped to your lips, just a mere breath away until Christopher popped his head up from his sketch pad.

"Sorry to interrupt," He grinned, his mischievous eyes gleaming, standing from his chair as the two of you pulled away from each other slightly; Eddi's arms still wrapped around your shoulders. "What do you think of this?" Chris then asked, showing you the sketch he had gone, and immediately, your eyes widened, as did your smile.

"It's perfect!" You cheered, feeling a rush of excitement run through you as you stared down at the sketch. It was of Eddie's bats, drawn the same, but flying in a slightly different pattern; more horizontal. It was perfect and you couldn't wait for the masterpiece to be permanently printed onto your skin.

Chris pulled the sketchbook back, "Great, you two lovebirds can follow me to the chair." He spoke, as he led you and Eddie to his station.

As you walked, you took that time to look around the parlor, seeing the walls covered in posters and framed art depicting different types of tattoos. The room was bright, but not blinding and everything was done in black, white, and gray tones. Taking a seat on the later chair, Chris slid over another wheely chair, the same as his, for Eddie to sit on as he gathered his needed materials from a separate room. 

Eddie held your hand as you laid your arm on the chair's armrest, gently squeezing your hand as you continued to look around the room at all the different tattoo designs. "Are you excited?" He asked, watching as your eyes flickered from design to design, a smile still on your face.

"So excited. But I'm still nervous. I'm trying not to think about the needle."

"Hmm, yeah," He hummed, following your line of sight, "I'll be here the whole time. You know that you can take a break at any time. Just let him know."

"I know," You nodded, looking over at him, "But I can do this. I mean, I've been waiting for this ever since I was twelve."

"I know," Eddie mimicked you softly as Chris came back over with the tattoo gun and inks needed. 

Setting the items down on the table, Chris grabbed some gloves, sliding them on, "Alright, where did you plan to have it?"

"Right here," You gestured to just below your collarbone, and Chris nodded as he got the items ready on the tin tray beside him, organizing them.

"Alright, I just want to let you know that it might be painful, or it might not. Some people say it just feels like someone scratching the same spot over and over, and some don’t, so I just wanted to warn you about that." He spoke, opening the ink bottles and pouring a couple of drops into a small, plastic cup, "I try and make this as pleasant of an experience as possible for everyone who comes in. So if you need a break, you can take it. If you need a snack, I got a mini fridge, and if you need me to change the radio station, I bet Eddie will go and change it for you." He finished, before twisting his wrist, warming it up. "Are you ready to begin?" 

You nodded, "Yeah."

~~~

The tattoo was perfect. You thought it was gorgeous. And when Eddie first saw it after Chris was done, his first word was, ‘Wicked.’

Seven little bats decorated your soft skin, and even though you had gone through a lot of pain to get them, it was incredibly worth it. Chris and Eddie were right, and it did hurt, but not as much as you thought it was going to hurt. Your mother, after you had told her of your wish to one day get a tattoo and tattoos in general. She said that it was a way of signing your soul over to the devil. That was the reason your mother moved you away to Hawkins, your mother found out that a friend of yours had a tattoo. But nothing she said really deterred you from wanting a tattoo. 

And four months later, you sat in your room with Eddie, a movie randomly playing on your small television across your bed, whilst you read a book and Eddie's head leaned on your shoulder. He was staring at the TV, not fully paying attention to it as he played with the fraying hem of your shirt... That you stole from him. 

You continued to read, your book taking you to a far-off world with elves, wizards, and hobbits. Eddie had recommended the 'Lord Of The Rings' series, letting you borrow his set, and you couldn't have been happier. You were in the second book, almost near the end; you couldn't put it down. Even though it was long, and the author really liked to describe anything and everything, you enjoyed how easily you seemed to fall into the fantasy world of Middle Earth.

Sighing, Eddie scooted impossibly closer to you, growing a bit bored. His hands were tingling slightly with the want and need to do something, anything. He wished he had his baby with him. His other baby. While you were reading, he could've been practicing a few songs, but his visit to your house for the first time was not planned.

You had told him that your mother was going out to play Scrabble with a few friends for the night, and that she wouldn't get back until pretty late. So, you took Eddie to your place. You were excited to finally show Eddie your room. Even though it wasn't anything like his, Eddie still loved it. 

When he walked in, he knew it was your room. Your desk was pushed off to the side, near the window. Folders, notebooks, and other various items were neatly placed there. The shelves that contained your many, many books were on the other wall, next to your closet door. The bed looked comfortable too; with a plush, fuzzy faux-fur blanket that covered your gray sheets, accompanied with gray pillowcases on your pillows. 

Your room was nice, open, and bright. And it made Eddie feel calm; safe. 

Letting out a dramatic sigh this time, Eddie pushed himself up slightly, lifting and turning his head to press his nose into your shoulder, his eyes staring at what he could see of the side of your face with sad, puppy dog eyes. 

"Bored?" You asked softly, thumbing the page over. 

Eddie pouted, "Yeah… How could you tell?"

"This is the ninth time you sighed in... Oh, I don't know... Ten minutes." You spoke glancing at the circular clock on the wall and down at him before back at your book. "Just let me get done with this chapter and I'm all yours."

"Okay..," Eddie sighed, watching as you continued to read, his fingers returning to play with the hem of your shirt.

After about five minutes, or what felt like hours for Eddie, he started to become restless again. Shaking his socked left foot side to side from where it lay on your bed, he curled his fingers around your arm, his nose occasionally rubbing your shoulder as he started to hum the tune of 'Fade To Black.' Shuffling up again, the slight movement caused his hands to move down on your long-sleeved shirt; unintentionally pulling the collar of your shirt down a little. 

Immediately, Eddie's eyes were glued to the bit of black ink poking out from beneath the stretched collar of your shirt. His finger moved upwards, lightly tracing the outline of what he could see of the bat, his pout quickly turning into a small grin. Unable to really help himself, Eddie felt himself being drawn towards it. As if it was calling out to him. Before getting it, you had told Eddie millions of times how much you loved his tattoos, all of them, but especially his bats. 

He probably had a small inkling - or suspicion - that you had plans to get something similar, but he never gave it a second thought, until now. You loved his tattoo so much that you got one like his permanently tattooed onto your skin. You loved him so much that you got something that reminded you of him... Permanently tattooed onto your perfect skin, and somehow he could barely breathe.

Letting out a shallow breath, Eddie leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of the bat's wing, what he could see just peeking out from the collar of your shirt. It was enough of a distraction, for him to not notice when your hand paused in the air, millimeters away from flipping to the next page. Pressing his warm face into the equally warm skin of the crook of your neck, Eddie sighed; finally feeling the fast beating of your heart against his cheek.

"You're killing me, Eddie." You huffed, shutting your book and setting it on the bedside table before looking over at what you could see of Eddie; his face still dug into your shoulder. "You're acting way too cute." You chuckled, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, breaking away small knots.

His nose bumped against yours as he raised his face from your shoulder, an innocent smile on his face, "What do you mean? I'm always cute."

"That's true," You agreed, moving forward and pressing a sweet, short kiss to his lips. "Now," You pulled away slowly, placing a small amount of space between the two of you, "What do you want to do? Since you're so bored."

"Well," He grinned mischievously, "I have a few ideas."

Tilting your head to the side slightly, "Really?" You questioned with a raised eyebrow, feeling your stomach twist as his eyes glanced down at your awaiting lips for a moment, "Care to share?"

"Mmhm." Eddie hummed, his hand raising to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip, before cupping the back of your neck, bringing your face ever closer to his; allowing his gaze to drift down and down until his eyes landed on your mouth once more.

Before either of you could continue, a sudden knock on the bedroom door brought both of you back to reality; your door opening and revealing your mother. She had come home early.

Your eyes widened as you sat bolt upright in bed. Eddie shot up beside you, his eyes wide as well, as your mother's jaw dropped, her eyes widening in shock before they turned into eyes of pure anger.

"Y/N!" She yelled, making you flinch as she turned her eyes to Eddie, "And you! Devil boy! Out of my house, you spawn of Satan!" 

Eddie hopped up from your bed, grabbed his shoes, and hastily slipped them on. You stood up from the bed as well, your mother's eyes stared at him like a hawk, all the while Eddie couldn't help but grin. You moved over to the window, pushing the pane up as Eddie almost strutted over. 

Despite what was happening, you couldn’t help but admire him.

Shrugging on his leather jacket, he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, making your worried expression turn into a loving smile. "Bye, babe."

"Bye, Eds." You breathed deeply as your mother rushed over.

"No! No! Get out, Devil boy! Out!" He waved a pointy finger as Eddie slipped out of your window, landing on the lower side roof and down to the ground. Once he was out of sight, your mother turned to you; a sliver of fear rolled down your spine as her eyes glared daggers at you, her arms crossed. "And you, young lady, are in very big trouble." She seethed, "I told you- I forbade you from ever speaking to that boy again! And you have the nerve- the- the audacity to bring him into my home! To have him in your room! You- you- you-" She began, stuttering over her words angrily, her hand waving in the air by her face; her cheeks were red. As she continued to stutter, her eyes glanced down, seeing the hint of black against your skin. She paused, frozen before she reached out and pulled the collar of your shirt slightly, just enough to see one of the bats that was etched onto your skin peeking out from under your shirt. "Is that..." She raised her free hand, licking her thumb before rubbing the bat; whatever it was, it didn't fade, or spear... It didn't come off. She pulled away, "You... That devil child has infected you!" She cried angrily.

You swallowed nervously as she continued to talk, your mind running over every possible way you could get out of this emotionally and mentally unscathed, "Mom. I am an adult. I can get a tattoo-"

Her eyes flashed dangerously, "Stop right there. Don't you dare say another word." She growled, "He has brainwashed you. He took you and corrupted your mind, and you will pay dearly for it." 

You watched as your mother stalked away, "Mom..." You spoke, but she ignored you, reaching for your phone sitting on your bedside table, "Mom!" You cried out, watching as she reached for the cord of your phone and yanked it straight out of the wall.

Jaw dropped, and you continued to watch as she collected your phone into her arms before turning to you, "You will not get your phone back until I deem it suitable. I may regret this, but I will give you one last chance. I rather like this town. I would be upset to leave it so soon." She spoke before leaving your room, shutting your door behind her. 

Huffing out a breath, you felt your eyes burn. The tears threatened to spill from their confines as you turned towards your bed, dropping yourself onto it, letting the tears finally fall.

Eddie stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his hands gripping the counter edge tightly as he stared down at the counter itself. He wanted to call you, see how you were doing, and cheer you up like he always knew how to, but he knew that it would be too risky.

So, he stood, his fingers tapping the underside of the counter as he thought. He wished things were different, and he wished that your mother didn't hate him. But everyone hated him, and he wished that he was used to it. But you didn't hate him. Not even close. He needed you, he needed your support and encouragement, he needed your love and warmth; just as much as you needed him.

He sighed, sliding down onto the floor, and leaning his back against the bathtub; the cold surface chilling his back. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back against the rim of the tub, letting out a sigh. 

~~~

Your mother watched you like a hawk for the next couple of weeks. Everywhere you went with her, she was close beside. And she followed you wherever you went; store, arcade, everywhere. Everyone you spoke to, she would know about. It was like she was everywhere. But, she wasn't.

She couldn't go to the high school, no matter how much she tried to convince the Principal to let her. 'My daughter is in danger,' she would plead, only for the Principal to reply with, 'There is nothing to worry about.' Nothing to worry about? Your mother was fuming. You wondered how she would’ve done it either way, since she had a job and all.

And so, the only time you could see Eddie was during the school day, which was less time than you liked. You didn't share any of the same periods, and could only see him during the couple of minutes before class, during the half an hour lunch, and the few minutes after school before you had to walk home. Your mother even forced you to quit your 'Drama Club,' which was actually the Hellfire Club.

Sitting on the picnic bench out in the woods, the same bench you and Eddie shared your first kiss - and many more - you leaned against Eddie's shoulder. Lunch had started less than ten minutes ago, Eddie had eaten some of the fries and drank his chocolate milk, but you had hardly touched yours at all. You hadn't touched anything all morning; you simply pushed the plate of mush around. You could feel Eddie's curious glances burning into the side of your face as he looked down.

"You gotta eat, baby." He moved his arm, wrapping it behind you, his hand rubbing up and down on your arm, "Come on, take a bite." He cooed softly, leaning down a little bit so that his nose brushed against your cheek. You shook your head quickly, pushing your plate of untouched food away from you, "Y/N." His voice came out in barely more than a whisper.

Taking a deep breath, you opened your mouth to speak, "I will for you." You muttered, reaching out and grabbing the sweet roll from your tray, "Only for you."

"That's my girl." Eddie brought you closer to his side, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I know life is pretty shitty right now, but we can get through this. I promise you, once we graduate, we will get out of this town."

You humphed softly, a small smile growing on your lips, "If you graduate," You teased lightly, making Eddie gasp in faux offense; his free hand coming up to his chest.

"If I graduate? Baby, 86' is my year." He winked, causing you to giggle a little, making his smile grow bigger. You rested your head back against his shoulder, the two of you contentedly eating your food.

After a moment, you paused, "What if we left now..?" You shook your head on his shoulder as Eddie paused his own eating, "Nevermind. Silly question."

"Not silly at all." Eddie spoke, the both of you being brought back to the night you met at that party, "Not silly at all." He repeated, thoughtfully.

~~~

Your mother came home from work on an early Wednesday evening, dropping her purse and keys down on the table near the door as she slipped off her heels. "Y/N! Dear, I'm home!" She called out, checking in the living room, but not finding you there. Walking to the kitchen, passing the dining room, she called out again, "Did you take the beef out like I asked?" Entering the kitchen, the beef was not out on the kitchen counter, and the dishes in the sink were unfinished. Letting out a deep, irritated sigh, she moved to the stairs, placing her hand on the banister, "Y/N!?" With no answer again, she quickly made her way up the stairs, entering the hall, and pushing your door open. 

She gasped, seeing your walls stripped of your posters, your shelves empty of your books, and your bed coverings missing from your bed. Rushing to your closet, she slammed it open, finding empty hammers in your empty closet before doing the same with your dresser; empty. She ran a hand through her hair, her body turning, and her eyes surveying the room with haste. Where were you? Where did you go? Were you with that boy? Damn...

Hearing the sound of a van pulling into the driveway, and a door opening, she ran to your open bedroom window that faced the street, her hands held onto the windowsill with a death-like grip, her eyes wide with anger and shock as you hopped out of the van; Eddie's van. Speaking of the Devil boy, he came around from the other side of the van, his arm looping over your shoulders. You just stared up at your mother with a triumphant grin, crossing your arms, and jutting out your hip.

Your mother stood stunned and speechless as she watched you uncross your arms, you then placed them to the side of your head, your pointer fingers pointed up; mimicking horns as you stuck out your tongue at her. Eddie watched you, a proud grin on his face - flattered - admiring you proudly.

Her expression quickly changed, becoming filled with fury, while Eddie gave your mother a grin, waving his hand. "Goodbye, Mrs. L/N!"

Your mother watched as you and Eddie then started to get back in the van, and finally, she spoke, "Y/N! Get back here this instant! If you get in that van, you are no longer my daughter!" She exclaimed angrily but only watched as the van's engine started up and the two of you sped away down the street.

You laughed in the passenger seat, throwing your head back against the headrest, Eddie glancing over at you with a smile; laughing along with you, happy to see you so happy.

You sighed as you calmed down, feeling adrenaline rush throughout your veins as you ran a hand through your hair before you turned to look at Eddie; resting your elbow on the middle console, palm resting on your cheek.

"So," You began, your smile never dwindling as you gazed up at Eddie, "Where are we going to go?" You asked, excitement filling up your heart.

Eddie shrugged, glancing over at you with a matching grin, having a double take when he saw your smile. You looked beautiful… As always. The setting sun was shining on you, bathing you in the most perfect light. His smile softened, "Look at you..." He muttered, "You're all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed." He finished before he reached over the center console, and grabbed your other hand in his. Bringing it to your lips, he pressed a gentle, yet loving kiss to the top of your knuckles, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Look at me..." You replied, your voice taking a soft tone, a warm smile playing on your lips. 

---

Main Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

#cute #fluff #x reader #slight angst #fanfiction #fanfic #x female reader #x you #x y/n #angst #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #stranger things fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader

[borninwinter81]

Library tour - Pratchett and Gaiman focused with some honourable mentions

Of course I've constantly had full bookshelves since I was a child, but I'd always wanted a room I could properly call a library. The house my husband and I now live in has 3 bedrooms, so as we're child free we've each taken one of the spare rooms to do with as we wish.

The majority of the furniture you see is thrifted (aside from the bookcases) and it was self decorated with a lot of cut corners-for example I decided instead of proper flooring it would be cheaper just to pull up the carpet and varnish the actual boards.

I spend more time in here than I do in our living room 😁

Gaiman stuff. Sandman alongside some Alan Moore, Preacher, Hellblazer, my signed copy of The Crow and one volume of Sin City. Two copies each of Ocean (one illustrated), and American Gods (original and authors preferred text). And of course one of my copies of Good Omens. Plus you can see the novelisation of Pan's Labyrinth sitting next to Neverwhere. Del Toro is another favourite fantasist of mine.

Pratchett stuff. Complete Discworld of course, and I'm slowly increasing my non Discworld Pratchett collection, my second copy of GO, the Paul Kidby illustrated edition (makes sense to have one living with the Gaiman books and the other with Pratchett). Soul Music and Hogfather are both signed, I met Pterry when I was 14 on the Hogfather signing tour.

The crocheted toy was actually from a pattern for a mimic I made (pattern by Complicated Knots on YouTube), but it's luggage-y enough that I put it with the Discworld books, Rob Wilkins' biography of Pterry, and a Librarian to look after everything, make sure the books don't get rowdy and take care of the L-space. I've had him since I was 18.

Specifically Good Omens stuff: a pair of felt plushies a friend made for me after S1 was released (@diedarlingsuk on Instagram), a pair of drawings I bought from a very talented 15 year old artist at a tiny comic con also after S1, (I'd credit her but I've no idea of her name or if she has an online presence), the script book, the TV companion, and an art book by the wonderful @mistysblueboxstuff, who I'm sure most of the fandom know and love. This contains all her GO art from S1 and S2.

Honourable mention stuff - I put above that I love Del Toro, so I've got to share the Angel of Death from Hellboy 2 as its one of my favourite things in this room. And its an angel, so that's kinda linked.

Made for me by another friend from clay on a doll's body and the wings on wire frames (@sids_workshop on Instagram).

Finally the Complete William Blake illuminated works, a guidebook to a Blake exhibition I went to, and Gustav Dore illustrated copies of Dante, Milton, Coleridge, Tennyson and Poe. I am a huge poetry nerd, and I think many GO fans would find a lot to interest them in some of these, particularly Blake and Milton.

I could go on, there's tons of other stuff I'd like to include but this post is fairly massive already and I wanted to try and stick to my theme.

#neil gaiman #terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #good omens #go2 #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #guillermo del toro #books and reading #home library #books & libraries #the luggage #discworld #The Librarian #book omens #good omens book #the sandman

[suguru-getos]

| Aftermath | Keigo Takami x f!TherapistReader |

-> chapter one

summary: hawks who has just lost his quirk in the war & coping with his life as a quirkless man, decides to finally listen to his own self & seek therapy. why did he choose a quirkless therapist? maybe to seek solidarity— or maybe, he hoped you’d not judge him.

warnings: therapy, childhood!trauma, bnha!spoilers, mentions of inner child healing, keigo talks about his childhood, mentions of toxic!parenting, cocky!kei as always.

a/n: don't mind me giving my comfort character and my loml some healing lmaooo <33 i had sm fun writing this istg it made my heart warm. this is a slow burn fic, and the reader is a self-insert on some points because i can get self indulgent tehee!!

You wandered aimlessly, looking around the suite-like cabin and then down the skyline. Tokyo was always beautiful, even now when winters had just started to greet. There was a foggy blanket of clouds covering the labyrinth of buildings and you could never get over it. With your next client, it was obvious your thoughts were along the lines of… an Angel flying out in the skies keeping everyone safe, now reduced to someone without wings. Still an Angel though, but that's what you think. Maybe he doesn't.

You grimly sighed when your eyes wandered at the clock, there were still 30 minutes to your appointment, normally… someone like you would never get the opportunity to deal with heroes so popular. Hawks was a no show after the war, people thought he had died. People thought he left Japan for good. Though a faint glimmer of hope always made you want to believe he's still around. To your surprise when he was your client, you felt a knot on your stomach churn with anticipation and excitement.

You sat on your velvety chair, the lights dim and comfortable to the modernized architecture of your office. You gulped, opening his file and looking at the passport photograph of him. The scar he got in one of the fights in which a villain named Dabi publicized his kill was there, siren eyes staring into your very soul were there. How could you even try to open up someone who looks so ethereal and so threatening at the same time. You feel just as nervous as your first time, the personality that Hawks carries eating away at you slowly. You shook your head, jerking the thoughts away. Be professional, he is a client and you're doing your job.

If you hadn't been so dazed by your favorite hero and your crush; you were quite a number yourself. Cut-throat, not afraid to walk the talk, stern, fierce, kind and disciplined. People respect you and you command it when they don't. Not afraid to force someone to bend the knee if they indulge in animosity with you. It's just… Hawks was someone you admired oh-so-much! You had his merch and posters after all. Not that he would get to know that, oh no. That'd never happen.

Takami Keigo, 26, Born on December 28th. Blood group B+, MBTI-> ENTP, Schooling and training and everything was blank. Difficult, this would be a difficult case to deal with.

How did you fangirl over him? Well, that's perhaps for another day.

"Excuse me, Ma'am. He's here." Your assistant opened the door with a knock and you felt your stomach sink, biting your lip nervously and clearing your throat to gain composure.

"Hey there doc!" there he was, with his magical grin and long palms raised up to his eye level as he waved. Wearing denims and a loose fitted white T-Shirt. Casual, cute, confident.

"Oh hello Hawks!" You manifested the same energy, greeting him respectfully by standing up and bowing a little. "Jeez, can't get rid of the name yet huh?" He chuckles, though your mind has already starting to process if it was a fake one, the carefully crafted hero chuckle or was he genuinely this chill.

"I don't think so, whether or not you do hero work, you own the name." you responded with a smile, ushering him to take his seat. Oh he manspreads, leaning back and getting comfortable. Makes you wonder if he can see through the cracks of your personality just as you're trying to see in his. Who will unfold who first…

You closed the client book you had, looking into the beautiful goldens of his eyes and making eye contact. "So, I know the first session is usually the most awkward one. People try to get to know their shrink before letting themselves to open up." You glanced, and Hawks looked like he would devour you whole. He looked invested in your words, not in a faking concentration way… in a 'I will listen to what you have to say' way.

"Allow me to share some stuff about myself then, my name is Y/N. I am a therapist good morning. Apart from that, I like to participate in various hobbies like kickboxing, journalling, playing games, spending time with my cat, yada yada. I am an INTJ, I think MBTI has started taking the same wavelength in Japan as Korea huh? Everyone's obsessed with em' I think."

"Well" Hawks clicked his tongue, clearly unamused by your introduction, it was brief and curt. Not a fair deal for someone who will unravel him… then again, you are his therapist, not vice versa.

"I think so too, do you know, a lot of the fans pretend to be INTJs because they tend to be compatible with ENTPs?" He chuckled, rolling his eyes. God he does know everything… there was a whole article about this. "We could do the quiz together if you have your concerns." "Shyeah- no, I don't. Just sharin' yknow?" he winked, noticing how you nervously pressed your legs together. He was wearing Killian's Angel Share, and Bad Boy… one of your favorite scents & the effects were almost affecting you almost at a subconscious level.

"Mkay, gotcha! So, anyways… I don't want to force you to open up, take your time in it. Let's start simple. How are you?" You asked Hawks, and for a moment, the barest of seconds, you could see his eyes turn to a void. "Yeah, good, never been better you know? Vacationing now that I have a sick ton of money with practically nothin' to do. Ain't gonna waste it otherwise by being depressed."

You clicked your tongue, oh he would not open up huh? Well, not that you expected this to be an easy ride either. "Yeah, of course. Money does help… helps everyone. At the end of the day I'm sitting on this chair to be paid a hefty by you." You hum, crossing your legs and getting comfortable too. This would be a fierce mental war already. From the determination of a hero and from a healer who's been sought out by the same hero.

"Then again, it isn't everything."

Oh except if you could tell that to childhood Hawks, it was… it was everything. His eyes pale with the answer a little. "Led a very comfortable life haven't you?" He smirked, giving you a miniscule opening.

"Yeah, luckily." You responded, smiling… "Clearly you haven't."

Hawks stood silent at that, and that was an answer enough.

"You were a rich kid since you started your agency, was this your teens or childhood?" Before Hawks could decipher, the session had already begun.

"Well, I was the viral news subject after they found out I was Thief Takami's son." He raised a brow, and you nodded. "Shitty murderer dad, mum?" You felt bad on being so professional, but you also felt Hawks would push you away if you were too kind. Some people have stopped treating him as a person ever since All for One had taken his quirk away.

"Mum was well, absent, mentally." He responded, and shrugged. "Dad was abusive, used to beat me up as a child and mum was too engrossed in her own shit I suppose. Happy for her that she has a new life with a new husband and new kids." It was amusing how Hawks didn't sound salty about it… it could only mean detachment to the finest. A befitting coping mechanism.

"You didn't have to go through that, I'm guessing if I needed to ever, talk to baby Hawks, I can't have a childhood photograph?" You glanced hopefully. "Nah, not a single childhood photograph. Dad was too paranoid of things and mum didn't care."

"We usually uh, have this exercise you know? That you'd keep a picture of your childhood self at your bathroom mirror and remember who you're talking about whenever you feel self-doubt." You smiled, looking into his eyes with empathy but no pity.

"Well, too bad." He chuckled, embarrassed and definitely not liking this emotion.

"Who cares at the end of the day, it's just the first few years of your life." He responded again balming his own thoughts more so than talking to you.

"Yeah, but every phase of our life is important. When your father abused you, hit you, didn't you feel enraged? Or scared? Or both?" You bit your lip, trying to mentally detach as much as possible.

"I felt nothing. I just wanted to not end up like them. If I was as angry as him, then I would become like him. Even my childhood self knew I'm better than that." There was pride in his eyes when he said so.

"True, yes, however… no expectations from your mum to save you?" Hawks shook his head no, shrugging. "She'd get beaten up too."

You nodded, not writing anything down on the paper just yet.

"Alright, I want you to do something for me." He raised a brow when you said that, "I don't want us to traverse further until you try doing this, mkay?" You grinned, "Imagine someone coming to your home, breaking the door at the moment of your abuse, that someone is you. The big, pro hero, you. Then, I'd like you to hold little Keigo's hand, and take him out. How about that?"

Hawks gave you an expression which was a mixture of 'How absurd' and 'Interesting'.

"Do that for me, and do that as many times and in as many scenarios you feel like you needed to be protected. You needed to be healed from." You coo softly… meanwhile Hawks' brain lagged at you saying 'Little Keigo'. So far he thought you didn't know his name… despite it being telecasted worldwide. No, you just refer to old Keigo as Hawks, but little Keigo isn't Hawks… he's just Keigo.

Was he reading too much into this? Would you soon bridge the gap between little Keigo and Hawks? Would you call him Keigo too?

The alarm clock chimed, time was over. You glanced at it and then back at him. "Well, guess you wouldn't be bored anymore, of me." "Hey, give yourself some credit little Shrink." he winked, smirking, "You're really good at this, can't wait to see you next time." "Don't come until you don't do what I asked." "Sure thing jeez."

With that, he left, and you could almost kill yourself at the way you tried to imagine little Hawks in pain. No, attaching to clients is the biggest NO. Yet, you can't help but feel positive tingles at the thought of him doing that little exercise and telling you about it.

Until next time, Keigo Takami.

#hawks #hawks bnha #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha angst #hawks bnha angst #bnha spoilers #keigo takami #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #hawks x reader angst #bnha comfort #mha comfort #mha x reader angst #mha x reader comfort #aftermath hawks #hawks x f! reader #keigo takami x reader

[aesthyuckic]

🩹🎐 ditto!┊͙✧˖*°࿐

inspired by sabrina the teenage witch and ditto by new jeans :) tw: hurt comfort?? word count: 2.25k

“Have you ever been to the North Star?”

“What?” Haechan asked back in response, taking his attention off the vegetables he was cutting in the kitchen. “No, why?”

“Our soul stones reside there.” You shrugged.

He rolled his eyes before he went back to what he was doing, “They should be called twin stones not soul stones. Twin flames are our other halves and soulmates are people we knew in previous lives.”

“Okay, fair but don’t you think they’re interesting?”

You knew he always got upset at the mix up between twin flames and soul stones, it was something you found endearing. Truthfully, you didn’t know until he told it to you and that was another thing you loved about him. He always taught you more which fed your natural curiosity.

“I guess.” He shrugged. “But I’ve had no reason to go there. I’d be testing rocks for hours and I feel like I’d just be disappointed by it.”

“You have no one in mind?” You asked with your chin on your hands as you looked at him from the couch.

“Of course I do.” He responded.

And for some reason, there was a twinge at a few of your heart strings that stung as deeply as the cold. The pain flashed for a moment in your eyes and it was luck for you, his back was to you so it went unnoticed by your friend.

“Why haven’t you gone to test it then?” You inquired further.

“I’m afraid.” He admitted while putting down the knife, the vegetable laid in pieces on the cutting board. “What if they don’t fit together perfectly like they’re meant to?”

“Then there’s someone else that you’re meant to be with.” You answered rather gleefully.

“I don’t think I’d like to know that. I rather live in a blissful state of what could be. Why do you want to go so bad?”

“I know you’re smart, Hyuck. It’s because I have someone in mind. Duh!”

You fell back on the couch as he was prepping the food once more. There was that twinge again, only not in your heart but his own. The sound of the knife hitting the board cease for a moment before it began again.

He didn’t like the idea much like you didn’t either of having people in your lives that you hadn’t mentioned to one another. You’re meant to be best friends but best friends tell each other about the people you’re interested in. Neither of you had mentioned that person in passing with one another. The both of hadn’t assumed that it had been for good reasons.

The hurt subsided but lingered in the quietness of the room. It became heavy and overwhelming. You shot up from the couch.

“We should go together.” You suggested.

Before he could say anything, you were up and dragging him out of the kitchen by his wrist.

“The food!” Haechan pointed out.

“It’s be here when we get back.” You said, swiftly.

“The stones will still be there after we eat!” He whined.

“You know how when I want to do something, nothing else matters until I do the thing I want. It’ll be quick, promise.”

He couldn’t say no to you. It was impossible whether it was because you made him too weak to do so or because you were too stubborn to get your own way. You were already up the stairs to your linen closet, intent on where to go with the boy tailing behind you. As soon as the door slammed behind the both of you. A flash of mist and light engulf you for only a moment to reveal the change of location. Everything around you was various shades of glowing blue, most notably a periwinkle color. Shards of crystal surrounded the both of you, multiple halves of stones were cascaded through out the labyrinth of the star.

The grip on his wrist loosen as you looked around, confused. The boy seemed lost as well.

“How are we going to find the stones?” He mumbled.

He strayed from you while he avoided the sharpen formations as he walked around to look at the countless stones.

“Haechan-“ You called.

It was no use though, he was already around the corner of the wall. You don’t even think he heard you which you rolled your eyes at before turning around. As soon as you turned, a shard suddenly popped up out of the ground startling a brief scream and a rapidly beating heart from you. It spoke to you.

“Welcome to North Star system. How may I help you?” It said, robotically, indicating it was an automated system.

“Are you okay?!” Haechan yelled, a hint of worry in his voice.

“I’m fine!” You answered. “I thought… I saw a bug or something… Have you found anything?”

“Not yet!” He shouted. “I’ll let you know if I do.”

There was relief in you when you heard his footsteps start again and get farther from you. You bent down slightly to say your full name into the point of the shard. You looked behind you one last time before going back to quickly add another.

“And Lee Donghyuck.” You whispered.

It was silent for a second. Nothing moved and you began to wonder if it has heard you. Then the frustration and disappointment came to set in as everything stayed the same. Out of nowhere, a circular block of clear crystal came up from the ground with two blue boxes sat next to each other. The shard in front of you disappeared into the ground once more to reveal a path toward what you sought after.

Frozen in place, a moment you had dreamed and thought about since you found about the North Star was presented right in front of you. Fear replace the frustration you felt prior. Did you really want to know? There was a dilemma in you and felt like a hypocrite to the words you spoke earlier to your friend.

Hesitantly, you stepped forward and approached the pedestal. You went with the box on your left first and opened it to reveal one half. It glowed in your palm and a moving image of you appeared in it. You did the same with second box, it glowed in your other palm and Donghyuck appeared in. You smiled at it, rubbing your thumb over the cool surface of his stone. The question arose again, did you really want to know? Of course you did. You found yourself moving the two halves closer together. Time seemed to only slow down the closer they got to each other as a breath got caught in your throat. Only a few more centimeters…

“What are you doing?” A voice rang in your ear, breath fanning your hair.

You were frozen in place as everything stopped. It was unclear if he was angry or not because he most certainly could see the little image of him moving in the confines of the rock. You turned around rather quickly, quivering before him.

Haechan didn’t look angry but the tone was not as sweet and soft as usual which set something off in you. Uncontrollably, tears started to form in your eyes. You tried to blink them away but it only seemed to encourage them as they started to fall down your cheeks and fogged up your vision.

His stone fell to the floor while you kept the grip on your own so much tighter. His gaze seemed to soften at your reaction. You back away from him in an attempt to find a wall you could disappear into. It was not worth an attempt as you were too weak to actually use your own magic in that moment and you found yourself sinking into a ball against the barrier. You hid your tear stained face in your arms so you couldn’t see him pick up the stone and put in his pocket. He came running and dropped to your side within seconds of it.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He reassured, the soft and sweet tone was back with a hint of huskiness to it. “If crying makes you feel better, that’s fine but if you’re crying because you think I’m upset, please don’t do that… I’m not.”

He hated that he was reason behind your tears. Maybe it wouldn’t just been better if he had shut up and walked away. He wrapped an arm around you, gently to not startle you. He could feel you shake. He frowned at himself. Like he deserved to have his soul stone fit yours. You peeked up from your arms, eyes red with tears threatening to spill once more.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized. “I know I ruined everything.”

You referred to the friendship and shook his head rather quickly after your words, “No, don’t do that. I fucked up I should’ve just… not pulled that bullshit. I’m sorry… I just wanted to show you something cool I found out about the stones. You didn’t ruin anything.”

Not anything he didn’t want ‘ruined’ anyway. Haechan stroked your hair with a sweet but apologetic smile in an effort to comfort you. It took everything in him to not verbalize the confession sitting on the tip of his tongue. His arm left your shoulder only to go to your hand. Warmth encapsulated your own as he kept a firm grip on it. His other hand left your hair to pull out the stone from his pocket.

“You wanted to know, right?” He cooed as he held it out between the two of you.

The tears stopped and you regained your composure. Your grip loosened on your own stone as you brought it up to match his. Instead of centimeters, it was inches apart. Both you seemed rather hesitant to bring them closer to one another.

“Now or never?” He murmured.

You looked each other in the eyes. A softness and a type of vulnerability could be seen. You nodded at him before you turned your attention back to scene in front of you two. The stones stayed lit in both of your hands are moved to fit them together. It seemed to take ages for them to connect but in the final second it felt like it fused together like magnets would. A burst of light came as soon as the stones touched. You squinted your eyes from the sudden light that dissipated after a moment.

Then there you two were, in the stone, coming together across the boundary of the crack of each to meet in the middle for a kiss. Seeing it made the apples of your cheeks heat up and then you heard a laugh in your ear.

“What?” You asked. “Why are you laughing?”

“I was afraid for nothing.” He smiled before looking up at you.

“I was the one you had in mind?!” You exclaimed as you shoved his shoulder, playfully.

“I know you can be a bit air-headed at times but you can’t possibly be this dumb…”

“You’re a big dummy too if we’re going to talk about it.”

“We’re not.”

You couldn’t ask him what he meant before his hands were on your waist pulling you into his body. The completed soul stone went flying out of your hands at the movement, sliding across the floor. It made you gasp, yet they stuck to each other like glue.

“That’s the thing I wanted to tell you.” He whispered in your ear while a hand reached up to move a few standards of hair out of your face. “Once they’re together, they can’t be separated.”

His hand came down to caress the side of your face and pull you back to look at him. Your heart started to race just looking at him in the eye now, knowing his feelings. The silence was no longer awkward but suffocating.

“You’ll have to stop me now if you don’t want me to kiss you.” He confessed.

“I can’t.” You admitted.

You moved forward, closing the tension filled gap between the two of you similarly to the soul stones. The suffocating feeling was gone and you felt like you breath again. So full of passion and lost in it, you let out a sigh that had Haechan smiling into the kiss. Your hand went to the back of his neck in effort to bring him closer and deepen the kiss. His body now has you pinned against the fall. It would’ve continued if he hadn’t had to come up to breath for a moment. He stayed so close in front of you, looking down at your lips.

“We might be here longer than anticipated.” He laughed, smugly.

“We can’t.” You blushed. “If people show up and find us making out on the floor I’d be mortified…”

“I’m sure it happens here all the time with the other witches and warlocks.” He replied. “With far worse acts if I’m being honest.”

His words resulted in him getting smacked on the shoulder once more. He played hurt as he rubbed his shoulder.

“Okay, I won’t kiss you ever again.” He lied as he went to turn away.

You responded by yanking him back by the collar of his coat. His lips were against yours once more as now hovered over you. One hand supported himself over you while the other came up to zap you out of there. Whatever you wanted was what he wanted at the end of day.

not proodfread. aesthyuckic ©️ 2024. all rights reserved.

#idk… it’s been too long and this has been in my drafts too long #its 1am and all my skills went out the window im so sorry #haechan fluff #haechan fics #haechan scenarios #nct haechan #haechan x reader #haechan fic #haechan fanfiction #haechan au #haechan imagines #nct fluff #haechan fanfic #haechan imagine #nct fics #nct au #nct dream au #haechan #lee donghyuck #nct dream imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct imagines #nct imagine #nct 127 au #nct 127 fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fics #nct 127 fic #nct 127 fluff #haechan angst

[mins-fins]

LABYRINTH (L.CH)

SUMMARY . . . it's really easy to just say "i'm fine" and go on with it, anton doesn't take it, though.

PAIRING . . . anton lee x male!reader

GENRE . . . fluff, light light angst

WARNINGS . . . mentions of sleep deprivation

WORD COUNT . . . 0.7k

NOTES . . . *taps mic* hi anton lovers, hi again riize fandom, i love anton hes just so 😢 anyway i didn't willingly make this the demons stole my computer and typed it out for me 🙏 *crowd cheers and applauses and fire alarms go off and the place explodes*

. . . my beloved mother (aka the best and only elif i know) @jinkiseason asked to be tagged so here you go (you better read this 😡) (i made it in your wc range/j)

"y/n".

said boy startles, almost hitting his head on the counter. he groans, covering his face for a moment. once his eyesight registers, he looks up to see his roommate, whose eyes are focused on the textbooks set on the kitchen counter. "shit sorry, what time is it?" he asks, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"it's two am" y/n swears he almost gasps out loud when he hears. two? as in two in the morning? that can't be.. "i— i'm sorry did i disturb you? i didn't mean to fall asleep i just—"

"no no" anton cuts into his sentence. "your not disturbing me.. i— why are you sleeping on the kitchen counter?"

how long did i doze off for?

"i was.." y/n pauses as he catches anton's gaze, he recognizes that gaze. he's seen it from his parents, his older siblings, his ex lovers, his friends, and just.. strangers. anton already knows how he's going to respond. "studying".

anton closes his eyes, sighing, and y/n feels that recognizable shame curl in his gut. "y/n.. what time did you start studying?"

y/n goes silent once again, disappointedly looking down at the kitchen counter as he begins to drag his finger up and down it, trying to distract himself. he feels another curl of shame in his gut when he hears anton sigh, again.

"y/n—"

"i know i know, i'm sorry" he immediately says, feeling like he did something wrong, anton's tone of voice was really stressing him out, he hated that tone of voice, he hated the way it was so recognizable and how anxious it made him feel. "i didn't mean to upset you".

anton simply blinks, then shakes his head. "it's not your fault" he whispers, walking up to y/n and rubbing a hand up and down his back. "y/n i worry about you".

y/n musters up a smile, but he's so tired he can't even keep it up, frowning immediately. "i have so many exams this week.. this is my best bet—"

"no, you need to sleep".

y/n chuckles sleepily, his eyes barely able to stay open. "it's okay, i can rest after my exams are ove—"

"do you really think i'm gonna let you do that?"

y/n pauses, biting the inside of his cheek. he almost laughs once again, but he stays silent. anton looks at him for a moment; then closes his textbook. "come on".

"come on where?"

"your going to sleep" anton states, he doesn't ask or even wait for an answer, he just says it like he knows what he's doing. y/n looks at him like he just said something crazy, but anton doesn't budge.

"what?"

anton looks at him for a split second, sighing. "i don't want you to disagree with me, your going to sleep whether you like it or not".

y/n scoffs; "i'm not even tire—"

"its two in the morning, you studied all day, you are going to sleep".

anton grabs his arm, helping him stand up and dragging him away from the kitchen counter. y/n lightly yelps, but it's quiet. "anton, seriously, i don't need sleep, i'm fine i don't—"

"you need to stop trying to argue with me" anton mutters, turning on the sink and handing y/n his toothbrush. "i care about you, and your going to sleep, whether you like it or not".

y/n finally sighs, he stops trying to argue with anton, which makes the other smile. he grabs his toothbrush, hoping he's not that tired and can successfully do it.

"when was the last time you even got a full eight hours?"

y/n gives anton a look, not being able to respond because he's brushing his teeth, he lightly shoves his shoulder and anton laughs. that's pretty ironic considering anton barely gets sleep himself.

"your talking about eight hours?" y/n says, rinsing his mouth before looking back up. "you barely get sleep yourself".

"yeah but this is about you is it not?"

"i hate you".

anton deadpans for a moment, snickering. "no you don't" he easily responds, smiling. "now chop chop, you need to sleep".

"don't rush me".

"i will if i want to! come on, sleep!"

y/n sighs, yawning, but follows.

#anton lee #lee chanyoung #riize #anton riize #riize anton #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize drabbles #anton imagines #riize x reader #riize x male reader #anton x reader #anton x male reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

[purpleshadow-star]

Castor and Pollux are actually so sad.

So in the riordanverse, Castor and Pollux are Dionysus’s twin sons.

In mythology, Castor and Pollux were the twin (half and full) brothers of Helen of Troy (and Clytemnestra). Zeus had turned into a swan and uhh… slept with their mother, Leda, the Queen of Sparta, who had also slept with her husband, Tyndareus, the King of Sparta, so the following quadruplets that were born had different fathers. Castor and Clytemnestra were the children of Leda and Tyndareus, and Helen and Pollux were children of Leda and Zeus. Castor and Pollux were identical twins despite having different fathers, and they were inseparable and became known as the Dioscuri.

Long story short, Castor ends up being killed and Pollux is so distraught that he asks Zeus to kill him so that he could be with his brother, or he asks Zeus to bring Castor back to life (the sources in my admittedly brief research varied between the two). In the end, Zeus agrees to split Pollux’s immortality between the two, allowing them to be together in the sky as the constellation Gemini for half of the year, and reside in the Underworld for the other half. They are the Gemini twins.

So, we already know that Rick Riordan likes to make parallels to different Greek Myths with his characters (ex: Clarisse and Silena paralleling Achilles and Patroclus), and this is another sad instance. He gave Dionysus, the son of Zeus, twin sons named Castor and Pollux, and then killed Castor in the Battle of the Labyrinth.

I just wish we got to see more of Pollux’s grief in the aftermath. We get a little bit, when right before they burn the shrouds Pollux goes up to say a few words but can't, but I kind of wish we got to see some of the heartbreaking devotion in Pollux that was in his mythological counterpart.

Anyway, Rick was really out there writing tragedy into even the background characters that had only been mentioned maybe two or three times before.

#imagine if castor and pollux replaced the stoll brothers #castor's death would have been 10x more sad to us #but tbh castor's death had its own purpose. it made us and percy realize just how many casualties this war was causing #not just people that percy knew but also people who weve seen around and seen mentioned but didnt know that well #percy mentions that he didnt even know castors name until after he died despite seeing him around camp for years #and that hits hard in a different way than you would think #it's all very tragic #rick riordan #riordanverse #castor and pollux #dionysus #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo #battle of the labyrinth

[caw-oticdork]

Since my previous podcast recommendation list was pretty popular, I've decided to make another, with another bunch of excellent podcasts:

13 Minutes or Less - Short podcast with very short episodes, about a pizza chef who doesn't like dealing to people but has to do some deliveries due to short staffing. Very much not her thing, but she does her best. As it turns out, her clients are quite a bit stranger and spookier than expected...

Additional Postage Required - Sci-Fi adventure about a nonbinary courier who gains the ability (or curse...) to get visions about the contents, past, and sender of packages they touch. They get roped into a rebellion. There's hoverboard racing. It's awesome.

Among the Stars and Bones - A team of xenoarcheologists search a distant world for traces of a long-vanished aliens. It's been a while since I watched this one, so I don't remember it very well, but I know that I enjoyed it. Very good sci-fi horror.

Dark Ages - Fantasy workplace comedy about a supernatural museum. Quite a lot of fun.

Dragon Shanty - Fantasy story about two bards traveling the high seas. There's dragons aplenty. Very queer. Excellent songs.

Falling Forward - Hacker story loosely based on the myth of Icarus and the Labyrinth, about getting back at a terrible corporation. Kinda experimental, this one has the shortest episodes I've ever seen.

Hotel Daydream - Podcast about the goings-on at a supernatural hotel. Very inventive, with really interesting characters.

Jar of Rebuke - Mystery about a researcher at an ominous cryptozoological organization out in the rural US. He's got no memories of his past and keeps dying and coming back. A story about cryptids, identity, queerness, neurodivergence, and community.

Light Hearts - Slice of Life podcast about turning an old, haunted building into a cafe and queer community center. The ghosts lead to some very fun shenanigans.

Lost Terminal - Mentioned in the other list but not expanded on. This is a hopepunk story set on an Earth devestated by climate change. Told from the POV of an adorable AI who watches this Earth from a space station, observing how humanity re-builds itself and finds a brighter future.

Mayfair Watchers Society - You know Trevor Henderson? The guy who drew Sirenhead, Long Horse, and other such creepypasta creatures in his found footage style? Yeah, this is a horror anthology based on his works, directed by him. Set in the rural town of Mayfair, where strange creatures are a lot more common than elsewhere... Each episode has a slightly different framing device, with some being found footage audio, others meeting recordings, phone calls, etc.

Monstrous Agonies - An advice podcast for the british creature community. Many of the advice letters are sent in by listeners - there's two by myself, one from an ant that can hear and send radio and one from a fey who is looking for curse advice. Some letters are metaphors for queerness, clashing cultures, ableism, and minority communities, others just some urban fantasy fun. Has a little bit of plot, but most episodes have an anthology style. Fast approaching the finale!

Mx Bad Luck - Slice of Life about someone who is cursed with bad luck. Sometimes sad, sometimes funny. Can recommend.

Neighbourly - Neighbourly follows the residents of Little Street, house by house. What they do, how they interact with each other, and what skeletons are hiding in their closet. Starts out as a spooky urban fantasy thing that's almost an anthology, but weaves itself into quite a mysterious plot over time...

SINKHOLE - Short-form audio podcast presented as a collection of audio posts from a member of a community of data restoration hobbyists in a sometimes-unfamiliar future. Mystery about disability, internet communities, and how things change with time.

Second Star to the Left - Scout-explorer Gwen Hartley has five years to explore and prepare her planet for settlement. With no aid but her robots and the anxious voice of her long-distance scout-minder Bell Summers in her ear, she's hoping she's ready for anything.

Someone Dies In This Elevator - Anthology where every episode, someone dies in an elevator. You wouldn't believe how creative they get with that simple concept!

Tales from the Low City - By the maker of Mistholme Museum, this podcast explores the everyday lifes of the last people on an alien world, after the surface had become uninhabitable and everyone had fled down into the last city, the subterranean Low City. This one made me cry a lot!

Tartarus - In a secret facility deep beneath Antarctica, an anxious astrobiologist, a terse station manager, and an AI keep humanity safe from the monsters they imprison.

The Attic Monologues - Queer urban fantasy story about a university student who decides to record themself practicing monologues using a collection they found in their attic. Don't forget to listen to the post-credit scenes!

The Bridge - Surreal alternate universe horror story about the keepers of a bridge over the Atlantic. Gets pretty spooky.

The Green Horizon - Sci-Fi comedy about a na'er-do-well Irish space captain and his rag-tag crew traversing a war-torn galaxy in search of fame and fortune. Very fun podcast.

The Lavender Tavern - Anthology podcast with original gay fairytales. Most are quite memorable!

The Vesta Clinic - Sci-Fi story about a clinic that helps various interesting alien lifeforms with their medical issues. Excellent worldbuilding and characters!

Tides - The story of Dr. Winifred Eurus, a xenobiologist trapped on an unfamiliar planet with hostile tidal forces and a fascinating ecosystem. She must use her wits, sarcasm, and intellectual curiosity to survive long enough to be rescued. But there might be more to life on this planet than she expected...

Hope this list is as helpful as the last!

@boombox-fuckboy @marvelousmawn @sapphireclaw @ashes-in-a-jar @frogmomentsfrombeyondtime @time-is-restored @emmy-noethers-rings

You folk seemed the most interested in the other list, so I'm being bold and @ing you all.

#podcast recommendation #podcasts

[v4mpgutz]

Labyrinth, Simon "Ghost" Riley [ ONESHOT ]

— simon refuses to be left in anyone else's care but yours after he gets a stab wound to the gut :)))

simon "ghost" riley x nurse reader

note: this does use she/her pronouns !! also this is pretty much not proof-read at all so... yeah!

warnings ! — descriptive mentions of wounds + blood, reader stitches up a gash, petname (dove like once whoops)

you were tending to another soldier as per usual, administering pain killers and putting a cold cloth on his head to keep a fever down. you checked the soldier's heartbeat one more time before you nodded in satisfaction.

as you walked out of the curtains that separated the soldier's tiny room from the hallway, you heard a commotion near the entrance.

furrowing your brows in confusion, you walked towards where the noise was and heard a male medic speaking to a familiar voice.

"i told you already, sir!" the medic exclaimed, clearly growing irritated. "she's busy with another patient. you'll have to be taken care of by someone else."

you rounded the corner and saw simon standing there arguing with the medic. he was hunched over a little and clutching his lower stomach, still in his ops gear and mask.

"i'm not seein' anybody else, for fucks sake! it's her or no one!" he sneered at the medic who just rolled his eyes.

the medic turned around and saw you, his eyes widening as he beckoned you over. "thank goodness! lieutenant riley has been asking for you."

you blinked slowly and turned to look at simon, your eyes holding concern as you looked up and down his figure. blood was seeping through his fingers where his shirt was slightly rolled up just before the waistline of his pants.

"lieutenant, you're bleeding out! you should've got someone to see you," you scolded before grabbing his arm and pulling him towards an empty room.

he winced and you saw him roll his eyes behind his mask. "everyone else in this bloody place is incompetent." he scoffed before lowering his voice to a whisper, "and besides... i don't trust anyone else."

you chewed your bottom lip anxiously and sighed, reaching for a pair of medical scissors.

"okay," you mumbled. "move your fingers, i have to cut your shirt."

he obeyed your order and moved his hand away, he was hoping you wouldn't notice but it was definitely shaking. he was growing slightly clammy due to the blood loss as well.

you cut his shirt and peeled it back, examining the wound as your tongue poked your cheek. you hummed, dabbing a wet cloth against the skin around it to rid it of blood. you were quick to apologise when simon let out a wince and a mumbled 'fuck!'

"well, ghost—"

"simon." he corrected as he averted his eyes. "please, just... call me simon."

you smiled softly and nodded.

"well, simon, you're definitely going to need stitches." you told him, pinching his skin together to try and stop the blood from flowing out any more.

"bloody fuckin' hell.." he mumbled, looking down at you as you crouched slightly next to the bed. "get it over with then," he nodded slowly.

you seemed unsure for a moment as you readied the needle and thread.

"are you sure? you don't want lidocaine?" you asked him, hesitant to stitch the wound up without some sort of numbing agent.

"what the fuck is lidocaine?" he asked, his brows creased underneath his mask.

you laughed and showed him the needle, the shiny point reflecting light off of it dramatically. you watched simon swallow as he stared wide-eyed at the needle.

"it's a local anaesthetic," you explained. "it targets the nerves where injected to numb them in preparation for specific procedures."

he nodded with a nervous cough and shook his head, "i'm fine. i'm a soldier, i've suffered worse pain than a couple stitches."

you shrugged and put the anaesthetic back down on the medical cart, picking up the needle and thread. you cleaned the wound first, making sure there wasn't any blood where you needed to poke the needle through the skin.

you pinched the skin together and steadied the needle, looking up at ghost for approval; he nodded.

you pushed the needle through the first bit of skin, being as gentle as you could. you paused when you heard the man above you yelp — actually yelp — at the feeling.

"you okay, simon?" you asked with a frown and he let out a shaky breath and a grunt.

"just peachy."

you wanted to laugh but you held your tongue because you knew how bad stitches hurt — especially without an anaesthetic.

it took you about ten minutes to fully stitch the wound, dabbing away any excess blood when you were finished. you had him lift his hips a little, one hand supporting him in doing so as you bandaged up his waist.

"okay," you nodded with a soft smile. "all done. now, you will need to replace the bandages every three hours or so. i'm sure you're capable of doing that yourself but if you need help just come and see me."

simon looked you directly in the eyes as you rose from your position next to the bed.

"thanks, dove. it's much appreciated."

you felt heat rush to your cheeks and the tips of your ears, giggling nervously and turning around to pretend to write something on a clipboard.

"just— just doing my job, lieutenant!"

you turned around and watched as he got up, glancing back at you one last time with a wave as he walked back towards the entrance of the infirmary.

oh no, you're falling in love again.

giggling kicking my feet twirling my hair

@konigceo THIS ONE IS FOR U !! 🫵

#— river's sticky notes ✩˚｡⋆ #i love this silly british man #fanfic #writers on tumblr #x reader #call of duty #simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon ghost riley mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #simon riley fluff #simon riley imagine #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley x you #spotify #taylor swift #taylor swift midnights

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Bloody Mary | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions/descriptions of parental death, implication of suicide (take care of yourselves, my loves)

Word Count: 6379

A/N: Happy Saturday! Asks/Taglists are open!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You and Dean hadn’t talked much since the events on the plane. In fact, the two of you barely looked at each other anymore. Not out of disgust, your stomach just fluttered every time you caught a glimpse of him for reasons you couldn’t explain. You didn’t exactly like him, but you definitely didn’t hate him, either. In fact, your most recent journal drawing had been of your hand wrapped in Dean’s. You smiled at the memory.

Sam slept in the front seat while Dean drove the three of you to Toledo, Ohio. You had actually been the one to find this case. Steven Shoemaker’s eyes had bled when he died. According to his obituary, his death had been swift. He was much too young to have had a stroke or an aneurysm, and seemed to be in good health. Therefore, you concluded this was your kind of gig. 

Sam began to stir, catching your attention. You straightened in your seat as the Impala came to a halt in front of a large hospital complex. Sam’s stirring and whimpering was getting worse by the second.

Dean shook his brother. “Sam, wake up.”

He bolted straight up, confused, taking both you and Dean by surprise. After taking a second to catch his breath, he said, “I take it I was having a nightmare.”

“Yeah, another one,” Dean reminded him.

“Hey, at least I got some sleep.” Sam’s faux optimism caused you to shake your head. 

“You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this.” 

Apparently, Sam was choosing the latter. “Are we here?” he asked.

Dean was happy to drop the subject, too. “Yup. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio.”

The three of you began to approach the morgue wing of the hospital. You noticed Sam was holding the newspaper you’d circled Mr. Shoemaker’s death in. “So what do you think really happened to this guy?”

“That's what we're gonna find out. Ladies first,” you joked, holding the door to the first floor of the hospital open for the brothers. 

After making your way through the labyrinth of hallways, you found the dimly lit and vacated morgue. In the large room were two desks. One was labeled with a nameplate for Dr. D. Feiklowicz with neatly stacked packets, files, and books atop it. The other was a chaotic mess of stray papers labeled “Morgue Technician.”

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Yeah. We're the, uh, med students,” Dean responded.

“Sorry?” the morgue tech asked.

“Oh, Doctor—” Dean gave his best shot at the name, “—Figlavitch didn't tell you? We talked to him on the phone. He— uh, we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It's for our paper.”

“Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch.” The morgue tech was smug, snarky, and clearly lacked people skills.

‘No wonder they have him locked up down here,’ you thought.

Dean changed course. “Oh, well, he said, uh— oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?”

“Sorry, I can't.” The morgue tech gave a tight-lipped smile. “Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want.”

“An hour? Ooh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then,” Dean tried. “Uh, look, man, this paper's like half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out—”

“Uh, look, man,” the technician mocked, “No.”

Dean laughed a little and turned around, mumbling. “I'm gonna hit him in his face I swear.”

You took the opportunity to try a different tactic. You leaned down on the morgue technician’s desk, doing your best to take advantage of the fact that he probably has had little contact with women. “Please?” you asked innocently. “These guys are my tutors. I’m really struggling in this class, and I just—” you bit your lip, “—I really need a good grade on this paper.” You used your arms to push your breasts together. “Please?” 

You could tell you had him on the ropes. “Uh…” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your cleavage. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, I guess I could do that for you.”

You smiled innocently. “Thank you so much.”

He began leading the three of you into an attached room to where the bodies were stored for autopsies. You turned around and winked at the boys with a smug smile. Dean rolled his eyes.

The morgue technician pulled the rack Steven Shoemaker’s corpse rested on out from the wall of stainless steel cells.

“Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding,” Sam said.

The technician pulled the sheet back from over Steven’s face. “More than that. They practically liquefied.” The poor man’s eye sockets were still bloody, and they hadn’t yet been sewn shut. You could see the dried blood peeking out from under his partially-closed eyes. 

“Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?” Dean suggested.

“Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone,” the technician answered.

“What's the official cause of death?” Sam asked.

“Ah, Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure.”

‘Nope, he’s way too young and in much too good health for that to have been the cause,’ you thought, but kept the thought at bay.

“What do you mean?” you asked. You didn’t like playing dumb, but with this guy, it was necessary. 

“Intense cerebral bleeding. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen,” the tech answered. Although, he was more responding to your boobs than to your face. You fought the urge to snap in front of his face and get his eyes back on target. 

“The eyes?” Sam asked. “What would cause something like that?”

“Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims,” the morgue tech shrugged.

Dean’s tone was still aggravated with the guy. “Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?”

“That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor.”

“Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh...our paper.”

“I'm not really supposed to show you that.” The technician looked back at you.

You suppressed the bile rising in your throat. Before you could do anything else, Dean stepped in front of you and pulled out his wallet. He shoved two twenties at him, hoping that would be enough. You could see the technician deflate, but accepted the money anyway.

Dean’s actions puzzled you. But you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t flutter at the thought of him doing it out of protectiveness of you. 

When you had finished looking over the police report, the three of you began making your way out of the building. 

“Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing,” Sam suggested after having seen the report. 

“How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?” Dean replied. 

“Uh, almost never.”

“Exactly.”

“Alright, let's go talk to the daughter.” Sam started picking up his pace out of the building. You were happy to see him getting his mind off Jessica and back into the job.

“Wait, Dean.” You grabbed his arm lightly before he could catch up to his brother.

He turned to face you. 

“Why’d you do that?” you asked. 

“Do what?” He furrowed his brow.

“Give the morgue tech your hard-earned poker money,” you half-smiled. 

“I just didn’t wanna watch you prostitute yourself for information,” he replied gruffly, turning away from you. 

You took offense. “Hey, I was not—”

He turned back to you and brushed a hand over his hair. “You’re right, you werent.” He paused again, and his voice came back quiet. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you, ‘s all.”

Your heart swelled in your chest and your cheeks began to heat up. “Thanks, by the way,” you said as you continued walking. You nudged his shoulder with yours. “You’re going soft on me, Winchester.”

***

When you arrived at the Shoemaker house, you hadn’t expected to be in the midst of the funeral gathering. If you did, you would’ve dressed more appropriately. Given this fact, you felt slightly awkward when you knocked on the door. A man let you in and pointed you toward the backyard and the two daughters of Steven Shoemaker.

The two sisters were sitting with two blonde girls near the firepit. Dean addressed the older, dark-haired girl. “You must be Donna, right?”

“Yeah,” the girl responded.

“Hi, uh, we're really sorry,” Sam lamented.

“Thank you.”

“I'm Sam, this is Dean and (Y/N). We worked with your dad.”

The girl looked at her friend before looking back at your trio. “You did?” She seemed surprised. 

“Yeah. This whole thing. I mean, a stroke…” Sam trailed off.

“I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now,” one of Donna’s pretty blonde friends spoke up. 

“It's okay. I'm okay,” she assured her friend. 

“Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?” Dean asked.

Donna shook her head. “No.”

The younger sister, who looked to be about twelve, turned around. “That's because it wasn't a stroke.”

You were intrigued.

“Lily, don't say that,” her sister urged her.

“What do you mean?” you asked the young girl.

“I'm sorry, she's just upset,” her sister responded for her.

“No,” Lily wasn’t having it. “It happened because of me.”

Donna placed a hand on her shoulder. “Sweetie, it didn't.”

You got down on Lily’s eye level. “Why would you say that?”

“Right before he died, I said it,” she said softly.

“Said what?”

She lowered her voice even more. “Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror. She took his eyes, that's what she does.”

Donna interrupted. “That's not why Dad died. This isn't your fault.”

“I think your sister's right, Lily,” Dean broke in. “There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?”

Lily tried to take this in. She shook her head. 

“Exactly,” you told her. “I’m sorry, we weren’t trying to upset you. We’ll just be leaving.” You pulled the boys away from Donna’s group and went back into the house. Making sure no one saw you three, you crept upstairs to the bathroom where Mr. Shoemaker passed away. 

Sam pushed the door open, and you noticed some dried blood still on the floor. “The Bloody Mary legend. Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?”

“Not that I know of,” Dean replied. He walked ahead of Sam into the bathroom. 

Sam stooped to the floor and touched the dried blood. “I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it.”

“Yeah, but maybe it’s fine everywhere else, but not here,” you suggested.

“The place where the legend began?” Sam tried.

You shrugged as Dean opened the medicine cabinet. 

“But according to the legend, the person who says B—” you stopped yourself and noticed your reflection in the medicine cabinet’s mirror. “You know what is the one that dies. But here—”

“Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah,” Dean finished for you.

Sam rose from the floor. “Right.”

“Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you-know-who scratches your eyes out.”

You considered Dean’s words for a moment. “It's worth checking in to.” You went to leave the bathroom when you noticed one of Donna’s pretty blonde friends approaching you.

“What are you doing up here?” she asked. 

“We— We had to go to the bathroom,” you answered, not believing yourself.

“Who are you?” the girl pressed further.

Dean stepped closer to you from behind. “Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad.”

She shook her head with scrunched eyebrows. “He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself.”

“No, I know, I meant—” 

She cut Dean off. “And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming.”

Sam put a hand up to calm her. “Alright, alright, we think something happened to Donna's dad.”

The blonde looked at you three like you were stupid. “Yeah, a stroke.”

“I don’t think so,” you argued. “He was pretty young to be having a stroke. His eyes wouldn’t have liquified if he’d had a stroke. I think it might be something else.”

She scoffed and crossed her arms. “Like what?’

“Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth,” Sam responded.

“So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead,” Dean snarked.

“Who are you, cops?” she asked, her brows still furrowed.

“Something like that,” you shrugged.

“I'll tell you what. Here.” Sam took a piece of paper and a pen out of his jacket pocket and wrote his phone number down. “If you think of anything, you or your friends notice anything strange, out of the ordinary, just give us a call.” He handed her the piece of paper before leading you and Dean down the hallway.

Your next stop was the public library. 

“Alright, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town,” Dean began. “There's gonna be some sort of proof— Like a local woman who died nasty.”

“Yeah, but this is hard. The legend is unbelievably widespread with hundreds of different versions of who she actually is,” you rebutted. “One story says she's a witch, another says she's a mutilated bride, there's a lot more.”

“Okay, then, so what are we supposed to be looking for?” Dean asked you.

Sam answered. “Every version's got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers, public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill.”

“Well, that sounds annoying,” the older brother commented. 

“No, it won't be so bad,” Sam replied, “As long as we…”

You cleared your throat, gesturing to the only two computers in the library that had “Out of Order” signs on them. 

Sam chuckled humorlessly. “I take it back. This will be very annoying.”

The three of you picked up boxes of the town’s newspapers and numerous books of Toledo’s public records and brought them back to Sam and Dean’s motel room. 

You were beginning to go cross-eyed after reading for so long. Minutes turned into hours. Dean was sitting in a chair, you were sprawled across the floor with papers and books scattered around you, and Sam eventually fell asleep.

You stood up to stretch your legs and noticed his closed eyes. “Poor fella,” you said quietly. “How’s he been sleeping?”

“How d’you think?” Dean responded, eyes never leaving his book.

You nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Maybe we should get him to take something,” you suggested.

Dean chuckled. “He won’t do it.”

“Is it just because I’m suggesting it that you’re saying that, or do you really think he won’t take it?” you countered.

He gave you a deadpan expression. 

“You Winchesters are just about the most stubborn people I’ve ever met in my life. Including your dad,” you jested. You heard Dean chuckle a little, too.

“And I wanted to tell you,” you started, “I understand why you’d suspect me in your dad’s disappearance.”

He looked away from his book and over at you. “What do you mean?”

“What you said back in Colorado? The Wendigo case? I get it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You’re still on that?”

“I mean, yeah, that was just about the most heated fight we’ve had. It kinda stuck with me,” you answered honestly, looking down at your stripey-sock-covered feet. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I understand.”

A moment passed silently.

“And I, um—” you took a deep breath, “I want you to trust me.” You looked back at Dean who was studying you carefully.

The tense moment was interrupted by Sam jolting awake in his bed. “Why'd you let me fall asleep?”

“Cause I'm an awesome brother.” Dean’s attention was back on his book. “So what did you dream about?”

“Lollipops and candy canes,” the younger brother responded hazily while staring up at the ceiling.

You laughed humorlessly.

“Did you guys find anything?” Sam asked.

“Oh, besides a whole new level of frustration?” Dean responded sarcastically. “No. I've looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror—”

“And a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave—” you chimed in.

“But no Mary,” Dean finished for you.

“Maybe we just haven't found it yet,” Sam tried.

“I've also been searching for strange deaths in the area, you know… eyeball bleeding, that sort of thing. There's nothing. Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary,” Dean said.

Sam’s phone rang just as his brother finished talking. “Hello?” A look of concern crossed his face. He was trying to calm whoever it was on the other end down.

You waited until he got off the phone to bombard him with questions. “What? What happened?”

“Charlie,” he told you. “Her friend’s dead.”

***

Charlie sobbed as she relayed the story of what happened to her friend Jill. “And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her— her eyes. They were gone.”

You had met her in a park not an hour after she had called Sam.

“I'm sorry,” the latter responded.

“And she said it,” Charlie told you. “I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?”

“No, you're not insane,” you said.

“Oh, god, that makes me feel so much worse.” You feared that might be the case.

Sam was honest with her. “Look. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained.”

“And we're gonna stop it,” Dean assured Charlie, “but we could use your help.”

You knew exactly where Dean was going with this. And thankfully, Charlie obliged. She snuck you and the boys into Jill’s room through the window. Dean and Sam gave you a boost into the second story room before throwing up Dean’s duffel bag.

“What did you tell Jill's mom?” you asked Charlie.

“Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things,” she replied simply. “I hate lying to her.”

You heard someone closing the blinds and curtains behind you. “Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights,” Dean instructed her.

She obeyed but asked, “What are you guys looking for?”

“We'll let you know as soon as we find it,” the older brother responded.

Sam handed you a digital camera. “Hey, night vision!” You turned it on. You aimed the camera at Dean.

“Do I look like Paris Hilton?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes, suppressing an amused smile. You walked over to Jill’s closet door and began filming the mirror on it. 

“So I don't get it,” Sam began. “I mean, the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?”

You shrugged. 

“Beats me,” Dean answered. “I want to know why Jill said it in the first place.”

“It was just a joke,” Charlie replied.

“Yeah, well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time.”

You had made your way over to the bathroom and filmed around the mirror. You stopped when you noticed a trickle of something running from behind it. “Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?” He came over to you. 

“Look at this.” You showed him the substance oozing from behind the mirror.

Sam looked to his brother. “There's a black light in the trunk, right?” 

While Dean left to get the light, you and Sam pulled the mirror off the wall. When Dean returned, you could see a handprint and the name “Gary Bryman” illuminated by the black light. 

“Gary Bryman?” Charlie asked.

You looked up at her. “You know who that is?”

She shook her head. “No.”

You learned from Sam’s research and Charlie that Jill had killed Gary Bryman, an eight-year-old boy, in a hit and run accident. Dean then decided you needed to return to Donna’s house. When you pulled the medicine cabinet mirror off the wall, sure enough, there was another handprint and the name “Linda Shoemaker.” You learned from Donna that her mother had overdosed on sleeping pills. You had left Charlie at Donna’s house to comfort her friend after you and the boys had upset her with your questions about her mother’s death. 

You then traveled to Fort Wayne, Indiana to investigate the death of a woman named Mary Worthington. She had died the same way these victims were; bleeding from the sockets where her eyes used to be. You spoke to the detective who was the lead on her case. He believed she spent her last moments trying to expose her killer she was having an affair with. She went as far as to start spelling out the name of her killer in her own blood on the back of her mirror. She only got to the third letter of her killer’s name before passing away. It made complete sense to you that her spirit would spend its time exposing the secrets of other murderers. Mary Worthington’s body had been cremated, but the mirror she wrote on had been returned to her family. Now, you and the boys were trying to track down where that mirror had ended up. 

“Oh really?” Sam responded to the man on the phone. “Ah, that's too bad Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror… Okay, well maybe next time… Alright, thanks.” He hung up.

“So?” you asked.

“So that was Mary's brother,” he informed you. “The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo.”

Dean momentarily looked away from the road to his brother. “So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?” 

“Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow,” Sam responded.

“Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?” you chimed in.

“Yeah, there is. Yeah, when someone would die in a house people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped.”

Dean connected the dots. “So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit.”

“Yeah, but how could she move through like a hundred different mirrors?” you challenged.

“I don't know, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it.”

“Yeah, I don't know, maybe,” Sam sighed. His phone rang. “Hello?... Charlie?”

***

You and the boys picked up Charlie and brought her to the motel you were staying in. You and the Winchesters were busying yourselves with covering every reflective surface in Sam and Dean’s room with sheets, blankets, jackets; anything. Charlie’s gorgeous blonde hair was knotted and messy, her eyes were puffy from crying but remained closed, and her knees were drawn into her chest. 

Sam sat on the bed next to Charlie. “Hey, hey, it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, alright?”

She looked up slowly. 

“Now listen,” he began softly. “You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you.”

“But I can't keep that up forever. I'm gonna die, aren't I?” Charlie’s voice trembled.

“No. No. Not anytime soon,” the brunet assured her. 

You sat on the floor in front of her and put a hand on her knee. “We need to know what happened, babe.”

“We were in the bathroom.” Her eyes brimmed with tears again. “Donna said it.”

“That's not what we're talking about,” Dean stated. There was something dark behind his tone. “Something happened, didn't it? In your life— .a secret— where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?”

The tears were flowing from her eyes now. “I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know? And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself." And you know what I said? I said "Go ahead." And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just...I didn't believe him, you know? I should have.” She pulled her knees back to her chest and buried her face between them. 

You felt completely horrible for her. But there was no time for a therapy session because you and the boys were off to that Toledo antique store where Mary’s mirror was being kept.

Dean sped down the road despite the pouring rain which you deeply wanted to protest against. You remained silent anyway.

“You know, her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault.” Dean broke the silence.

“You know spirits don't exactly see shades of gray, Dean. Charlie had a secret, somebody died, and that's good enough for Mary,” you told him.

“I guess,” he shrugged.

“You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror,” Sam chimed in.

Dean turned his head to his brother. “Why, what do you mean?”

“Well, Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror, so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it.”

“Well, how do you know that's going to work?” Dean asked. 

Sam shook his head. “I don't; not for sure.”

“Well who's gonna summon her?” his brother’s tone got a little panicked.

“I will. She'll come after me,” Sam replied solemnly.

“You know what, that's it.” Dean pulled over to the side of the road. “This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night— it's gonna kill you. Now, listen to me, it wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place.”

“I don't blame you.” Sam’s voice cracked.

“Well, you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done,” Dean responded sharply.

Sam tried to shake his emotion away. “I could've warned her.”

“About what? You didn't know what was gonna happen! And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean I know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway,” Dean said.

“No you don't,” was all Sam could muster.

“I don't what?” 

“You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything.”

You had been trying to stay out of it, but couldn’t hold it back anymore. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?” 

You and Dean were taken aback. “No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it.” 

“Guys, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this.”

Dean gripped the steering wheel, clenched his jaw, and pulled back out onto the road. The air was heavy and tense in the car. You sat back in your chair with your arms crossed over your chest. No one spoke for the rest of the drive.

When you reached the shop, you picked the lock on the door to reveal dozens of mirrors. 

“Well, that's just great,” Dean grumbled. He pulled out the picture you’d gotten from the detective in Indiana of Mary’s body next to the mirror. “Alright, let's start looking.”

The three of you split up. You were an incredibly detail-oriented person, but even still, all of the mirrors seemed the same to you. 

“Maybe they've already sold it,” Dean called from across the room.

Your flashlight came to rest on a mirror you could swear you’d seen before. “I don't think so. C’mere, Dean.”

He came over to you and held up the photo to the mirror. And sure enough, it was a match. 

“You sure about this?” Dean asked his brother. 

Sam nodded and handed you his flashlight. Taking a deep breath, he says, “Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary.”

You whipped your head in the direction of a light coming through the store.

“I'll go check that out. Stay here, be careful,” Dean ordered. “Smash anything that moves.” He crawled away from you and you heard him distantly say, “Crap.”

You paid no mind to Dean as you tightened your grip on the crowbar. 

You heard a whooshing sound behind you and wheeled around. In the mirror was Mary. You sprang to action and smashed your crowbar through the dead center of it. 

You could hear a distorted version of Sam’s voice coming from behind you, but before you could aid him, your own reflection caught your attention. It wasn’t quite syncing with your movements; instead looking at you menacingly. 

Before you could move to hit it, you felt an insane pressure coming from behind your eyes, your throat constricted, and blood began to ooze down your face. 

“You can’t keep running, (Y/N),” your reflection told you. “How could you? How could you be so careless?”

The blood dripping from your eyes began to mix with your tears. You didn’t have enough breath to protest. You began to sink to the floor, the crowbar clanging to the ground.

“It’s your fault that they’re gone. Why didn’t you try harder? Why didn’t you fight to keep them alive? Why did you have to kill them? Your guilt should eat you alive. You don’t deserve another family. You know you don’t deserve to be happy again. You know your recklessness will get these boys killed, too. You are so selfish! And your brother! If you hadn’t done what you did, he would still be alive, too. You are worthless. All you bring is death and—” 

The pressure around your throat released when Dean’s crowbar went through the mirror. He barely spared you a second look before going over to his brother. 

“Sam, Sammy!” you heard from behind you. 

You clutched at your throat and began to cry. You knew Dean had turned cold once more because he heard what your reflection said.

Sam groaned in pain as you saw Dean shouldering his brother and pulling him toward the exit of the shop. 

“C’mon, (Y/N),” Sam urged you. 

You shakily stood and did your best to follow the brothers out. Your dizziness caused you to fall back down to the ground on top of shards of glass, making you yelp as they pierced your hands. 

“Help her, Dean!” you heard Sam demand. 

Dean came to your side, clearly in no hurry, and cradled you in his arms. Before he could get anymore than two steps, you noticed Mary crawling out of the frame of her original mirror. Her dark hair was matted and fell in front of her face. Her dress was tattered, and her limbs moved in an inhuman manner; cracking with every movement. You and Dean were sent flying across the floor toward Sam, and the bleeding of your eyes started again.

You looked to the mirror inches from your head. Despite your weakness, you forced yourself to grab it and turn its face toward Mary.

“You killed them!” you heard her reflection cry. “All those people! You killed them!” Mary started choking just as you had and then melted into a pool of blood on the ground. You threw the mirror you’d been holding and shattered it completely.

You dropped your head back to the floor.

“Hey Sam?” you heard Dean say.

“Yeah?”

“This has got to be like,what, six hundred years of bad luck?” the older brother joked. 

Sam chuckled weakly. You couldn’t even muster up a laugh due to the bile rising in your throat. Memories were eating away at you, and the fact that Dean had heard your reflection was only adding to your anxiety. Your breath began to quicken, but you did your best to soothe yourself.

“(Y/N).” Sam drew you out of your trance. “Can you stand?” 

You tried your best to, but couldn’t. Dean squatted down next to you. “C’mon.” He motioned for you to let him carry you. You complied. You looked up at his chiseled face. You swore he was handcrafted by the gods; perhaps Adonis himself. Your hazy mind couldn’t focus on anything aside from his beautiful green eyes. You had so much to say to him about what he’d heard. You knew he didn’t think highly of you, but your relationship had begun to get better. You didn’t want, well, you, to ruin it all now. 

“Dean, I—” you started.

He cut you off. “We’ll talk later,” he said gruffly. Despite his cold and guarded tone, he put you down gently in the back of the Impala.

You ended up falling asleep in the back of the Impala. When you next awoke, you had been tucked into your bed in the motel. Your boots had been discarded, your jacket had been removed, and your key that you kept in your jacket pocket was now on the nightstand beside you. The gesture was sweet, but your mind immediately started reeling about the conversation you needed to have with Dean. 

You checked the clock; it was ten in the morning. You were surprised how late you had slept, and figured the boys had dropped Charlie off; potentially had even left town without you. Your anxiety getting the best of you, you rushed over to their door. Dean opened it when you knocked.

“Hey,” you breathed.

“Hey,” he echoed.

“Can we talk?”

He nodded. 

You led Dean back to your room. You sat cross-legged on your bed and Dean chose the chair across from you.

“Okay, um,” you sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“Who’d you kill, (Y/N)?” came his straightforward and dry response. “Why did it say you’d get us killed, too?”

You looked down at the floor, the tears beginning to well up in your waterline. “I wanna tell you, I just—”

“Look at me.” His voice was firm.

You did.

“I need to know.”

You took a deep breath. “When I was eighteen, I was coming back home from one of my first solo hunts. My dad had sent me to take out a vampire nest on the edge of the town we were staying in. There were only three vamps there at the time. I got so excited that I had nuked them all, I didn’t account for the fact that all three of them seemed like newbies. I didn’t… register, I guess, that one or more was probably missing.” You averted his gaze, struggling to keep your voice level. “And so, I left. I went back to the house we were squatting in, and, um, one of them followed me.” Tears began to roll down your cheeks.

“Sweetheart, that’s not your—”

You shook your head. “It is. He turned them, Dean. He turned my mom and my dad. I— I had no choice. I had to—” Your sentence was cut off by a sob, but Dean understood what you meant. You wiped a hand over your face and did your best to continue your story. “I sat with their bodies for a long time after. When my brother came back and saw what I’d done, he drew his gun on me. He, um, he wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t let me explain. He couldn’t shoot me, though. He… He just… left. And then— And then, his best friend called me a few days later.” The tears came back. “He found my brother’s car.” You pressed a hand to your mouth. “And he was dead in it.” Broken sobs wracked your body once again. “It’s my fault that they’re gone, Dean, it’s my fault.”

You couldn’t bear to look at him. You knew how disgusted he must be with you. And then, you felt the bed dip beside you. Then, a hand on your arm. Then, he pulled you to his chest, and you melted into his embrace. Your cries still shook your body, but Dean’s strong arms held you together. He sat with you like that for a long time. 

You and the boys had decided to leave Toledo sooner rather than later after Sam told you what Dean had done to the cops in front of the antique store. Long after leaving Toledo, Dean broke the comfortable silence that had settled over the car.

“Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is.”

The younger Winchester sighed. “Look, you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself.”

Your eyes remained trained on Sam as he looked out the window at something you were passing by. His expression went from confused to scared to saddened, and you knew he was seeing Jessica. After all, you had no doubt your face mirrored his every time you saw your mom standing on a street corner or your dad’s bloodied body lying in your footpath. In time, you knew he would learn to live with it just as you had. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

[magicamicitia]

WARNING: Mentions of suicidal/intrusive thoughts.

Volume One, Chapter Two

“You’re not alone anymore.”

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Click!

Sunset Shimmer once again woke up to the sound of her alarm clock, and carried on with her morning routine as normal. However, the memories of the previous afternoon refused to leave her thoughts.

She was aware of the existence of magic in other worlds, but… This one wasn’t supposed to be one of them. So what’s up with all of this? Magical girls? Witches? A talking cat-with-bunny-ears freak? It was weirder than anything she’d ever seen in any other world. Apparently, humans like her weren’t supposed to be able to see witches like she did. Sunset figured her background as a magic interdimensional traveller could explain that abnormality.

Whatever this all meant, she hoped Twilight knew what she was doing.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Twilight Sparkle skipped nervously around her room.

“Don’t worry!” the small white creature, who referred to itself as ‘Kyubey’, carefully groomed its fur in a corner. “If you ever need any help, you can always ask me.”

Twilight couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s real reassuring. The last time I asked for your help, You-“

Her train of thought was crudely interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Sweetie?” Her mother’s voice called. “Are you okay in there? You’re gonna be late if you don’t come out soon!”

“Shoot! I’d better get going!”

She left her home in a hurry as to avoid being late, despite her family’s attempts to tell her she still had twenty minutes until her usual time of departure. With a half-eaten sandwich in her hands and a trusty Kyubey over her shoulders, she was surely ready for another day as a high school student AND magical girl!

Huh?

Twilight Sparkle suddenly felt a strange weight on her chest. looking down at the soul gem ring on her finger, she noticed it emitted a strange glow.

“What’s all this now?”

“Your soul gem is reacting to magic,” kyubey answered. “There must be a witch nearby! We have to go after it!”

“NOW?! I can’t go after a witch NOW! I couldn’t even finish off the last one, and if I take too long fighting it… I’ll be…”

She gulped, terrified.

“…TARDY!!!”

“Twilight! You’re a magical girl now, the future of humanity relies on you battling witches!”

“I know, I know… But… Like, can’t you do it or something?”

“Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about witches in their physicial form. But once you defeat the witch, I can collect its grief seed and make sure it never comes back!”

“Ughhhh!!! Fine, I’ll do it, I’ll do it…”

Her soul gem’s magic led her to a beautiful hedge maze just outside an ancient history museum.

“Wow… this place looks so peaceful. Odd spot for a witch to make its lair.”

“You’re right, Twilight. Usually, witches will try to hatch in locations where they can collect the despair of nearby victims. But this maze is a total ghost town…”

“Well, then that must mean this one doesn’t feel like it needs any extra power, huh?”

“Yes. We’d better get ready; we’re about to enter the labyrinth, quite literally.”

As Twilight moved towards the center of the maze, she could feel reality around her become more and more distorted. But she noticed a strange consistency among the chaos.

“These patterns… these creatures… This is the same witch from yesterday!”

Kyubey backed up against Twilight’s legs, looking for refuge. “Looks like we got real lucky then. If we had decided to fight it then, with a human tagging along, things would have gotten real dangerous.”

Twilight spared no time - casting her magical power, she transformed into her magical girl self and barged through the horde of familiars with her shield. The familiars, however, laughed at her futile attempts. Their torn bodies sewed themselves back together to take on another form.

“P…Principal Celestia…?” Twilight felt an enourmous weight fall onto her shoulders.

“Twilight Sparkle,” said the mirage. “What are you doing here, when you should be at school? You used to be such a good student…”

“U-Used to be? No, no, I still am! In fact, I was on my way back-“

“It’s too late for that now. You’ve already been expelled from Crystal Prep, do you want me to expel you from Canterlot High as well? That won’t look good on your records.”

“No! I wasn’t expelled! Candace just thought it would be better for me if…”

Her legs were shaking.

“I… I’m… You’re not supposed to be here!”

Mustering up her strength, Twilight attacked the illusion of Celestia with everything she had. The familiars, however, simply dissolved themselves while laughing, leaving Twilight to fall to the ground, crying and defeated.

“What’s happening… Why am I… So weak…?”

The laughter around her turned to chants.

“End it!”

“What good is a magical girl who can’t fight a witch?”

“End it!”

“Give up your soul gem and feed us!”

“End it!”

“End it!”

“End it!”

Her vision was starting to get blurry. Why did she accept this awful offer in the first place?! She didn’t have what it took to be a magical girl at all!

Oh,

That’s right…

The reason was…

“Hold on tight, sugarcube!”

From the skies, a mysterious sillhouette came down to Twilight’s aid. Once it landed, she was surprised to see another magical girl, just like her!

Well, maybe her clothes were a little different. Very country. And instead of a shield, this girl took out five mint-condition flintlock muskets from her stylish cowboy hat. With the aim and confidence of a professional, she took down the monsters without missing a single shot. Then, she whipped her hair around, adjusted her hat, and turned to a baffled Twilight on the ground.

She smiled and reached out her hand.

“You alright over there?”

Before she could even say anything, four other girls made their way to Twilight and the mysterious magical girl.

“AJ, no fair! You said this one was mine!” A feisty girl with rainbow-colored hair rushed in first, clearly very upset.

“Oh, darling, please, that was clearly not the witch. You’re making a scene for no reason.” Added a purple-haired girl dressed in gorgeous modern-victorian couture.

“Wait,” said the multicolor girl. “Who’s that one over there?”

“I-I’m… Twilight… Twilight Sparkle…” She clumsily adjusted her glasses and got up.

“Pleasure to meet ya, Twilight.” The girl with the muskets smiled. “Name’s applejack.”

“I’m Rainbow Dash!” the spunky girl added.

“My name is Rarity, but you may call me Miss Rarity if you’re a fan.”

“Oh, I’ve heard your name before! You’re like, a prodigy star of the design world, right?”

“You’re quite right, darling! And those two over there are Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy.”

“W…Woah… So, you’re all magical girls…?”

“ALMOST all of us. Flutter can’t seem to come up with a wish, so we just drag her along as moral support.” Rainbow Dash cut in with a sarcastic tone.

“Rainbow, don’t say that!” Applejack reprimanded. “Don’t you worry, sugarcube. I know how scary it is to fight them mean witches all by yourself, but you’re not alone in this no more. We got your back!”

#magicamicitia #mlpmagicami #mlp au #pmmm au